Boku No Hero Academia X Reader - Blog Posts

Scenario Collection Idea?

I kind of want to make Aizawa x readers based on the time that Aizawa was still a 2nd year at U.A. but... I don’t know if it’ll be good?

Apologies

Prompt list used 

CW:semi-angst/fluff,swearing

“Stop apologizing for other people! You’re not the shitty one!” 

~~~

Apologizing for other people. 

Hawks didn't quite like when other people did that, even pro-heroes would apologize for a mistake they didn't mean to do. One slip was enough for the press to humiliate and spread rumors about a certain individual.

But yet here the two of you are, surrounded by cameras after just defeating a villain but not before several civilians got hurt from a mistake he made.

"Hawks! can you explain what happened in that fight!"

"Hawks! were you too slow to prevent the villains from hurting the civilians"

"Hawks would you like to commen-"

"I'm sorry everyone but Hawks will not be commenting for today, we are aware of the errors we made but we plan to help those affected by it" You waved the cameras off as they still tried to drown you with microphones and shouts, you pulled Hawks by the hand inside the building of his apartment. Hawks wasn't speechless most of the time but this was the first time his mistake affected civilians he swore to protect, "Hey hey Keigo hello" He snapped back to reality when he heard you call his name, both of you were already at the elevator going up to the floor of his apartment. How pathetic Hawks would think, his sidekick was the one who handled the situation and even got him inside his apartment whereas he stood there still processing about what and how it happened.

"Yeah I uh I'm sorry kid, for not helping out back there.... just needed to process what happened" For Hawks approval rating was everything, he didn't even care if he went down the top 10 he was just worried about the civilians and your reputation in the future. "You know it wasn't your fault, the villains' quirk was more powerful than what we anticipated. He even got a hit on my arm" Hawks rushed to your side while one of his feathers went to get the first aid kit he had in his apartment.

"Danm kid, that's a pretty nasty gash, why didn't you say so earlier?" 

"You were worried enough as it is, you would've freaked out if you found out I was injured" Although Hawks wasn't the most professional person when it comes to training his interns he always made sure you were ok every time after the fight. "True but I'd rather actually know what my sidekicks' condition is" He continued to address your wounds as your phone rings. You picked it up with your other hand but sighed as you looked at the caller.

"Hel-"

Hawks noticed the screaming of the caller even though it wasn't on speaker, he noticed how you winced and pulled your phone away from your ears.

"No, Hawks can't talk right now sir- Yes! I know that it was a disaster but I'm sorry about what happened" The call was probably from the commission as you continued to defend his name and say those words on repeat. 

"I'm sorry but-"

"Look I'm sorry"

"Sorry but no"

It was repeating from your mouth like a broken record. He didn't want this, he didn't want you to shoulder his mistakes. He wanted you to have an easy life as a hero, he wanted your face to smile and stop frowning from the shouts of the caller of the phone.

“Stop apologizing for other people! for me! You’re not the shitty one!” You were shocked by his outburst as you looked at him with concerned eyes and slowly ended the call with no warning to the caller. You put your phone down and looked at his eyes which had a mixture of anger, regret, and disappointment. 

"I'm the one who messed up kid, I don't even know why you're trying to defend me!" Hawks was normally a carefree person who always had a charming attitude but you have never seen him more vulnerable with his feelings as he is now. "Hawks...Keigo you don't need to handle all this baggage alone, that's why I do what I do, did you know how ecstatic I was when I found out the number 2 pro-hero accepted me as their sidekick? but you're not just the number 2 pro-hero, you've become the person I trust the most and even the one I care about the most"

You put your arms around his shoulders as you squeezed him tightly into the hug. "Who cares what those dipshits say, us heroes are also human beings. We make mistakes" Hawks was shocked, to say the least, his whole people tried to control him for his quirk, he wasn't a person he was a weapon in the eyes of the hero commission. The fact that you were here now in his arms pouring words of comfort and your feelings for him made his heart beat faster.

"Thank you for being here, kid, I-i love you"

"I love you too"

Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic X Reader

↻ Off The Record ↺

Masterlist

So like….. this one I really thought of a Batman/ Jason Todd reader…. Also its been a while! whoopie! also this is a lot of tension without resolve. Someone asked for a angst one but then wanted comfort and by the time I was done this I realized it was too late for that. So youll be getting a double angst fic soon for some more comfort.

Synopsis: You and Hizashi had a family. Until one day you didn’t. When is it a point that you can avenge your family.

The camera focuses in on a patch of green where a blanket is spread out. Sitting cross legged in the middle of it is a young woman hair tied up messily, sleeves rolled past her elbows, and wearing an old, oversized band shirt that’s clearly been through more than one laundry battle. She’s got something smudged on her cheek maybe mashed banana and she doesn’t seem to notice or care. Just in front of her, a baby with soft blond hair and a gummy smile is trying to crawl with intense determination. Their chubby little arms slap against the blanket as they inch forward, letting out squeals of delight every time they gain a few inches. From behind the camera, Hizashi’s voice comes through, a little breathless from laughter.

“You’re getting this, right?” the reader calls, glancing up with a grin.

“I never stopped,” Hizashi replies, his voice warm. “I always catch the moments of my beautiful girls”

“You said that last time and then forgot to hit record,” she teases, catching the baby just as they topple forward with a squeak. She lifts them into the air with practiced ease, blowing a raspberry on their tummy that makes them shriek with laughter.

“That was one time,” he defends, shifting the camera a bit to frame her better. “And anyway, you’re the one covered in banana. If anything, I’m preserving art right now.”

The reader sticks her tongue out at him, still holding the baby against her chest. “bleh bleh bleh.” The baby reaches up, curious fingers poking at her face before pressing against her nose. She goes still, cross eyed, then bursts into laughter.

“Oh no. That was a critical hit. Guess I’m down for the count,” she groans playfully, flopping back into the grass and pulling the baby down with her. The baby giggles again, burying their face against her collarbone. Her hand comes up to gently support the back of their head, and her laughter softens into something quieter, more content. The camera zooms in just a little. The sunlight catches the edges of her hair, and even from behind the lens, it’s obvious how peaceful she looks. Hizashi’s voice lowers, more to himself than anything.

“My beautiful beautiful girls”

The camera lingers on the moment the baby nestled against her, her hand cradling them gently, her eyes half closed as she sways slightly in the grass. The wind moves through the trees, and for a moment, everything is still.

[END RECORDING 1]

There’s a small inflatable pool in the center of the yard. The water sloshes gently as a toddler barely old enough to speak in full sentences sits inside, smacking the surface with open palms and laughing at the splash. The reader crouches at the edge of the pool, sleeves rolled up and jeans cuffed just above the ankle. She’s holding a little plastic cup, pretending to sip from it before handing it back to the toddler with exaggerated delight. “Mmm! That’s the best pool water tea I’ve ever had,” she says, wiping fake tears from her eyes. “You really outdid yourself this time.” The toddler giggles and claps, delighted, before refilling the cup by dunking it haphazardly back into the pool. Most of it spills over their arm.

“You want more!” they declare proudly.

“Oh, absolutely. A whole round, chef,” she grins, holding out her hands with mock anticipation. “Let me savor this deluxe pool water blend.”

From behind the camera, Hizashi’s voice breaks in. “You two openin’ a café back there or just giving away five star service to VIPs?”

“You wish you were invited,” the reader calls, not looking back. The camera jerks a little clearly Hizashi’s picking it up now. The view bobs as he walks closer, eventually settling in on the reader and the toddler who’s now attempting to pour the ‘tea’ onto her head. She shrieks and leans back just in time.

“No! We don’t serve it like that! That’s assault!” she laughs. The toddler dissolves into giggles, proud of the reaction. Hizashi kneels beside the pool, one arm visible as he reaches in to push a floating rubber duck toward the baby.

“You’re teachin’ them all your bad habits,” he teases, looking over at her with a crooked grin.

“Oh, yeah?” she says, nudging him with her shoulder. “She got your hair and your voice. you have cursed her.”

“extremely cool and amazing style, you mean,” Hizashi corrects with a wink, then turns the camera back to the toddler who’s now taken the duck and is trying to make it “fly” through the water. There’s a long pause no talking, just the soft splash of water, the toddler’s happy babbling, the creak of a tree branch above them. The camera dips a little, and Hizashi exhales slowly through his nose. His voice is quieter when he speaks again.

“Man… she’s getting so big.”

The reader leans back on her hands, watching the child with that same soft look from the last video. “I know,” she says. “I keep thinking if I blink too long, I’ll miss something.”

The toddler looks up, eyes shining, and yells, “Dada! Look!” holding up a soggy duck triumphantly. Hizashi laughs, hand coming into frame to gently ruffle the baby’s wet hair. “I see ya, little rocker. Ten outta ten splash style.” The screen slowly starts to fade as the camera slips back into the grass, forgotten in favor of joining the moment.

[END RECORDING 2]

The room is dark, lit only by the faint blue glow of a laptop screen. Everything else is still. The walls are lined with old posters and shelves cluttered with memories records, photos, little things that once felt important. But right now, all of that fades into the background. Hizashi sits hunched in front of the desk, elbows on his knees, head bowed low. He’s still in his clothes from the day, shoes kicked off and forgotten beside the chair. The laptop screen flickers as a video ends static for half a second and then begins again.

The reader is sitting in the grass, wind in her hair, laughing as their baby crawls toward her. Her voice echoes faintly from the speakers. “C’mon, c’mon ! You can do it, little storm!”

Hizashi doesn’t speak. He barely blinks. His fingers, curled tight around the laptop’s edges, twitch. He rewinds the video ten seconds. Plays it again. Rewinds. Again. Over and over. The sound of her laugh becomes a loop warm, full of life, a sound that feels so distant now it may as well be from another lifetime. His chest rises with a shallow breath then another. A shaking exhale escapes his throat, and he bites the inside of his cheek as if that might hold something in. His eyes stay locked on the screen.

“C’mon, little storm,” she says again, softer this time.

The baby giggles. He presses pause. The image freezes on her face smiling, eyes glowing with joy. The baby is half lunging forward, caught mid motion. Hizashi swallows hard, jaw tight, knuckles white. He presses play again. Then rewind. Again. Again. There’s no sound in the room now except for the looping of her voice and the faint whir of the laptop fan. His breathing grows uneven, but he doesn’t let himself cry. Not yet. He just sits there, stuck in time with her rewinding the only piece of her that he still had.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Hizashi’s sprawled on the couch, one leg kicked up over the armrest. He’s wearing his tinted glasses, though they’ve slipped slightly down his nose. In his hands is a sleek, beat up notebook with audio notes scrawled in the margins and ideas circled three times. Across from him, Aizawa sits in a chair, arms crossed, hair pulled back just enough to look like he tried. He’s sipping something that probably started as coffee but has long since gone cold.

“so I was thinking,” Hizashi says, flipping the notebook toward Aizawa with a grin, “for the next episode, I bring in a retired pro hero who’s been doing underground rescue work. You know, off the grid, totally unofficial, but still out there saving people. The guy’s voice is all gravel and chain smoke it’ll sound awesome in post.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re going to platform someone who’s technically breaking the law?”

“It’s inspiring, not incriminating. I’ll edit carefully.” Hizashi grins, waggling his brows. “And I’m not naming names. Just telling stories.”

“You said that last time and still ended up with Nezu calling you in for a ‘polite conversation’ that lasted an hour and a half.”

“He understands.”

Aizawa sighs into his cup. “If it were me, they’d shut the whole thing down.”

“That’s because you sound like dead puppies or something. total buzzkill” A faint twitch tugs at Aizawa’s mouth full of amusement.Hizashi laughs, stretching his arms behind his head. “Hey, what can I say? People like when I talk. It’s either the podcast or every event this place has. If i was bad at what I do they would not ask me to do the things I dooooooo.”

“ew stop.”

Hizashi leans forward, smirking. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a fan club of sleepy office workers who listen to you while folding laundry.”

“Correct,” Aizawa deadpans. “I want none of that.”

Before Hizashi can fire back, the intercom crackles to life, breaking the moment. “Yamada, Aizawa please report to my office at your earliest convenience,” Nezu’s cheerful voice chirps through the speakers. “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble!.”

The intercom clicks off. A beat of silence. Hizashi squints up at the ceiling. “I feel like im in highschool again”

Aizawa sets down his mug with a quiet sigh and stands, already reaching for his capture weapon. “He calls you like this all the time”

“Yeah so exactly like highschool” Hizashi follows, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.

“I just want to go home.”

“Come on, Shota, don’t be like that,” Hizashi grins, catching up as they head for the door. “Our fearless leader is calling.” “ugggggggh.” And with that, the lounge door swings shut behind them.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The door to Nezu’s office swings open with a faint creak, the familiar scent of tea and paper drifting out to meet them. Nezu sits perched behind his desk, paws folded neatly, tail swishing slowly as he watches them enter with that ever pleasant smile that somehow always makes people nervous.

“Ah, thank you for coming so quickly!” he chirps. Aizawa steps in first, quiet and unreadable, hands shoved in his pockets. Hizashi follows, a little slower, his usual swagger dialed down into something more neutral though he still offers Nezu a quick two finger salute. Nezu gestures to the chairs across from him. “Please, have a seat. I won’t keep you long.”

The two settle in, Hizashi lounging back while Aizawa sits forward slightly, eyes already narrowed in suspicion. Nezu picks up a folder from his desk and slides it open with practiced ease. “I received a request this morning from a pro hero agency one you both are familiar with.” He lifts his gaze, tone still light. “Lumine’s (Y/n hero Name) agency.”

Aizawa’s eyes flick to Hizashi before Nezu even finishes the sentence. Hizashi goes still. Nezu continues, unaware or simply unbothered by the sudden tension in the air. “They’ve taken on a delicate undercover case. They need more pro heroes involved enough to form the appearance of a cooperative task force, but discreet enough that it doesn’t draw too much attention. They specifically asked if I had any heroes in mind.”

Hizashi’s fingers curl around the arm of the chair. Aizawa’s voice cuts in, cool and even. “Send someone else.”

Nezu blinks, tilting his head. “Oh?”

Aizawa doesn’t look at Hizashi. “There are plenty of capable pros who could play the part. You don’t need us.”

“I’m aware,” Nezu replies calmly, clasping his paws again. “But your teamwork history with her is one of the strongest among U.A. affiliated heroes. There’s a unique rhythm there. And in this case, familiarity might be more useful than sheer numbers.”

“Still,” Aizawa starts again, firmer this time, “it’s a mistake.”

But before he can say more, Hizashi leans forward. “I’ll do it.”

Aizawa finally looks at him. “Yamada ”

“I’ll do it,” Hizashi repeats, more certain now, even though his jaw’s tight. His voice is steady, but his eyes aren’t quite meeting Aizawa’s. “She asked for help. I’m not gonna sit back and pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Aizawa studies him for a long, silent moment. There’s something sharp behind his gaze, something protective. He doesn’t speak again not yet. Nezu nods, pleased. “I knew I could count on you.”

He turns to Aizawa next. “And what about you?”

Aizawa doesn’t answer right away. He looks at Hizashi again, then slowly exhales through his nose. “…Fine,” he mutters, rubbing at the corner of his eye. “But I’m not playing backup if this gets personal.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Hizashi says quietly.

Nezu claps his paws together. “Wonderful! I’ll forward you the brief. You’ll both head out in two days.”

As they stand to leave, Hizashi lingers for a moment, staring down at the folder still resting on Nezu’s desk. His eyes trace the corner of your name just barely peeking from a report inside. His hand tightens once before he forces it to relax. And then he turns, following Aizawa out of the room.

The door shuts behind them with a soft click, sealing off Nezu’s office and all the weight it carried. The hallway is quiet. Hizashi walks a step ahead, hands shoved deep in his pockets, mouth set in a line. His usual energy is gone no humming, no idle chatter, no light bounce in his step. Just silence. Aizawa follows beside him, eyeing the tension in his shoulders, the way he hasn’t said a word since they left the office. They pass a group of first years who pause to wave, but Hizashi doesn’t even notice.

“What was that?”

Hizashi glances sideways. “What?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Aizawa says, voice low.

Hizashi doesn’t answer right away. They keep walking past empty classrooms, the echoes of their steps filling the space between them. Finally, he exhales, slow and shaky. “It’s just been a while,” he says, too quickly.

Aizawa stops walking. Hizashi slows but doesn’t turn. he he “I’m serious,” Aizawa says. “If this is going to get in your head, I need to know now. You’re not the only one going in. I’m not dragging you out of something you weren’t ready for.”

Hizashi finally stops, his back still to Aizawa. He runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it more than usual, then turns halfway just enough to speak over his shoulder. “She asked for help, Shota,” he says quietly. “Whether she meant to or not, she did. I’m not gonna ignore that.”

Aizawa’s gaze narrows. “This isn’t about obligation. Don’t pretend it is.”

Hizashi chuckles once, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s not. But… I need to do this. Maybe for her. Maybe for me. I don’t know yet.”

Aizawa steps closer, voice dropping lower. “You haven’t talked to her since…”

“Yeah,” Hizashi cuts in. He finally turns fully, arms crossed, leaning back against the wall like he’s trying to hold himself up with it.

“I miss her every single day,” he murmurs. “Whether I understand it or not Im going to be there for her”

Aizawa watches him in silence, the faint crease between his brows softening just a little. “Alright,” he says. “If you’re in, I’m in.”

Hizashi gives a weak smile. “Thanks, man.”

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Hizashi and Aizawa step in, both dressed In their hero gear. Hizashi scans the place, mouth a thin line. Aizawa just yawns behind his scarf. “Can I help you?” the receptionist asks, eyeing them both before recognition softens her tone. “Oh Present Mic, Eraserhead. Lumine said to expect you.”

“She mention what this was about?” Aizawa asks, voice low.

“She said she’d brief you personally,” the receptionist replies with a tight smile. “She’s just ”

FWUMP.

A faint rush of wind and a shimmer of light drift in through the skylight above and then you land lightly in the center of the room, boots clicking softly as you straighten. Hair tousled by the wind you offer a nod to the others in the room before your gaze lands on the newcomers.

Your breath catches for a beat. Hizashi. You weren’t expecting him. But you recover quickly. A smile curls at your lips professional, measured, but undeniably a great thing. You brush your hair back and take a few steps forward.

“Thanks for coming,” you say to the room, your voice smooth and sure. “I’ll keep this quick. The mission’s simple. There’s a formal pro hero gala tonight big guest list, all high ranking heroes and agency leaders. Somewhere in that crowd is a contact I need to extract information from.”

You pause and glance around. “Problem is, I can’t make a direct move. Too many eyes. So I need all of you trusted faces to act as cover. Draw attention, start conversations, keep the spotlight off me.”

One of the pros a tall woman with a flame patterned cape raises a brow. “You brought this many people just to run interference?”

The others murmur similar questions. Your smile doesn’t waver. “Sometimes the most valuable thing in a room full of pros isn’t strength. It’s distraction. And trust.”

Still, a few of them exchange skeptical looks. Then, from your left “…Why us?” The voice was one you knew all too well. Hizashi steps forward just a little, arms crossed. He’s not challenging you but his gaze is steady, careful. “Why me?”

The room goes quiet. You meet his eyes those same eyes that used to crinkle when he laughed too hard. Your heart stutters, but your smile remains. “Because Nezu has a good memory,” you say lightly. “he knows what works best.” Hizashi tilts his head, lips parting like he might say something else but you turn toward the rest of the team before he can. “Everyone, get your formal gear ready. The gala starts at eight. I’ll brief you again in the transport. No costumes. No weapons. just please kiss some ass.”

As the others disperse, still murmuring to each other, you linger where you stand eyes trailing Hizashi just a little longer than necessary before turning away. He watches you, silent, that same tension in his shoulders he had in Nezu’s office.

Aizawa quietly steps up beside him and mutters, “This was a bad idea.” But Hizashi doesn’t answer. He just keeps watching you. The corridor glows with warm light from the sunset bleeding through the floor to ceiling windows, streaking gold across polished floors and glass panels. It’s quiet up here. Peaceful. A break from the constant motion of the agency below. You stand near the railing, clipboard in hand, eyes trained on the city skyline but you’re not really looking at it. Your smile is soft, just enough to pass, just enough to say: I’m fine. This is fine. Behind you, footsteps approach. Light, familiar. You don’t turn.

“You always did like ahen things were quiet,” Hizashi says casually, his voice easy, light. “Something poetic about it.”

You turn your head just a little, enough to see him in your peripheral. “Poetic? Did you pick up a new hobby? must have been something I missed while you were off being a radio star?” You make it a joke. You even add a small laugh that feels practiced now.

Hizashi steps up beside you, resting his elbows on the railing, looking out. “Nah. Still can’t write poetry for anything. But I can still recognize when you are hiding.”

Your smile twitches, just slightly. But it doesn’t drop. “If I was hiding, this would be the worst place to do it. Big windows.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you from the side. “I didn’t come up here for the mission,” he says finally.

You nod slowly, still staring straight ahead. “Yeah. I figured.”

“You gonna ask why I did?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” You keep your voice airy. “Everyone missed me. I’m the star attraction around here.”

Hizashi’s laugh is quiet. “You always were in my eyes”

You turn to face him with a too sunny smile. “Anyways Present Mic, what can I do for you?”

That earns a grin from him, but there’s something searching in his eyes like he’s not buying it. Like he never really did. “Just wanted to see you,” he says, voice quieter now. “Cant say that Ive seen you in a while”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the clipboard. “Well, lucky for you, this is it. Ta da.”

But it doesn’t come out with the same flair as usual. The exhaustion slips through the cracks. He catches it. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know,” he says gently. “You never did.”

then you laugh small, hollow, just barely a sound. “You say that like it’s easy.”

He tilts his head. “Isn’t it easier than bottling it up?”

You look away again. “Bottling it up got me this far.”

Another silence. You hear him shift closer, just a little. Still not touching, but close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him. “I missed you,” he says.

You blink. Slowly. The weight of those words settle over your shoulders like a coat you forgot belonged to you. “I missed a lot of things,” you murmur. “Doesn’t mean I know what to do with them now.”

“You don’t have to,” Hizashi replies. “Just… don’t shut the door all the way, okay?”

Your smile fades, softens into something tired and unsure. But you nod. “…Okay.”

He leans a little closer, voice gentle. “And for the record? I didn’t come up here for closure. I came up here because the door’s still open. Even if it’s just a crack.”

You let out a slow breath. Then quietly, more vulnerable than you’d like you say, “Don’t make promises you don’t plan to keep.”

Hizashi smiles “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The room is quiet except for the soft clink of a makeup brush against a ceramic palette and the low hum of distant city traffic. Golden light from the setting sun filters through the tall windows, catching on your vanity mirror. You sit in front of it, barely blinking as you apply a dark line of eyeliner with practiced ease. Your reflection stares back at you. Polished. Perfect. Controlled. Like you haven’t broken a hundred times over. Your hand pauses mid swipe. Lips slightly parted, mascara wand hovering. The image in the mirror doesn’t look like you. Not the version of you who’s been slipping through alleyways in the dead of night. Not the version who helps the desperate and the voiceless when the system turns away. This version? She’s a performance. She’s what the hero system still expects you to be. You press the wand down and exhale shakily. And then your mind drifts to him.

Hizashi.

Of all the people Nezu could’ve sent, of all the names that could’ve landed on that list it had to be his. You grit your teeth, swallowing the rise of emotion burning in your throat. Of course you still love him. You always have. From his dumb jokes to his reckless optimism. From the way he held your baby like the world might fall if he didn’t… to the way he shattered when it actually did. But that love lives under the ash of everything you lost. The system said you couldn’t move your child. Protocol. Civilians were to shelter in place while pros handled the threat. And what happened? He escaped again. Again. Again.

How many people did it take before they actually locked him away? Too late. Always too late. Your hand trembles against the vanity. They told you to trust the law. To wait. They said justice would come. It did but only after blood. So you stopped trusting them. You still wear the hero name, still hold the title because it’s useful. But when the uniform comes off, you become you. The one who helps where the law won’t go. The one who tracks the ones the system forgets. The one who avenges. You sacrificed everything to live that life. Even him. Even love. Because the hero system let you bury your child. And now… now you’re here again, curling your lashes, dabbing soft shimmer onto your eyelids, pretending you’re whole. Pretending you’re going to a party. Pretending you’re just another hero at a gala with a mission.

You click the lipstick shut, the final touch complete. The woman in the mirror stares back beautiful, unreadable, deadly. No one in that room tonight will see anything else. You rise slowly, smoothing out the fabric of your dress midnight blue, sleek and elegant, with a slit that hides your knives and your scars. Another mask. You glance once more at your reflection.

“…Let’s get this over with,” you whisper.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The gala glows beneath chandeliers and camera flashes, a swirl of polished shoes, clinking glasses, and hero agency logos gilded in gold along the walls. Music hums soft and jazzy beneath the polite roar of conversation, laughter.

Hizashi Yamada is in the center of it all, exactly where he knows you need him to be. His suit is sharp dark green with golden accents, the kind of color that catches the light just enough to make him pop. His hair’s tied back neatly, but the grin on his face is pure Present Mic: loud, magnificent , effortless.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he says, waving his drink with a flourish as a small circle of heroes gathers around him. “You haven’t lived until you’ve been in a karaoke bar in Osaka with Gang Orca and Fat Gum. I swear Orca screamed ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ like his life depended on it!”

The circle bursts into laughter, even the stiffer heroes cracking smiles. A few paparazzi hover near the edge of the group, lenses trained on him, capturing every animated gesture and flashy grin. Exactly as planned. If he was going to do this help you with this mission he was going to do it right. Draw the spotlight. Drown out the background. Let you move like a shadow behind the scenes.

“You’re really working this room,” comes Aizawa’s voice, low and unimpressed, as he appears beside him with a glass of water in hand and his long coat thrown over the more traditional black suit.

“Course I am,” Hizashi says through a grin, only just glancing at him. “Isn’t that the job?”

“You’re being loud even for you.”

“People like loud,” Hizashi replies, motioning around the room. “Loud means attention babygirl”

Aizawa physically recoils at the nickname ans follows his gaze. Your figure is barely visible, cutting clean through the crowd in a sleek dress, slipping between clusters of distracted pros with silent precision. You’re already at the far end of the room, unnoticed. Unbothered. Just like you wanted.

Aizawa hums, eyes flicking back to Hizashi. “So, what happens if they start looking for you when the lights go down?”

Hizashi’s grin softens, just a little.

“Then I keep being the one people hear.”

And with that, he throws an arm around a nearby hero, dragging them into the conversation, voice booming again like nothing’s changed. But behind the volume, behind the show, his eyes keep darting toward the edges of the room where he knows you are. And he prays they keep looking at him, just a little longer.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The room spins in soft gold and velvet shadows as the band shifts into something slower strings and piano, romantic and dangerously timed. Laughter hushes to murmurs as couples begin to gather at the polished dance floor, gliding in practiced steps.

He sees you. You step out from the fringe of the crowd, no longer a shadow. No longer just the woman on a mission. You’re standing beneath a chandelier, its light bathing you in soft firelight. Midnight blue silk wraps around you like the night itself, slit high enough to whisper of the weapons hidden beneath, and yet all he sees is you. like the memory he’s never been able to rewrite. Hizashi’s mouth parts, breath catching in his throat. For a second just a second he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. He forgets the crowd, the mission, the weight of years between you.

All he sees is the love of his life.

You’re scanning the room, eyes sharp but you feel it the burn of a gaze that cuts deeper than the others. When you meet it, your chest tightens. Of course he’s looking at you like that. Like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last time. Like it’s always been you. Your jaw ticks slightly, but before you can move away.

He’s already in front of you. You feel it before you see him. His hand on your waist. Warm, firm. Familiar. His other hand gently, reverently, slides into yours. Your breath stutters. “Dance with me,” he says, voice low, the wild energy of his public persona stripped away.

You look up, annoyed just a little. “This isn’t part of the plan.” But there’s no venom in your tone. There never is, not with him.

His thumb brushes your hip, soft. “Maybe not. But I’ve waited years for five minutes with you that weren’t shadowed in grief.” He leans down, hand still clasping yours, and presses a kiss to your wrist. Then another, up your arm. Slow. Like he’s memorizing the pieces of you he thought he’d never touch again. You say nothing. You don’t pull away. Because your heart is screaming. He leads you gently toward the floor. The crowd shifts, moving out of your path, and the room seems to hush, the music rising as the two of you step into its rhythm. You dance. Bodies close, breath shared. His touch is careful, not possessive never possessive but like he’s holding something fragile. You’re stiff at first, guarded, but then your fingers curl tighter in his hand, your other hand brushing his shoulder. It feels like coming home and stepping into a fire, all at once.

Neither of you speaks. You don’t need to. His hand squeezes yours. you let yourself rest your cheek against his shoulder for just a moment. One song. That’s all he asked for. And for the first time in what feels like forever… You let him have it.

The music wraps around you like silk smooth and slow, the kind of song that sways rather than marches. You move with him, step for step, breath for breath. But your posture is rigid. Not cold, not cruel just closed. Hizashi doesn’t push. His hand remains at your waist, guiding you gently across the floor, fingers warm against your lower back. You’re dancing, but your eyes keep flicking away over his shoulder, past the crowd, toward your objective. He doesn’t mind. He’s just watching you. Fully. Softly. Like he doesn’t care who sees.

“Its been so long,” he murmurs, his voice low enough only for you. “you still look like a rockstar as much as the last time i've seen you”

You glance at him, unamused.

“Don’t start.”

He grins. “Just sayin’. It’s cute.”

Your brows tighten, your gaze cutting to the side. The rhythm doesn’t falter, but your walls stay up. You keep moving like a soldier dressed as a socialite. He chuckles softly, not deterred. “This dress, though…” His fingers graze the silk at your hip, reverent. “Do you know how beautiful you look”

You say nothing. You just breathe in through your nose, shoulders sharp.

“I mean it,” he goes on, shameless. “You look like a star. Like the kind that burns out entire galaxies”

You roll your eyes, lips twitching into a ghost of a smile. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well. I’m allowed to be,” he says, eyes on you like you’re a masterpiece. “Haven’t seen you like this in forever. Let me be ridiculous.”

You stare straight ahead, chin tilted just slightly higher. “I’m working,” you say softly.

“I know,” he replies, no protest in his tone. “I’m just dancing. With the woman I love.”

Your chest tightens. You hate the way that lands. The way it splits you open with something soft and aching. But you don’t reply. You just keep dancing. His thumb brushes circles against your spine.

“You’ve always been good at this,” he says suddenly, quieter now. “Ive always liked things loud and fast. But I think… I think I always liked you best when you stayed still. Just for a minute. Just long enough to look at me.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Not yet. He smiles anyway. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… needed to tell you.”

The song fades into its last few notes, and you step back from him, just a little. The space between you isn’t wide but it feels like miles. Still, his hand never drops yours.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The sun barely filters through the blinds of the teachers’ lounge, casting long stripes across the floor. The coffee in Hizashi’s mug has gone lukewarm. He doesn’t seem to notice. Slouched on the couch in his yellow hoodie and black joggers, he’s staring blankly at the muted TV screen as the early news drones on in the background. Aizawa stands near the counter, dark hair tied back, arms folded across his chest, his cup untouched. The room feels heavy like something is waiting to drop. Then the news breaks.

“We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news. Last night, the body of Daigo Nishida was discovered in a private lounge of the Pro Hero Gala. Authorities report the man had been dead for several hours before staff discovered the scene.”

Both men turn their heads.

Hizashi’s eyebrows pull together. “Wait what?”

Aizawa is already narrowing his eyes, moving toward the remote to turn the volume up.

“Initial speculation assumed it was a heart attack, but the situation has taken a drastic turn. Investigators have confirmed that Daigo Nishida had been under covert surveillance for months. Allegations include child trafficking, harassment, and laundering funds through hero support firms. Authorities are now treating the death as a possible homicide.”

A still photo of Nishida appears on the screen, taken at some formal event. He’s smiling. Glass raised in a toast.

Aizawa’s jaw clenches. “He was at the gala.”

Hizashi blinks slowly, sitting forward. “He was there. We were there. We were what, fifteen feet away the whole damn night?” They sit in stunned silence as the anchor continues listing charges, connections to known black market labs, even a supposed deal that fell through with a hero firm overseas. Hizashi scrubs a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me all that was happening and we were out there charming sponsors and spinning small talk?”

“I didn’t even see him in the crowd,” Aizawa mutters.

“Same.” Hizashi leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’d think I’d catch a guy like that. Especially at that kind of event.” A beat of silence. He stares at the screen, face unreadable. “Can’t say I’m shedding tears over it, though.” Aizawa gives him a look but doesn’t disagree. Hizashi shakes his head, muttering, “Guy like that getting away with that much, that long… Makes you wonder who else was looking the other way.”

But he isn’t angry about that. Not really. His mind is already somewhere else circling you. He remembers the tension in your shoulders. The way you never quite softened, even when you danced with him. The way your eyes kept drifting always watching, always calculating. You’d known something. Or someone. And if you were close to it if you were even near whatever happened in that room Hizashi’s jaw tightens. I should check in on her, he thinks, quietly.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 Your fingers move fast, scribbling notes, signing documents, flipping pages without hesitation. There’s always more to do. There always has to be more to do. A knock breaks through the silence. You don’t look up. “Come in,” you call, already bracing yourself. Another pro. Another secretary. Another bright eyed intern wanting advice. Your voice shifts instinctively preparing the familiar bubbly tone, the one people expect from you now. But when the door opens, and you finally glance up Your heart stutters. Hizashi stands in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, the other tucked into his jacket pocket. His usual energy is dulled still him, still tall, still magnetic in the way only he is but quieter. He’s in his casual wear again: yellow hoodie layered under his bomber jacket, hair loose and a bit windswept from being outside. Your throat tightens. You immediately look back down at your papers, flipping to the next sheet like it’s more interesting than the man you once shared a life with. He steps inside slowly and closes the door behind him. You speak first, flat but polite. “Need something for the report?”

Hizashi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he studies you. The way your jaw clenches. The way your pen stills just slightly before moving again. The way you’re not looking at him really refusing to. “…Are you okay?”

The question hangs there, heavier than it should be. You don’t flinch, but your fingers tense around the pen. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you reply, still not meeting his eyes.

“Because,” he says softly, stepping closer, “a man was killed at the gala last night. You were off on your own when it happened. who wouldnt be scared after that?.”

You finally stop writing. The silence stretches. He waits. You take a breath shallow, careful. Then say, “I’m fine.” And maybe if it were anyone else, they’d believe it. You’ve made a second career out of pretending to be fine.

But Hizashi isn’t anyone else. He watches you for another beat before quietly asking, “Can I sit?”

You finally look up at him again, reluctant. Just tired of trying to guard things he already knows. You gesture to the chair across from your desk. The air between you both feels thinner now. Hizashi leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands loosely folded, eyes never leaving you. His voice cuts through the quiet, softer than usual. No booming theatrics. No playful edge.

“…I miss you,” he says.

You blink, your chest tightening.

“I miss us.” He smiles faintly, almost bitterly. “There’s not a single day I don’t think about the life we had. About ” His voice catches for half a second. “ about our baby.” That word still feels sacred. Shattering. Whole. Your hand stiffens where it rests on the desk. But you don’t speak. “I still hear her laugh sometimes,” Hizashi says, his voice rougher now. “In my dreams. The little squeal she used to do when she saw you. The way she’d hold my finger with that tiny hand like she thought I could protect her from the whole damn world.”

You still say nothing. But you move. You get up slowly, walk across the room without a word, and turn the lock on the door with a soft click. Then, instead of sitting back behind the desk you perch on top of it. Facing him. Closer. A little more honest.

“I miss you too,” you say quietly and tiptoeing around the edges. “God, Hizashi… of course I miss you.” He looks up at you, eyes aching. You exhale a long, shaky breath. “But I couldn’t do it anymore. Not when the same system that asked us to stand for justice told me I wasn’t allowed to take my daughter to safety. Told me to wait. Told me it wasn’t protocol. Told me he’d be caught eventually.” Your voice wavers. “I needed to protect her. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“I know,” Hizashi whispers. There’s a beat. Then, he sits up straighter, eyes searching yours, like he’s stepping to the edge of a cliff. “…Come back,” he says. Your heart lurches. “Come back to me. Please.”

You look at him and the ache in his voice, the longing behind his words, it shreds through every wall you’ve tried to rebuild. Your gaze softens. “It’s too late,” you whisper. And yet your feet move before your mind can stop them. You slide off the desk, stepping between his legs, and lower yourself slowly into his lap. His hands hover at your sides, unsure, until your arms slide around his neck and your face finds the crook of his shoulder. Hizashi exhales shakily, like he’s been holding his breath for years. His arms curl around your waist, firm but reverent, pulling you impossibly closer. One hand presses flat against your back while the other slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair like he needs to remind himself this is real. You’re here. You’re his again, even if only for this moment. He buries his face against your shoulder, and you can feel it his breath catching, the way his chest rises like he’s trying not to break down.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this,” he murmurs into your skin, voice barely holding steady. “What I’d say… what I’d do if I ever got to hold you again.” Your grip around his neck tightens, and your eyes sting, but no tears fall. Not yet. You’ve cried enough behind closed doors. You’ve mourned in silence long after the world moved on. “I thought letting you go would be what you needed,” he continues. “But I never stopped waiting. I never stopped hoping you’d come back. Or… or maybe you’d let me come to you.”

You stay quiet, your nose brushing the side of his neck, breath warming his skin.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 The city hummed beyond the cracked walls of the abandoned parking structure, its sound dulled by distance and the encroaching dark. Sunset spilled its last rays through broken slats, casting jagged lines of orange across the concrete. The air was heavy with dust and the ghosts of burned rubber. Years of neglect stained the ground with oil and time, and now it bore the tension of a battleground. Hizashi’s boots struck the floor in rhythmic strides as he entered, his silhouette framed by the last bit of daylight. His voice rang out, echoing between the pillars with confident bravado, that trademark flair he never quite dropped. “C’mon, man,” he called, scanning the shadows. “You’ve got a good quirk, slick moves, and bad taste in timing! But you picked the wrong night to stir the pot.”

He could’ve waited for the rest of the team outside. Could’ve played it safe. But something in the reports had itched at the back of his brain, and he wanted to see this vigilante for himself. A sharp motion sliced through his peripheral. He pivoted instinctively, ducking just as a metal pipe came sailing through the air and smashed against a pillar with a shriek of impact. Hizashi spun on his heel, already shouting. “YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The Voice Pulse detonated like a cannon. A wave of sound surged forward, cracking the air and hammering into the attacker. They flew backward, slammed into the ground with a sickening thud that echoed like thunder. The impact threw up a cloud of dust and debris, choking the air in a fog of grit. Hizashi didn’t wait. He launched forward, every muscle braced, boots skidding as he weaved between the pillars. Another attack came this one closer. The vigilante had recovered faster than he expected. A shockwave burst from their palm, hurling a chunk of concrete at him with kinetic force. Hizashi ducked, rolled, and came up swinging his voice again, a controlled blast meant to knock them off balance without killing. The two clashed in rapid bursts strike, dodge, counter, repeat. Sparks flared as a baton scraped metal. Energy hissed against sonic force. It was messy, fierce, personal. The vigilante moved like someone who didn’t care about pain, only results. Hizashi fought like someone who had to win but didn’t want to destroy the person in front of him. Eventually, a low kick swept the vigilante’s legs out. Hizashi lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into their chest, sending them sprawling. They hit the ground hard, a choked gasp escaping as they slid across the cement and into a low wall.

Dust swirled again. Silence returned. A groan followed. Breath ragged, Hizashi jogged over, eyes narrowed behind his visor. The vigilante was pushing themselves up on one elbow. Their mask stark black with jagged red lines was cracked along the edge. Their body was wrapped in mismatched, tactical gear, not a hint of official regulation in sight. No hero would wear that. But the way they moved the way they flinched when he approached it twisted something in his gut, something he couldn’t quite name.

“You talk a big game,” he muttered, crouching beside them, keeping a cautious distance. “But your moves? yeah I can just guess thats all it is. All talk.”

The vigilante laughed, low and bitter, blood at the corner of their mouth. “You heroes,” they rasped, “you think you’re saving people by playing by the rules. But all you’re doing is running alongside the tracks, hoping the train’ll stop before it kills someone.”

Hizashi’s eyes darkened. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know the trolley problem?” they asked, spitting blood to the side. “If one life saves ten, you pull the lever. If it saves a hundred, you run to pull it. But heroes?” They coughed, the sound dry and broken. “You wait for backup. For clearance. For someone to sign the damn form. You’re not saving anyone. You’re just dragging it out while more people get hurt.”

“Funny way to justify hurting people,” Hizashi said, quieter now. There was something about that voice. The cadence. The way they spoke like they’d already lost something they couldn’t get back. It echoed too close to home.

They didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He hesitated, then reached forward with a slow, steady hand. “You’re done,” he murmured. Fingers curled around the edge of the mask. A tug. It slipped free. Time stopped. The mask fell from his hand and hit the ground with a hollow clatter, echoing louder than it should’ve. His eyes widened. His breath caught halfway through his throat and never made it out. His heart slammed against his ribs like a prison break.

“No…” You were staring up at him. Your face was streaked with dirt, blood dried at your temple, lips cracked and trembling. But your eyes your eyes were the same. Hizashi staggered back a step, almost tripping over himself. “You?”

The word barely left his mouth. His voice, always so loud, now a broken whisper. Everything around him dust, darkness, the mission blurred into nothing. His hands shook. And then, you smiled. Faint. Wounded. Soft in a way that felt like the end of the world.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice hoarse but steady. Your eyes didn’t waver from his. “Hello, my love.” And just like that, Hizashi’s heart split clean down the middle.

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead. The walls are sterile, lined with gray panels. A single metal table sits in the center, bolts securing it to the floor. Across from the table is you handcuffed, ankles crossed, posture relaxed like you’re waiting for a friend at a café. You’re smiling. The interrogator across from you flips a page in their file, eyes narrowed.

“You’re a pro hero. Top ten, even,” he says, frustration threading through his voice. “What made you throw all of that away?”

You lean forward a little, a glint of amusement in your eye. “I didn’t throw anything away,” you say cheerfully. “I just started picking up where everyone else left off.”

“Don’t play games. We’ve connected your movements to multiple incidents. Incidents where people wound up dead. Or disappeared.” His voice is harder now. “You were supposed to protect the system, not act like you’re above it.”

You rest your chin in your palm, smile deepening like it’s painted on. “And who exactly is the system protecting?” you ask softly, tone still sugar sweet. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t my kid.” The interrogator falters. You sit back, stretching your shoulders as much as the cuffs allow. “It’s funny,” you continue. “People love heroes until it’s inconvenient. Until they need someone to really fix things. But no one wants to get their hands dirty. No one wants to do anything. Just wait for the paperwork to clear, hope the next press conference goes well.” You laugh light, like a bell. Like none of this matters. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Being the good guy while watching people fall through the cracks.”

You tilt your head, still smiling. “Is it really a crime to protect the people I love?” Then your eyes shift slowly toward the mirrored glass. Behind the glass, Hizashi stands frozen. Shoulders rigid. Jaw clenched. You’re looking straight at him. i… he doesn’t look away. Not from the woman he still loves. Not from the woman he failed to protect. Not from the woman who’s trying to save others the only way she knows how. Hizashi hasn’t moved.

He’s barely breathing. Your words echo in his head “Is it really a crime to protect the people I love?” and they cut deeper than any blast or wound he’s ever taken. The interrogator beside him keeps talking into the mic, flipping pages, preparing more questions. But Hizashi doesn’t hear a word. His eyes are glued to you through the glass. That smile that isn’t really a smile. The light in your eyes that no longer warms. His hands are curled into fists. Then he speaks, voice low and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Let me talk to her.”

The interrogator glances at him. “Mic, she’s in the middle of an official ”

“I said,” Hizashi cuts in, sharper this time, “let me talk to her.”

The silence that follows isn’t long, but it’s heavy. Eventually, the man sighs and gives a short nod. “You’ve got ten minutes.”

Hizashi doesn’t wait. He’s already moving.

The door hisses open. Your eyes flick lazily toward it, the grin on your face sharp and bright an obvious performance, polished to perfection. But the moment you see who steps in, it falters for half a second. Hizashi. Of course. You straighten in your seat, smile shifting into something thinner, more barbed. “Well, if it isn’t Present Mic himself. Come to yell me into a confession?”

He says nothing at first, just closes the door gently behind him. His shoulders are rigid, but his eyes his eyes are soft. Too soft. You hate that. He takes a step toward the table. You don’t let him get close.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, voice low.

“Like you still can love me.” That silence is the kind that suffocates. He takes another step, and you narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t need your pity, Present Mic,” you bite, spitting out the name like it burns your mouth. “I’ve made my bed.”

Hizashi flinches at the name. You’ve never had called him that before, opting for zashi even before dating. “Stop acting like you’re surprised,” you continue, leaning back in your chair, chains of the cuffs clinking against the table. “What did you think I was doing when I disappeared? Yoga retreats? This was always coming.”

“I’m not here to judge you,” he says, quietly. “I’m here because I needed to see you.”

“Well. You’ve seen me.” You motion dramatically with your cuffed wrists. “Hope the visual lives up to whatever fantasy you had in your head.”

His jaw tightens. You expect him to argue, to raise his voice, to be the loud, animated man everyone knows. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you achingly quiet. “I’m not here as Present Mic,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’m here as Hizashi. The man who inderstands this more than probably anyone else.”

Your face twitches, the hostility cracking like glass hit with a stone. You look away, blinking hard, gripping the edge of the table like it’ll keep you grounded. “You don’t get to say that,” you whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because you got to move on. You still get to be the hero. You didn’t have to become this.” You gesture to yourself worn down, tired, a mask made of bright smiles that hide nothing.

Hizashi takes the seat across from you, slow and careful like he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he moves too fast. “I didn’t move on,” he says. “I just survived. Without you. Without our kid. Every damn day I woke up and wished everything played out different. Wished I’d fought harder. For both of you.”

You grit your teeth, eyes stinging. You won’t cry. You won’t cry in front of him. “You think this was easy for me?” you murmur. “You think I wanted this?”

“Then why didn’t you let me help?” he asks, and his voice breaks just a little. “Why did you shut me out?”

You finally meet his eyes. They’re glassy now. He’s holding everything in by a thread. “I didn’t want you to have to choose,” you say. “Between me and a normal life”

He leans forward. “I would’ve chosen you. Every time.”

You laugh once, sharp and bitter. “Yeah? Even if it meant losing your hero license? Even if it meant turning your back on everything you fought for?”

“If it meant protecting you?” Hizashi swallows hard. “If it meant protecting our kid?”

“There was never even a question.”

Your breath catches, chest tightening painfully. You blink down at your hands.

Hizashi: I miss you.

Reader: That’s unfortunate.

Hizashi: …I deserved that.

Reader: You really didn’t. I just have unresolved feelings and sarcasm is easier than tears.

Masterlist~~

𓇢𓆸☾☼ Keigo Takami was dangerously close to losing control. He sat on the edge of the rooftop, wings sprawled lazily behind him, golden eyes scanning the city below without truly seeing it. Patrol had ended an hour ago, but he hadn’t moved, hadn’t taken off into the sky. Instead, he let the silence swallow him whole while the weight in his chest pulsed with every beat of his heart.

He was thinking about you again. Not just thinking. Obsessing. Wanting. Craving.

It wasn’t new not really. You had been his best friend for years now. The only person who truly saw him for who he was beneath the feathers, beneath the smiles and playful banter. You weren’t fooled by his smirks or his cocky remarks.

And he wanted you in every way a man could want someone.

He pressed his fingers to his lips, as if he could trap the thoughts there, keep them from spilling out. But they always found their way back in. Memories of your laugh, your hand brushing his, the way you leaned into him when you were tired. The way you looked at him like you didn’t expect anything more than what he was already giving.

But God, he wanted to give you more.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, wings twitching behind him. “You have no idea,” he muttered to himself.

No idea how he thought about you when he showered, when he lay awake in bed, when he flew above the city. How the ache wasn’t just in his chest but deep, carnal, physical. You’d never touched him like that not even close but his body remembered every innocent brush, every accidental graze of your fingers, every look that lingered a second too long.

He remembered the last time you hugged him. Fully wrapped your arms around him without hesitation.

You were warm. So warm, it branded him. And he wanted to be selfish. Just once.

He wanted to kiss you. Hold you. Lay you down and worship you with every part of himself. He wanted to hear you moan his name like a plea, like he was the only thing in your world that mattered.

His fists clenched.

But he couldn’t. Because he was your best friend. And you trusted him. He’d never risk that. But lately… it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to act like his thoughts didn’t spiral when you smiled at him, when you laughed and leaned your head back like the world couldn’t touch you. Like he was safe in your orbit.

“Fuck,” he whispered to the empty air.

His wings flared slightly behind him, agitated. He was needy pathetically so and it rattled him. You. His best friend and the woman he couldn’t stop imagining underneath him, moaning his name like a prayer.

He exhaled a shaky breath, one hand dragging down his face. His fingers curled tightly in his hair, jaw clenched. It had started innocently enough thinking about your laugh, the way you teased him, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about something you loved. But lately, that innocent warmth had twisted, melted into something far darker.

Now all he could think about was how soft your lips would feel against his. How your body would arch into his if he finally let himself touch you the way he needed to. Keigo, who wanted to touch the curve of your waist, bury his face in your neck, trace his fingers down your thighs and hear you gasp for him. Keigo, who thought about your lips parting for him, your nails digging into his back, your breath hot against his ear.

He could already feel your thighs wrapped around him in his imagination, could already hear the sounds you’d make soft, desperate, so unlike the friend you were. And he wanted it more than he wanted anything else.

His cock was already hard, straining against the tightness of his pants, and he fucking hated how easy it was to get this way just thinking about you. It didn’t take much just the memory of your legs crossed during a casual conversation, the way your shirt would ride up when you stretched, revealing the tempting curve of your waist.

He leaned back against the cool concrete of the rooftop wall, letting his head fall back with a low groan. “Goddamn it…”

He’d been so careful. So respectful. Always the charming best friend who gave you space, never said too much, never let his touches linger for too long. But he was starving now.

Keigo wanted to taste every inch of you.

He imagined it pulling you onto his lap, letting his hands explore everything he wasn’t allowed to touch. Your thighs spread for him, your breathy moans in his ear as he whispered filthy things you never thought he’d say.

“You don’t know what you do to me… how long I’ve wanted this.”

He’d take his time with you slow, worshipful, but dripping in hunger. He’d kiss down your neck, between your breasts, over your stomach, and lower, until your thighs trembled around his head. He wanted to ruin you with his mouth, over and over, until your voice was hoarse from crying out for him.

His hips shifted as he ground into his palm, teeth gritted. This wasn’t just some passing fantasy. This was a need buried in the deepest parts of him hot, relentless, consuming.

the worst part… You had no idea. You still called him your best friend. Still crashed at his place when you were too tired to go home. Still walked around in those shorts, those oversized shirts with no bra underneath, curling up beside him on the couch like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing to him.

Every brush of your fingers set his nerves on fire. Every laugh you shared made his heart ache and his cock twitch.

He wanted to fuck you so deep you’d forget your own name. Wanted to hear you beg wanted to make you feel good, worshiped, ruined. he’d hold back until the day that he dies. Because you trusted him. And he’d never take advantage of that. Never touch you unless you asked him to.

But he was slipping. More and more, his fantasies blurred with reality. He caught himself staring at your lips, imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. He thought about bending you over his kitchen counter when you came over to cook dinner. About tasting you after a long day your sweat, your moans, your pleasure burning into his mouth like a reward.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, palming himself through his pants now, just to ease the ache.

His wings twitched behind him as he imagined your voice in his ear.

“Keigo… please…”

Would you say his name like that? Would you beg for him to go deeper? Harder? Would you cry out for him, nails clawing at his back, thighs trembling as he pushed you over the edge again and again?

Would you finally look at him not just as your best friend, but as the man who’s been dying to be inside you? The man who loved you with everything he had?The thought was enough to tip him over, and he hissed your name into the night air, guilt and desire tangled up in his veins like poison.

He stayed there for a while, chest heaving, sweat beading on his brow as the tension drained from him but the ache remained. Because no matter how many times he relieved the pressure, no matter how many times he imagined your hands on him, your mouth, your body it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough. Because he didn’t want your body for just a night. He wanted to have you consume his entire day, everyday. He wanted you. All of you.

Keigo Takami | Hawks X Reader

𓅰 𓅬Smoke and Feathers𓅮 𓅯

I offer you angst and disgust and sadness and brainrot

masterlist

Synopsis: You love him, hes a whole hypocrite though

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 The knock on your door came just as you had started to relax for the night. You glanced at the clock late, even for him. With a sigh, you padded over, unlocking it without much thought. Hawks never really needed an invitation.

Keigo Takami stood in your doorway, grinning like he always did. The kind of grin that put people at ease, but you knew him better than that. His golden eyes flickered across your face, scanning for something maybe exhaustion, maybe suspicion.

“Hey, partner,” he greeted, stepping inside before you could respond. “I was craving chicken, and I figured, why eat alone when I could bother you instead?”

“You could eat at your place,” you shot back, closing the door behind him.

“Nah,” he waved a hand. “Too quiet. Besides, your place is way fancier. Food tastes better after being in rich people’s apartments.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Keigo had been your friend since you debuted at eighteen. Four years of missions, battles, and shared exhaustion had formed a bond neither of you really questioned. But lately, something about him had been…off.

“Fine. I hope to not be super tired after this.”

“Obviously.” He threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you toward the door.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

You ended up on top of a bridge after grabbing food, the city sprawled beneath you in glittering lights. It was peaceful up here just the occasional hum of distant traffic and the rustling of Keigo’s feathers when he shifted. You sat side by side, bags of takeout beside you, a breeze lifting your hair.

“You ever think we peaked too early?” Keigo mused, biting into a drumstick.

“Are you having a mid life crisis at twenty two?”

He snorted. “Maybe. I mean, don’t get me wrong I love being a pro hero, but sometimes I think… I dunno. If I weren’t one, maybe my love life wouldn’t suck so bad.”

You smirked. “Yeah, you and your long line of failed flings.”

Keigo sighed dramatically. “Ouch. What about you, huh? Any luck?”

You shook your head, taking a bite of your own food. “No time. Not that you’d know anything about that, right?”

“yeah yeah,” he grinned. Then, after a pause, “You ever think about settling down?”

You raised a brow. “We sound like old people right now.”

Keigo chuckled, but there was something in his expression something calculating.

“Must be nice, though,” he continued, staring down at the city. “Having people to rely on. To trust.”

You frowned. Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. But before you could reply, he kept going.

“Speaking of trust, I heard some interesting things lately,” he said casually, leaning back on his hands. “The League’s been moving differently. Word is, they’ve been pulling back from certain areas, regrouping.”

You tensed slightly, but forced yourself to stay relaxed. “Yeah? Didn’t hear anything about that.”

Keigo hummed, side eyeing you. “Funny. You usually have good ears for things like this.”

You knew what he was doing. He wasn’t outright accusing you wasn’t even asking directly. But he was fishing. He knew you’d been close with Dabi, and now he was prying without making it obvious.

You took another bite of food, playing it cool. “Well, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

Keigo smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Appreciate it.”

And just like that, the conversation shifted back to jokes and laughter. But you knew better. Hawks was good at this game at wearing masks, at pretending.

Keigo stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “You know, if we were normal, we’d probably be out right now. Living life, partying, dating.”

You snorted. “You’d probably be someone’s problem boyfriend.”

He gasped, “Wow. No faith in me at all?”

“None.”

Keigo laughed, but you could hear the strain underneath it. He was doing that thing again acting like everything was fine, like there wasn’t a million things weighing on his mind. You wanted to ask, but you already knew how that would go. He’d brush it off, give you some half truth, then change the subject.

Instead, you reached out, hesitating for only a moment before grabbing his hand. He blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t pull away.

“I mean it, Keigo,” you said, voice steady. “I know relationships are pretty much out of the picture for us, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. You’re important to me. No matter how messy things get, I value every second I spend with you.”

For once, Keigo didn’t have a snarky response. His golden eyes softened, the usual playful glint replaced with something quieter, something more vulnerable. He squeezed your hand slightly, as if grounding himself.

“Damn,” he muttered, looking away. “You always gotta go and say stuff like that.”

You smiled. “It’s the truth.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You know, sometimes I wonder if I deserve that. Having people who actually care.”

You frowned. “Of course, you do.”

Keigo didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to your intertwined hands, then back to the city. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to say it.

“Thanks,” he finally murmured.

The word felt heavier than it should have, like there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. And maybe he never would. But for now, this was enough.

You stayed like that for a while, sitting together on the bridge, hands still linked. For once, neither of you needed to fill the silence.

The silence didn’t last.

Keigo shifted beside you, the weight of his gaze pressing into your side. You could feel it before he even spoke the tension rolling off of him in waves, the way his body stiffened slightly.

“I just… I worry about you, you know?” His voice was light, casual, but you weren’t stupid. You could hear the edge to it. “The League isn’t exactly the safest crowd.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew where this was going.

“I don’t know anything, Keigo.”

He gave a breathy chuckle, but it lacked humor. “Come on, I know you’re smart. You’re always in the middle of things. You’re telling me you haven’t heard anything?”

You turned to him fully now, frowning. “I said I don’t know anything.”

Something in his expression wavered, just for a second. He rubbed a hand down his face, like he was trying to steady himself, but when he spoke again, there was something sharper underneath.

“I just” He exhaled harshly. “I don’t get it. Why won’t you tell me?”

That set something off in you. You pulled your hand away from his, frustration boiling over.

“Because there’s nothing to tell, Keigo! What, do you think I’m hiding things from you? That I’m playing some kind of double agent?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to think that.”

“But you do.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his feathers ruffling behind him. “You’re close with Dabi. You’re” He cut himself off, inhaling sharply before continuing. “I’ve seen what the League is capable of. And you” He gestured at you, eyes burning. “You’re getting wrapped up in it whether you realize it or not.”

You scoffed, standing up abruptly. “So that’s what this is, huh? You don’t trust me.”

Keigo stood too, stepping closer. “It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “No, this isn’t about that. You’re trying to get answers out of me. Like I’m some suspect.”

Keigo’s usual mask was gone now no charming smiles, no lazy grins. His wings twitched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“The Commission” He stopped himself again, shutting his eyes for a moment before reopening them. “I have to do this.”

You felt something crack in your chest. “So that’s what I am to you? A job?”

“Of course not!” His voice was sharper than before, his usual control slipping. “But if they think you know something, they’re gonna keep pushing! And if you do know something and don’t tell me, then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I already told you I don’t know anything! But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because you already made up your mind.”

His wings flared out, feathers rustling with tension. “You think I want to do this? You think I like treating you like this?”

You crossed your arms, biting the inside of your cheek. “Sure seems like it.”

Keigo let out a harsh breath, and suddenly, his frustration snapped into something else something desperate.

“I love you.”

The words hit like a shockwave, knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes widened, but he didn’t stop.

“I love you, okay?” His voice was rough, strained. “That’s why this is so fucking hard. That’s why I can’t just sit back and let you ” He exhaled shakily, shaking his head. “I can’t lose you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. He was breathing hard, his golden eyes wild with emotion. You had never seen him like this never seen him so raw.

The tension between you was thick, the city buzzing below, but up here, it was just the two of you. And you had no idea what to say.

“Fuck, Keigo.”

Your voice came out barely above a whisper, but the weight of it was enough to make him flinch. His wings, usually so steady, twitched behind him, like he was fighting the urge to fly away.

You didn’t know what to say. Lord knows you loved him you would do anything for him. But this? This hurt. The way he was looking at you, the way he was questioning you like you were some kind of liability instead of his friend. Instead of someone who had been by his side for years.

Your hands moved on their own, reaching up to cup his face. He stiffened at first, but then melted into your touch, his breath uneven.

You searched his face, desperate to find the trust that should have been there. But all you could see was hurt.

Hurt because he knew this was wrong. Hurt because he had to do it anyway.

And longing. Longing for something he had convinced himself he couldn’t have. Longing because, despite everything, despite the lines being blurred and the masks slipping, he wanted you.

You swallowed hard, your thumbs tracing along his jaw. “You don’t have to do this,” you murmured.

Keigo let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before meeting yours again. “I do.” His voice cracked slightly. “You don’t get it. If I don’t… they will.”

Your grip on him tightened. “I don’t know anything, Keigo.”

His brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face before it faded into something more vulnerable. “Then why do they think you do?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Dabi and I, fuck Keigo we just talk. After fights, after missions. That’s it.”

His eyes searched yours, and for the first time tonight, it felt like he was actually listening. Like he was really seeing you.

His hands came up, hesitating for only a second before resting over yours, keeping them against his face. His touch was warm, calloused from years of battle, but there was a softness there too. A silent plea.

“I don’t want to do this,” he whispered.

Your chest ached. “Then don’t.”

Keigo let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to shake him and make him see that it was that simple. That he didn’t have to follow the Commission’s orders like a puppet, that he didn’t have to do this to you to himself.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked. that was the worst part of all. The first tear slipped out before you could stop it.

Then another.

And another.

You didn’t even realize you were crying at first, too consumed by the frustration bubbling in your chest, the betrayal clawing at your throat. Your hands were still on his face, trembling now, and Keigo’s eyes widened as he felt the wetness of your tears bleed into his heart.

“Hey”

You sucked in a sharp breath, but it didn’t help. The weight of everything crashed over you all at once.

You had spent years fighting, bleeding, sacrificing to protect people to make the world safer, to do the right thing. And this was your reward? Being questioned like a criminal? Being treated like someone who couldn’t be trusted by the one person who should have known better?

You let out a broken, bitter laugh, your grip on Keigo tightening. “I’ve killed for this job,” you choked out. “I’ve bled for it. I’ve given everything to make sure people are safe. And the thanks I get is my best friend accusing me like I’m some kind of traitor?” Your voice cracked at the end, and you let your forehead drop against his. “The Commission making you accuse me?”

Keigo inhaled sharply, like your words physically hurt him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and before you could say anything else, his arms were around you.

He pulled you into him, crushing you against his chest, his wings wrapping around the both of you like a shield. His grip was almost desperate, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your hair, his voice raw. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”

But it didn’t fix anything.

It didn’t take away the ache in your chest, the sting of his accusations, the knowledge that if the Commission had its way, he’d be forced to keep pushing.

Still, you clung to him, your fists curling into his jacket. Because despite everything, despite the pain, despite the betrayal. You still loved him. that was the worst part of all.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. But the weight in your chest, the sting in your throat it wasn’t going away.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breath, but it came out shaky and uneven. And as much as you wanted to stay in his arms, to pretend like none of this was happening, you couldn’t.

So you let go.

You pulled back, slipping from his hold, and immediately, his arms twitched like he wanted to reach for you again. But he didn’t.

You took a step back. Then another. His wings twitched, his golden eyes wide and desperate.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed, shaking your head. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

Keigo stiffened, the color draining from his face. “What?”

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to catch your breath. “This us it’s just gonna keep getting worse. The Commission’s already pushing you to treat me like a suspect, and I can’t I won’t keep going through this.”

His expression twisted, panic flickering behind his eyes. “If we stop seeing each other, they’ll just use that as another excuse to build a case against you.” His voice was sharp, urgent. “They’ll say you’re cutting ties because you have something to hide.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

His brows furrowed, frustration creeping into his features. “Of course it fucking matters.”

You let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through your hair. “Keigo, how am I supposed to be around you if I know every conversation we have is controlled?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “If I can’t even tell if you’re talking to me or to the Commission?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it, his throat working as he swallowed hard.

You took another step back. He took a step forward.

You held up a hand to stop him, your breath shaky. “I love you, Keigo.”

His whole body froze, like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. His wings twitched again, his feathers rustling in the cool night air.

“I love you,” you repeated, your voice softer this time. “And I meant what I said I appreciate you more than you’ll ever know. But I can’t trust you anymore.”

The words shattered something in him. You saw it happen in real time. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to grab you and shake you and beg you to take it back.

“Wait,” he said, and his voice almost sounded broken. “Just wait.”

But you shook your head.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered.

Keigo’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you had met him, you saw something you never thought you’d see in him.

Fear.

Not fear of the Commission. Not fear of the League. Fear of losing you.

And as you turned away, his hands curled into fists, his mind racing with the realization that the Commission had just done the one thing he never thought possible.

They had pitted you against each other.

And he had let them.

The moment you disappeared from sight, the weight of it all crashed down on him.

Keigo staggered back, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His wings drooped, feathers trembling as if they could barely hold themselves up anymore.

You were gone.

His hands came up to his face, fingers curling into his hair as he let out a harsh, broken breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see was you. The way your voice cracked when you told him you loved him. The way your eyes shined with betrayal. The way you walked away.

His chest felt tight too tight.

He had spent his whole life playing this game, moving pieces around the board, following orders, doing what needed to be done. He had done it all without hesitation, without attachment, without caring.

Because caring got people killed. Caring made you weak.

At least, that’s what he had always believed.

Then you happened.

And he hadn’t even realized how much you meant to him until he was watching you slip through his fingers.

A sharp, choked noise tore from his throat as he staggered forward, his hands gripping at his hair. His chest hurt. He had never felt this before not even as a kid, not even when he was forced into a life that wasn’t his own.

Because back then, it hadn’t mattered.

But you had mattered.

You had trusted him. You had let him in, had told him how much he meant to you. And in return?

He had destroyed it.

His knees hit the metal of the bridge, and he barely even registered it. His wings curled around him, shielding him from the rest of the world, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Because for the first time in his life He had let someone in. And he had ruined it.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

The television flickered in the dimly lit room, its glow casting soft shadows against the walls. Keigo Takami otherwise known as Hawks leaned back in his seat, golden eyes trained on the screen as a familiar figure appeared.

It had been months.

Keigo’s eyes followed every headline, every news segment, every article that mentioned you.

Y/n Soars to New Heights: A Pro Hero On the Rise

Hero Y/n’s Daring Rescue Saves Dozens in Quirk Incident

Top 10 Pro Hero Y/n: The Future of Japan’s Hero Society

Each headline was another stab to his chest. He saw the numbers, the statistics, the articles that spoke of your bravery, your skill, your rise to the top. The world had watched you climb, and you had done it with grace, with skill, with everything he knew you were capable of.

“Once again, Japan’s rising star, Y/n, has taken down another villain with efficiency and grace!”

The anchor’s voice carried an air of excitement, painting you as a beacon of hope for the country. Footage played of you in action your movements sharp and calculated, your quirk flowing seamlessly between offense and defense. The crowd erupted in cheers, reporters clamoring for your attention, yet you only offered them a polite nod before moving on, as if there was always more work to be done.

Keigo exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of it between his fingers.

He wasn’t surprised. You had always been relentless in your pursuit of justice. He had seen it firsthand, the way you carried the weight of expectations without complaint. But now, watching you through the cold lens of a camera, he could see what no one else seemed to notice.

You were drowning yourself in work.

News articles flooded his phone.

“Japan’s Heroine Y/n Soars Higher Than Ever!”

“Y/n: The New Symbol of Hope?”

“Nonstop Victories, But At What Cost?”

The last one caught his attention. Clicking on the article, he scanned through the words. Some journalist had picked up on it too the dark circles beneath your eyes, the way your posture stiffened ever so slightly after every battle. But the world only saw the hero. They saw the unwavering smile, the power, the perfection.

Keigo knew better.

You were running yourself ragged, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

His hands clenched into fists. He had never felt so useless before. In the past, he would have sent a teasing message, a check in disguised as banter, just to make sure you were okay. But now, his wings were clipped metaphorically and literally. The mission he was on kept him far from the public eye, and any contact with you would compromise everything.

Still, he watched.

Night after night, he kept up with your hero work through screens and articles, seeing the light in your eyes dim just a little more each time. The world was blind to it, too enamored by your victories to notice the toll they took on you.

Keigo sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

“Dammit, Y/n.”

He wanted to tell you to slow down. That you didn’t have to carry everything alone. But he knew you you wouldn’t listen, not when you thought the weight was yours to bear.

But as he watched from afar, he saw something else something he knew he couldn’t ignore.

You were drowning.

It wasn’t hard to see, not if you looked closely enough. There were the faint bags under your eyes, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes in the photos. He could see it in the way you moved quick, efficient, but with a certain rigidity, like you were trying to keep the pieces of yourself together.

The interviews, the press events, the rescue missions. You were out there always out there. Never stopping. Always moving.

Keigo had seen this before. It was the kind of thing that had broken him.

The thing he was now witnessing in you.

You were using your work as a shield. You were burying yourself in it, pretending that the mess of the world, the constant need to be the best, would somehow fill the hollow space where everything else had fallen apart. You were drowning in your responsibilities, in the expectations of others. And he hated himself for not being able to stop it.

He couldn’t reach you.

He couldn’t be the person you needed.

The Commission had made it clear the moment you walked away they had made sure that there would be no contact, no easy path to you. They had pushed him away, forced him to see you as an obstacle, a potential threat.

He had followed the orders. He had stayed away.

But every day, every night, when he saw the photos, heard the reports of your latest success, it felt like another punch to the gut. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. And worse he was the reason you had shut him out.

You deserve better than this, he thought, each time he saw a picture of you smiling, though it never quite reached your eyes. You deserve better than me.

The most recent headline:

Y/n’s Heroic Feat: A Mission Gone Wrong Injuries and Recovering, But Will She Stay at the Top?

The article detailed how you had barely made it out of a dangerous mission, sustained injuries, and had pushed through it, despite the odds. The photos showed you at the hospital, a bruise on your cheek, your expression cold and distant as you posed for the cameras. Your usual confidence was there, but it was muted like a shell of yourself.

Keigo’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup in his hand, his gaze locked on the screen.

There it was again you were hurting.

But he couldn’t be there. He couldn’t reach you, couldn’t protect you. The Commission had made sure of that.

Every day, it ate at him. The guilt. The fear. The constant ache in his chest. And all he could do was watch.

Because that’s all he was allowed to do.

He turned away from the screen and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He couldn’t keep doing this.

But as much as he wanted to move on, as much as he wanted to focus on his own missions and do what the Commission had trained him for, he knew he couldn’t.

You were out there, giving everything for a world that barely understood you.

And he was here, stuck in a cage of his own making.

“Fuck,” Keigo whispered to himself. “I miss you.”

But you were gone. And he was the one who had pushed you away.

That was the price he paid for trying to be the hero everyone needed. The cost of being a tool of the Commission.

He couldn’t even hate them for it. Not when it was his own failure that had led to this.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

Keigo sat in the Commission’s office, his expression neutral as he listened to the orders being laid out before him. The air was stale, the weight of the conversation pressing down on his shoulders. He knew what was coming before they even said it.

“Your next mission is infiltration.”

The head of the Commission, a woman with sharp eyes and a voice that left no room for argument, slid a file across the table. Keigo barely glanced at it. He already knew whose name was inside.

“The League of Villains is growing stronger. We need someone on the inside. Someone they’ll trust. You have the skills to make this work, Hawks.”

His fingers tightened around the edge of the folder.

“You’ve already shown your ability to keep a close eye on potential threats before.”

The words weren’t just words. They were deliberate. A reminder.

A reminder that they had once given him a different mission to keep tabs on you.

And what had they accused you of?

“Suspicious relationships with certain individuals.”

“Questionable morals due to prolonged conversations with known villains.”

“Potential compromise to the hero system.”

All because you had spoken to someone deemed dangerous. All because you hadn’t followed their rigid, black and white definition of justice.

And now, they were telling him to do the same thing.

A bitter laugh curled at the edges of his thoughts, though he kept his face unreadable. So it was fine when it was for them? When it was for the mission?

Hypocrites.

Keigo wanted to tell them to go to hell. That he saw through their bullshit. That if they thought he hadn’t noticed how they twisted things to suit their needs, they were dead wrong.

But he didn’t.

Because despite the anger curling in his gut, despite the guilt gnawing at his ribs, he still cared.

He cared about the future. About a world where kids didn’t have to grow up training to fight for their lives. A world where people had too much time on their hands instead of living in constant fear.

A world where you were safe.

So he bit his tongue.

“Understood,” he said instead, voice smooth and unwavering.

The Commission nodded, satisfied.

As the meeting wrapped up, Keigo tucked the folder under his arm and left the room. His steps were light, easy, just like always. But inside, his thoughts swirled like a storm.

⸻

Later that night, he sat on the rooftop of a tall building, the city stretching out beneath him. The folder lay open beside him, the moonlight illuminating the pages.

Dabi.

He had never spoken to the guy. Only knew what the files told him. Ruthless. Unpredictable. Dangerous. The League’s arsonist. The only reason Dabi hadn’t been fully exposed was because he covered his tracks well.

And yet, there was one thing in these files that stood out more than anything else.

You knew him.

You talked to him sometimes. That alone had been enough for the Commission to put you under watch. Enough for them to wonder if you could be turned into a threat.

Keigo exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

It felt wrong. All of it.

But he had already made his choice.

If playing the villain meant securing a world where you wouldn’t have to look over your shoulder every day, then he would do it.

Even if it meant stepping into the same shadows they once accused you of standing in.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

It wasn’t like you had planned for things to turn out this way.

But after everything with Hawks after the accusations, the betrayal, the months of silence you had found yourself somewhere you never expected.

With Dabi.

It hadn’t happened overnight. At first, he was just another thorn in your side, another ghost you kept running into when the night was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. But for whatever reason, the two of you had fallen into an odd sort of rhythm.

Dabi didn’t ask questions. Didn’t pry. He didn’t look at you with pity or expectation. He was just there, in the same way you were floating, untethered, existing in the spaces where heroes and villains blurred.

And maybe that’s why you were here now.

The scent of burnt concrete and gunpowder still clung to the air, mixing with the sharp, acrid smell of Dabi’s scorched skin. The battle had ended not long ago, and now, the two of you sat in the dimly lit hideout, the flickering light casting long shadows across the worn out walls.

“You looked like shit out there,” you teased, stretching your legs out in front of you as you leaned back against the couch.

Dabi scoffed, rolling his shoulder with a slight wince. “Yeah? And you looked like a damn try hard. What, gunning for some hero points?”

You snorted. “Please, like I need to impress anyone.”

Dabi grinned, a lazy, knowing smirk as he tapped ash from his cigarette onto the floor. “Right, right. Forgot you’re already Miss Popular out there. Japan’s sweetheart.”

“You’re just mad I had you on your knees.”

“dont make shit up.”

“You were about to eat pavement, dude.”

He flicked the cigarette away, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. “Tch. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing a nearby rag at him. Dabi caught it effortlessly, shaking his head. “Annoying.”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It had been months months since you’d seen him.

Yet, there he stood.

Hawks.

He looked the same as always messy blond hair, sharp golden eyes, wings tucked neatly behind him. But there was something off about seeing him now, here, in this space. Like an image that didn’t belong in the same frame.

Your reaction must have been obvious, because Dabi’s gaze flicked between the two of you, a slow, amused smirk creeping onto his face.

“Well, well,” Dabi mused, leaning back. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing a celebrity tonight.”

Hawks smiled easy, smooth, like he was slipping into a familiar rhythm. “What can I say? Thought I’d drop by, see what all the hype’s about.”

His eyes flickered to you, just for a second.

You were still staring. You hated that you were still staring.

Months. Months. And now he was just… here?

“Guess you finally wanted to be cool,” Dabi said, standing up slowly. “Took you long enough, bird boy.”

Hawks let out a laugh, loose and effortless. “Hey, better late than never, right?”

Dabi tilted his head, watching him. Sizing him up. “So, what? You lookin’ to make friends?”

“Something like that,” Hawks said, slipping his hands into his pockets. His tone was light, playful, but you knew him well enough to catch the calculation behind his words.

Dabi must’ve caught it, too, because his smirk widened slightly, like he was deciding just how much he wanted to play with his new toy.

“Sweetheart,” Dabi suddenly drawled, shifting toward you, “you didn’t tell me you and our new guest had history.”

You felt your stomach drop.

Hawks didn’t react.

Not even a twitch.

Dabi, of course, wasn’t done. He took a step closer, slinging an arm around your shoulder in an almost lazy manner, fingers drumming lightly against your arm.

Hawks’ gaze flicked to the movement quick, calculated. But he didn’t break.

Not even a hint of irritation, no change in posture. He just smiled, golden eyes still half lidded with that same effortless charm.

“Guess she didn’t think it was important,” Hawks mused, voice smooth as ever. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Dabi’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on your shoulder, and you felt the heat of his skin even through the fabric. He was testing. Poking at the edges.

“Mm. Maybe,” Dabi mused. “Or maybe she just didn’t want you to know.”

“Now, why would she do that?” Hawks asked, tilting his head, his voice still perfectly even.

You could feel the tension between them, even if it was all wrapped in easy smiles and playful words.

You exhaled, finally moving.

“Alright, enough,” you muttered, shoving Dabi’s arm off you. “I’ve had enough for the night.”

Your tone was casual, but you knew you knew that your hands were trembling just a little.

Dabi let his arm fall away easily, watching you with amusement. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. We were just getting started.”

You shook your head, already walking past them, needing space. “Not in the mood for whatever weird macho thing you two are doing. Try not to kill each other.”

You didn’t look back.

Didn’t want to see the way Hawks was watching you.

Didn’t want to think about why he was here. And definitely didn’t want to acknowledge the way your heart was still racing.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

The sky burned.

Smoke curled into the air, thick and suffocating, a mix of fire, blood, and the crumbling remains of the Meta Liberation Army’s last stand. The battlefield was a mess of clashing wills heroes and villains tearing through each other in a violent symphony of destruction.

And at the center of it all, Hawks stood with blood on his hands.

Twice lay lifeless at his feet.

His chest rose and fell heavily, his wings twitching with adrenaline, but there was no time to breathe, no time to process.

Because standing just a few meters away, fire licking at his fingertips, was Dabi.

The villain’s usual smirk was absent. His blue eyes burned hotter than his flames, sharp with something Hawks couldn’t quite place anger, satisfaction, something in between.

“You heroes are all the same,” Dabi muttered, taking a slow step forward. “Always so high and mighty. Always so convinced you’re better than us.”

Hawks tightened his grip on his remaining feathers. “You think Twice would’ve been better off if I let him go?”

Dabi’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Oh, don’t give me that crap. This wasn’t about saving people. You’re just another pawn doing whatever the Commission tells you, right? Good little lapdog.”

Hawks didn’t flinch, but the words dug in.

Dabi’s flames flickered to life, casting shadows across the ruined battlefield. “Tell me, Hawks. Did it feel good? Taking down a guy who just wanted to protect his friends?”

Hawks exhaled, steadying himself. “I’m not getting into this with you.”

But Dabi wasn’t finished.

His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, and Hawks didn’t like it.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dabi mused. “Wouldn’t want to ruin that righteous hero image of yours, huh?”

Hawks knew what this was. Psychological warfare. Dabi was trying to dig into his head, to make him hesitate. But Hawks couldn’t afford to he needed to finish this quickly.

A red feather shot toward Dabi in a blur of speed.

But Dabi was already moving.

Flames roared to life, meeting the attack head on, burning the feather into nothing. He closed the distance between them fast, forcing Hawks back with a wall of searing heat.

“You really don’t like talking about yourself, do you?” Dabi taunted, voice dripping with amusement. “Always gotta focus on the mission. But let’s talk about something more interesting.”

Hawks didn’t respond he couldn’t afford to. His feathers moved like blades, slicing through the air, but Dabi dodged, relentless in his approach.

And then Dabi said something that made Hawks’ blood freeze.

“She’s been treating me real nice, you know.”

Hawks’ entire body tensed.

Dabi grinned, sensing the shift. “Ah, so you do care.”

Hawks’ feathers shot forward in a flurry, faster, sharper, but Dabi dodged with ease, the flames around him growing wilder.

“You should see her, Hawks,” Dabi continued, voice smooth, taunting. “The way she looks at me. The way she lets me touch her.”

Something inside Hawks snapped.

He moved without thinking, faster than before, closing the distance between them with a brutal efficiency. His feathers struck harder, aiming for vital points.

But Dabi wasn’t done.

“She never mentioned it?” Dabi dodged, twisting out of the way at the last second. “How we spend our special time together?”

Hawks’ next attack wasn’t clean. It wasn’t precise. It was pure anger.

His feathers slashed out with no restraint.

Dabi barely managed to throw up a wall of fire in time, skidding back as the force of the attack cut through his jacket, slicing against his skin.

“Ohh,” Dabi let out a low whistle, shaking out his arms. “Touched a nerve, huh?”

Hawks didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His heart was pounding.

Dabi laughed, slow and deliberate, eyes flickering with something dangerous.

“That’s what I thought.”

But Hawks didn’t let him say anything else. Because in the next second, he was on him.

This fight was over.

𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯

The hospital room was dimly lit, the only source of light spilling in from the window. It was quiet too quiet. The kind of silence that followed catastrophe, where the air was too still, too heavy, as if the world itself was still trying to understand the weight of what had happened.

Your body ached with every breath. The bandages wrapped around your torso were tight, holding together wounds that had nearly been fatal. Every movement reminded you of how close you had been to not making it out.

And yet, all of that the pain, the exhaustion, the weight of the war it all faded away the moment the door opened.

You almost didn’t turn.

You had spent weeks expecting to see him, waiting, hoping but he never came.

Not when you needed him. Not when everything fell apart.

And yet, something in you recognized him before you even looked.

When you finally did, you felt your breath hitch.

Keigo.

He stood in the doorway, alive but barely.

His wings were a shadow of what they once were. The red feathers that had once been so vibrant were scorched, burnt at the edges, some missing entirely. His body was wrapped in bandages, his movements slower, weaker. But what hit you the hardest was the mask strapped over his mouth.

A speaker had been attached to it, taking over for the voice he had nearly lost in the fire.

Dabi’s flames had nearly ruined him.

You sat there, frozen, staring.

Your heart clenched so painfully it felt like another wound had opened up inside you.

And then you moved.

The blanket was thrown off, the pain screaming through your body as you forced yourself to stand. Your legs were unsteady, but you didn’t care. You needed to reach him.

Your hands curled into fists before you could stop yourself, and the moment you were close enough you hit him.

He didn’t move.

Your fist landed against his chest, not hard enough to hurt him, but enough to feel it.

Then you hit him again.

And again.

“You!” Your voice cracked, emotion clogging your throat, burning behind your eyes.

He didn’t stop you.

“You accused me” Another hit, weaker than the last. “You said I was playing both sides that I wasn’t loyal!”

Your breath was coming in ragged gasps now, your vision blurring as you kept hitting him, kept pushing him, as if forcing him to feel just a fraction of the hurt you had been carrying.

“Then you” Your fists trembled as they pressed against him. Your knees felt weak. Your voice cracked.

“You did the exact same thing.”

The words barely made it past your lips before they were swallowed by a sob.

You had tried so hard to stay angry. To hold onto the rage, the betrayal because anger was easier than hurt.

But seeing him now, standing in front of you alive but barely holding on It was too much.

Your fists loosened, curling into his shirt instead, gripping him as if he would disappear if you let go.

“I thought you were dead.”

Your voice broke entirely, and the dam inside you cracked, the emotions you had been holding in for months finally spilling over.

The nights spent staring at the news, searching for any sign that he was still alive.

The silence stretching on for too long.

The fear that you had lost him forever.

Your body trembled as you pressed your forehead against his chest, the sobs wracking through you with the force of everything you had been desperately trying to bury.

And then finally he moved.

His hands rose, hesitating for only a second before they touched you.

One cradled the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. The other wiped at your tears with his thumbs, his touch impossibly gentle despite the roughness of his gloves.

And then he did something he shouldn’t have.

He pulled off the mask.

You gasped. “Keigo”

He shouldn’t have. You knew it. He knew it.

But when he spoke, his voice was hoarse and broken, ruined by the burns, by the damage that had permanently scarred him but the words hit harder than anything else.

“I missed you.”

Your breath caught.

His thumb traced the tear streaked path down your cheek, his touch trembling, but steady.

“I never” His voice faltered, the pain clear in the way his throat choked on the words, but he forced them out anyway. “I never stopped regretting it.”

Your fingers tightened in his shirt, anchoring yourself to him.

“Letting them control me,” he rasped. “Letting them ruin this. Ruin us.”

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, shaky.

“I’m so sorry.”

You swallowed, your tears still slipping down your cheeks, your emotions still raw, still aching.

But you could see it now the weight he carried. The exhaustion in his eyes. The guilt that had been eating him alive from the inside out.

Even if he had a hundred lifetimes, even if he was reborn again and again, you knew.

He would regret this every single time.

Regret losing you.

Your fingers uncurled from his shirt, moving up to cup his face, your thumbs tracing along his cheekbones. His skin was warm beneath your touch, warmer than you remembered. Maybe from the burns. Maybe from the way he was looking at you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“You should’ve come back sooner.”

His eyes softened, his hands still cradling your face, thumbs still brushing over your skin as if trying to memorize the shape of you, to convince himself that you were real.

“I know.” His voice was so hoarse, so wrecked, but still so him.

Your chest ached at the sound of it.

“You scared me,” you whispered, fingers curling into his skin. “I thought ” You swallowed, voice trembling. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

His breath hitched.

“You think I didn’t feel the same?” His forehead pressed more firmly against yours. “Every day, I thought about you.”

Your heart clenched.

“I don’t want to do this again,” you whispered. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

His grip tightened. “You won’t.”

There was so much promise in those two words, so much desperation, as if he was trying to will them into being true.

You weren’t sure if you could believe it. Not yet. Not with the war still raging, not with everything still uncertain. But you wanted to.

Dabi : “Man, your girl’s been treating me real nice lately. We’ve had some… special time together.”

Hawks: “Shut up.”

Dabi: “What? You don’t like hearing about how sweet she is to me? How she—”

Hawks: “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST WON A FREE ASS WHOOPING!”

Hizashi Yamada X Reader Drabble/Crack

🖇️✩ +̊🎧 MOMMY?!?? 🖇️✩ +̊🎧

masterlist

a student calls you mom

·+̊🖇️✩ +̊🎧⊹♡ Setting up for Hizashi’s English class was something you did often as his TA, but today, you felt particularly playful. The classroom was empty, the morning sunlight casting golden rays through the windows as you arranged papers on his desk. Hizashi stood near the whiteboard, adjusting the projector settings, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

“You know, Y/N,” Hizashi mused, tapping at the keyboard, “I think these kids would riot if they knew how excited I was for today’s lesson.”

You chuckled, glancing over the syllabus. “They always riot when it comes to English.”

You smirked, stepping closer until you were right behind him. Your fingers ghosted over the fabric of his vest as you leaned in, breath warm against his ear.

“Oh, they always riot when it comes to english,” you murmured, voice dripping with mischief. “But lucky for you, I’m here. and the faster this lesson goes means we can finally have some… fun.”

Hizashi stiffened for half a second before he turned to you, eyes slightly wide behind his glasses. His ears, hidden beneath his wild blond hair, were definitely burning red. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice cracked just a little, and you bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

Before he could recover, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. The door swung open as students began filtering in, chatting amongst themselves. You took a casual step back, arms crossed, watching as Hizashi cleared his throat, adjusting his collar as if it would help hide his flustered expression.

“ALRIGHT, CLASS! LET’S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD!” he boomed, though you could hear the slight edge in his voice.

A collective groan cut him off.

“Not English…” one student muttered, resting their forehead against the desk.

Another let out a dramatic sigh. “Why do we even need to learn this? Can’t we just use our quirks in other countries and let a translator handle it?”

You smirked, stepping forward. “Actually, no. A lot of hero agencies overseas require their heroes to have at least basic conversational skills in English. And trust me, you don’t want to be that one hero who has no idea what’s going on in a mission briefing.”

A few students exchanged glances, though the enthusiasm was still lacking.

Hizashi nodded. “Yeah! Plus, how are you gonna do interviews with foreign news outlets if ya don’t know what they’re askin’?”

“That’s what subtitles are for,” a student shot back, earning a few chuckles.

You sighed, shaking your head. “Look, I get it. English can be frustrating. But it’s not impossible. And since I actually spent time in America, I know the best ways to help you guys get comfortable with it.”

One student perked up. “You were in America?”

You nodded. “Yeah. A few months, actually. Lived there, worked there, and had to use English every single day. Trust me, I made all the mistakes you could possibly make, so I know exactly what you’re struggling with.”

“Wait… So you were, like, an American hero?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “More like I was there for a temporary collaboration. But I did patrols, worked with some American heroes, and had to communicate with civilians. So if you want to hear some embarrassing stories about me messing up English in public, now’s your chance.”

That seemed to spark some interest.

“Did you ever say something really bad by accident?”

“Oh, definitely.” You smirked, crossing your arms. “I once tried to compliment someone’s shirt and accidentally told them they looked like a banana.”

A few students laughed. Even Hizashi chuckled beside you.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he said, gesturing dramatically. “Language isn’t just about books and testsit’s about communication! And sometimes, communication is messy, but that’s how ya learn!”

The class groaned again, but at least this time, it was with less resistance.

You smirked. “Alright, let’s start simple. Let’s go around and have everyone introduce themselves in English. Just a basic ‘Hi, my name is ____, and my quirk is ____.’”

The students groaned again, but one by one, they hesitantly began their introductions, stumbling over words and laughing at their own mistakes. You and Hizashi guided them through the pronunciations, offering encouragement where needed.

Midway through the lesson, as you walked between desks helping students with their pronunciation, a sleepy voice mumbled, “Mom, how do you say ‘speed boost’ in English?”

Silence.

You blinked, turning slowly toward the student who had spoken. The entire class went dead quiet as the realization hit them. The student, wide eyed with horror, turned an impossible shade of red.

“I I mean uh” They clamped their hands over their mouth, mortified.

The room erupted into laughter. Even Hizashi doubled over, his laughter echoing through the classroom. You couldn’t help but smirk, arms crossed as you arched an eyebrow.

“Well,” you said, grinning, “at least you said it in English.”

·+̊🖇️✩ +̊🎧⊹♡

The final bell rang, signaling the end of class. Students packed up their things, still chuckling over the earlier slip up. The poor student who had accidentally called you “mom” had bolted out of the room the second they could, face burning red. You were still amused by it, though.

“Alright, see ya next class!” Hizashi called after the last few students, waving as they shuffled out the door.

Once the room was empty, you sighed, stretching your arms over your head. “Whew. That went better than expected.”

“Oh yeah?” Hizashi drawled, turning toward you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You sure about that, Mommy?”

You froze. Then you turned to him slowly, narrowing your eyes. “…What did you just say?”

He grinned, far too pleased with himself. “What? I’m just embracing my student’s interpretation of our dynamic! I mean, you are helpin’ me teach, you keep ‘em in check feels pretty parental to me!” He stroked his chin dramatically. “Maybe I should start callin’ ya that more often”

You smacked his arm firm, but playful.

“OW!” He laughed, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “What?! It’s a term of endearment!”

You shook your head, grinning. “Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I’m funny.”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Well… I could be a mommy.”

Silence.

Hizashi just stood there.

His expression froze completely like his brain had just cut out. He wasn’t even blinking, just staring at you with his mouth slightly open.

You bit back a laugh at the way his mind was clearly racing at a million miles per hour.

And then, just to mess with him even more, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and sauntering toward the door. “See you later, Daddy.”

You barely made it out of the room before he exploded.

“WH WAIT! HEY! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

You laughed as he stumbled after you, his voice rising in sheer panic and excitement.

“Babe, hold on WAIT A MINUTE” He caught up, following you into the hallway. “Are you just messin’ with me, or ? ‘Cause, like, if you’re serious”

You threw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “What? You want to make me a mom right now?”

His face went completely red, but his determination didn’t waver. “I MEAN IF YOU’RE DOWN I’M JUST SAYIN’”

You only laughed harder, enjoying how flustered he was. you had no doubt this is going to be a topic of discussion when you get home today.

Sero Hanta | Cellophane X reader

𖤐⭑Pro Hero- SpiderMan 𖤐⭑

i spent so much of my youth loving this man only to live with the fact that bro is unloved by this fandom.

masterlist

HES SPIDERMAN OH MY GOD IS THAT SPIDERMAN

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑ You were sprawled out on his bed, arms stretched over your head as you stared at the ceiling. Sero, on the other hand, was sitting on the floor beside the bed, his back leaned up against it. His head was tilted just enough that it was right beside yours, close enough that if you turned your head, you’d practically be nose to nose. It was a little funny, actually kind of like one of those upside down SpiderMan moments.

“Man, I am so glad we don’t have any training tomorrow,” Sero sighed, stretching his arms above his head. “I swear, if Aizawa had us do one more combat drill, I was gonna collapse on the spot.”

You hummed in agreement, lazily tilting your head to glance at him. “I thibk that guy has it out for us. Training us is cool and all but I think hed rather punch us all out and then bring eri to get sweets.”

Sero snorted, shooting you a grin. “Okay, true. but if I was him I would also do that too. Its been what? 2 years since her bring here and shes still adorable”

You rolled onto your side slightly, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him only to realize just how close your faces were. He blinked at you, mouth parting slightly in surprise before you smirked.

“Hey,you know spiderman? for that matter do you know that one scene,” you mused. “You know, the upside down kiss?”

Sero’s eyes widened slightly before he let out a short laugh. “what exactly are you plotting?”

You grinned, an idea forming in your head. “You should totally try it for real. Use your quirk, stick yourself to the ceiling, and we’ll reenact it.”

For a moment, Sero just stared at you. Then, as the realization of what you were suggesting fully hit him, his entire face turned red.

“¡WAIT pause for a a whole second and backtrack the hell out of that! You actually want me to?! No way, no way! That’s a whole different kind (y/n) dont play with me right now!”

You burst out laughing as he scrambled, hands flailing slightly as if trying to physically push the idea away. His mind was clearly short circuiting at the thought of suspending himself from the ceiling just for a kiss even as a joke.

“C’mon, Sero,” you teased, grinning. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little commitment?”

“I’m not scared of commitment!” he shot back, still very visibly flustered. “I’m scared of falling on my face! You think I got the core strength to hold myself upside down long enough for a kiss?”

You snickered, propping yourself up on your elbows. “You are a hero in training. I feel like i’ve seen you do this all the time”

Sero groaned, dragging a hand down his face before shooting you a look. “Are you absolutely sure about this?.”

“Absolutely,” you admitted without shame.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. but if I fall and break my nose, you’re paying my hospital bills.”

“Deal,” you grinned.

With a dramatic sigh, Sero lifted his elbow and shot a strip of tape toward the ceiling, securing it before testing its strength. He muttered something about how this was so not how he expected his night to go before taking a deep breath and pulling himself up.

It took all of five seconds for him to lose his grip and come crashing back down onto his bed with a loud, “¡Mierda!”

You barely managed to roll out of the way before he landed half on the mattress which also mean falling half on you, half on the floor, groaning into the sheets. You were laughing so hard you could barely breathe.

“You good, Spider Man?” you wheezed.

“Never ever making that mistake again,” he groaned.

“Aw, but we didn’t even get to the best part.”

Sero cracked one eye open to glare at you. “If you wanna do the upside down kiss so bad, you hang from the ceiling next time.”

You grinned down at him, your faces just inches apart again. “Oh, But i don’t have the quirk for that. You’re the perfect hero for this duty”

Sero sighed dramatically, but you could see the small smile tugging at his lips. “youre testing me lady.”

“And yet, you keep inviting me over,” you shot back.

He chuckled, shaking his head before flopping fully onto his back. “Yeah, yeah. Remind me to never talk to you again.”

“Never letting that happen,” you said, still grinning.

Sero just groaned again, throwing an arm over his face as you laughed. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head before propping himself up on his elbows. “You know,” he said, giving you a slow, lazy smirk, “if you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could just do it now instead of trying to send me to the ER.”

Your laughter died instantly.

Your brain screeched to a halt, the words processing at a glacial pace. You blinked at him, expecting some kind of follow up maybe a laugh, maybe a “gotcha” to tell you he was just messing with you. But no. Sero just stayed there, eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting for a response.

Heat rushed to your face so fast it made you dizzy. “I what ?”

He tilted his head, still smirking, but you could tell by the way his fingers twitched against the sheets that he wasn’t as casual as he was pretending to be. “I mean, since you went through all that trouble, might as well, right?”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess. It was a joke, right? RIGHT? He was testing you, trying to fluster you. but two could play at that game.

Your heart pounded as you took a deep breath, then muttered, “Fuck it.”

Before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

The moment they touched, you felt Sero tense beneath you, his breath hitching in surprise. But he didn’t pull away. In fact, after a second, you felt him relax, his hand hovering near your waist as if debating whether or not to grab onto you.

The kiss wasn’t perfect, there was still laughter in your chest, and you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin like he was just as thrown off as you but it was good. It was Sero. Playful, teasing, and real.

When you finally pulled away, you barely had time to process the look on his face before he let out a stunned laugh. “Okay whoa. Didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

You shrugged, pretending your pulse wasn’t going a mile a minute. “You challenged me. What was I supposed to do? Back down?”

He shook his head, grinning wide. “Damn. if I dared you to kiss me until I cant think would that make something happen?”

You smirked, leaning back on your elbows. “hmm i think that would be abusing the rules.”

Sero just huffed out another laugh, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing back at you, his expression softer now. “you’re a weird person. ill just use your words next time.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could ask what exactly he meant by that, he stretched out with a lazy yawn, as if he hadn’t just said something that sent your brain spiraling.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically. “Let’s pretend I didn’t just embarrass myself and move on.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you flopped back onto the bed. “yeah id rather not relive you falling on me. I still feel sore”

Sero groaned. “Im sorry but thats your fault for proposing it.”

But when you snuck a glance at him, you caught the way he was still grinning to himself, the tips of his ears burning red.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The tall black haired guy dropped onto the couch, arms spread wide like he had just survived the most harrowing mission of his life. Across from him, Mina and Denki were sprawled out in their usual morning slump, nursing their cups of coffee like lifelines.

It was too early for homework, too late to still be asleep, and just the right time for the juiciest gossip of the day.

And Sero had the juice.

“You guys,” he started, grinning like a fool, “I think I just had the greatest night of my life.”

Mina looked up from her coffee. Identical to a beggar on the street. No sparkle in her eyes at all.

Denki blinked blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bro, it is too early for you to be tryna make fancy entrances What happened?”

Sero leaned forward, elbows on his knees, barely able to contain himself. “Okay, so you know how I was hanging out with Y/n last night”

“Y/n?” Mina echoed, eyes wide. “As in, Y/n her?”

“Her her,” Sero confirmed with a nod.

Denki sucked in a sharp breath. “Hoe we only have one Y/n in our class. I dont know what shit youre on.”

And then, before he could even react

Mina’s body moved on instinct. She swung an arm out blindly, her half asleep brain barely processing what she was doing, and smacked Denki square in the face.

Hard.

The sound echoed through the quiet common room like a gunshot.

Denki let out a choked noise of betrayal as he recoiled, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. “What the hell, Mina?!”

Mina blinked slowly, still not fully registering reality. She glanced at her hand, then at Denki, frowning as if confused as to how he got there. “…Huh?”

Denki clutched his nose, eyes watering. “You hit me!”

Mina took another sip of coffee, completely unbothered. “…Did I?”

Denki groaned, dramatically slumping back against the couch. “This is abuse. I’m pressing charges.”

Mina squinted at Denki like she was still buffering. “Oh.” Beat. “Well, you’ll live.”

Sero was practically crying from laughter at this point. “Okay, but back to what actually matters Y/n.”

“Hanta… if you don’t start making sense in the next five seconds, I’m going back to sleep.”

“Hush now!” Sero grinned, practically vibrating in his seat. “So we’re chilling in my room, right? She’s lying on my bed, I’m on the floor next to her”

“Okay, okay, set the scene,” Mina said, waving her hands. “What was the vibe?”

“Vibe was immaculate,” Sero said, dead serious. “We were laughing, teasing each other, you know, the usual. And then she brings up the SpiderMan kiss.”

Mina gasped. “dude thats so lame and so cute .”

Denki’s eyes widened. “Dude. No way.”

“YES WAY,” Sero insisted. “She straight up suggests I tape myself to the ceiling and do the whole upside down thing.”

Denki immediately lost it, nearly spilling his coffee as he doubled over in laughter. “Bro. why cant women that i like suggest stupid shit like that to kiss me”

Mina was gripping the armrest, practically bouncing. “DID YOU DO IT?”

Sero groaned, rubbing his face. “I tried! And then I failed spectacularly! Fell right on the bed”

Denki wheezed. “My guy, you are so lucky you didn’t break your face.”

“Right?!” Sero laughed, shaking his head. “But get this, when I fell, I was joking like, ‘If you wanted to kiss me so bad, just do it now,’ you know, just messing with her.”

Mina’s eyes were about to pop out of her head. “AND???”

Denki was practically on the edge of his seat. “BRO, SHE DIDN’T.”

Sero ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a madman. “She did.”

Mina let out a shriek, grabbing a couch pillow and whacking Denki with it. “OH MY GOD!”

Denki was clutching his pearls like he had just been personally attacked. “Bro, bro, you actually kissed her?!”

Sero nodded, still riding the high of last night. “Well, technically, she kissed me, but yeah.”

Mina was absolutely losing it. “This is huge! Do you even realize what this means?”

“That I am the luckiest man alive?” Sero offered, waggling his eyebrows.

Denki pointed at him. “Absolutely not, you just admitted to eating carpet trying to be SpiderMan.”

Sero groaned, “i fell on my bed you dunce”

Mina grabbed his arm, shaking him slightly. “But, like, what now? Are you guys together?”

Sero’s grin faltered for a second, his brain scrambling. “Uh… I dunno? I mean, it was kinda sudden, so we didn’t talk about it yet.”

Denki let out a long, exaggerated sigh, flopping backward. “Damn. I am so proud of you, bro. But at the same time, I have never felt more single in my life.”

Mina cackled. “Denki, you are always single.”

“Yeah, but now it hurts,” Denki whined dramatically, covering his face. “All my bros are getting action and I’m over here third wheeling by myself.”

Sero rolled his eyes, throwing a pillow at him. “Dude, you can’t third wheel by yourself.”

Denki groaned. “Watch me.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Denki, we gotta get you a girlfriend.”

Denki flopped onto the couch like a sad fish. “you act as if i haven’t tried”

Sero laughed, standing up and stretching. “Alright, you two losers, I gotta figure out what the hell I’m doing next. Wish me luck.”

Mina beamed. “You better keep us updated!”

Denki sat up slightly, pointing at Sero. “If you don’t make this official, I swear to God, I will actually fight you.”

Sero chuckled, giving them a lazy salute before heading toward the exit. Now all he had to do was figure out how to not mess this up. As soon as Sero stepped out of the common room, his grin dropped, and his brain immediately went into overdrive.

Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap.

He had kissed you. Or you had kissed him. Either way, there was definite mouth on mouth action, and now he had no idea what to do with himself.

His heart was still doing that stupid, rapid fire drumming in his chest every time he replayed the moment in his head. The way you had leaned in, eyes half lidded, expression unreadable until suddenly boom. Lips. Soft. Warm. Perfect. He could still feel the ghost of it lingering on his mouth.

Sero ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Okay, get it together, man. It’s just a kiss. A really good kiss. A potentially life changing kiss, but still just a kiss.

He needed a game plan.

But what if you regretted it? What if it was just a heat of the moment thing for you? What if you woke up this morning thinking, Wow, that was a mistake, better pretend it never happened?

Sero groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. He couldn’t deal with that possibility. Not when he had spent an entire night internally combusting over how amazing it had felt.

“Dude, you good?”

Sero nearly jumped out of his skin as Kirishima appeared beside him, eyebrow raised.

“Wh yeah! Yeah, totally,” Sero replied way too fast, forcing a laugh. “Just, y’know… thinking.”

Kirishima gave him a knowing smirk. “About a certain girl in our class?”

Sero pointed at him. “i feel likenim not that obvious. I just left mina how did you you already know about this?”

Kirishima laughed, clapping him on the back. “Since our first year youve been obsessed with her.”

“stop spreading lies.” Sero sighed dramatically before groaning. “Dude, I don’t know what to do. I mean, I know I want to do something, but what if she doesn’t”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Kirishima said, holding up a hand. “First of all, did she seem into it when she kissed you?”

Sero opened his mouth, then hesitated, brain flashing back to the way you had looked at him, the way you had smiled after like you meant it.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kirishima grinned. “Then you’re already halfway there, man. Just talk to her.”

Sero groaned again. “Why is that the hardest part?!”

Kirishima just laughed, shaking his head. “Because you like her, dude. Now quit freaking out and go see her.”

Easier said than done.

But standing around panicking wasn’t going to help, either.

So, with a deep breath, Sero nodded. “Alright. I’m doing this.”

Kirishima gave him a thumbs up. “That’s the spirit! Now go get your girl.”

Sero immediately turned around and walked straight into a doorframe.

Kirishima winced. “…Maybe start by watching where you’re going first.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

you showed up, red faced and flustered, practically vibrating with leftover emotions from last night.

“I kissed him,” you blurted, gripping the sides of your head. “I we kissed! Oh my god, I actually did that.”

“Wait, wait, wait hold on,” Kirishima said, holding up his hands like he needed to physically stop you from overwhelming yourself. With his previous conversation with sero, It was so obvious how much you both liked each other. Very adorable type shit. His red eyes were wide with excitement. “You kissed Sero? Like, for real?”

“Yes! No wait, yes, but ugh, I don’t even know how it happened”

“You just said you kissed him, dumbass,” Bakugo cut in, scowling as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Make up your damn mind.”

You shot him a glare, feeling the heat rush to your face again. “I know what I said, but it happened so fast! He was being all smug, and then I said ‘fuck it’ and did it but then he just looked at me, and I think my soul left my body”

Kirishima gasped. “Dude.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re talking in circles.”

“But it was so sudden! I wasn’t thinking!” you continued, waving your hands around. “And now I don’t even know what we are! Are we together? Are we not? I left before we could even talk about it was that dumb?!”

“Yes,” Bakugo deadpanned.

“No,” Kirishima said at the same time, sending Bakugo a disapproving look before turning back to you. “Look, you’re clearly freaking out, but this is great news! You guys finally kissed! That’s huge!”

“Yeah, yeah, good for you,” Bakugo muttered. “Now shut the hell up about it.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “Excuse you?”

“You’re acting like a damn extra,” he snapped. “Freaking out over one kiss? You sound stupid.”

Your jaw dropped. “One kiss?! Bakugo, do you know how big of a deal this is?! This could change everything!”

“Then man up and deal with it!”

Your eye twitched. “youre such a dick, did you not learn manners or did your prissy rich boy ass never learn discipline!”

Bakugo’s face immediately darkened. “Oh, you little!”

Before you could even process what was happening, he lunged at you.

The next thing anyone knew, the peaceful morning atmosphere of the dorms was shattered as the two of you started brawling in the middle of the hallway.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Kirishima shouted, hands on his head. “IT IS TOO EARLY FOR THIS!”

You ducked as Bakugo swung at you, his explosive palms barely missing your shoulder. “YOU WANNA GO, SPARKLER? LET’S GO!”

“I’M ALREADY GOING!” Bakugo snarled, throwing another punch.

Students peeked out of their dorm rooms, most of them sighing as if this was the least surprising thing to wake up to.

“Guys!” Kirishima tried again, stepping between you two. “This is not how we handle our emotions!”

“I’LL SHOW YOU HOW I HANDLE EMOTIONS!” you snapped, dodging to the side and attempting to kick Bakugo’s leg out from under him.

He jumped back, grinning like a maniac. “Ohhh, you’re dead now!”

“CAN WE PLEASE HAVE ONE NORMAL MORNING?!” Kirishima begged.

The answer was clearly no, because by then, you and Bakugo were full on wrestling in the hallway, ignoring the way half of Class was now watching with varying levels of amusement.

Kirishima sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before clapping his hands together. “Okay. Fine. You guys are definitely gonna work this out”

“BY ME KICKING HER ASS”

“LIKE MATURE ADULTS,” Kirishima finished, dragging both of you apart with his insane strength. “Now, breathe. Both of you.”

Bakugo huffed, still glaring at you. You glared right back.

“Good,” Kirishima said, nodding. “Now, let’s try again calmly. You, tell Bakugo why you’re freaking out.”

You crossed your arms. “Because I kissed Sero, and now I don’t know what to do!”

Kirishima gave Bakugo a look. “And you how would you calmly respond to that?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes but sighed heavily. “Man up and talk to him, dumbass.”

Your eye twitched again, but Kirishima shot you a warning look before you could lunge at him again.

“Okay!” Kirishima said, clapping his hands. “Progress!”

You huffed, finally stepping back. “Fine. Maybe I will talk to him.”

“Yeah, do that instead of screaming about it like a moron,” Bakugo muttered, rubbing his knuckles.

Kirishima let out a long suffering sigh but patted your shoulder encouragingly. “Hey, at least you got your first kiss, right? That’s awesome!”

You exhaled sharply, your frustration fading just a little. “…Yeah. I guess it was kind of awesome.”

Kirishima beamed. “See? Now go figure out what’s next!”

You nodded, turning to leave only for Bakugo to call out, “And next time, don’t start yelling at me at seven in the damn morning!”

You flipped him off over your shoulder. “BITE ME, BAKUGO.”

“WITH PLEASURE,” he yelled back.

Kirishima groaned. “Why are you guys like this?!”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

Sero had never felt more like a dumbass in his life.

He was pacing the dorm hallway, chewing on his lip, hands in his hair like that would somehow help his brain work better.

What the hell was he supposed to do?!

He’d talked a big game in the common room, but the second he was alone, reality hit him like a truck. The kiss had happened. You had kissed him. And now, every time he thought about it, his heart did this stupid, erratic thing, and his stomach felt like it was flipping over itself.

He wanted to talk to you. He needed to talk to you. But what if you were freaking out? What if you regretted it?

“Sero!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kirishima’s voice called out to him.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Kirishima asked, raising an eyebrow as he walked up.

Sero immediately tried to play it cool, leaning against the wall like he wasn’t just spiraling five seconds ago. “Oh, y’know. Just… getting some fresh air.”

Kirishima gave him a deadpan look. “We’re inside.”

Sero groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Alright, fine! I don’t know what to do, man!”

Kirishima clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning. “So, I might have just talked to her.”

Sero’s entire body went rigid. “You what?”

“Relax, bro, she doesn’t know we’re talking.” Kirishima laughed at the absolute panic on his face. “But I do know she’s freaking out just as much as you are.”

Sero blinked. “…She is?”

“Dude, yes.” Kirishima squeezed his shoulder. “Look, I’m not gonna tell you what she said, but I will say this be a man and talk to her.”

Sero groaned again. “Why is everyone saying that?! I know I need to talk to her, but what if I say the wrong thing?”

“Then you say the wrong thing,” Kirishima shrugged. “But at least you’re saying something.”

Sero exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right.” Kirishima grinned, patting his back. “Now go before you start spiraling again.”

Sero rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. “Thanks, man.”

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

you dramatically leaned back on the couch, arms spread wide, and declared, “Hawks is so fine, it’s actually unfair.”

Across from you, Ochako snorted into her drink while Iida sighed, rubbing his temples as if he could physically remove himself from this conversation. Deku, on the other hand, just looked mildly distressed.

“Again with this?” Iida groaned. “How many times must we discuss your questionable taste in Pro Heroes?”

The U.A. dorm lounge was a place of peace, a sanctuary for students to unwind after long days of training and classes. Though you cant help but say your thoughts in such a safe place.

“Uh, first of all,” you said, pointing at him, “there’s nothing questionable about it. Hawks is objectively hot. Everyone knows it.”

Deku cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean… I guess I can see why people think he’s cool, but”

“C’mon, Deku,” you said, exasperated. “you’ve worked with him before AND you cant tell me that you didn’t even get a little nervous It’s giving angelic bad boy, i just need a day with him really ”

Ochako giggled. “You sound so gross. but i cant say youre not wrong”

“EXACTLY ,” you srespond. “But wait, there’s more! Present Mic? That man could ruin my eardrums, and I’d thank him.”

Iida choked on his tea, while Deku’s face scrunched up like he was in actual pain. “You live with him,” Deku pointed out. “Doesn’t that make it weird?”

“Absolutely not,” you said. “That just means I know exactly how amazing he is.”

Ochako bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Anyone else?”

“Glad you asked,” you said, grinning. “All Might.”

That was it. That was the breaking point.

All three of them stared at you. No words. Just judgment.

“What?” you said, looking between their horrified expressions.

Ochako covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. Iida, for once in his life, was speechless. And Deku? Deku looked like you had just personally offended him.

“Y you” Deku struggled to form words. “All Might?!”

You raised a brow. “And? He’s All Might. He’s strong, noble, heroic”

“He’s, like, 50!” Deku cried.

“Yeah, but have you seen young All Might?” You wiggled your eyebrows. “Tall, blonde, muscles for days? C’mon.”

Deku looked two seconds away from passing out. “I I can’t I don’t even”

Iida took a deep breath, composing himself before adjusting his glasses. “Y/N, while I respect your right to admire heroes, I must say, your choices are…bewildering.”

“Ohhh, bewildering, huh?” You narrowed your eyes. “That’s real rich coming from you, Iida. And you too, Deku!” You pointed at him accusingly. “You have All Might all over your room! Posters, figures you probably have All Might bedsheets!”

Deku turned bright red. “Th that’s different! It’s admiration!”

“And what I feel isn’t?” You smirked. “Sounds like projection.”

Ochako lost it, cackling as Deku sputtered, desperately trying to defend himself. Iida just sighed heavily, shaking his head.

What none of you knew, however, was that three other students were eavesdropping from around the corner.

Mina, Denki, and Sero were crouched behind the lounge entrance, trying (and failing) to hold in their laughter.

“Oh my god,” Mina whispered. “she makes me so proud, ive rubbed off on her so well.”

Denki wiped away a fake tear. “That was beautiful.”

Sero, meanwhile, his head tilted slightly as he listened. “Man,” he muttered, shaking his head, “she’s really out here confessing her love for only blonde heroes, huh?”

Denki snorted. “Right?” He nudged Sero with his elbow. “Sorry, bro, but it looks like you gotta join the blonde side.”

Sero rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, because that’s totally my biggest issue right now.”

Mina gasped dramatically. “Wait. Wait. What if we bleach your hair?”

“No.”

“Just a few streaks!”

“Absolutely not.”

Denki cackled. “Come on, man! It’s for the greater good!”

Sero groaned, rubbing his temples. “You guys are actually the worst.”

As the laughter from the lounge carried down the hall, Sero found himself stepping away from Mina and Denki, his grin faltering just a little as he leaned against the wall.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

He let out a heavy breath, knocking the back of his head against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t like he hadn’t liked you for a while now he had. God, he had. But actually doing something about it? That was a whole different beast.

It should be easy. You two were already close, always teasing each other, always hanging out. It wasn’t like he’d never flirted before but this was you. It actually mattered this time. And after that kiss? His brain had officially checked out.

He dragged a hand down his face. “Alright. Think, dude. You’re not gonna go full Denki and make a dumbass move.”

Sero groaned, running both hands through his hair before letting them drop to his sides. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and he hated that it was just from the idea of telling you how he felt. He could fight villains, handle training, and deal with Bakugo’s explosive bullshit on a daily basis but this? This was terrifying.

Still, he had to do it. Kirishima was right. He had to man up and talk to you.

Pushing off the wall, he took a deep breath and nodded to himself.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Here goes nothing.”

And with that, he turned on his heel, heading toward the lounge toward you.

Sero had faced some pretty wild situations in his life.

He had been launched across training fields, nearly crushed by Todoroki’s ice, and once once had the unfortunate experience of getting his tape tangled with Kaminari’s electrical wires during a particularly chaotic mission.

But none of those moments compared to the sheer whiplash of what happened the second he stepped into the common room.

One second, he was approaching you, running through every possible way to casually bring up the fact that he really, really liked you.

The next, his entire face was in your hands.

He barely had time to process it before you yanked him down to your level, his knees nearly buckling as he stumbled forward. His breath hitched, and for a brief, chaotic moment, all he could do was stare.

Your fingers were squishing his cheeks, pressing into his face in a way that made his lips pout slightly. But you weren’t laughing. You weren’t teasing. You were staring, your eyes scanning his features with a level of intensity that made his brain short circuit.

Sero had never been a nervous guy. He was smooth cool, even. But there was something about the way you were studying him, your brows furrowed in deep concentration, that made him forget how to function.

“Uh,” he tried to say, but the way you were gripping his cheeks turned it into more of a muffled, “Whuh?”

You ignored him.

Instead, you slowly deliberately turned his head to face the three people sitting in front of you, all of whom were watching with expressions ranging from confusion to sheer amusement.

Ochako was biting her lip, eyes practically twinkling. Iida had a hand raised like he was about to intervene in whatever was happening. And Deku? Deku just looked utterly lost, glancing between you and Sero like he was waiting for someone to explain the rules of this bizarre situation.

You finally spoke, still holding Sero’s face hostage.

“This guy,” you declared, “gives the exact same energy as the heroes I just listed.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then:

“HUH?!”

Sero’s entire body went rigid. His brain completely shut down, the weight of your words slamming into him with the force of a cement truck.

“Oh my god,” Ochako whispered, covering her mouth in barely contained laughter.

Deku blinked rapidly. “Wait, Sero?”

Iida adjusted his glasses, clearly trying to keep his composure. “Y/N, I fail to see how”

“Tall? Check,” you continued, fingers still smooshed into Sero’s face as you tilted his head slightly for examination. “Effortlessly cool? Double check.”

Sero made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“Kind of a little shit but in a charming way?” You smirked. “Yeah. This man is Hawks… well hawks doesn’t have the tall part.”

Ochako full on giggled. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

Deku looked bewildered. “Wait, what about Present Mic?”

“Oh, easy.” You dramatically gestured toward Sero’s usual lazy grin though at the moment, it was more panicked. “Loud, funny, and way too charismatic for his own good?”

“HEY”

“Textbook Present Mic,” you confirmed.

Sero opened his mouth to protest only to immediately shut it when you tilted his head again, considering.

“And All Might?” Iida asked, raising an eyebrow.

You hummed, tilting your head before nodding. “It’s the natural hero vibes.”

Sero sputtered. “I what does that even mean?!”

“It means you’re effortlessly cool, you make people feel comfortable ” you said, grinning up at him. “And you know it.”

Effortlessly cool. Cool. COOL. You felt… safe around him?

Sero was going to combust.

And then, as if to seal his fate, you finally let go of his face only for him to immediately lose his balance.

He had been standing behind the couch when you grabbed him, leaning slightly forward to accommodate your grip. But now that you had released him, his brain was still buffering which meant his body had absolutely no idea what to do.

His foot slid slightly. His balance tilted. And before he could catch himself

“Whoa!”

With all the grace of an inflatable tube man in a hurricane, Sero flopped forward, collapsing over the back of the couch with a truly undignified squawk. His legs stayed standing, but his torso draped over the cushions, his arms sprawled out as his face planted directly onto Ochako’s lap.

“Oh my god,” Ochako wheezed, shaking with laughter. Iida pinched the bridge of his nose. Deku just stared.

Your laughter rang through the room, your body folding in half as you slapped your knee. “Bro. Are you good?”

Sero groaned into Ochako’s lap, muffled by the fabric of her sweatpants. “No. I am not good.”

“You were trying to be cool, huh?” Ochako teased, giggling as she patted his back.

“Shut up, Uraraka,” he muttered, voice still slightly strangled.

You grinned down at him, leaning over the armrest. “Aw, c’mon, Sero. You’re still cool in my book.”

Oh.

Oh, he was so done for.

Still draped over the couch like a defeated man, Sero let out a long, suffering sigh before finally lifting his head to look at you. His face was red undeniably, traitorously red but he still forced his signature grin, resting his chin in his hand as he met your gaze.

“So, uh,” he drawled, voice only slightly shaky, “just to be clear… you do think I’m hot, then?”

Your smirk widened. “Sero. My guy. I’ve been saying this.”

Sero inhaled sharply. “Huh.”

He nodded once. Thought about his life choices. Then nodded again.

“Alright,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “Cool. That’s, uh… that’s good to know.”

You were just grinning.

Because at the end of the day, there was nothing more satisfying than flustering Hanta Sero.

On the other hand his whole life was flashing through his eyes, well all the embarrassing parts. Dangling from his own tape mid training? Yeah. Getting slammed into a wall by Kirishima during a sparring match? Absolutely. Accidentally sticking himself to the ceiling during first year combat trials? Embarrassing, but yes.

Now, Still draped over the back of the couch, he had tried to adjust himself tried being the key word only to realize that when he fell, he hadn’t just landed on Ochako’s lap. No, that would’ve been fine. That would’ve been recoverable.

Instead, in a cruel twist of fate, he had ended up sprawled across you.

Now, his upper body was half squished against your chest, his arms awkwardly pressed into the cushions beside you, and his legs were still somehow dangling behind him, propped up against the back of the couch in a way that defied physics.

He did not know how he ended up here. But what was worse? You weren’t moving. You weren’t shoving him off. You weren’t telling him to get it together. You weren’t doing anything except sitting there, your expression unreadable, as if you weren’t completely aware of the fact that his face was currently way too close to yours.

The silence stretched. The tension? Thick.

Sero gulped. “Sooo…”

Ochako snorted. Iida rubbed his temples like he was praying for patience. Deku who had been watching all of this unfold just shook his head and sighed.

“I think,” Deku said carefully, standing from his seat, “we should… probably go.”

Iida nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Agreed.”

Ochako stretched her arms over her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, you two look busy.”

Sero’s brain completely derailed. “Wait, wh”

Before he could even try to salvage his dignity, the three of them were already gone, vanishing around the corner with suspiciously amused expressions.

It was just you and him.

Sero slowly, slowly turned his head to look at you, eyes wide. “Uh.”

You raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re… not gonna push me off?”

“Eh.” You shrugged. “You’re warm.”

Sero nearly died on the spot.

His heart slammed against his ribs, his brain suddenly incapable of forming coherent thoughts. Warm. You liked this? You were fine with this?

He did not know what to do with that information.

“…You good?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Yeah.” He nodded quickly. “Totally. Totally good.”

A pause.

Then, as if this was just another normal conversation, you casually went, “Wanna go into town with me today?”

Sero blinked. “Huh?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you finally sat up, forcing him to shift slightly so you weren’t both in a tangled mess of limbs. “I was thinking of heading into the city for a bit,” you explained. “Figured it’d be fun to have some company.”

Sero’s brain, still recovering from the absolute whiplash of the last five minutes, struggled to catch up. “Oh. Uh yeah, sure.”

You grinned. “Cool.”

And just like that, you stretched, standing up as if nothing had happened, before strolling toward the dorm entrance.

Sero, still awkwardly perched on the couch, blinked after you.

It wasn’t until you were already halfway down the hall that realization smacked him in the face.

Wait.

Did I just… agree to a date?

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The moment you shut your bedroom door behind you, your entire body locked up.

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, wide eyed, mouth slightly open in shock.

Did I just?

You pointed at yourself accusingly.

“Did I just ask Hanta out?!”

Silence.

Your reflection, unhelpfully, did not respond.

You grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.

What was that?! What possessed you to casually throw out an invitation like that? Sure, you wanted to hang out but you literally could have asked anyone! Anyone! But nooo, you had to invite Sero the same guy you’d been freaking out about all morning, the same guy who had landed on you just minutes ago, the same guy who had been so close that you could feel his breath

Your hands flew to your face as you let out a muffled groan.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “I asked him out. I actually asked him out.”

Your brain was short circuiting.

And worst of all?

He said yes.

He actually said yes.

And what did that mean?

Did he know what he just agreed to? Was this a date to him, too? Or was he just thinking of it as a casual hangout? Was he panicking as much as you were right now? Or was he just being all cool and Sero about it?

You groaned again, aggressively yanking open your closet. No time to panic. You have to get ready.

You sifted through your clothes at lightning speed, heart racing. What do you wear on a maybe but also maybe not date? You couldn’t go too fancy that would be too obvious. But you also couldn’t dress like a total slob that would be not obvious enough.

You finally settled on something nice but casual, throwing it on in record time before rushing to the mirror again.

Your hair A mess. You moderately fixed it.

Your face? Red. Ugh.

You slapped your cheeks lightly, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” you muttered, staring yourself down. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re just hanging out with Sero. It’s totally normal. Not a big deal.”

Pause.

“…Except it is a big deal because you freaking like him”

You shoved that thought away, shaking your head furiously. Nope. Nope. Not going there right now.

Instead, you grabbed your phone, took one last deep breath, and bolted out the door trying very hard to ignore the way your heart was pounding at the thought of seeing him again.

By the time you made it downstairs, your nerves were still running wild. You had done everything possible to convince yourself this wasn’t a big deal this was just hanging out but the second you spotted Sero waiting by the door, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, your heart stuttered.

Because he looked jittery.

His hands were shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, his shoulders slightly tense, and his eyes darted around as if he couldn’t decide where to look. The moment he saw you, though, his entire body stiffened for half a second just barely noticeable before he forced himself to relax, throwing you a casual grin.

“Hey,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t give you away.

“Hey,” he echoed, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

For a moment, you both just stood there.

Then, at the same time

“So, uh”

“Are we”

Both of you stopped. Blinking.

Then, awkward laughter.

“Sorry, you go first,” Sero said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shook your head, waving him off. “Nah, wasn’t important. What were you gonna say?”

His fingers curled tighter around the fabric of his hoodie. “Uh… just are we walking anywhere in particular? Or are we just kinda…?”

You shrugged, stuffing your hands into your own pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Let’s just go. See where the day takes us.”

A beat of silence.

Sero’s mouth curled into a tiny, lopsided smile. “Sounds good.”

Wandering aimlessly through the city turned out to be perfect. At first, the conversation stayed light harmless jokes and casual observations, your usual banter keeping things effortless. The tension from earlier? Gone. Neither of you had to try around each other, and that was the best part.

At one point, you both stopped at a street vendor selling taiyaki, and after a debate over which filling was superior (chocolate, obviously), you decided to split one.

Sero took the first bite, chewing thoughtfully before tilting his head.

“Actually” he took another bite, slow and deliberate, “no, this sucks. You should probably just let me have the rest.”

Your mouth fell open. “You little”

Before he could react, you lunged, snatching the taiyaki right from his hands.

“Not a chance,” you said, taking a victorious bite.

Sero gaped at you. “You thief.”

“It’s called justice!”

“You’re literally eating my taiyaki!”

“You didn’t even pay for it!”

“Details.”

You grinned, savoring the taste until suddenly, fingers dug into your sides.

You yelped.

Sero snickered, tickling your waist just enough to make you squirm. “What’s that? You say I deserve it back?”

“SER-STOP” You nearly choked on your food, smacking at his arm. “THAT’S CHEATING!”

He just laughed, stepping back with a smug look. “All’s fair in love and taiyaki.”

Your face flamed. “Excuse me?!”

He blinked. Then, as if realizing what he just said, his expression froze for a split second before he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I I meant, uh”

“Oh my god, Sero.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

Then came the shopping stalls.

You had stopped at a small pop up stand, sifting through a collection of keychains when Sero, standing beside you, casually held one up.

It was a tiny cat, hanging from a silver loop, its little paws outstretched like it was reaching for something.

“Hey, you like this one?”

You turned your head, about to answer, only to see Sero already pulling out his wallet.

“Wait, no” You slapped a hand over his. “Nope.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

In a flash, you grabbed the keychain from his fingers, shoved a few bills at the vendor, and smirked as you stuffed it into your pocket.

“Ha!” you said triumphantly. “Beat you to it.”

Sero stared at you.. “hey let me be chivalrous.”

“i can be a chivalrous one from time to time”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. It’s on now.”

The rest of the day turned into a battle to see who could pay for things first.

Sero managed to stealthily buy your drink while you weren’t looking.

You shoved money at a vendor mid Sero’s sentence, just to spite him.

He tried to sneak some money in your bag to pay you back for a snack you bought, but you refused to accept it.

It escalated so much that one poor vendor actually looked between you two, utterly confused as you both shoved money toward them, trying to pay first.

By the time the sun started dipping below the buildings, you were laughing breathless, exhausted, and completely out of small bills.

Sero let out a dramatic sigh, slumping against a railing. “You exhaust me.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “You love it.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

The city lights flickered on, illuminating the streets in warm glows. For a moment, you both just stood there, watching the world move around you.

When you glanced at him, you noticed his fingers twitching just barely like he wanted to reach for something but wasn’t sure if he should.

You turned back toward the street, your pulse oddly fast. The way he looked at you? The soft grin on his lips, the warmth in his gaze? It made you think that maybe… just maybe… he didn’t mind so much after all.

𖤐⭒๋࣭⭑

The city lights shimmered in the distance as you and Sero stood just outside the dorms, the warm glow of the entrance lights casting long shadows across the pavement. The evening air was crisp, a gentle breeze ruffling Sero’s dark hair as he shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He looked… hesitant, which wasn’t like him.

“So…” he started, voice casual but laced with something uncertain. His dark eyes flickered toward yours. “Was today, like… a date?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I mean” He gestured between the two of you, his expression caught somewhere between amused and serious. “We went out, just us, got food, fed each other”

“You fed me too!” you cut in, arms crossing defensively.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said with a chuckle, “but that’s my point! It kinda felt like a date, but I don’t remember you actually saying it was one.”

Your lips parted slightly, your brain scrambling for a response. Then, after a beat, you muttered, “Wasn’t it obvious?”

Sero raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Usually you have to say it’s a date for it to be one.”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.…Okay, fair point.

The smug look on his face made your own heat up with embarrassment.

“So, what, you just accidentally took me on a date?” he teased, his voice light but his gaze fixed on you, watching your reaction.

You groaned, tilting your head back dramatically before burying your face in your hands for a second. Then, dropping them to your sides, you sighed. “Fine! Yes, it was a date, okay? You happy now?”

Sero beamed, looking very pleased with himself. “Very.”

You huffed, glancing away, but you couldn’t fight the small smile creeping onto your lips.

A thought struck you, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “Y’know, I really wanted to do the Spider Man kiss today.”

Sero, who had still been grinning at you, suddenly froze. “Wait what?”

You turned back to him, arms crossing again. “You know. The classic upside down kiss. Missed opportunity.”

He just stared at you, his brain clearly buffering.

Then, after a moment, he ran a hand down his face with a breathy laugh. “You really wanted to do that, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It would’ve been really… cute i think.”

Sero eyed you for a second, then, with a sudden spark of mischief, he took a step closer. His voice dipped, teasing yet playful. “Well,” he murmured, “no rule says we can’t do it now.”

Your heart skipped.

Then, you smirked. “Okay. But we gotta do it right.”

Sero rolled his eyes but still stepped back, already reaching for his arm. “Fine, fine.” With the ease of someone who had used his quirk a thousand times over, he shot a long strip of tape toward the awning above the dorm entrance, testing its hold before glancing at you.

“You better catch me if I fall,” he muttered, already pulling himself up.

You grinned. “No promises.”

Within seconds, he was suspended upside down, his dark hair falling freely as he swayed slightly. The angle made him blink rapidly, clearly thrown off. “Okay, this is way more disorienting than I thought.”

You stifled a giggle, stepping closer until his face was inches from yours. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah, are you kissing me or what?”

You rolled your eyes fondly before reaching up, gently cupping his face. His breath hitched slightly, his dark eyes flickering from yours to your lips.

And then, closing the gap, you kissed him.

It was soft at first, hesitant as you adjusted to the angle, but then Sero melted into it. His lips moved against yours, warm and sure, despite his upside down position. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation him suspended in midair, you leaning up to meet him only made it better.

When you finally pulled away, Sero let out a breathless chuckle. “That… was pretty cool.”

You smirked, poking his cheek. “Told you.”

He sighed dramatically, grabbing onto his tape to lower himself down. The moment his feet hit the ground, he stretched his arms above his head with a content grin.

“So,” he mused, rolling his shoulders. “Does that officially make this a date?”

You smirked, arms crossed. “I don’t know.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Seriously?”

You shrugged, teasing. “You usually have to say it’s a date for it to be one, right?”

Sero let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I get it!” Then, with a small grin, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer. “So, you wanna go out with me? Officially?”

Your heart skipped, but you matched his grin, feeling the warmth of the night air between you both.

“Obviously.”

[In the dorm common room, the morning after the kiss.]

Denki: So, let me get this straight you kissed him?

You: …Yes?

Sero: She just couldn’t resist me.

You: Oh my god—

Denki: Bro, I’m so proud of you… but also deeply envious.

Mina: I cant even lie you pulled the baddie of the class, im so bummed on this

Denki: WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

Present Mic | Hizashi Yamada X Reader

⋆˚✿˖° Mid Life Crisis ⋆˚✿˖°

I want to become tumblr’s token Present mic fanfic writer. I LOVE THAT MAN LIKE NOBODY CAN!!! One person in my DMs had me going back to my drafts immediately

masterlist

he’s never peaked and he will never peak because he’s perfect and amazing.

Hizashi’s house was huge. It didn’t look it from the outside, but once you stepped in, it was like a shrine to rock and roll. Posters of legendary bands covered the walls, electric guitars hung all across the rooms, and vinyl records stacked in neat rows lined the shelves. It was so him,loud in personality but meticulously cared for.

You were getting ready in his bedroom, standing in front of his full length mirror, adjusting the tight dress that hugged all the right places. It wasn’t anything too much, but it was enough to turn heads, and you were already excited for the one person that you cared about to see you.

“Alright, babe, you ready to-” His voice cut off as soon as he stepped in. You smirked at him through the mirror. He had his hair tied up in a bun, a simple button up and vest combo making him look effortlessly cool. But that wasn’t the fun part, the fun part was the way he was staring. “-go?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Oh? Something wrong, Yamada?” you teased, turning to face him fully, giving a little spin. “Too much?”

Hizashi blinked, his mouth slightly open, then shook his head violently. “Nope! Nope, not at all! In fact, I, wow, okay, I love my life.”

You laughed, stepping closer, running a hand down his vest. “You clean up nice yourself. That handsome face of yours, I’m gonna have to fight off the others tonight.”

“Me? Babe, me? I need to be concerned about you!” He pointed an exaggerated, accusing finger at you. “Do you see yourself? You’re illegal. You should be arrested for—wait, no, that sounds weird—uh, I should be arrested for—uh—”

You snorted as he tripped over his words, his usual confident, loud persona cracking in real time. Adorable. “So you like it?” you hummed, tilting your head.

“Like is an understatement, sweetheart. You are out here committing crimes against my heart, and I ain’t even mad about it.” He held you close, staring at you, or rather looking right in your eyes. “I’m simping so hard right now, I swear.”

You grinned, stepping even closer, hands resting on his chest now. “I should not had let the class teach you that word….Then should we even go to the party? Or should I just let you keep simping all night?

Hizashi groaned, throwing his head back. “Babe, don’t tempt me. The only thing keeping me from locking this door and worshipping the ground you walk on is that I know if we don’t show up, Aizawa is going to kill me if I leave him alone.”

You pouted dramatically. “Ugh, fine. But you better keep this same energy the whole night.” He leaned down, lips just barely brushing against yours before he grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, you know me”

—-

Hizashi didn’t let up. Not at all. Not when you were walking through the front doors of the party, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist as if staking his claim which, considering the amount of attention you were getting in that dress, was completely intentional.

the loud, confident, sometimes utterly ridiculous man who never seemed to run out of energy. And you, the calm (most of the time), equally confident pro who somehow managed to keep up with his antics. People talked about your relationship all the time. The age gap, the differences in energy, how did this even happen? conversations. But the truth, You were stupid for each other.

It wasn’t just the attraction, though damn if that wasn’t strong. It was the fact that no matter how much Hizashi turned a room into his stage, his eyes always found you first. The fact that, even after a long day, when he should’ve been crashing, he’d still pull you into his arms and hum softly, running his hands through your hair as you talked about your day. The fact that for all his confidence, you were the one who made him speechless. on the flip side? He was your biggest hype man. Always in your corner, always reminding you just how much of a badass you were. You might be a top 10 pro, but he made sure you felt like one, even on the days when you didn’t.

——

The party was in full swing, music blaring, drinks flowing, and pros of all ranks finally letting loose for once. It was rare to get a night like this, where no one had to worry about saving the world, so you were damn well going to enjoy it. You were on the dance floor with Hawks and Mirko, and it was all over the place.

Mirko was hyping you up like crazy, clapping and whistling every time you so much as moved, while Hawks, ever the showman, had decided he was going to out dance everyone. including you.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, pointing at Hawks as he spun dramatically. “You do realize you’re the only one trying, right?”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, flipping his bangs out of his eyes. “This is all done in a super nonchalant way. You’re just mad, you can’t keep up!”

That earned a sharp laugh from Mirko, who immediately joined in. “Yeah, no way I’m letting that slide. Get his ass.”

And so the battle began. At some point, it stopped being about looking good and turned into pure nonsense. Argyably it never looked good. Hawks attempting breakdancing moves he had no business trying, Mirko throwing in kicks just because? and you? You just let loose, moving however you wanted, laughing so hard your sides hurt. Some of the other pros were watching, some cheering, some just shaking their heads at the spectacle. Midnight had walked by at one point, smirking knowingly. “Well, aren’t you three the life of the party?”

“Damn right we are!” Hawks shot back, striking a pose.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Hizashi was not moving at all. He and Aizawa had claimed one of the couches, and while the party raged around them, they were just chilling. Hizashi had one arm draped over the back of the couch, his drink in hand, his usual grin plastered on his face. He was vibing, content just being there, occasionally chatting with Aizawa between pros walking past and greeting them.

Aizawa, on the other hand, was doing what he did best sitting in silence, eyes half lidded, drink untouched.

“She’s having fun,” Aizawa eventually said, nodding towards you on the dance floor. Hizashi followed his gaze, his grin softening a bit when he spotted you. Even in a crowd, even with people surrounding you, his eyes always found you first.

“Yeah,” he said, voice just a little too fond. “She looks real good, too.”

Aizawa sighed. “You’re so lame.”

Hizashi cackled. “Oh, you have no idea, man.”

Hizashi leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out as he sipped his drink. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the room, but he was content just sitting there, people watching with Aizawa. It was a rare break from the chaos of pro hero life, and even if the night was loud, it was nice. Aizawa, meanwhile, sat like he always did hunched, arms crossed, looking like he was two seconds away from dipping. Hizashi wasn’t fooled, though. The fact that Aizawa hadn’t actually left yet meant he didn’t hate it too much.

“Hard to believe we get to do this now, huh?” Hizashi mused, watching as a few lower ranked pros passed by, nodding respectfully in their direction. Some were fresh faces, new names climbing the ranks, and it reminded him just how much things had changed.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Feels weird. Feels like we should be doing something else. Something useful.” Hizashi snorted. “You are doing something useful relaxing.”

Aizawa gave him a look. “That’s your definition of useful?”

“Damn right it is!” Hizashi gestured dramatically around the room. “Look at everyone! They’re all taking a break, lettin’ loose, remembering they’re people and not just walking disaster response units. You think we don’t deserve this?”

Aizawa hesitated, his expression unreadable. Hizashi knew where his mind was going before he even had to say it. The sheer amount of loss they’d all seen, the students, the fellow heroes, the weight of the world on their shoulders. It was hard to sit back and have a good time when the job never really stopped.

Before Aizawa could spiral too deep, a familiar voice cut through the moment. “Wow, look at you two, I dont know if you guys know how a party works”

Hizashi looked up to see Snipe passing by, arms crossed, the usual deep-set frown on his face. Beside him, Power loader, now slightly sweaty from dancing, grinned at the sight of them.

“Don’t be jealous, old man,” Hizashi shot back. “Not everyone can handle this level of zen!”

Snipe just smiles and walked away. Power Loader, however, laughed and clapped Hizashi on the shoulder before following.

“Man, with the amount of pros here I feel there's a problem bound to happen,” Aizawa muttered. Before Hizashi could respond, another familiar presence approached, Kamui Woods and Mt. Lady.

“Yamada,” Kamui greeted with a nod.

“Hizashi,” Mt. Lady added, her gaze flickering over to Aizawa. “And… the usual grump.” Aizawa just sighed.

“You two taking it easy, huh?” Kamui asked.

“Someone’s gotta hold down the couches,” Hizashi joked.

Mt. Lady smirked. “You sure you’re not just getting old?”

“Ouch!” Hizashi smiled. “whats up with the hate for relaxing at parties?”

She just laughed as she and Kamui walked off, leaving Hizashi shaking his head. Aizawa took another sip of his drink before finally speaking. “You are getting old, though.”

“Excuse me?”

Aizawa gave him a sideways glance, eyes just barely amused. “You’re 30, dating a 22 year old, wearing your hair in a bun, talking about how much things have changed, face it, you’re having a mid life crisis.”

Hizashi gasped like he’d just been personally attacked which he kinda did. “How dare you.”

Aizawa shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it.”

Hizashi shook his head, sighing dramatically. “And here I was, thinking I could count on my best friend to support me.”

“I am supporting you,” Aizawa said, smirking slightly. “I just think it’s funny.”

“You’re so lucky I love you, man,” Hizashi grumbled, finishing off his drink.

Aizawa hummed. “Lucky is one way to put it.”

Hizashi wasn’t the jealous type. He wasn’t insecure, either. He was loud, confident, and damn well knew what he brought to the table. But the age thing? Yeah. That always made him think. He knew Aizawa had just been messing with him, it was what they did, their whole friendship built on dry humor and good natured jabs. But now, sitting there, watching the party move around him, the thought wouldn’t leave his head.

He was 30. You were 22.

Eight years wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was some old man, but still sometimes, it made him wonder.

You were young, in your prime, one of the best heroes out there. You had the world at your feet. And sure, he was at some point in the top 10, too, still full of energy, but there were moments like this one where he felt older. Not in a way that made him doubt himself, but in a way that made him wonder if you’d ever look back and think… damn, I should’ve picked someone my own age.

He hated thinking like that. It was dumb. You were with him. You chose him, over and over again. But it didn’t change the fact that every now and then, the thought crept in. Maybe it was because he loved you so much. Like, a stupid amount. Enough that he wanted to make sure you never regretted choosing him. Enough that he caught himself worrying about things he’d normally laugh off.

Maybe that’s what a mid-life crisis really was. Not the bun, not the nostalgia, not the way Aizawa poked fun. It was realizing you had something so good, and you’d do anything to keep it. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his thumb over the rim of his glass. Aizawa, ever perceptive even when half asleep, glanced at him. “You actually thinking about it?”

Hizashi snorted, shaking his head. “Nah. Just… y’know.”

Aizawa hummed. “You know she loves you, right?”

That made Hizashi pause. It wasn’t like Aizawa to say stuff like that outright.

Hizashi chuckled, leaning back again, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah. I know.”

And he did. He just had to remind himself sometimes.

——

The music was still pounding, the lights flashing in a dizzying rhythm as you moved with Hawks and Mirko. The three of you had long given up on anything resembling actual dancing. it was just pure fun now. Hawks was still determined to outshine everyone, while Mirko hyped up literally everything you did, laughing wildly every time one of you spun too fast or almost tripped.

Maybe you’d had a little too much to drink. You weren’t drunk, just… happy. A little lightheaded, a little more free. Enough that the world felt warmer, easier, like nothing could touch you in this moment. Or you were drunk. hussssh now

And then, between the spinning lights and the blur of movement, your eyes landed on him. Hizashi was still on the couch, still grinning, still talking with Aizawa, but… something felt off. Maybe it was the slight shift in his posture, or the way his usual energy seemed just a little muted.

You didn’t think. One second, you were dancing. The next, you were running. Well, stumbling, really. Mirko shouted something, probably encouragement. Hawks called after you, definitely something teasing. But you didn’t stop. You just launched yourself forward, nearly crashing into Hizashi’s side as you practically tackled him in a hug.

“WHOA!” Hizashi barely had time to react before you were on him, arms wrapped around his torso, your body half in his lap as you buried your face against his vest.

“Heyyyyy,” you mumbled, grinning up at him.

Hizashi blinked, caught somewhere between startled and entirely smitten. Then, as if on instinct, he wrapped his arms around you, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Babe, you good?”

“Mmmhmm.” You nuzzled closer, tightening your hold. “Just wanted to be near you.”

Aizawa, still sitting beside him, gave you both the most unimpressed look before sighing. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hizashi waved him off, though his eyes never left you. “Love you too, bro.”

Aizawa just grunted, standing up and disappearing into the crowd. Hizashi, meanwhile, exhaled slowly, letting his chin rest against the top of your head. “Didn’t know I was makin’ a face to call you over.”

“You weren’t,” you murmured. “But I know you.”

Hizashi’s arms tightened around you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held you there, warm and solid, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. Then, with a soft laugh, he murmured, “Im so lucky I love you.”

“Mmhmm.” You grinned. “I love you.”

You leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, still grinning, still feeling weightless from the drinks and the music and him. Hizashi’s golden eyes flickered with warmth, soft under the dim party lights. He was still holding you close, one arm securely around your waist, the other resting lazily along the back of the couch.

You just stared at him, a slow, happy smile spreading across your lips.

He raised a brow, smirking slightly. “What’re you lookin’ at, silly girl?”

Your smile widened. “Just you.”

Hizashi’s grip on you tightened, his smirk faltering for half a second before he chuckled low and fond and a little breathless. “Damn,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You tryna kill me tonight?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Maaaybe.”

He laughed, the sound softer than usual, quieter, meant just for you. His fingers curled slightly against your waist, absentmindedly tracing circles through the fabric of your dress.

“Y’know,” he mused, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might just have to kiss ya right here, in front of everyone.”

You grinned, tilting your chin up just slightly. “Then do it.”

Hizashi inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening for half a second, like you’d really just tested him. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he flopped back against the couch, “You’re so cute,” he teased, “so reckless, throwin’ my heart around like it’s not already yours.”

You giggled, resting your forehead against his. “Oops.” He let out another laugh, softer this time, before pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. “C’mon, babe.” His voice was warm, teasing, but genuine. “Let’s get you some water before you start tryin’ to propose to me or somethin’.”

You gasped even louder, dramatically placing a hand over your heart like he had just offended you. “How dare you, Mic?”

His grin widened. “I knew it—”

But before he could finish, you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly between both of yours as you sat up on your knees beside him. “Hizashi Yamada,” you began, voice full of drunken conviction.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, eyes widening.

“You are the loudest, most ridiculous, most obnoxiously handsome man I have ever met,” you declared, staring deeply into his golden eyes. “You make me laugh, you make me smile, and you make me feel like the luckiest person alive.”

Hizashi covered his mouth with his free hand, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Babe—”

“Shhh,” you hushed him by placing a hand on his face. then squeezing his fingers. “Let me finish.”

At this point, some of the nearby pros had started noticing. Mirko was doubled over dying in the background, Hawks was crying laughing, and even a few others had turned their heads, realizing that something was going down.

“So,” you continued, lifting his hand like you were about to slip a ring on it, “Hizashi Yamada, my dear, sweet rockstar of a boyfriend… will you—”

Hizashi lunged, scooping you up in his arms and pulling you into his lap before you could even finish. “NOPE,” he shouted, grinning wildly as you giggled hysterically. “We are NOT doin’ this in front of everybody, sweetheart!”

“But I’m serious!” you cackled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so serious!”

Hizashi groaned, dramatically letting his forehead fall against your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Soooo… is that a yes?”

He pulled back, looked at you with the softest smile, and leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear as he murmured, “Ask me again when you’re sober, babe.”*

Hizashi had always known he loved you. That wasn’t new. It wasn’t some grand realization that hit him all at once it was something steady, something constant, like a favorite song playing on loop in the background of his life.

But sometimes like right now it hit him differently. You hadn’t asked what was wrong. You hadn’t pried or tried to dig into his thoughts. You’d just looked at him, noticed the way his energy had faltered for even a second, and decided that was all you needed to know.

You had run to him… well crashed into his side, curled up against him like he was the only thing that mattered in a room full of pros. You weren’t trying to fix anything, weren’t offering reassurances you didn’t even know he needed. You were just there. Holding him, looking at him like he was still the coolest guy in the room, like he was still your favorite person.

And damn if that didn’t make his chest feel too tight in the best possible way. Hizashi had spent years making other people feel seen, heard, important. That was just who he was. But you? You did that for him.

Without even trying.

And he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but hell. he’d take it. He’d take every drunk proposal, every chaotic moment, every time you looked at him like he mattered more than the number next to his name on the hero charts.

You held his hand so tightly, no hesitation, no doubt, like letting go wasn’t even an option to you.

And as he scooped you up into his lap to stop you from dramatically proposing in front of everyone, as you giggled against him, as he told you to ask again when you were sober he knew.

Hizashi Yamada, ranked 42, loudest hero in the country, knew. If you ever did ask him again… His answer would always be yes.

—-

The second Hizashi unlocked the front door, you beelined for the couch. Well “beelined” was a strong word. It was more of a zigzagging, slightly uncoordinated stumble, courtesy of the drinks still making everything feel just a little too floaty.

“Babe” Hizashi barely had time to react before

THUMP.

You face planted directly onto the couch, limbs sprawled, dress slightly askew, completely motionless. Silence.

“Oh my god,” Hizashi wheezed, kicking the door shut behind him as laughter exploded out of him. “You good?!”

Your muffled voice came from somewhere in the couch cushions. “I live here now.”

Hizashi wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head, still grinning like an idiot. “Nah, babe, you gotta move. we gotta get you to bed.”

You dramatically threw an arm over your face. “Not anymore. This couch and I are one.”

“suuuuure.” He snorted, walking over and kneeling beside you, hands warm as he gently rubbed your back. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

You peeked out from under your arm, giving him a lazy, loopy grin. “I knooow.”

Hizashi chuckled, then leaned in, brushing a kiss against your temple. “C’mon, superstar,” he murmured. “Let’s get you outta this dress and into somethin’ comfy before you actually pass out here.”*

You hummed thoughtfully. “Counteroffer: carry me.”

Hizashi groaned dramatically, already slipping his arms under you. “You are the most spoiled human alive”

“And yet, you love me.”

He sighed, lifting you effortlessly into his arms, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah. I really, really do.”*

As Hizashi carried you toward the bedroom, you let your head rest on his shoulder, gazing at the familiar surroundings. You’d always technically had your own place, your own space to retreat to. A sleek apartment in the heart of the city, stylish and practical. It had everything you needed, an expansive living room, a kitchen with all the gadgets, and a spacious bedroom with a view of the skyline.

But lately? You hadn’t spent much time there. You’d find yourself opting for Hizashi’s place more and more. His house was different from yours, messy in the best way, with guitars propped up against the walls and posters of old school rock bands plastered on every inch of the space. It wasn’t as polished or clean as your apartment, but that was part of its charm. The clutter felt lived in, real. Every inch of his place had his touch on it, and somehow, it felt like home in a way your apartment never quite did.

Even the sounds of the house were different, his music blaring from speakers, his laughter filling the air in a way your space had never known. And then there was the smell of his cologne, of takeout containers on the counter, and the lingering scent of old vinyl records. It was comfortable in a way your place could never be.

—-

You were already curled up on the bed, the cozy oversized hoodie of Hizashi’s hanging loosely around your shoulders as you relaxed, your eyes drifting lazily over to him.

Hizashi was standing by the dresser, pulling his shirt from his back. You could see the outline of his muscles through the fabric, his usual confident swagger already making its way into the room. The shirt came off, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hubba hubba,” you said, low and teasing, eyes half lidded in playful admiration.

Hizashi paused mid motion, glancing at you with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his lips twitching as he shook his head. “Really? You’ve had enough of the party already, and now you’re making comments like that?”

“I’m just appreciating the view,” you grinned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

already pulling his t-shirt off and tossing it casually over his shoulder, sending it flying directly toward you. “There. Now you can cuddle with this.”

You caught it effortlessly, wrapping it around yourself with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, this is like drugs”

Hizashi smirked, standing now in just his vest, eyes twinkling with that usual teasing glint. “You’re welcome, superstar. Now, sleep. I swear, you can’t be serious about anything right now.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious?” you teased, settling back into the pillows with the shirt around you like a blanket. “I’m just showing my appreciation for my handsome boyfriend.”

Hizashi chuckled, walking toward the bed and lying down next to you. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, already getting comfortable beside you. “Alright, enough with the compliments. We both need sleep.”

You couldn’t resist giving him one last playful glance, leaning over and kissing his cheek quickly before nestling down beside him. “Fine, fine… but I’m still thinking ‘hubba hubba’ in my head.”

He rolled his eyes once more, pulling you closer with a content sigh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yep,” you whispered with a sleepy smile. “and i’m sure you wouldn’t want it any other way.” He didn’t reply right away, his arms pulling you close as you both settled in for the night.

You: i don't want to victim blame but maybe if he didn't want to be called babygirl he shouldn't have been such a babygirl. just a thought.

:0

rody soul x reader

｡𖦹°‧ You Matter To Me ｡𖦹°‧

it a the middle it the night kill a me but i’m tired but the brain rot is too strong. When i see him i think howl and calsifer

masterlist

Rody means the world to you, The world has a way of taking advantage

“Come on, slowpokes!” you called over your shoulder, already halfway up a stack of crates that led to your usual rooftop hideout above the bakery.

The streets of Otheon were always full of life, bustling markets, kids darting between stalls, the occasional shouts of vendors selling fresh bread or trinkets. But for you, Rody, and his siblings, the real adventure was never in the busy streets. It was in the quieter places, the hidden nooks and rooftops where no one bothered you.

“I’m trying!” Rody huffed, carrying Roro on his back while Lala clung to his arm. “Unlike you, I’ve got two little germs to deal with!”

Lala pouted. “I’m not a germ!”

“You kinda are,” Roro mumbled sleepily against Rody’s shoulder.

You laughed, hopping back down to help. “Alright, Lala, your ride’s here.” You crouched down, and without hesitation, she scrambled onto your back. “Hold on tight!”

Rody blinked at you, a little surprised, then turned his head away, hoping you wouldn’t notice the faint blush creeping onto his face. Pino, on the other hand, chirped way too much for it to go unnoticed. The little pink bird flitted around excitedly, landing on your shoulder and nuzzling into your cheek

As soon as she wrapped her arms around your neck, you effortlessly climbed back up, Lala giggling the whole way. When you reached the rooftop, you set her down, and she plopped onto the ground dramatically. “Made it!”

Rody finally got up after you, carefully setting Roro down before collapsing onto his back. “You have way too much energy,” he muttered, glancing at you.

You smirked. “you’re just getting old.”

“I’m old?” He scoffed, sitting up. “Excuse me? Who was the one struggling to carry Lala just now?”

“you were the one that was struggling with both—”

Pino, who had been fluttering around your head this whole time, landed on your shoulder and nuzzled against your cheek. You grinned and reached up to gently scratch her head. “What’s up with your little bird today? She’s been extra clingy.”

Rody stiffened. “Uh—no reason! She just, uh—likes you!”

Pino chirped a little too enthusiastically at that.

“she’s so cute and affectionate,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “If you ever want her off your hands i’ll gladly take her”

Rody quickly turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “AHH! nooo. nope. no. nooooo. she’ll just stick with me”

You raised an eyebrow at him but let it go. If there was one thing about Rody, it was that he was always a little mysterious when it came to certain things.

Roro tugged at your sleeve, looking up at you with big eyes. “Can you tell us a story? The one about the hero who tricks the bad guys!”

“Again?” You grinned. “You guys never get tired of that one.”

“It’s the best one!” Lala said, scooting closer. “But this time, make Rody do the voices!”

Rody groaned. “Why me?”

“Because you’re good at it!”

You smirked, nudging him. “Yeah, come on, partner. Don’t leave me hanging.”

Rody sighed dramatically, but when Lala and Roro gave him matching puppy-dog eyes, he caved. “Fine.”

As you spun your tale, Rody, despite his earlier complaints, got really into the voices. Lala and Roro giggled at his exaggerated villain impressions, and even you had to bite back laughter at his over the top dramatic gasps. By the end of the story, Lala was leaning sleepily against your arm. “You’re gonna be a real hero someday,” she mumbled.

You ruffled her hair, grinning. “Maybe. But for now, I think Rody’s the real hero, he takes care of you guys all the time., you both better appreciate him” by the end you’ve adjusted to squishing her cheeks

Rody sputtered, caught off guard, and Pino chirped in agreement. “Whaaa No, I mean, I just do what I have to.”

His siblings nodded enthusiastically, and Lala giggled. “Then you can be the sidekick!”

“Hey!” you pouted, crossing your arms. “I think I should be the main hero here!”

Roro laughed. “No way! Rody’s way cooler!” Rody looked away, scratching the back of his head, clearly embarrassed but also secretly pleased. You just smirked at him, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

“Guess that makes us partners, huh?” you said, offering your pinky to him.

For a second, Rody just stared at your outstretched hand, his heartbeat stuttering. Then, swallowing down whatever goofy feelings he had, he looped his pinky around yours, locking it in place.

“Yeah,” he said, softer this time. “Partners.” Pino chirped, flitting excitedly around you again.

“See? Even your bird agrees.” You shot him a teasing grin before offering your pinky. “Well i mean Ill say you’re my hero at least”

Rody just stared for a second, his heart skipping a beat. Then, swallowing down whatever weird feeling was creeping up on him, he linked his pinky with yours.

“You’re too much,” he said quietly.

Pino chirped again, landing between your hands.

You sighed dramatically. “Seriously, what’s with her today?”

Rody groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t know, okay? Just—drop it!”

Lala giggled, Roro snickered, and you? You just awkwardly smiled. You had no idea what was really going on. And Rody really hoped you wouldn’t figure it out anytime soon.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The warm glow of the Otheon sunset stretched across the rooftops as you made your way back home, the scent of freshly baked bread still clinging to your clothes. The afternoon had been perfect laughing with Rody, telling stories to Roro and Lala, and soaking in the feeling of belonging. But that feeling always faded when the night came.

The streets were quieter now, shadows stretching long against the buildings. You kept your head down, slipping through alleys with the ease of someone who had grown up in them. A habit. A necessity. Because the truth was, you couldn’t afford to be seen anymore.

Not after they found you.

It started a few weeks ago an offer, one you couldn’t refuse. The commission had their eyes on you for a while, watching, waiting. Not a hero in the traditional sense, but something else. Someone who could move unseen, get things done where others couldn’t.

They told you the country needed people like you. That you could make a real difference. after everything you’d been through, everything you’d done to survive, wasn’t that what you wanted?

Still, it didn’t feel real until you stepped inside the headquarters for the first time. Unlike the crowded streets of Otheon, the commission building was sleek, clinical. People moved with purpose, their faces unreadable. You weren’t sure what you expected maybe more warmth, more reassurance. But the moment you signed that contract, any illusions of comfort vanished.

“Your work will be in the shadows,” your handler had told you, sliding a file across the table. “We’re not looking for another flashy hero. We need efficiency. Discretion.”

You hesitated for only a moment before flipping the file open. That night, as you lay in your small apartment, staring at the ceiling, you thought about Rody and his siblings. About Lala’s certainty that you’d be a hero one day. About Rody’s quiet admiration when he thought you weren’t looking.

Would they understand this choice? Would they forgive you for walking a path that pulled you further away from them?

You exhaled sharply, sitting up. There was no room for hesitation. This was the only way forward. They didn’t need to know.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The trailer smelled like coffee and something faintly sweet, probably the remnants of breakfast from earlier that morning. The small kitchen was as cramped as ever, with barely enough space for one person, let alone two. Yet, somehow, you and Rody had both ended up here, navigating the tight space like an old dance neither of you had forgotten.

You reached for the sugar at the same time he did, your hands brushing. “Sorry—”

“My bad—”

You both pulled back, only for you to move toward the sink as he turned in the same direction. Your hip bumped against his, making him stagger slightly. “Seriously?” he huffed, rubbing his side with an amused smile.

“Not my fault your kitchen is tiny,” you shot back, nudging him playfully before grabbing a mug from the cabinet.

He shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Or maybe you’re just in my way.”

You smirked. “Maybe you’re in mine.”

Another bump, this time, your shoulder against his as you reached for a spoon. The closeness wasn’t new, not really. You’d spent your childhood shoulder to shoulder, running through the streets of Otheon, always moving together. But something about now about being here after all this time made the space feel even smaller.

Rody exhaled, setting his cup down with a soft clink. “Y’know… I don’t see you much these days.”

The shift in his tone made you pause. You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic. “Yeah? Guess I’ve been busy.”

“Right. Busy.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “You always disappear for weeks at a time. Then you show up out of nowhere, act like nothing’s changed, and then poof. Gone again.”

You looked at him, seeing the way his brow furrowed just slightly, the way Pino chirped softly from his shoulder, almost as if echoing his thoughts. You flashed an easy grin. “What, miss me that much?”

Rody rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “Not the point.”

You let out a soft chuckle, stepping aside as he reached past you for the sugar again. In the tight space, you barely had room to move without brushing against him. He didn’t step away, and neither did you.

“Come on, Rody,” you said lightly. “You know me. I go where the wind takes me.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah. You always say that.”

The words were familiar, like an old refrain, but this time, they held something heavier beneath them. You didn’t answer right away, just took a sip of your coffee, letting the warmth settle in your hands. Rody studied you, waiting. You could feel it the way his gaze lingered just a little longer than necessary. Like he was searching for something.

Pino fluttered over to you, landing on your shoulder and nuzzling into your cheek. You smiled, brushing your fingers gently over her feathers. “Your bird’s really loves me. I think she’ll be happier following me around”

Rody exhaled a soft laugh, “she’s…. just affectionate ”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t the easy silence of two kids who had nothing to worry about. It was something different now something heavier, something older.

“Still the same, huh?” Rody finally said, his voice softer this time.

You smiled, tilting your head slightly. “Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true. You weren’t the same kids running through the streets, scraping by on clever tricks and sheer determination. Time had pulled you in different directions, left gaps that neither of you knew how to fill.

Still, you wouldn’t say that. You wouldn’t tell him where you’d been, what you’d been doing. Some things were better left unspoken. Rody let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair before picking up his coffee again. “Guess I’ll just have to enjoy the company while you’re here, then.”

You clinked your mug against his in a small toast, your grin still in place. “I hold the company I have with you so close.”

Pino chirped again, and Rody glanced at her before shaking his head with a smile.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A question came up more often than you liked.

“You don’t have a hero name?”

People always asked with some mix of surprise and curiosity, like the idea of someone doing this kind of work without a flashy title was strange. Like it wasn’t normal to just be a person. But you never had an answer that satisfied them.

Because the truth was, you never needed one. Heroes had names to stand for something hope, power, legacy. They had people waiting for them, people who chanted their names in the streets, who relied on their presence. But for you?

There was no crowd waiting. No legacy to uphold. Just the job. That’s what you sold yourself too. Growing up in Otheon, names didn’t mean much. You learned early on that no one was coming to save you. No one cared what you called yourself when you were scraping by, running through life with Rody, protecting his siblings from the kind of people who didn’t bother learning kids’ names before taking what they wanted.

Survival was enough. A name wouldn’t have changed a thing. Even now, with the commission branding you as one of their best assets, you still didn’t see the point. The work you did wasn’t meant for the spotlight it was quiet, precise, the kind of thing that made people uneasy when they thought about how things really got done.

And maybe, deep down, it was better this way. A name meant being known. And to be known was to be missed.

You weren’t sure you could handle that.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The night air was cool against your skin as you leaned back against the hood of Rody’s beat up car or is probably his car, you stopped asking. Staring up at the Otheon sky. The city lights blurred out most of the stars, but a few stubborn ones still shone through, distant but steady.

Rody sat beside you, one leg pulled up, his arms resting lazily over his knee. Pino was curled up on his shoulder, half dozing. For once, the world wasn’t pulling either of you in different directions. No missions. No responsibilities. Just this.

“You ever think about leaving?” he asked suddenly, voice softer than usual.

You glanced at him. “Otheon?”

“Yeah. The city. The country. Just… all of it.”

You exhaled, tilting your head back. “I used to.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just sat with it, letting the silence settle between you like a familiar weight. Then, finally “But you stay.”

You turned your head toward him. His eyes were unreadable, reflecting the dim city lights, but there was something in them, something careful. Like he was waiting for an answer that mattered.

“…Yeah.”

Rody hummed, looking away, a small smile playing on his lips. “Good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Good?”

“Yeah.” He let out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because if you left, I think the whole damn world would feel it.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “…Rody.”

“I mean it.” He turned to face you fully now, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I know you don’t think about yourself like that. I know you don’t see yourself the way you should. But you—” He huffed, shaking his head. “You matter, Y/n. To me. To the kids. To a hell of a lot more people than you think.”

Your throat tightened. You had spent so long moving in the dark, convincing yourself that it was better that way, that your presence wasn’t needed. Rody saw right through that. Like he always did.

“…You really believe that?” you asked quietly.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Of course I do, dumbass.”

Rody reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours with a familiarity that made your chest ache. His grip was warm, solid, grounding.

“We’ve always been surviving against the world, I’m scared you don’t know how much you mean. Everything is changing and… and-” he said. “You just need to be you. And that’s enough.”

You swallowed hard, looking down at your intertwined hands. There was no teasing in his voice, no deflection. Just truth. For a long time, you had carried the weight of being unseen, unnoticed, untethered. But Rody saw you.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It was supposed to be another straightforward mission for you, a pro hero on a routine contract. The job was simple, intercept an illegal exchange of weapons and information, apprehend the individuals involved, and ensure the goods didn’t make it onto the streets. You had done this hundreds of times. But now, standing above the alley, you realized just how easily something simple could spiral into chaos.

You’d always kept your personal life separate from your work as a pro hero. Being top tier came with its own pressures, and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t need anyone’s pity or sympathy. The world of heroes was a strange one, filled with expectations, spotlight, and public relations. You never cared for the fanfare or the flashy name. To you, it had always been about getting the job done, saving lives, and making sure that people who needed help got it.

The mission was unfolding, but everything felt wrong.

You crouched low, eyes scanning the alley below as you noticed the familiar figure of Rody, his lanky frame standing awkwardly among a group of shady looking individuals. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, trying to play it cool, but the tension in his shoulders told a different story. He was out of his depth, and you could see it.

The voices from your earpiece crackled with static, a reminder of the task at hand. “Y/n, do you have visual on the target?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah. I see him.”

The rush of adrenaline hit you. You were supposed to be the one in control. You were the one who was supposed to stay ahead of this. no surprises, no distractions.

You’d seen Rody around the city occasionally, but you never really asked about what he was doing. He always seemed to disappear for days at a time, coming back with some new odd job, a bit more worn down, a bit quieter each time. He never talked about his work, and you never asked. You had your own life to handle, your own responsibilities to take care of. But seeing him standing there, surrounded by men you knew were tied to dangerous underground syndicates, made your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, realizing what this was.

You’d been hired for the same mission, but you never imagined he’d be involved in something like this. The contract you’d taken was straightforward: stop an illegal arms trade. But seeing Rody here, in the middle of it, made your stomach drop. He wasn’t a part of this world the world you worked in as a pro hero. This wasn’t the carefree kid you’d grown up with, not by a long shot. He was knee deep in a deal with people you knew to be dangerous, and the worst part was, he didn’t even seem to notice the weight of it.

Rody adjusted his jacket, glancing around like he was trying to hide his nerves. The man in front of him, a bulky figure with a scar running down his cheek, sneered as he took a step closer. “You’re late. You got what we asked for?”

You tensed, instinctively crouching lower behind the ledge, your heart pounding in your chest. The contract you had taken was to take down a ring of illegal arms dealers that had been slipping through the cracks of the law. They were smart, elusive slipping between the hands of the law with fake names and a string of different identities. You had been tracking their movements for weeks, and now here they were, just a few steps from being caught.

But Rody didn’t belong here. It wasn’t just the shady group of people. It was the fact that he was so calm too calm. This wasn’t the awkward, lovable Rody you grew up with. This was someone else, someone playing a part in a world you didn’t want him anywhere near.

The scarred man reached into his coat, pulling out a small package wrapped in cloth. “You know what to do with this,” he said in a low, menacing tone, handing it over to Rody. You couldn’t see the contents from this angle, but you didn’t need to. The exchange was happening.

You swallowed, unsure of what to do next.

“Rody, what the hell are you doing?” you muttered under your breath, a mix of anger and confusion flooding your chest. You never thought he’d go this far this deep into the underground world.

A flash of movement caught your eye, and you snapped your attention back to Rody. He was holding the package now, slipping it into his jacket like it was no big deal, still wearing that careless grin of his. The man gave him a nod of approval, and Rody took a step back, almost as if he was waiting for something.

Your heart raced. Was this the moment to act? Static crackled again in your earpiece. “Y/n, what’s your status?”

You exhaled, trying to steady your breath. “I’ve got eyes on the target.” You hesitated, your thoughts racing. “There’s someone else in the mix. Stand by.”

The radio was silent for a moment. “Acknowledged. Proceed with caution.”

You didn’t respond. Your mind was already made up. You couldn’t leave him there. You couldn’t just walk away and pretend it was any other mission. You had to act. Slowly, you slid from your perch, moving down toward the alley with practiced silence. Every movement, every step, had to be calculated. This wasn’t just about catching criminals anymore. This was about saving someone you cared about, someone who, despite everything, still mattered to you.

As you neared the corner, you heard Rody’s voice, low and a little too relaxed for the situation. “So, uh, do I just walk away, or what?”

The scarred man smirked. “You’ve done your part. Now get lost.”

Rody shrugged, turning as if he were about to leave. But then, just before he could make it to the exit, you rounded the corner.

“Hey!”

He froze, eyes wide as he looked up, catching sight of you standing at the end of the alley. His expression shifted surprise, then recognition, followed by that damn grin of his. “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”

You didn’t answer. You took a step toward him, hands raised, quirk already activating. “Get out of here,” you said, voice low but firm. “Now.”

He didn’t move. He just stared at you, a thousand questions in his eyes. “wait what?”

You didn’t want to explain. You didn’t want to answer the question he had no right to ask. You had always kept your work separate from your personal life, and this was not how you wanted him to find out what you’ve been occupied with.

The scarred man behind him grunted, clearly annoyed by the interruption. “What’s this?” he growled, eyeing you suspiciously.

Rody held up a hand, signaling for the man to calm down. “Hey, it’s fine. She’s an old friend. We go way back.”

But you couldn’t lie to him now. Not when he was standing there with a package in hand, standing right in the middle of your mission.

“I’m a pro,” you said, the words slipping out of your mouth before you could stop them. “But I’m not here for you. You need to walk away before things get worse.”

Rody blinked, looking down at the package in his hand, then back at you. “This… This is what you’re after?”

You didn’t answer. Rody swallowed, the tension suddenly making itself clear. “You know what this is, don’t you?” His voice was quieter now, a little softer.

“I know,” you said quietly. “But this isn’t the world you want to be in. It never was.”

The confident grin faded from his face for the first time since you’d seen him. His shoulders stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can and can’t do.” His voice was sharp, defensive like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

You stepped forward, keeping your voice steady. “This isn’t some delivery, Rody. This is an illegal arms deal. And you’re standing right in the middle of it.”

He didn’t answer, but his jaw tightened, and his gaze shifted uneasily. You could see the conflict behind his eyes now, the way he was trying to hold on to that facade of control, but it was slipping. He didn’t want to admit that he’d made a mistake, that he’d gotten too deep.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said softly, lowering your hands slightly. “There’s always another way.”

Rody stared at you for a long moment, the tension thick between you. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, it felt like he might say something real, something vulnerable. But then he just shook his head, the smile returning, forced this time.

“Yeah, well, we all gotta make a living somehow.” He picked up the package again, slipping it into his jacket, and turned his back to you. “I’m not your problem anymore.”

You reached out instinctively, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “Rody, stop!”

He met your eyes, his expression unreadable, but the way his gaze flickered for a split second told you everything. “I have to do this.”

The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you were both frozen in place, neither of you moving. The sound of Pino chirping nervously on his shoulder barely registered in the background.

Finally, Rody pulled his arm away gently, but there was a finality in the motion that stung more than it should have. “You’re a hero,” he said quietly, his voice almost sad now. “You do your thing. Let me do mine.”

You couldn’t let him go. Not like this. Before you could speak again, the scarred man growled, stepping toward you. “Enough talking. You’re not gonna ruin this deal, are you?”

Rody didn’t look back at you. He just started walking toward the exit, his steps slow but determined.

You stood there for a moment, torn between staying on mission and pulling Rody back from the edge he was so dangerously close to falling off. But you knew he was too far in now.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Rody had expected this to be another routine gig quick in, quick out, no complications. But now? He was sprinting through a crumbling warehouse, barely keeping up as bullets ricocheted off steel beams and crates splintered around him. This was not what he signed up for.

And the biggest problem wasn’t the deal gone wrong. It was you.

You moved through the fray like it was second nature, weaving through enemies like you had all the time in the world. Rody had always known you were quick, clever, and strong growing up, but this? The way you fought, the way you anticipated every move before it happened, the sheer confidence in your stance, none of it made sense.

He’d seen you fight before. Back when you were kids, you used to take down low level thugs together, scamming the occasional rich idiot out of their money just to survive another day. But that had been scrappy, desperate. Survival.

This was something else entirely. He barely ducked under a flying crate, cursing under his breath. “Oh, come on—”

The guy who threw it didn’t get another chance. You pivoted, a single sharp movement, and with barely a touch, redirected the momentum of the crate straight back at its sender. The impact sent him flying into a rusted container with a loud clang.

Rody’s brain stuttered. You hadn’t just dodged, you had controlled it. Like you’d known exactly where the force was going to go.

And you were completely calm about it.

He barely had time to process before another attacker lunged at him. Rody braced himself, twisting just in time to dodge, but before he could counter, you were already there. A single, well placed strike sent the guy sprawling to the ground, unconscious before he hit the concrete. Rody exhaled sharply. “Okay—what the fuck—”

You just turned to him, barely out of breath. Then another wave of enemies poured in.

“Later,” you said, grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind cover just as gunfire shredded through a nearby wall. He felt the way your grip tightened not panicked, not frantic, but controlled. You had everything mapped out in your head. You knew exactly what was happening.

Rody didn’t know what to focus on, the gunfire, the chaos, or the fact that the person he grew up with, the person he thought he knew, was not the same anymore.

You peeked out from cover, scanning the situation. “Alright, we need to move—”

Rody grabbed your sleeve, yanking you back before you could go any further. “No.” His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was spinning. “What do you do?”

You blinked. He wasn’t joking. His usual carefree expression was gone, replaced with something between shock and frustration. His brown eyes searched yours for some kind of explanation, some reason why the person standing in front of him wasn’t just the same street smart kid he grew up with.

You hesitated for only a second before smirking. “Let’s just say…” You adjusted your stance, tilting your head slightly. “I got a little more official than you.”

Rody blinked. Then the realization hit him like a train.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. what you said earlier was real? ” Rody groaned, running a hand through his hair as the realization fully settled in. “You’re a hero?” The words sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but there was no denying it now.

You gave him a lopsided grin, adjusting your stance. “Surprised?”

“Surprised doesn’t cover it,” he muttered. His heart was still pounding, half from the gunfire, half from the fact that everything he thought he knew about you was apparently wrong.

You shot him a knowing look, but before he could argue more, another burst of gunfire tore through the air, forcing you both to duck. The remaining thugs were regrouping, barking orders, trying to surround you.

Rody exhaled sharply. No time to argue.

“Alright,” he said, glancing around. “We need an exit.”

You peeked over the crate you were crouched behind, scanning the warehouse. “Main doors are too risky, they’ll have snipers covering the outside. Back entrance?”

“Locked, bolted, probably rigged to hell,” Rody said without missing a beat. He had already been looking for exits the moment things went sideways. Years of slipping in and out of trouble taught him to always have a way out.

You grinned. “ok pretty boy i’m gonna need you to lock in.”

Rody rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Give me cover, I’ll get us out.”

Just like that, the tension shifted. The shock of finding each other on opposite sides of the mission took a backseat to something more instinctual survival. The old rhythm kicked in before either of you could think about it. You launched forward, drawing the attention of the gunmen while Rody moved, darting between shadows and obstacles, slipping into the background like he was made for it.

And damn it, it was smooth. While you dismantled threats head on, Rody did what he did best found an opening no one else would’ve noticed. He spotted a rusted out maintenance ladder leading up to a row of high windows. If they could get up there, they could drop onto the roof and disappear before anyone noticed.

He worked fast, prying open an access panel and overriding the lock mechanism with a flick of his wrist.

“Y/N!” he called over his shoulder. “Exit secured!”

You heard him, but you were still occupied, two guys left, both moving in sync, trying to corner you. You sidestepped one’s attack, caught his wrist mid swing, and redirected the momentum into the other guy, sending them both sprawling.

Rody stared with awe. “Damn.”

You grinned, breath steady. “Told you. Official.”

“Yeah, yeah, get moving!”

You fell into step behind him, scaling the ladder with practiced ease. As soon as you reached the top, Rody swung the window open and hoisted himself onto the roof, offering a hand to pull you up after him.

“Not bad,” you said as you both landed, crouched low on the rooftop. The night air was crisp, the chaos below now just a dull hum.

Rody dusted off his jacket, grinning despite himself. “Yeah, well… turns out I still know how to work with you.”

You met his gaze, and for a second, it was like nothing had changed like you were still just two kids running through the streets of Otheon, watching each other’s backs, finding your way out of trouble together.

Except now, the stakes were higher. And you weren’t sure where you stood anymore. Rody exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So… what now, hero?”

You glanced back at the warehouse. “You tell me, thief.”

The tension between you both lingered, but there was no time to pick it apart. Not now. Not while the remnants of the fight still rang in your ears, and adrenaline buzzed beneath your skin.

Rody shook his head, letting out a breath as he stared out over the rooftops. “You know, I thought tonight was gonna be simple. Just another job, in and out, no surprises.” He shot you a look, half exasperated, half amused. “And then you show up.”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “What, disappointed?”

He scoffed. “I don’t know what I am. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you—” He gestured at you, exasperated. “—are a hero.”

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. “Wasn’t exactly the plan growing up. But life happens.”

“Yeah. Life happens.” He let out a short laugh, rubbing his temple. “And apparently, it happened to you a lot harder than it did to me.”

You just hummed in response, watching the city stretch out below you. The streets you both grew up on were still the same bright, busy, uncaring. But standing here now, after everything, you realized you weren’t the same kids anymore.

Rody shifted beside you, reaching into his jacket. “Speaking of jobs…” He pulled out a small, tightly wrapped package, the one he had been hired to deliver.

You frowned. “That what this was all about?”

“Yeah. Didn’t exactly ask questions when I took the gig.” He exhaled sharply, tossing the package once in his hand. “Turns out, I probably should’ve.”

You held out your hand. “Let me see it. Rody hesitated for half a second before placing it in your palm. You turned it over, feeling the weight. The package was small, but whatever was inside wasn’t just some ordinary delivery. You had a bad feeling about it.

“I need to take this,” you said finally, slipping it into your jacket. You shot him a look. “This thing nearly got you killed. Whatever’s inside? It’s dangerous. And if it’s linked to whatever bastard sent those guys after us, I need to know what it is.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.”

“Then why do you sound so annoyed?”

“Because,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets, “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with you stealing my paycheck tonight.”

You smirked. “Technically, it was never yours to begin with.”

He groaned. “Oh, shut up.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the night, the revelations, the near-death experienced it all settled between you.

Then, Rody stepped closer, tilting his head slightly. “You know, for what it’s worth… I get it now.”

You blinked. “Get what?”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Why you stayed.”

Your breath caught. He wasn’t teasing. Wasn’t deflecting. He just meant it.

And suddenly, everything—the mission, the years of knowing each other , the different paths you had taken it all faded into something smaller. Less important. Without thinking, you grabbed his jacket and pulled him into a hug. Rody stiffened for only a second before relaxing, arms wrapping tightly around you. He smelled like gunpowder and cheap cologne, familiar and warm in a way that made your chest ache.

“Idiot,” you muttered against his shoulder. “You mean more to me than some dumb package.”

Rody let out a breathless laugh, squeezing you a little tighter. “Yeah. You too.” And just when the moment felt too much, when your heart was on the verge of really saying something stupid

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Something in his voice made your chest tighten. You had spent so long keeping your distance, letting your work pull you away from him and the life you once had. Now, seeing him like this standing beside you, after everything you realized how much you missed him.

And you weren’t going to let the moment slip away. Before Rody could react, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him.

He stiffened at first, caught off guard. But after a second, he sighed, his body relaxing as he slowly returned the embrace. His arms curled around you, firm but familiar, like they belonged there. You turned your head and kissed his cheek.

Rody froze.

A strangled noise escaped him as he immediately let go, taking a full step back. “H-Hey! What was that for!?”

You grinned, hands on your hips. “Oh, relax, pretty boy. Just proving a point.”

His ears were bright red. “You are so—”

But before he could finish, a tiny, distressed chirp rang out. You barely had time to react before Pino, who had been perched on Rody’s shoulder, suddenly collapsed, dramatically fainting onto your head.

Both of you stared at the tiny bird, now sprawled over your hair like she had just witnessed the most scandalous thing in existence.

Rody groaned, covering his face. “Pino, please.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh my god—”

Pino twitched weakly, as if trying to recover from the absolute shock of it all. “Pino—?” Your brows furrowed in concern, carefully cupping your hands around her small form.

Rody sighed beside you, rubbing the back of his neck, but there was no real annoyance in his voice when he muttered, “Yeah… saw that coming.”

You looked at him, confused, but his expression told you everything you needed to know.

Pino was relieved.

He never told you his quirk but right now you saw him in her. She had always been a reflection of Rody’s true emotions, the ones he didn’t say out loud. And right now, she wasn’t holding anything back she was clinging to you, sobbing like she had been carrying the weight of all the time you had been gone.

Your chest tightened.

You gently stroked her head with your thumb, whispering, “Hey, I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Pino let out another wobbly chirp, her grip tightening. Rody let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah, she’s gonna be like this for a while.” He glanced at you, something unspoken in his gaze. “Guess I can’t blame her.”

You met his eyes, something settling between you and Rody no matter how much he pretended otherwise had missed you just as much.

How long had it been since you had really been here? Since you let yourself be with Rody, without the weight of your job, without keeping him at arm’s length?

Too long. Way too long. The thought hit you all at once, and before you could think twice, you launched yourself at him.

“Rody!”

His eyes barely had time to widen before you crashed into him again, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your full weight sent the both of you stumbling. He let out a startled grunt, barely keeping his balance as you buried your face against his neck.

“Whoa—okay—hi didn’t we just do this?” He sounded surprised, but his hands instinctively came up to hold you steady.

You didn’t care.

“You mean so much to me,” you mumbled against his skin before pressing a firm kiss to his cheek. “Like, so much.”

Rody froze. You felt his whole body tense, his breath hitch. Pino, still curled between you two, let out a delighted little chirp, wiggling excitedly at the pure joy radiating off of you.

For a second, Rody was completely silent. “You really had to go for the cheek, huh?”

You pulled back just enough to see his face, his ears were red. Like, burning red. His usual easy smirk was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was staring at you, wide eyed, lips parted slightly, and way too stiff to be playing it cool.

You grinned, tilting your head. “What? Would you rather I kissed you somewhere else?”

He made a choked noise. “I—”

You laughed, tightening your hold on him. “I missed you, idiot.”

Slowly, his hands settled more firmly against your back, fingers gripping just enough to keep you there. His chest rose and fell beneath you, and finally, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“…Yeah.” His voice was softer now, barely above a breath. “I missed you too.”

Pino chirped happily, flapping her wings.

“Now come on, partner. We’ve got work to do.”

Rody rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips as he held you tighter.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The small trailer was as rowdy as ever, filled with the sounds of Roro and Lala excitedly recounting their day. You sat on the couch, Lala clinging to your arm while Roro dramatically reenacted a scene from school.

“—And then I told him, ‘That’s not how you do it!’ and bam, I solved the problem first!” Roro grinned proudly.

You gasped, playing along. “No way. You totally outsmarted them.”

“Obviously.”

Lala tugged at your sleeve. “Did you see my drawing? I made you a hero!”

Your heart warmed. “Yeah? Let me see.”

She beamed and scrambled to grab her notebook. Rody, meanwhile, leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching. His expression was unreadable, but you knew him well enough to catch the way his fingers tapped lightly against his arm a small habit of his when he was thinking too much.

After Lala finished showing off her masterpiece (which featured you punching a villain twice your size), Rody finally spoke up.

“Alright, alright, bedtime,” he announced.

Roro groaned. “But—”

“No buts.”

Lala pouted dramatically. “You just wanna talk to Y/n alone.”

Rody sputtered. “I—what? No, I just—”

You burst into laughter. “Smart kid.”

Lala giggled, dragging Roro toward their room. “Goodnight, Y/n! Don’t let Rody be too boring.”

The second their door closed, the trailer fell into a quieter hum. The absence of their voices made the space feel smaller.

You exhaled, standing up. “They’ve got you figured out.”

Rody huffed, moving to the sink. “Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “So, you sticking around this time, or am I gonna have to wait another few months for you to show up again?”

You blinked. There it was, the question you had expected, but still weren’t fully ready for. Stepping into the kitchen, you leaned on the counter beside him. The space was narrow, just enough that every time Rody shifted, his arm brushed against yours.

“You miss me?” you teased.

Rody scoffed. “No. Pino does.”

Right on cue, Pino fluttered onto your shoulder, nuzzling into your cheek with an excited chirp.

You grinned. “Uh-huh. Just Pino, huh?”

Rody turned to face you, his usual smirk in faded something about it was different. Maybe it was the way his fingers drummed absently against the counter. Maybe it was how his breath had slightly hitched when you got closer.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Maybe the truth.”

Something flickered across his face. Neither of you moved, the weight of unspoken things pressing between you. suddenly, you were done waiting. You reached up, cupping his face, and before Rody could react.

You kissed him.

It was soft hesitant for just a second—until Rody melted. His breath caught, his hands gripping the counter like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure this was real.

Pino let out the most dramatic squeak you had ever heard before fainting onto the counter.

You barely registered it, too focused on the warmth of Rody’s lips, the way he exhaled like he had been holding this in for years. When you finally pulled back, his eyes were wide.

“You—” His voice cracked, and he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really do so much for me?”

You glanced up at the tiny, unconscious bird. “…Yeah, when it comes to you, i’ll do anything”

Rody groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/n…. what is this .”

You smirked. “did you like it?”

Rody opened his mouth paused then sighed, shaking his head with a lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Yeah, I did.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist, and this time

He pulled you in first.

I’ve been considering posting Chapter 2 elsewhere since, as a standalone, it wouldn’t make much sense. I might still post it here, but I need to finish a few things first.

To summarize, the next chapter focuses on you and your bond with your class—composed of characters I created solely for plot purposes. Then, young Mirio and Tamaki are introduced (neither of them are love interests). None of the original characters I made will be permanent; they exist only for this chapter. However, without that context, the chapter might not feel as strong.

I already have it drafted here, and I’d appreciate the support. But unless you’re committed to reading future chapters, it might feel a LITTLE out of place.

Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.

Touya Todoroki / Dabi x reader

Summary: As you pick Touya up from rehab, you reflect on how you got here

WARNING: hurt/ barely comfort. It’s a Dabi fanfic so prepare for rude behaviour and a lot of self deprecation on his part.

word count : 9734

FOLLOW ME AND GIVE ME SOME IDEAS!!

RUN BOY RUN - Woodkid

₍^. .^₎⟆ You drum your fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the front doors of the rehab center like they might explode. The car hums softly beneath you, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the parking lot. You’ve been sitting here for a while, waiting. Thinking.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Touya. Weeks of wondering if he’d actually stay. Weeks of resisting the urge to show up just to check.

And now, finally, here he comes.

The doors push open, and there he is, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. His hair’s a mess, probably hasn’t touched a comb in days and his scars catch the sunlight in a way that makes them stand out even more. He looks tired, in a way that’s more than just physical. But his eyes? Still sharp. Still him.

The second he spots you, he stops. Just stands there, staring, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually be here.

You push open the car door and step out before he can overthink it. “Hey,” you say, keeping it easy.

Touya scoffs, tilting his head. “Hey.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it much.

You take him in, scanning for any sign of what? A breakthrough? A relapse? Hell if you know. He just looks… different. Not better, necessarily. But different.

“How was it?” you ask.

Touya rolls his eyes. “Awful.” Classic. “Same boring speeches, same awkward group sessions. Food was shit.”

You smirk. “No shock there.”

He exhales sharply, something like amusement, but you don’t miss the tension in his shoulders.

“But you stayed,” you say, watching him closely.

Something flickers across his face quick, almost undetectable. He looks away, shifting his weight. “…Yeah,” he mutters. “Guess I did.”

For a moment, neither of you say anything. It’s not awkward, just… heavy. The weight of everything unsaid sits between you, pressing at the edges. You had spent weeks wondering if he’d bail, if you’d get some shitty phone call, if you’d ever see him again. And now he’s here. Whole.

Touya clears his throat and jerks his chin toward the car. “You just gonna make me stand here, or what?”

You blink, shaking off your thoughts. “Right.” You open the passenger door. “Get in.”

He hesitates for half a second before slumping into the seat with a quiet sigh. As you settle into the driver’s side, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s staring out the window, absently picking at the frayed edge of his sleeve.

You grip the wheel. “You hungry?”

Touya snorts. “Depends. You taking me somewhere that serves actual food?”

“Yeah, yeah. No more rehab cafeteria mystery meat, I swear.”

For the first time, he smirks just barely, but it’s there. Then, after a beat, he mutters, “…Thanks for picking me up.”

Something tightens in your chest, but it’s not worry this time.

“Yeah yeah,” you say, pulling out of the parking lot. “now don’t get emotional on me.”

Touya leans his head against the window, exhaling as the car rolls forward, the sun sinking lower in the sky. And for now, that’s enough.

—-

When you met him, no one could have guessed that he’d be in your car sharing an intimate bond to intimate so fast.

The first time you and Dabi met, he tried to kill you.

No, really he actually tried. None of that lazy, half-assed, villain posturing. He sent a fucking wall of blue fire straight at you, no warning, no witty one liner. And when you barely managed to dodge, he clicked his tongue like he was annoyed you had the audacity to survive.

“Should’ve just stood still,” he’d said, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and boredom. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of time.”

“You always this much of an asshole, or am I just special?” you shot back, already bracing for the next attack.

Dabi had smirked, rolling his shoulders. “Dunno. Guess we’ll find out.”

That was how it started.

And somehow, for reasons neither of you ever addressed, your run-ins turned into something else. You fought, sure. But over time, it stopped feeling like an actual battle and more like… a routine. A bad habit. A game. He never went for the kill. You never hit him hard enough to stop him. And when the fights ended, more often than not, you’d end up talking.

Which led to nights like this.

Tonight, it was an abandoned lot. He’d set some shit on fire, you’d put it out, and now he was perched on the edge of a rusted-out shipping container, cigarette between his fingers, watching you like he was waiting to be entertained.

“You’re getting slow,” he remarked, exhaling a curl of smoke.

You shot him a look as you stomped out the last few embers. “Or maybe you’re just getting predictable.”

Dabi snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You climbed up onto the container, ignoring the way he barely shifted to make room for you. He always did that sat like he dared you to invade his space, then acted all put out when you actually did.

“Real ambitious arson job tonight,” you muttered, stretching out your legs. “You only half-commit to everything, or just crime?”

Dabi flicked ash in your direction. “Like you’re one to talk. You had at least three chances to stop me, and you didn’t.” He shot you a sideways glance, smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. “Starting to think you like having me around.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because listening to you bitch and moan is so much fun.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” he said, lazily tapping ash off the side. “Can’t have you getting soft. If anything i’m helping a little girl become a hero”

You scoffed but didn’t argue. And that was the thing this was normal now. Fighting, bickering, sitting around after like you weren’t supposed to be on opposite sides. Like you weren’t supposed to be enemies.

Maybe that’s why you started noticing things.

Like how he leaned against walls like his legs were seconds from giving out. Or how his hands shook just a little when he smoked, like the heat didn’t quite reach all the way through him. Or how, no matter how sharp his smirk was, his eyes never quite matched.

And because you were a fucking idiot, you started caring.

Which is why, after another long, pointless fight, you threw a water bottle at him.

Dabi caught it, glaring. “The hell is this?”

“Hydration, dipshit,” you said, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Y’know, because you’re a walking pile of burnt kindling, and I’d rather not have you passing out mid fight.”

He stared at the bottle like it had personally offended him. Then at you. Then back at the bottle.

“You do realize I hate you, right?” he deadpanned.

“Uh-huh. Drink the damn water, Dabi.”

His jaw tightened, fingers flexing like he was debating throwing it at your head.

Instead, he cracked the cap open, took a slow sip, and never broke eye contact.

“…You’re fucking annoying,” he muttered.

You grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

He exhaled sharply, flicked his cigarette away, and leaned back against the wall. For once, he didn’t have a comeback. Just sat there, eyes flickering toward the skyline, quiet for once.

Not as a villain. Not as a hero.

Just as a guy too stubborn to admit he might not hate the company and just maybe a guy learning people can care for him.

Though it didn’t stop there, meetings became a lot more frequent.

“You stalking me, hero?”

Dabi didn’t even bother looking at you as you landed on the rooftop beside him. Just flicked his cigarette, barely missing your foot, and leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world.

You sighed. “You just torched a building. Kinda my job to show up.”

“Yeah? And yet, here you are not doing shit about it.” He smirked, finally turning to you. “Shouldn’t you be slapping cuffs on me or whatever the fuck it is heroes do?”

You rolled your eyes. “Like you’d let me.”

“Damn right I wouldn’t.” He exhaled a slow stream of smoke, letting it curl between his fingers before he flicked the cigarette off the side of the roof. “And we both know you don’t have the balls to try though you might like the cuffs on you.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t argue not wanting to entertain whatever thoughts he’s trying to imply, which only made his smirk widen. “That’s what I thought.”

“You always this fucking insufferable, or is it just for me?”

Dabi gave you a slow, lazy once-over, tilting his head. “I save my worst for special people.”

“Wow. Flattered.”

“You should be.” He stretched his arms over his head, sighing. “Not everyone gets to be my personal waste of time.”

You crossed your arms. “You say that, and yet, you’re the one still talking to me.”

Dabi chuckled low, rough, full of something mean. “Yeah. Guess I like watching you squirm.”

—-

You hit the ground hard, barely rolling in time to avoid getting fried. The pavement still sizzled from Dabi’s flames, burning through your sleeves as you pushed yourself up.

Dabi, still standing like he didn’t just try to incinerate you, gave you the most unimpressed look of all time. “That was pathetic.”

You spat blood onto the ground, glaring up at him. “You hit like a bitch.”

Dabi actually laughed at that, crouching just enough to get in your face. “You wish I hit like a bitch.” His fingers twitched, heat curling around them. “We both know I could turn you to fucking ash if I wanted to.”

You swallowed hard but held his gaze. “Then why don’t you?”

He tilted his head, watching you like a cat watching a half dead mouse. Then his grin stretched slow and sharp.

“‘Cause I like this,” he murmured. “Watching you scrape yourself off the ground. Watching you try so fucking hard to be something.” He leaned in just a little closer, voice dropping to something almost amused. “It’s entertaining.”

Your fists clenched. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know that?”

Dabi smirked. “Yeah. And?”

You shoved yourself up, ignoring how your legs ached. “One day, I’m gonna put you down for good.”

His grin widened like that was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Oh, please do.”

——

Dabi was sitting on the curb like he had just clocked out of a long shift at his 9-to-5 arson job. Arms draped over his knees, a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his fingers, and an expression so profoundly bored that you had to take a second to process the absolute wreckage behind him.

The alley looked like a battlefield. Scorch marks everywhere, trash melted into unrecognizable blobs, and some guy still smoking from the flames. He was groaning, which was good it meant he was alive. But considering how crispy he looked, he probably wasn’t gonna be winning any beauty pageants soon.

You let out a long, suffering sigh. “Dabi.”

Dabi tilted his head back lazily to look at you. Then he exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Oh. You.”

You planted your hands on your hips, giving him the best I am so fucking tired look you could muster. “What the fuck happened this time?”

Dabi gave you a slow blink, like you just asked him why the sky was blue. “What the fuck do you think happened?” He waved a vague hand at the destruction behind him. “I had a bad night.”

You threw up your hands. “And what, this was your therapy session? You scorched a guy!”

Dabi sighed dramatically, rolling his neck. “And yet, he’s still breathing. How ‘bout that?”

You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “You have to stop causing problems for fun.”

He snorted. “Wrong. The problems cause me for fun.”

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare. “Did you read that off a bumper sticker?”

Dabi smirked. “Nah. Came up with it just now. Pretty good, huh?”

You ignored that. “Did it ever occur to you to just… I don’t know, go home and watch TV like a normal person?”

“I am watching something,” Dabi said, grinning. “You. Losing your goddamn mind.”

You let out a slow, deep breath, resisting the urge to punt him into the nearest dumpster.

Then Dabi rested his chin on his palm, gaze flicking over you. “And yet, here you are. Again.”

You squinted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked. “If I had a dollar for every time you showed up to stop me but didn’t actually stop me, I’d be able to afford the therapy that daddy dearest never gave me.”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Listen here, you little shit—”

“I mean, really,” he went on, like you hadn’t spoken. “You could be off doing hero stuff. Arresting actual villains. Filing paperwork. Touching grass. But nah. Instead, you’re here. With me.” His smirk widened. “Kinda pathetic, don’t you think?”

Your fingers twitched. So help me God, you thought, if I don’t get out of here in the next five minutes, I am actually going to commit a crime.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, turned on your heel, and started walking.

“You’re not worth the effort.”

Dabi chuckled behind you, lazy and full of smug amusement.

“Keep telling yourself that, hero.”

——

The drive is quiet. its a warm kind of quiet. No one felt like they wanted break it. It was comfortable.

Touya is slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed, jaw locked, radiating the kind of hostility that could curdle milk. His whole vibe is very moody teenager who just got grounded, which is impressive considering he’s a grown-ass man.

You let the silence ride for a while, because you know him. You know he’s stewing. Probably pissed at himself for actually staying in rehab instead of setting the place on fire and walking out in a dramatic blaze of glory. Maybe pissed at you for witnessing the fact that he actually completed something for once in his life.

After a few more minutes of unbearable tension, you finally break.

“You want food?”

Touya snorts. “What, we celebrating?”

You keep your eyes on the road. “I just figured you’d rather eat something that isn’t microwaved cardboard.”

“Bold of you to assume I even ate that shit.”

You exhale slowly through your nose. Patience. Touya is like a stray cat he hisses, scratches, and pretends he doesn’t need anything, but if you ignore him long enough, he eventually starts lurking near your door at dinner time.

“There’s a diner up ahead,” you say, because you will be feeding this dumbass whether he likes it or not. “It’s either that or you starve.”

Touya sighs, like agreeing to basic human needs is such a burden. “Fine. Whatever.”

-

The diner you pull into looks like it should’ve been condemned twenty years ago. The neon sign flickers like it’s having an existential crisis, and the parking lot is a graveyard of questionable life choices.

Inside, the place is nearly empty just a couple of truckers at the counter, mumbling over half-eaten plates of regret. The waitress barely looks up as you both slide into a booth.

Touya, being Touya, immediately sprawls out like he owns the joint, kicking his feet onto the seat across from him. He snatches up a menu but doesn’t actually read it just taps his fingers against the table like he’s already planning an escape route.

The waitress shuffles over, popping her gum. “What’ll it be?”

“Cheeseburger. Extra fries. Coffee,” Touya says, snapping the menu shut like he just finalized a business deal.

You squint at him. “Coffee? This late?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you my mom now?”

You stare at him, debating whether or not to slide his menu across the table and slap him with it.

Instead, you sigh and place your own order. The waitress scribbles it down, looking just about as done with this conversation as you are, then walks off.

Touya slouches even further if he keeps this up, he’s going to merge with the booth. “So. You gonna give me some big, cheesy speech about how proud you are of me?”

You don’t even blink. “Do you want one?”

His lip curls. “Hell no.”

“Then no.”

Touya squints at you like he’s waiting for the catch. Like you’re gonna hit him with some life is a journey Hallmark bullshit at any moment. But when you don’t, he just clicks his tongue and looks away.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” he mutters. “Could’ve just called a cab.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You lean back in your seat. “But I didn’t.”

His fingers twitch against the table, like he wants to argue but can’t come up with a good enough reason. So instead, he scoffs and mutters, “You’re a pain in the ass.”

You smirk. “Yeah, well. So are you.”

When the food finally arrives, Touya wastes zero time inhaling it like he’s fresh out of a 24-hour famine. Fries? Shoveled into his mouth at breakneck speed. Burger? Absolutely demolished. It’s impressive, really. Borderline concerning.

You eat like a normal human being, sipping your drink as he continues his speed run.

Eventually, between bites, he mutters, “…Food’s not bad.”

You hide your smile behind your drink. “I’ll take that as a thank you.”

Touya glares. “Don’t push it.”

You let the conversation fizzle out after that. No talking about home. No lectures. No big emotional moments. Just greasy diner food and the occasional sarcastic remark.

And when you both eventually leave and get back in the car, he doesn’t argue when you take the long way home. Doesn’t snap when the silence stretches again this time a little less heavy.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s his way of saying thanks.

You’re halfway through your plate when you notice it Touya has stopped inhaling his food like a wild animal and is just… sitting there. Not glaring, not throwing sarcastic barbs, just absentmindedly pushing a fry around his plate with a vaguely thoughtful expression.

You blink. “Oh God.”

Touya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re thinking.” You point at him with your fork. “That’s never a good sign.”

He scoffs, shoving the fry into his mouth. “Shut up.”

But he doesn’t immediately follow it with another insult, which is weird. He just leans back, arms crossed, staring at you like he’s weighing whether or not to say something.

You tilt your head. “What?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, like this this moment, this entire night is physically painful for him. Then, finally, he mutters, “You look tired.”

You blink again. “Wow. Thanks. That’s what every person wants to hear.”

Touya rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying. When’s the last time you actually slept?”

You shrug. “I sleep.”

He snorts. “Yeah? When? Between your constant babysitting and whatever dumbass hero shit you’re doing?”

You open your mouth, then close it. Because okay, maybe you don’t get as much sleep as you should. But it’s not like he’s one to talk.

Touya notices your hesitation and smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yeah, well,” you huff, stabbing at your food, “not all of us have the luxury of napping through our responsibilities.”

“Luxury?” He scoffs. “I was in rehab.”

“You chose not to set the place on fire and escape. I call that a vacation.”

Touya stares at you for a second, then against all odds laughs. Not his usual sharp, mocking laugh, but something quieter. Real. It throws you off so badly that you just sit there, blinking at him.

“What?” he asks, still smirking.

“You laughed.”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “Shit, did I?”

“Yes, and it wasn’t even a mean laugh.” You squint. “Are you dying?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“Says the guy who fake-died for three years.”

“Touché.”

You shake your head, still thrown by the fact that he’s being… weirdly chill. Like he’s actually letting himself exist in this moment instead of treating it like some obligatory punishment. It’s suspicious.

Then, just as you’re about to call him out on it, he reaches across the table, plucks a fry off your plate, and pops it into his mouth.

You gape at him. “Did you just—”

“Yep.” He grabs another one. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

You slap his hand away, scandalized. “I fed you! I rescued you from microwave mush, and this is how you repay me?”

Touya grins, all teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly. “Consider it a tax.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I should’ve left you in rehab.”

“Eh,” he says, stealing one more fry just to be an asshole, “but you didn’t.”

And for once, there’s no smugness behind it. Just quiet acknowledgement.

No thank you, no big emotional revelation just a stolen fry and the simple fact that, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he is, you still showed up.

—

The air was thick with smoke, the night split by the wail of sirens and the distant shouts of first responders. The whole block was bathed in flickering orange light, fire consuming what used to be a warehouse now it was just a giant cautionary tale about what happens when dumbasses with unstable quirks play with explosives.

You exhaled through your nose, mask pulled up high, and glanced at the six-foot wall of muscle and arrogance standing beside you. Fucking Endeavor.

“So,” you said, tilting your head toward the raging inferno, “A+ work on the whole ‘subtle infiltration’ plan.”

Endeavor didn’t even look at you. Not surprising. “This isn’t the time for sarcasm.”

You gestured broadly at the absolute catastrophe in front of you. “See, I disagree. Because if we’re not laughing, we’re crying, and I—” You clapped a hand to your chest. “—am emotionally fragile.”

“Focus.” His voice was clipped, sharp, like he was the only professional here.

You rolled your eyes. “Right, right. ‘No nonsense. Only mission.’ Because God forbid we acknowledge that this is a shitshow.”

He ignored you, which was basically the foundation of your entire working relationship.

“What’s the plan?” you asked, already scanning the building for signs of movement.

“Contain the fire and get the survivors out,” he said, striding forward. Flames licked up his arms, rolling off his shoulders like he wasn’t currently surrounded by highly flammable debris.

You sighed, flexing your fingers. “Cool. Love a good ‘rushing into a death trap’ moment.”

Still no reaction.

You followed him in, ducking through the collapsed doorway as heat immediately punched you in the face. Smoke curled through the halls, thick and suffocating, clinging to the walls like a living thing. You yanked your sleeve over your mouth, glaring at Endeavor’s broad back.

“You ever not act like you’re fireproof?” you muttered.

“I am fireproof,” he shot back.

You scoffed. “Okay, but I’m not, so let’s not turn this place into a crematorium before we’re done.”

Predictably, he didn’t dignify that with a response.

You both moved quickly, scanning the rooms, stepping over broken crates and unconscious bodies. Most of the smuggling ring had been handled either burned, unconscious, or very interested in getting arrested if it meant not being roasted alive.

The first survivors were on the second floor, huddled in what used to be an office but was now just another death trap.

You stepped over the threshold, crouching beside a barely conscious man. “Hey, buddy,” you murmured, hoisting him onto your shoulder. “Let’s get you the hell out of here before this place caves in, yeah?”

Endeavor hauled up another survivor with ease, barely even trying. God, so annoying.

“Get them out,” he ordered. “I’ll keep moving.”

You adjusted your grip, ignoring the sweat rolling down your temple. “Awesome. You run headfirst into hell, I’ll play babysitter.”

You turned on your heel, smoke curling at your feet as you hurried back out.

By the time you made it outside, paramedics were already rushing forward, taking the man from your arms. You exhaled sharply, rolling your shoulders, and turned back toward the warehouse.

Endeavor was still inside.

Not that you doubted him. He was the number two hero for a reason. But you’d seen enough missions go south to know that confidence didn’t mean shit when fire had a mind of its own.

Then—

An explosion rocked the building.

Your stomach lurched, heart pounding. For a split second, pure instinct screamed at you to move, to go back in but then, blue-orange flames burst from the second floor, and a moment later, Endeavor strode out of the smoke, dragging the last survivor behind him.

Because of course he did.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, yeah. Congrats on being a one man army.”

He barely spared you a glance, brushing soot off his shoulder like he hadn’t just walked through an explosion. “Handled.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Oh, for sure. Totally casual. You ever not act like you just expect to survive every dumbass decision you make?”

His eyes cut to you, sharp and assessing. “You don’t take this seriously enough.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And you take it so seriously you forget to breathe. Maybe if you stopped treating every mission like a personal vendetta, people wouldn’t be so quick to call you an ass.”

His expression didn’t change. “I get results.”

You snorted. “And I get migraines every time we work together. Funny how that works.”

Endeavor let out a huff his version of done with this conversation and turned away, stalking toward the police.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you surveyed the mess around you. Another night, another catastrophic team up with Japan’s most emotionally constipated man.

You really needed a drink after this.

But before you could make a break for the nearest bar, a voice rumbled beside you.

“…You did well.”

You blinked. Slowly turned your head.

Endeavor didn’t look at you just kept his gaze on the wreckage, arms crossed, face unreadable.

You squinted. “I’m sorry. What?”

His jaw ticked, like saying it physically pained him. “…I said, you did well.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Holy shit.”

Endeavor immediately looked regretful. “Forget it.”

“Oh no no no, you don’t get to take that back.” You clutched your chest, mock gasping. “Endeavor praised me? I think I might cry.”

He sighed through his nose, very pointedly not engaging.

But you weren’t done.

“Wow. This must be what being a favorite child feels like.” You nudged him with your elbow. “Does this mean I get a ‘World’s Okayest Sidekick’ mug? Maybe a ‘#1 Emotional Support Hero’ t-shirt?”

Endeavor turned his head slightly. “You want a mug?”

You blinked. “Wait. Are you serious?”

He shrugged, which, coming from him, was basically a yes.

You grinned.

Oh, you were never letting him live this down

Now your relationship with the number 2 hero was never your favourite team ups. Though you did feel a strange bit of validation and growth every time you had the chance.

—

You had fought villains, survived explosions, and worked with Endeavor without committing arson (yet), but nothing, nothing. had prepared you for sitting at the Todoroki family dinner table.

Yet here you were, trapped between Hawks, who looked way too entertained, and Shoto, who was sipping his drink like he was emotionally detached from this entire situation.

Endeavor sat at the head of the table, arms crossed like he also didn’t want to be here, and Fuyumi was the only one smiling like this wasn’t the most awkward hostage situation you’d ever been part of.

“So!” she said brightly, setting down a plate in front of you. “How has working with my dad been?”

You immediately froze, a piece of food halfway to your mouth. Slowly, slowly, you turned your head to glance at Endeavor.

He was already looking at you.

Judging.

Daring you to open your mouth and ruin your career.

Hawks, the absolute devil, nudged your side with his elbow. “Go on. Be honest.”

You took a sip of water to buy yourself some time. “Well…” You cleared your throat. “He’s, uh… very efficient.”

Shoto snorted. “That’s a polite way to put it.”

You pointed your fork at him. “See? He gets it.”

Endeavor exhaled through his nose, which, given the fact that his entire body was basically a walking furnace, made it look like he was barely restraining himself from setting the table on fire. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Hawks smirked, leaning closer. “Yeah, say it.”

You shot him a you are so dead after this look before sighing dramatically. “Fine. You want the truth?” You turned to Endeavor. “Working with you is like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall, if that brick wall was actively judging you and could also set things on fire.”

Fuyumi gasped. Shoto took another sip of his drink. Hawks nearly collapsed against the table, laughing.

Endeavor, completely unfazed, just grunted. “You still get the job done.”

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “I am so touched.”

Hawks wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Man, this is so much better than I imagined.”

You turned to Fuyumi. “Blink twice if you need rescuing.”

She actually laughed at that, waving a hand. “Oh, it’s not that bad!”

Shoto, still completely monotone: “It is that bad.”

Endeavor let out the longest suffering sigh of his life.

By the time dinner ended, you were slumped against the doorway, utterly drained. Hawks, of course, was thriving, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, that was fun! Same time next week?”

You whipped around. “Do not manifest that.”

Fuyumi clapped her hands together. “Oh! That would be wonderful—”

“NO.” You pointed a warning finger at Hawks. “This is your fault.”

He grinned. “Worth it.”

As you stepped outside, you exhaled deeply, rubbing your temples. “I need a drink.”

Hawks slung an arm over your shoulders. “Told you it’d be fun.”

You shoved him off. “Keigo, I swear to god—”

—

Fighting Dabi was always a pain in the ass. Not just because of the fire which, yeah, was a huge problem but because he never shut up.

Tonight was no different. Flames roared around you, painting the alleyway in flickering blue as you dodged another wave of heat. The bastard was laughing, like this was some kind of game.

“What’s the matter, hero?” Dabi taunted, taking a lazy step forward. “Too hot for you?”

You huffed, rolling your shoulders as you steadied yourself. “Wow, never heard that one before. You come up with that yourself?”

His smirk widened. “Nah. I save my best material for special occasions.”

Before you could throw back another quip, Dabi’s eyes flickered to your uniform specifically, to the slight burn mark on your sleeve, barely visible but unmistakable.

And then, his entire demeanor changed.

His smirk faltered, replaced by something sharper. More calculating. His gaze darkened.

“Huh.” He tilted his head, stepping closer. “That’s interesting.”

You kept your stance firm, watching him carefully. “What?”

Dabi’s eyes flicked back to yours, his grin returning, but this time it was more… sinister. “That burn mark.”

You frowned, glancing at your sleeve. “Yeah? What about it?”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was something off about it something almost too amused. “Been spending time with other guys? I thought we were exclusive”

Your stomach twisted, but you kept your expression neutral. “oh? and what makes you say that?”

Dabi crossed his arms, the flames around his hands flickering dangerously. “So… you’ve been working with him, huh?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb.” His voice dripped with something between mockery and genuine intrigue. “You’ve been on missions with Endeavor.”

You still weren’t sure why that mattered to him, but something in his tone made your skin crawl. You scoffed, keeping your voice even. “Yeah, so? He’s the number two hero. I work with a lot of pros.”

Dabi let out a slow whistle, shaking his head. “Man, that’s hilarious.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What the hell is so funny?”

His smirk widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You, hero. Running around, playing sidekick to that bastard.” He let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer. “I wonder… did he finally get what he wanted?”

Your jaw clenched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi’s smirk twitched, like he was enjoying some inside joke at your expense. “Nothing. Just seems like you don’t know your mentor as well as you think.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down your spine. But you weren’t about to let him rattle you. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

Dabi just grinned, stepping back. “Nah. I think I’ll let you figure it out yourself.”

And before you could stop him, he vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but embers and more questions than you wanted to deal with.

—

You had somehow let Fuyumi trick you into another dinner. You weren’t sure how it happened one second, you were wrapping up a mission with Endeavor, and the next, you and Hawks were walking up to the Todoroki house like it was some weekly scheduled event.

“You manifested this,” you muttered, glaring at Hawks as you knocked on the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, smirking. “I think this is great for you.”

“I hope you get hit by a rogue Nomu.”

The door opened before Hawks could come up with a comeback, and Fuyumi greeted you with her usual bright smile. “You came!”

“Yeah, yeah, against my better judgment,” you muttered as she ushered you inside.

This time, the vibe was slightly less tense than before. Natsuo still wasn’t here (no surprise), but the rest of the family was present Endeavor looked like he would rather be anywhere else, Shoto was neutral as always, and Hawks was making himself way too comfortable again.

As Fuyumi moved to set the table, you noticed something different this time a photo album was open on the coffee table, pages slightly worn at the edges.

You nudged Hawks and motioned toward it. “Look at this. Actual proof that Endeavor has been outside of a crime scene.”

Hawks chuckled, leaning in. “Wow. I can’t even picture him smiling.”

You flipped a few pages, finding old photos of Fuyumi, Shoto, and Natsuo when they were kids. The pictures looked almost normal—almost like any other family.

Then you saw a photo that made you pause.

It was a boy, older than Shoto but still young, with white hair and striking blue eyes. He was grinning, arms crossed with a cocky smirk, like he knew he was the coolest person in the room.

You frowned, tapping the picture. “Who’s this?”

Fuyumi turned from the kitchen and followed your gaze. Her expression softened just slightly. “Oh… that’s Touya.”

You glanced at Hawks, who also looked mildly surprised. “Huh. Never heard of him.”

Fuyumi’s smile dimmed just a little. “He was our oldest brother.”

Was.

You weren’t dumb. That single word told you enough.

Endeavor’s entire posture tensed, but he didn’t say anything, just kept staring at the table like the conversation wasn’t happening.

Shoto was unreadable as ever. “He passed away a long time ago.”

You blinked, looking between them. You hadn’t even known Endeavor had another kid, and now you were learning he was dead?

Hawks, who was usually one to crack a joke, was silent beside you, his sharp eyes studying the photo with an unusual seriousness. “How?”

Fuyumi hesitated, shooting a glance at her father. “An accident,” she said carefully. “A fire.”

You didn’t need a full explanation to understand there was a lot more to the story than she was letting on. The entire atmosphere in the room had shifted like an invisible weight had settled over the conversation, suffocating and heavy.

You looked at the boy in the picture again. Touya. Something about his expression, his posture, felt oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place why.

Hawks leaned back, whistling lowly. “Damn. Didn’t know you had another sibling, Shoto.”

Shoto’s eyes flickered to his father before looking away. “Most people don’t.”

You glanced at Endeavor, who was completely silent, jaw clenched. If the man was already emotionally constipated on a good day, now he looked like someone had shoved a grenade down his throat and pulled the pin.

Yeah. You were not asking follow-up questions.

Fuyumi gave you a sad smile before quickly trying to shift the mood. “Anyway! Dinner’s ready.”

You exchanged a glance with Hawks, silently agreeing to drop it for now.

But as you ate, your eyes kept drifting back to that photo. There was something about it, something that made your stomach twist.

Something that told you this wasn’t the whole story.

—

You’re barely five minutes into the drive when Touya starts fidgeting. One leg bouncing, fingers tapping, sighing dramatically every few minutes like he’s about to say something and then deciding against it.

You ignore him for as long as humanly possible.

Then another heavy sigh.

“For fuck’s sake,” you say, glancing at him. “What?”

Touya smirks. “Nothing. Just love a good awkward silence.”

You roll your eyes and turn down a side street, heading toward an old parking lot on the edge of the city. It’s the kind of place that’s either a sketchy drug deal spot or just an abandoned lot that no one’s cared about for years. Either way, it’s empty, which is exactly what you need.

When you park, Touya squints at you. “Oh, nice. Super ominous.” He leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what, this is where you tell me you’ve secretly been hired to kill me? ‘Cause, honestly? Should’ve done it before you wasted money on my food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter, digging around in the glove compartment. “I’m playing the long con.”

Touya watches as you pull out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He blinks. “The hell? Since when do you smoke?”

“I don’t.” You tap the pack against your palm, knocking one loose. “Except when I do.”

He huffs a laugh and pulls out his own pack. “Terrible influence. Hope you know that.”

“You’re literally the last person who gets to say that to me.”

Touya just shrugs, flicking his lighter open. He takes a slow drag, then leans over the console, offering you the lighter with a lazy smirk. “Go on, then. Join me in my terrible life choices.”

You roll your eyes but lean in, lighting your cigarette. The first inhale burns your lungs in a way that’s almost nostalgic, and when you exhale, the smoke curls into the night air.

For a while, neither of you speak. Just sit there, smoking in companionable silence, staring out at the city lights in the distance.

Then Touya, ever the shit-stirrer, side-eyes you. “Soooo… you’re in love with me, right?”

You cough on your cigarette, nearly choking. “What the fuck—”

He grins, leaning back against the seat. “I mean, think about it. You picked me up, bought me food, brought me to this super romantic abandoned parking lot—” He gestures vaguely. “Like, if you’re gonna confess, at least do it with some dramatic flair.”

You take a slow, pointed drag. Exhale. Stare him dead in the eyes.

“Touya,” you say dryly, “if I were in love with you, I’d have worse problems than this cigarette.”

He snorts, tipping his head back. “Fair point.”

Another silence stretches between you, this one lighter. Less heavy, more like… a pause between bullshit conversations.

Eventually, Touya flicks his cigarette out the window, watching the ember fizzle out. “…Y’know,” he mutters, “you didn’t have to pick me up.”

You shrug. “Yeah. But I did.”

He side-eyes you again, expression unreadable. Then he exhales sharply and shakes his head. “Idiot.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, smirking.

He groans, slouching further into his seat, but he doesn’t argue.

And that’s how you know he actually means thank you.

—

The smell of smoke still clung to the air, thick and acrid, curling in the space between you and Dabi… Touya. You didn’t even realize you were gripping your fists until your nails bit into your palms, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t breathe.

It made sense now. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he never really tried to kill you even when he had the chance. The pieces had been there all along, but now they were clicking together too fast, too loud.

And Dabi- no, Touya- was watching you like a cornered animal, all teeth and venom, muscles tight like he was ready to bolt or attack, whichever came first.

“Say something,” he muttered, voice rough. “You’re staring like a fucking idiot.”

Your throat was dry, words sticking to your tongue like glue. But then, finally—

“You’re Touya.”

His jaw twitched, fingers curling at his sides. “No shit.”

The sheer casualness of it nearly sent you over the edge. “No shit?” You took a step forward, shoving a hand through your hair. “That’s all you have to say? You.. You let me think you were just some guy this whole time”

“I am just some guy.”

“Don’t fucking do that,” you snapped. “You lied to me.”

Dabi let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Lied? Oh, that’s rich.” He took a step toward you, voice dropping into something low and mean. “You think I owe you the truth? That I was just gonna sit you down like, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m a walking family tragedy with daddy issues bigger than this whole fucking city’?” He sneered. “Be for fucking real.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “I thought we—”

“What? Had something?” His grin was all sharp edges, nothing warm behind it. “Hate to break it to you, but that was your mistake.”

You felt something crack in your ribs, but you ignored it. “I trusted you.”

Dabi’s expression twisted into something ugly, something raw, but it was gone in an instant, swallowed up by that same defensive, sharp-toothed smirk. “Then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, hands trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

He scoffed. “Doing what? Telling you the truth?” He stepped closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, warning you to back off but you didn’t. “You wanna play hero so fucking bad, then act like one. Arrest me. Fight me. Do whatever the fuck your little code tells you to do.”

You clenched your jaw. “You’re pushing me away.”

“Good.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Dabi wasn’t looking at you anymore he was staring past you, at nothing, jaw tight like he was trying to hold back words that could shatter his teeth.

But you’d had enough.

You exhaled sharply and took a step back. “Fine.”

His head tilted slightly, but he didn’t move, didn’t react.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Guess I was wrong about you.”

Dabi let out a short, hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Guess you were.”

The city felt too loud. Even with the distant hum of sirens fading into the night, even with the crackling embers of the smoldering wreck behind you, the weight in your chest made it hard to hear anything else.

Touya—Dabi—was still standing there, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly like he was waiting for you to walk away. Like he expected you to.

And maybe you should.

Maybe you should turn on your heel, pretend like this conversation never happened, pretend like his words didn’t bruise, pretend like your chest wasn’t burning with something ugly and disappointed.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you took a breath. Steadier this time. Then another.

“Okay,” you said, voice quiet but firm. “I’m leaving.”

His shoulders barely shifted. “Yeah. Got that part.”

You ignored him. “But I’m not letting you do this.”

His jaw tensed. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured at the space between you, at the sharp, jagged edges of this conversation, at the way he was standing like a kicked dog trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. “Pushing me away like it’ll fix anything.”

He scoffed, but it didn’t have the same bite. “And what, you think not pushing you away is a better idea? Think about it, genius. What do you actually want from me here?”

Your fingers curled at your sides. “I want the truth.”

Touya laughed. It wasn’t sharp this time wasn’t even mean. Just quiet. Exhausted.

“The truth?” He shook his head, looking past you again, somewhere far, far away. “I gave you the truth, and you didn’t like it.”

“You gave me a version of it,” you shot back. “The one that hurts the least for you.”

His expression flickered for half a second something too fast to catch, something that almost looked guilty. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“And?” he said, like he was daring you to argue. “That’s what people do.”

“No, it’s what you do.”

Silence.

For the first time since this started, Touya actually looked at you. Fully. His eyes were hard, unreadable, but you could feel the tension underneath it all.

He thought this was the last time you’d talk. Thought this was the final thread snapping between you, the moment where you’d finally decide he wasn’t worth the effort.

And maybe you should.

But instead, you exhaled, rubbing a hand down your face.

“Y’know what?” you muttered, stepping past him. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

And for a second, you thought that was it.

But then, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it—

“…I didn’t want you to know.”

You froze.

Turned back.

Touya was still standing in the same spot, still holding himself like his own body was a battlefield—but his fists were clenched, his head dipped just slightly, like this admission was something he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “You-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. “You were never supposed to know.”

Your heart twisted.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he took a slow step back, eyes flicking somewhere over your shoulder—like he was making sure you weren’t blocking his escape route.

You stared at him for a moment longer, waiting.

He didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t take it back. Didn’t try to fix it.

So you nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. “Okay.”

The city air was still thick with the scent of smoke, but the fire wasn’t the problem anymore. Not really.

You should leave. You should let this be what he wanted it to be one clean break, one final cut before you could crawl too deep under his skin.

But then he said it again.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Barely above a whisper. A confession that sounded like it had been ripped from his throat against his will.

You froze. Turned back.

Touya’s gaze flickered to you, but only for a second before he looked away, jaw locking.

You swallowed against the tightness in your chest. “Why?”

Nothing.

Not right away, at least. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like he wanted to reach for something, maybe even you, but wouldn’t let himself.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Because you look at me like I’m-” He stopped himself, mouth pressing into a thin line.

You tilted your head, stepping closer. “Like you’re what?”

Touya scoffed, rubbing a hand down his face before running it through his hair, shoulders tensing. “Like I’m fixable.”

That knocked the air out of you.

“Touya…”

His fingers curled into fists, a sharp breath escaping through his teeth. “Don’t.”

But you couldn’t not. Not when he was standing there like this, when the usual cocky bravado had cracked just enough for you to see what was underneath.

“You think I’m trying to fix you?” you asked, voice softer now. “That’s not—” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “That’s not what this is.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “Isn’t it?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I just- I care about you.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing like the words had physically hurt him.

You took another step closer, slow, careful, hands open at your sides like you were approaching something fragile. “You don’t have to push me away.”

His throat bobbed.

For a moment, just one, you thought he might actually let you close the distance. Thought he might let his shoulders drop, let you see him without all the fire and sharp edges.

But then he stepped back.

Not far. Just enough. Just enough to tell you what he couldn’t say out loud.

His head tilted slightly, like he was trying to keep his expression blank, but his voice betrayed him.

“I do have to.”

Your chest tightened. “Why?”

Touya’s jaw clenched, eyes darting away. “Because if I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It’ll hurt more when you finally realize I’m not worth it.”

Something in you cracked.

You wanted to scream. Shake him. Make him understand.

Instead, you just let out a slow breath. “That’s not gonna happen.”

He huffed, a small, tired smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well. We’ll see.”

The worst part was he truly believed that. He thought it was only a matter of time. That you’d come to your senses, see him for what he thought he was, and leave him behind before he could stop you.

And you could tell, deep down, that he was already bracing for it.

You hesitated for half a second before reaching out slowly, carefully and letting your fingers brush against his wrist. Just enough to feel the warmth of his skin, the faint, uneven texture of his scars.

His breath hitched.

Not a flinch. Not quite.

But he didn’t pull away.

Didn’t look at you either, though. Just stared at the ground, breathing unsteady, like he was trying to decide whether or not to bolt.

You squeezed, just slightly. “I’m still here.”

A pause.

Then, softer than anything you’d ever heard from him—

“…For now.”

And that? That was the closest he’d come to asking you to stay.

—

Dabi never liked to stick around after fights. He was a hit and run kind of guy burn what he wanted, say something snarky, and disappear before anyone could pin him down. But for some reason, he had been lingering more and more after your encounters. especially after how tense the last encounter everything had been weird. Yes you had found out he was Touya but he had also found out his current chase has been cozy with the thing he missed the most.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t working together, you weren’t allies, but somehow, you kept running into each other. And somehow, neither of you had killed the other yet.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

You had spent the last half hour chasing him through an abandoned district, dodging fire and insults in equal measure. Eventually, it turned into a weird kind of truce he had gotten bored, you had gotten tired, and now you were sitting on a crumbling rooftop, catching your breath while he lit a cigarette.

He exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night air. “You’re getting slower.”

You shot him a glare, still panting. “Or you’re getting faster.”

He snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

You leaned back on your hands, staring up at the stars. “Y’know, for a guy who’s so dedicated to burning society to the ground, you sure do waste a lot of time chatting with me.”

Dabi hummed, tapping ash off the side of the building. “Maybe I like watching you get pissed off.”

“Oh, yeah, that definitely tracks.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at him. “So? What’s the next step in your grand villain plan?”

He smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You shrugged. “Eh. If it’s anything like your usual, I’m guessing ‘fire, explosions, and traumatizing civilians.’”

Dabi let out a low chuckle. “Not a bad guess.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, casually, you spoke.

“Had dinner with your sister again.”

You hadn’t looked at him when you said it, but you felt the way he tensed beside you.

It was subtle. So subtle that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But you had been around him enough now to catch the small things. The way his fingers twitched slightly against the cigarette, the brief pause in his breathing.

His voice was even when he responded, but there was an edge to it. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. She made this crazy good teriyaki chicken. Even got Hawks to shut up for a full five minutes.”

Dabi scoffed, taking another drag. “Miracle worker.”

“Right?” You smirked. “Shoto was there too. And Endeavor.”

Dabi’s expression immediately darkened at the name, his grip on the cigarette tightening. “Sounds like a real fun time.”

You ignored the bitterness in his tone. “It was something, that’s for sure.” You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on your knees. “Y’know… she still talks about you.”

Dabi went completely still.

You kept your gaze ahead, pretending not to notice. “Not all the time. Just little things. The way you used to joke around when you were kids. How you’d always eat the last piece of tempura when nobody was looking.”

Dabi let out a short, humorless laugh. “She remembers that?”

“She remembers a lot,” you said, softer this time.

Another silence. Dabi stared at the horizon, jaw clenched. His cigarette burned between his fingers, the embers crackling in the quiet.

You watched him carefully. For all his arrogance, all his cruelty, there were cracks in the walls he had built. Moments like this, when you could almost see past the fire and spite when the boy he used to be bled through, just for a second.

But just as quickly, he shoved it down.

He flicked his cigarette away, standing up. “This was fun, hero. Let’s do it again sometime.”

You frowned, watching him. “That’s it? No snarky remark?”

Dabi gave you a grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make up for it next time.”

And before you could say anything else, he disappeared into the night.

But as you sat there, watching the last of the smoke fade into the sky, you couldn’t shake the feeling that for just a moment. he had hesitated.

—

You both sit there in the car, letting the last wisps of cigarette smoke curl out the windows. It’s quiet, save for the occasional rustling in the nearby bushes, which based on the location could either be a raccoon or someone plotting a murder. Either way, not your problem.

Touya exhales sharply, flicking his cigarette out the window. “So, what now?”

You glance at him. “What do you mean ‘what now’?”

“I mean, what the hell are we doing? You kidnapped me from rehab, bought me food, let me pollute my lungs in peace feels like there should be a next step in this weird-ass bonding experience.”

“You want a scrapbook?” You lean back against the seat, stretching. “Maybe a trophy? ‘Congratulations, you survived rehab and only complained about it 47 times!’”

Touya scoffs, side eyeing you. “That’s lowballing it. I complained at least 93 times.”

“Yeah, I stopped listening after the first 50.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before running a hand through his already messy hair. “Whatever. This whole thing is pointless.”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize I was supposed to plan a grand Welcome Back to Society party,” you say, deadpan. “Should I have rented a clown? Gotten one of those shitty banners that say ‘You Did It!’ in Comic Sans?”

Touya huffs a laugh but quickly wipes it off his face, like he refuses to let you win even a little. “Yeah, I’d rather set myself on fire again than be subjected to that.”

You smirk. “Damn, next time I’ll actually do it, then.”

Another silence stretches between you, but it’s not comfortable. You can tell he’s restless, fidgety, like he’s trying to swallow down some actual feelings and it’s making him physically ill.

And sure enough—

“…I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do now.”

There it is. The actual problem.

You tap your fingers against the steering wheel. “What do you want to do?”

He gives you an exhausted look. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d be doing it?”

“Hey, some people like being miserable. You’re one of them.”

“Fuck you.”

You grin. “There it is.”

He rolls his eyes and slouches further into his seat. “I’m serious, dumbass. Like… what now? What the hell am I supposed to do? Get some boring-ass job? Become a ‘functioning member of society’ or whatever bullshit they kept telling me in rehab? What if I just don’t?”

You shrug. “Then don’t.”

Touya blinks. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” You throw him a look. “Did you want me to give you a whole therapy monologue? ‘You got this, king! Chase your dreams! Live, laugh, love!’”

He gags. “Absolutely fucking not.”

“There you go, then.”

He mutters something about you being insufferable under his breath before rubbing his face with both hands. “Ugh. Whatever. This whole thing sucks.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to being alive.” You stretch again, popping your back. “Anyway. Let’s go.”

Touya frowns. “Where?”

“I dunno. But if you’re gonna sit there having a melodramatic crisis about your future, we might as well do it while driving.”

He stares at you. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“You’re so fucking mean,” you shoot back, starting the car. “Buckle up, jackass.”

He groans but does it anyway, muttering complaints the entire time.

And with that, you pull out of the parking lot, heading absolutely nowhere by just you, a moody ex-arsonist, and a whole lot of sarcastic insults to get you through the night.

Keigo Takami / Hawks X Reader (eventually various X reader but that’s if I decide to continue with the burst of inspiration)

If this isn’t that meaty for you…. THEY JUST MET LET THEM COOK

Summary: Small light banter for a first meeting between freshly debuted Hawks and an Isekai’d reader.

Basically after reading copious amounts of amazingly talented stories by amazingly talented writers. “DEPOLLUTE ME, GENTLE ANGEL” by @fallen-w1ngs and Changing History by SummerBlack on Quotev. With “depollute me” the author humanizes the pro hero from being just a symbol. Meanwhile with “Changing History” the author introduces an emotion more attuned to feeling real and how life isn’t just a cycle that is predetermined. So my dynamic of choice was you as the reader have already been thrown in this world for the first 18 years of your life. If you were put in this world why not do the expected? Become a hero. But if all things are fake why take anything seriously?

If you couldn’t gather from that, the reader and hawks will grow and learn that they have the ability to matter and deserve to feel like they belong. I don’t have a very serious style of writing but I do try! Maybe not my best but key emphasis on try! Today we delve into YOU! YOUR CHARACTER!

This was all made on my notes app while on vacation 😺

Word count: 4280 ish, (idk through editing I added some things)

A blur of red and gold emerged first, feathers catching the sunlight just before their owner stepped forward with an easy, lopsided grin. Hawks, the newly minted Pro, looked entirely unbothered by the attention, despite the sudden chorus of excited shouts.

“Hawks! Can you sign this?”

“Dude, your debut fight was insane!”

“Picture, please?”

He laughed, ruffling his windswept hair as he glanced over the eager faces.

“Man, you guys really know how to make a guy feel welcome,” he said, grabbing the nearest pen. “Alright, line up nice and neat, yeah? I’ve got places to be, but I can’t just leave my awesome fans hanging.”

As he signed posters, notebooks, and even the occasional wing-shaped keychain, Hawks kept that signature smirk in place. He’d always known he’d make it this far—but seeing the real, tangible proof of it in the form of starstruck faces and excited voices?

Yeah, this was pretty damn cool.

As the crowd died down, Originally just going to walk away you thought about when would even be the next time you’d see him. Unfortunately since being thrown into this world, the whole concept of canon magnets for main characters was not even a concept in your life.

“You know, if you’re acting like this right out of the gate, I can’t even imagine how inflated your ego will get once you’re officially ranked among the top heroes.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I have no idea where you’re getting that impression.” You almost felt bad for taking away his moment. The disheveled blonde looked like he might’ve been having a sincere, heartfelt moment.

“It’s always the pretty boys with the massive egos,” you sighed dramatically, looking away. Seeing Hawks in all his glory had to come with a little entertainment, right?

He took a step back, eyeing your UA uniform as if sizing you up.

“Maybe the hostility’s coming from jealousy?”

“It’s the Icarus trope for me” you mutter

“Sorry?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes. “Oh nothing! You sure would think that.”

To be honest, you hadn’t meant to bump into him. You were just on your way home from school, with nothing more in mind than a nice nap. Being a third-year at UA in the most boring era of this universe really didn’t leave you with much to look forward to.

“I mean, looks like we’re heading in the same direction,” he said, curiosity creeping into his tone as he took another sip from his drink.

“You’re not wrong, but the flashy vibe you’re giving off? It’s almost alarming.”

He gave you a distraught look.

“Imagine this, I’m getting saved by—wait, what’s your name again?” Oh, it wouldn’t be impossible for actually knowing him. Sure, he had only debuted a few months ago and the crowd that just left that chanted his name every two seconds would be a sign for his name, but you couldn’t help it. In your past life, the sheer amount of content of the show you consumed meant you had to know him but better safe than sorry.

“Hawks,” he replied, deadpan, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In response he raised his brow

It probably looked like you were laughing at him, which, in a way, you kind of were. You remembered the draft photos of when his character was first being developed—back when they considered giving him an actual hawk head. The thought alone made you smile.

“Pro hero Hawks saves me, and the sheer massiveness of his ego completely blindsides me. I’m struck by how conventionally hot he is, and then I die in your arms. Yeah, not a good look for you.”

You sighed inwardly. All in all, you were probably born in the worst generation in the My Hero universe. You couldn’t even be part of the middle generation where you could’ve had the chance to work as a teacher with Aizawa and the rest of the crew. It was a possibility, sure, but it felt so far out of reach. And the idea of being around Present Mic—preferably with his hair down and you age-appropriate for him? That would’ve been a dream.

But here you were, a few years older than the main cast. Actually, you were the same age as Keigo. As much as you loved his character, he didn’t really become important until the fifth season. Which meant you had little to no relevance to the plot or any of the major characters. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stuck in some lame generation, unable to make an impact.

Why couldn’t any isekai story go right? You really felt like you’d lost the genetic lottery over and over again. You couldn’t have been born just a few years younger, so you could’ve at least had the chance to be around your other favorite sunshine-blonde character, Mirio. Not being his age had probably made you feel like you’d lost years of your life unknowingly.

“Maamaa, we just met, and you’ve already got a grudge against me?” He teased, giving you a playful frown.

Immediately it springs in your head that you’ve probably come off as a total asshole. Screw the curse of having an outside point of view. The fact of knowing none of this was real maybe gave a bad look on the outside.

You suddenly felt a wave of regret hit you, realizing how your words had come across. His playful tone, the teasing frown—everything made it clear he wasn’t offended, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had crossed a line. You opened your mouth, but your thoughts were tangled, and it took a moment to collect your words.

“Ah, look, I—” You hesitated, eyes darting away, feeling heat rising in your cheeks. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I get carried away, and—” You mentally cursed yourself for being so awkward. You hated how easily you could go from sarcastic to genuinely sorry in a second.

Hawks gave you an odd look, the smirk still there, though softer. “Hey, no worries. I get it.” He shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could tell something about his tone had changed slightly. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood too, like you were.

“No, I’m serious,” you quickly added, glancing up at him, feeling the need to apologize properly. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve been here long enough to see how people get caught up in all the… hero stuff. And I didn’t want to be another person acting all starry-eyed over you just because you’re a pro hero, you know?” God you sounded pathetic. Maybe if you prayed to all might really hard it would go away.

Hawks studied you for a second, then nodded slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment. “I get it. You don’t want to be one of those people who just worship the ground we fly on, huh?”

You sighed, relieved that he understood, but still uneasy. “Yeah... fly on. It’s just… this world, this universe… It’s all so… strange. I mean, I know you’re a big deal, and I respect that. But sometimes it’s hard to take things seriously when everything feels like it’s set in stone. To be so ‘MUCH’ all the time. Anyways I’m literally doing exactly what yours doing for a career so don’t take my words to heart. Heroes are kind of just people that help people and I’m like one or those people and by no means-” You paused, biting your lip.

There was an odd moment of silence before Hawks chuckled, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve said something ridiculous.

“You’re fine.” His tone was soft, genuine this time, as he took another step back, giving you space. “You’re not the first person to think I’m all ‘ego and feathers,’ but not everyone’s as honest about it as you are. So, props for that, I guess.” He tilted his head, his usual cocky grin returning, though it seemed more self-aware now. “But hey, if it helps, I do my best to keep my ego in check. It’s not as big as it looks.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond, but the words that came out were almost reflexive. “Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of hiding it, I guess. You’re going to be one of the top ten. I know it.”

Hawks laughed softly, the sound surprisingly genuine, and you found yourself relaxing a little. Maybe you hadn’t totally messed everything up. “You’re so sure about that? Well then fair enough. Just don’t expect me to give up my flashy style anytime soon. It’s a package deal.” He says that as if he doesn’t get In the top ten within a few months.

You could tell he wasn’t taking offense anymore, but you still felt like you needed to clear the air. “I mean, you’re doing your thing. I just—” You faltered, trying to find the right words, feeling like you were digging yourself into a hole. “I just didn’t want to be some random person making snide comments. You’re a pro hero, and I respect that.”

His eyes softened again, and there was an odd sincerity in his gaze. “Thanks. That means more than you know. You look about the same age as me so as you’re a pro as well, wouldn’t you know it you’ll be up there at the top, maybe we’ll have a hero rivalry” he smirks

“Ah yes the trials and tribulations of endeavour and all might persist in the bodies of 18 year old aspiring heroes” you pause for a moment thinking about it. You know that’s not too far from the original source material

“Well I’m not exactly a pro just yet, give me a few months and I’ll be there”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the awkwardness between you two slowly evaporating. It was strange, how you’d gone from a sarcastic comment to a brief but genuine moment of understanding. And yet, in a world where everything seemed so scripted, the fact that this had played out in such a way felt a little… surreal.

After a beat, Hawks stretched, giving you a wink. “Well, I should probably get going. Hero stuff, you know?” He shrugged, turning on his heel. “But hey, if you ever need a hand or just wanna throw some more sarcastic remarks my way, I’m not hard to find.”

You managed a small, half-smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flashed you one last grin before taking off, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky, disappearing into the distance. You watched him go, still feeling that odd mixture of guilt and amusement bubbling in your chest.

Shaking your head, you turned and continued on your way home, feeling slightly lighter, despite the awkwardness. At least you hadn’t ruined everything completely. But, then again, in a world like this, there was always something new to look forward to. Maybe you’d even see Hawks again and maybe next time, you’d be a little better at handling it.

Or, you’d at least try to be.

In this world, reports of people with superpowers started popping up everywhere. No one really knew what was causing these Quirks. And before long, the supernatural became the new normal. Dreams became reality, and the world turned into a superhuman society, with 80% of the population possessing some sort of strange ability.

Blah, blah, blah. The world might sound impressive at first, but being dropped into a world where you know everyone’s futures? That kind of ruins the excitement. Save the fun stuff for when Izuku is supposed to take over

You’d think living in a world of superheroes would be a dream come true, but it felt more like playing a life simulator with a DLC attached.

‘Actually if any one had heard that thought, please smite me dead on the spot’

Maybe when you finally met Shigaraki, you two could bond over how lame your lives were.

————

The moment Hawks took off, disappearing into the sky with all the grace and flair of a man who knew exactly how cool he was, you were left standing there, alone in the middle of a busy street. You blinked a few times, processing the bizarre encounter, like a glitch in the matrix where you’d just met one of the to be top heroes, and somehow managed to be the awkward, sarcastic mess you were known for.

Oh god, you thought, did I just make myself look like an idiot?

The awkwardness of the moment hit you all at once, like a ton of bricks. Your brain replayed every word you’d said, every overly dramatic sigh, and every time you’d made some weird comment about his ego. I probably just ruined any chance of ever having a normal conversation with him ever again, you thought with a groan.

But, hey, at least you’d gotten one thing right: you had no idea how to not embarrass yourself in front of a pro hero. Progress, right?

Your feet shuffled along the sidewalk, your eyes fixed on the ground, just in case anyone noticed how ridiculously flustered you were. You didn’t even know where you were going at this point, your legs had basically decided to take you home, but your brain was still stuck on the fact that you’d just made a snide remark to one of the most famous people in the world. That was bound to come back to haunt you, right?

In the midst of your spiraling, a thought hit you like a slap to the face: What if he tells people?

No, no, no, no. Hawks wasn’t the type to hold grudges. He’d probably just chuckle about it with his equally cool friends and forget about it. Right?

… what if he tells Mirko. All you feel is dread

But still, the mental image of him, sitting around with his hero buddies, casually telling them about the weird girl who got all awkward and snarky when she met him, was enough to make you want to curl up in a hole and disappear for the next decade. I’m never leaving my house again, you thought, hands buried in your pockets. It’s safer this way.

As you trudged home, you passed by the same old buildings, the same street vendors, the same couple having a heated debate about the proper way to cook curry (which, honestly, you were kind of invested in now). It was the same old world. But now, you couldn’t help but feel like you were living in some kind of sitcom where you were the awkward side character. This is what I get for getting tossed into this universe, you thought, rolling your eyes at the universe itself. And why am I still here? Shouldn’t I be a sidekick by now?

You eventually reached your apartment building, doing your best to ignore the fact that you’d just been face-to-face with Hawks and didn’t manage to do anything remotely cool or competent. The elevator ride felt longer than it should’ve. It was like the universe itself was giving you a moment to reflect on your life choices. By the time you reached your door, you felt like you needed to apologize to the doorframe for even existing.

With a dramatic sigh, you kicked off your shoes and collapsed onto the couch. You stared at the ceiling, wondering if you should’ve just said something normal like, “Hey, cool wings.” That’s it. Cool wings… nope absolutely not, move on, but no, you had to act like a nervous wreck who couldn’t even handle basic social interaction. Congratulations, you’re a disaster.

But as your mind started spiraling into self-loathing, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The whole situation had been so ridiculous, so out of place, that it was actually kind of funny. You’d just had a conversation with Hawks granted, it was a weird, awkward, almost cringeworthy conversation but still, a conversation! That was more than most people could say.

“Maybe I should just call it a day. Hide under the covers and pretend nothing happened.”

You threw your arms dramatically across your face as if the weight of your shame was too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, a tiny thought crept in: Hey, if I run into him again, maybe I won’t make a fool of myself next time.

Then again, you thought with a grin, Probably not.

At least tomorrow’s a new day, right? You could try to be normal then probably. Or at the very least, you could give yourself a good pep talk, like, “You got this, champ. Try not to make an idiot of yourself this time.”

As you lay there, wallowing in your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Because, in the end, this was just another bizarre chapter in your weird, barely-coherent life in the world of heroes. Maybe next time, you’d at least try to make a good first impression. Or maybe, just maybe, you’d accidentally land on your feet and make it out of another embarrassing moment unscathed.

Who knew? Anything was possible in this crazy universe. Well, except you being smooth. That was clearly out of the question.

————

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and as your classmates hurriedly packed their bags and ran out the door, you sat there, contemplating your life choices. Graduation was right around the corner, and while everyone else was excited about the future, you were just kind of… existing.

You were in your third year at UA, the very school that trained the next generation of Pro Heroes. But here you were, staring at your desk like it owed you money, with no idea what you were supposed to do next.

Let’s be real, everyone else had a purpose. Izuku? He was going to be the greatest hero of all time. All Might? He was the symbol of peace, the beacon of hope, and probably the only guy who could do a cartwheel and not look like a dad on a trampoline. Even Bakugo had a clear goal in mind: to be the best, which, considering his attitude, was more like a “do it or I’ll yell at you until you cry” kind of vibe.

But you? You were just here. You weren’t supposed to be in this world. Seriously, how did you even get here? One minute you were living your normal life, and the next you’re dropped into the middle of a world full of heroes, quirks, and crazy villains, but there’s no manual for how to fit in. It was like being cast in the world’s weirdest TV show and being told, “Yeah, just figure it out, you’ll be fine.”

And you were so fine. So fine, in fact, that you didn’t even know what the point of it all was. You had no grand dreams of becoming the next All Might or Deku. You weren’t even sure what your quirk was half the time, maybe you had an ability to be totally average? If so, congratulations, you were really nailing it.

“Look, you’re fine, you’re fine,” you muttered to yourself, giving the window a dramatic look. “You’ll graduate, become a hero, maybe stand by the snacks table at hero events, get a cool costume, the usual.”

You sighed, staring at the city below. Your classmates had their lives all planned out, while you had absolutely no clue what was happening. “Like, how do you even become a hero if you’re not, like, destined for greatness?” You asked, though you were fully aware the universe wasn’t going to answer. Or if it did, it would probably just laugh and say, “Sorry, you’re just here for filler content.”

You turned to the empty classroom, contemplating your entire existence for a moment. “Man, is this what it’s like to be a side character? ’Cause I really didn’t sign up for this. I was just trying to live my best life, and suddenly I’m here, trying to figure out if I should be saving kittens from trees or passing out flyers for charity events.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be that hero, the one who’s really good at handing out pamphlets at superhero conventions. You know, hero stuff. The job that’s always available but no one really talks about.”

You let out a half-hearted groan. “Ugh, I’m like a glorified intern in the superhero world. ‘Oh, sorry, your quirk is literally just being chill? Guess you’ll be a sidekick to the sidekicks!’”

But then it hit you: maybe that’s fine. Not every hero needs to be the big shot. Maybe your purpose was to just… exist. No huge fanfare, no dramatic showdowns with villains, just a random person who shows up at the right time to, like, hand out snacks or prevent a minor inconvenience. You could totally be that person! There’s a whole squad of heroes out there who are doing important stuff without anyone caring about them.

You snapped your fingers. “Wait a minute. Maybe this is my calling! I’ll be ‘The Human Buffer’. I’ll help all the heroes hand out protein bars, hold their coats while they go into battle, be that one person who’s just there to make sure they look good in their hero pose. Yeah, I could be that hero!”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and strutted out of the classroom with newfound confidence. You might not have a big, world-saving destiny, but you would be the hero who was always there with the perfect snack after a long day of saving people. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a role that needed to be filled, and by golly, you were going to do it.

“Alright, world,” you said dramatically as you walked down the hallway. “You don’t need me to save the day, but I’ll be here when you need someone to tell you where the bathroom is during a fight. Hero work!”

As you passed your classmates, all talking about their big future plans, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe you weren’t meant to be the hero everyone else was, but you were still going to make your mark. Whether they needed an emotional support snack or someone to bring them a towel after they worked up a sweat, you’d be there.

And hey, you’d probably get a cool title too: The Most Average, Most Helpful Hero.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the idea of being a hero. Who wouldn’t want to swoop in and save the day, right? But the thing was, you didn’t belong here. You didn’t have that spark that made someone destined to be a hero. You weren’t meant to exist in this world. You were more like an accidental extra, someone who wasn’t supposed to show up on the hero timeline but somehow did. And now you were just… waiting for your scene to end.

It wasn’t that you didn’t respect heroes, of course, you did! But watching everyone around you with their grand dreams and bright futures made you feel a bit like the odd one out. Even if you’re living in a year with just side characters. They had their roles, their destinies. Meanwhile, you were stuck in a universe where things were already set in stone. It was like showing up to a concert that was already halfway over and realizing you’re just gonna have to sit in the nosebleeds for the rest of the show.

Keigo had mentioned once that it was important for heroes to ease the worries of the people. Isn’t it paradoxical that his future words are the ones giving you a path. That they had to be more than just strong, they had to make people feel safe. And you’d never had any doubts about that philosophy. But how could you be that person when you didn’t even feel like you were supposed to be here in the first place? It felt like playing a game you didn’t know the rules to, in a world that wasn’t yours.

Sure, you were about to graduate from UA and technically become a Pro Hero, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were sort of stepping into a role that didn’t really have anything to do with you. You had no grand dreams of fighting side-by-side with All Might in his final battle. There were so any many risks and what if a simple butterfly effect made the villains win by you being here. Honestly, you’d probably end up being the hero who handed out flyers for charity events or stood at the front of the line for photos to be safe. Was that the kind of hero you wanted to be?

“Well, I guess I’ll be a hero of some kind,” you muttered, though it was more out of obligation than excitement. “But what does it even mean if I don’t have some grand purpose in all this?”

A little chuckle escaped your lips. This was ridiculous. Here you were, stressing over your place in a world that was literally made up. You were a character in a story that already had its plot laid out, and yet you were still acting like you had to be a main character. It was all just so absurd.

But you didn’t want to be that person someone who just complained about fate and waited for something to happen. You could still make a difference in small ways, right? Maybe not as the next All Might or Deku, but as someone who showed up when it mattered, who helped out in their own way. The world was full of side characters doing small but important things, why couldn’t you be one of them?

With a grin, you stood up and grabbed your bag, heading out of the classroom to join the rest of your classmates. Maybe you weren’t the protagonist of this story, but hey, you could still make your mark on it. A little self-awareness never hurt anyone, right? Besides, in a world full of heroes, sometimes it was enough just to be one even if you were doing it a little differently than everyone else.