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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

⋆˚✿˖° Feedback Loop ⋆˚✿˖°

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ This man has zero chill, and I have zero chill for him. He’s a freak. He has to be. The studded leather jacket proves it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ You all see loud and annoying I see a rockstar who would definitely date a younger woman. peak rockstar behavior. Except instead of the wild, bad boy type, he’s got the personality of a total dad rock guy. classic vinyl collection, bad puns, probably owns at least three band tees from the ’80s.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Anyway, this is teacher him, but you? You’re the new TA, and unfortunately, you’re already down bad and you’ve BEEN down bad…. The way I wrote this is a little taboo… how your high school crush on Present Mic never really faded, and now, as a new UA TA, you’re right back where you started… only this time, he’s looking at you differently.

Anyways I wrote this very light hearted!!

Warnings: idk you simp for older man and he sorta flirts back. you’re 22 in this story but yuh

૮₍´｡ᵔ ꈊ ᵔ｡`₎ა You could hear the distant hum of the city below as you and Hawks crouched on a rooftop, surveying the warehouse across the street. It was a classic sting operation, intel suggested a group of low-level villains were stockpiling illegal support gear, and you two were here to put a stop to it before things escalated.

Hawks adjusted his goggles, barely looking phased. “Man, these guys never learn, huh?”

You smirked. “You sound almost bored.”

“‘Cause I am,” he admitted, stretching his arms lazily. “I could’ve wrapped this up ages ago, but apparently ‘reckless property damage’ is frowned upon.” He threw up air quotes, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, heaven forbid you actually follow protocol.”

Hawks snickered but then glanced at you, tilting his head. “So, what’s next for you, anyway?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, c’mon, you’ve got the skills, the power, and a shiny little hero license,” he said, casually flicking a feather toward the warehouse to listen in. “You ever thought about… I dunno, long-term plans?”

You frowned. “I am a pro hero. This is the long-term plan.”

Hawks hummed. “Yeah, for now. But what about later? You gonna keep doing this forever?”

You huffed. “What else would I do?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Some heroes eventually go into support roles, some do solo work, some…” He gave you a pointed look. “End up teaching.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Hawks snorted. “Wow. Said that real fast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t exactly strike me as ‘teacher material’ either.”

“Hell no,” Hawks said without hesitation. “I’m not about that ‘shaping young minds’ crap.” He waved a hand. “I don’t got time to babysit kids who think they’re hotshots just ‘cause they passed an entrance exam.”

You exhaled through your nose. “You do know they need heroes to train the next generation, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hawks said lazily. “Good thing there’s people out there willing to do it. But me? Nah. I care about results. Not teaching a bunch of kids how to throw a punch.”

Something about that didn’t sit right with you. You fell silent, watching the warehouse as Hawks kept talking.

“I get why some people do it,” he continued. “Sure, it’s important, but I’d rather be out here handling real threats, not lecturing some kid about ‘proper combat form.’”

You pursed your lips, staring at the city skyline. You’d never really thought about teaching before. You’d always assumed you’d stick to hero work, fighting, saving people, that’s what you trained for. But…

Wouldn’t it be better if newer heroes were properly prepared before getting thrown into all this? Before they had to stand on rooftops like this, watching crime unfold and making impossible choices?

You suddenly remembered your own time at U.A., the mentors who guided you, the lessons that stuck with you, the moments that shaped you.

Hawks might not care about the next generation. But maybe… you did. You inhaled deeply. “Someone has to do it.”

Hawks glanced at you. “Huh?”

“Teach,” you clarified. “Someone has to make sure they don’t just become a bunch of reckless brats.”

Hawks smirked. “That sounded real pointed.”

You ignored him, mind already racing. Maybe this was something worth considering. Maybe making a difference didn’t just mean being in the field. it meant helping others get there, too.

Before you could say more, Hawks suddenly grinned. “Welp. We can debate hero philosophy later. Right now-” He flexed his wings. “I believe it’s ass kicking time.”

You exhaled, pushing the thoughts aside. Teaching could wait. For now, you had a mission to finish.

—-

The idea had been nagging at you ever since that mission with Hawks. You hadn’t been able to shake it, how different would things have been if someone hadn’t taken the time to teach you? If the pros before you had just decided they didn’t care about shaping the next generation?

It was a dangerous job. Heroes had to make impossible choices every day.And if you could help even one student avoid the mistakes you had made… wasn’t that worth it?

So, when the opportunity to assist at U.A. came up, you took it. Standing at the school gates, you felt incredibly unprepared.

The school looked the same as when you were a student. The towering gates, the familiar pathways, the slight hum of excitement in the air.

But now, instead of wearing a uniform, you were standing here as a pro hero. A teachers assistant to the very people who had once trained you.

Before you could start spiraling, a very familiar voice rang out. “Nooooo waaay!”

You barely had time to react before a blur of yellow moved into your peripheral vision.

“Yo, Y/n!!” Present Mic grinned, stepping right in front of you. “Look at you, all grown up and back at U.A.!”

Your brain stalled for a moment. Because oh. Oh no. You had mentally prepared yourself to see your old teachers again, sure.

But Hizashi Yamada? The very same Present Mic who had been the coolest teacher when you were a student? The one whose energy was infectious, who had somehow made learning fun, whose voice had been a constant in your life back then?

Yeah. You were not ready. You forced yourself to smile. “Hey, Mic.”

He grinned even wider. “Man, this is wild! Feels like just yesterday you were wandering the halls! Now you’re back and all pro hero-y!” He clapped a hand on your shoulder. “I knew you were gonna be big someday!”

You swallowed. Say something normal. Say something normal.

“Uh well, you were one of my favorite teachers, it was bound to happen if you were there for me” you blurted. The moment the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted them.

Hizashi’s eyebrows shot up, and then he smirked. “Ohoho? Is that so?” He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “Favorite, huh?”

Your face burned.

“N-not like that!” you stammered, waving your hands. “I just.. I mean… your class was fun, and..” He laughed, clearly enjoying your suffering. “Man, this just keeps getting better.”

You groaned, covering your face.

Hizashi grinned, rocking back on his heels. “Well, it’s good to have you back. These kids are gonna love you.”

You exhaled, trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, well… let’s hope I survive them first.”

“Pshh. You survived me, didn’t ya?” He winked. “This’ll be a piece of cake.”

Your heart stuttered. Oh. Oh, this was going to be dangerous for your heart.

—

The halls of U.A. felt different now. As a student, they had been full of excitement, nerves, and the overwhelming presence of those who had come before you. But now, walking through the main building as a pro hero and teacher, the weight on your shoulders felt entirely new.

You adjusted the hem of your hero costume, feeling the crispness of how new it was. Even though you had experience in the field, nothing quite prepared you for standing in front of a room full of students expecting to learn from you.

“You got this,” you muttered to yourself, taking a steadying breath before stepping into the teacher’s lounge.

Aizawa was the first to look up, his usual tired expression unreadable. “You’re early,” he noted, setting down his coffee.

“I figured I’d try to make a good impression,” you replied, attempting a casual smile.

Present Mic leaned against the counter, grinning. “First day jitters? Don’t worry, we all had ‘em. Well, except for Eraser here. He just scowled his way through it.”

Aizawa sighed. “I still do.”

You chuckled, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Midnight strolled in. “Oh, our new young hero teacher has arrived! Ready to inspire the next generation?”

“I hope so,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck.

Midnight winked. “Confidence is key. And if all else fails, just channel your inner Aizawa, give them the stare.”

“I’m right here,” Aizawa deadpanned.

The conversation continued as a few other teachers trickled in, welcoming you and offering small pieces of advice. It was reassuring, knowing that despite the prestigious reputation of U.A., the staff was still just a group of people doing their best.

Then, the bell rang. Your first class was waiting You turned to see Shouta Aizawa standing up and heading to the door, coffee in one hand, capture weapon draped loosely around his neck. He looked as exhausted as you remembered from your time as a student, but there was a small, approving nod in his greeting. “. Ready for your first day?”

You gave him a firm nod. “Yes, sir.”

He raised a brow at the formality but didn’t comment. “Good. You’ll be shadowing me for the first week. Learn the flow, get used to the kids. Don’t let them walk all over you.”

You swallowed. “They’ll try?”

“Of course,” he deadpanned. “They’re future pro heroes. Testing limits is in their nature.”

Before you could respond, the bell rang. Aizawa gestured toward the door. “Come on. Let’s introduce you.”

Walking into Class 1-A’s homeroom was surreal. The chatter died down the moment Aizawa stepped inside, eyes instantly on you. These weren’t just random students; these were the next big names in hero society, brimming with potential. Some of them were already whispering, clearly recognizing you from your own hero work.

Aizawa’s gaze swept over them, and the class immediately straightened up. “This is Lumine. She’s a pro and will be assisting in your training from now on. Treat her with respect.”

You took a step forward, clearing your throat. “It’s nice to meet you all. I was in your place not too long ago, so if you have questions or need advice, I’m here to help.”

A student raised a hand, an excitable redhead in the front row. “Can we see your Quirk in action?”

You smirked. “Maybe another time perhaps your next training session.”

A few students groaned in disappointment, but a blue haired student beside him adjusted his glasses, nodding approvingly. “A professional approach. I look forward to learning from you.”

As the students got to work, you exhaled, easing into your new role. First day nerves or not, you were ready for this. After all, you weren’t just here to assist you were here to help shape the future of hero society.

As Aizawa turned to the board, the atmosphere in the classroom shifted. It started small whispers, giggles, but you could feel it. The moment your eyes met with some of the students, they looked away too quickly, stifling laughter like they were plotting something.

Then, predictably, a hand shot up.

“Yes?” you asked, already bracing yourself.

Denki Kaminari grinned, leaning back in his chair. “So, uh… what’s your type?”

A few eyes shot up to stare at him. Particularly a certain purple adjacent kid started glaring. You blinked, thrown off for only a second before regaining composure. “My type?”

“Yeah, you know,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Like… in a romantic sense.”

“Denki.” Iida’s voice cut through the air, scandalized. “That is highly inappropriate to ask a teacher’s assistant!”

“But it’s important info!” Denki argued, slouching in his seat. “Like, what if we need to set her up with someone?…. like myself” he muttered the last part but the rest of the class gathered what it was.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m here to teach, not to date.”

Denki clicked his tongue. “Damn, there goes my plan.”

“Your what?” you asked.

Jirou groaned, smacking her forehead. “He’s been muttering about ‘securing the ring’ since you walked in.”

You blinked. “Wait. Excuse me?”

The class lost it.

Even Aizawa, who had been diligently ignoring the nonsense, finally turned, rubbing his temples like he had a migraine forming. “Kaminari. If you spent as much effort on your studies as you do on flirting, you might actually be a decent student.”

Denki pouted “Sensei, that’s harsh.”

You crossed your arms, fighting back a laugh. “I think what Kaminari meant to ask was if I have any advice for balancing hero work with personal life.”

The blond perked up. “Ohh, yeah! That’s totally what I meant!”

Aizawa sighed. “Right. That’s enough for today. Open your books before I start handing out laps.”

The class groaned but obeyed, even as you heard whispered bets being placed on whether Denki would propose by the end of the semester.

Class had barely settled before you heard the unmistakable sound of a palm smacking the back of Kaminari’s head.

“Ow!” Denki yelped, rubbing the spot where he’d been hit.

“Quit being an idiot,” Bakugo grumbled from his seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he was personally offended by Kaminari’s entire existence. “You sound pathetic.”

“Excuse you, Bakugo, but I was just making conversation,” Kaminari shot back, still grinning despite the clear lack of support. “You don’t understand romance.”

Bakugo’s glare sharpened. “I understand that you should shut the hell up”

“Damn, man,” Kirishima cut in with a chuckle, elbowing Bakugo. “Give him a break. It’s not every day a there’s someone new teaching. Let him dream.”

Bakugo scoffed. “It’s embarrassing.”

Before Kaminari could retaliate, Mina gasped dramatically, slamming her hands on her desk. “Wait, wait, wait! Kaminari’s getting all the attention here, but I think we’re missing the real question!” She turned to you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Who was your teacher crush when you went here?”

The class erupted.

“Ohhh, good one, Ashido!” Sero laughed, leaning forward on his desk. “C’mon, spill! Was it Aizawa-sensei?”

At that you whipped to turn to aizawa but you can see he’s already regressed into his sleeping bag.

“Present Mic?” Kirishima guessed. “He’s got that cool vibe, y’know?”

“I swear if anyone says Midnight, I’m walking out,” Jirou deadpanned, already rubbing her temples

.

You held up a hand, trying to contain your laughter. “Okay, okay, first of all, just because i’m barely older than you all doesn’t mean I’m just going to gossip.”

A wave of boos filled the room.

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring them, “That wasn’t even anything I thought about when I was your age”

Mina sighed dramatically. “Ugh, so responsible.”

“I’m literally here as a teacher’s assistant,” you reminded her, crossing your arms. “What did you expect?”

“Secret romances,” Kaminari answered instantly.

“You guys watch way too much TV,” you muttered.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Todoroki, who had been silent this whole time, slowly turned to Momo. “Is this… normal?”

Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Unfortunately, yes.”

At the front of the class on the ground, Aizawa audibly exhaled, already regretting everything. “I should’ve taken the day off.”

The teasing finally died down after a few more minutes, mostly because Aizawa threatened extra homework, but you could still hear the occasional whisper of “I know it was Aizawa” and “Kaminari’s totally going to propose by the end of the week.”

You barely made it into the teachers’ lounge before dropping into the nearest chair with an exhausted sigh. The first half of the day had been absolute chaos. You knew Class 1-A had a reputation, but no amount of mental preparation could’ve readied you for Kaminari planning your imaginary wedding, Mina interrogating you about teacher crushes, and Bakugo nearly committing homicide out of secondhand embarrassment.

Aizawa sat down across from you, looking unsurprised. “You survived.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. “I think so.”

Before he could respond, the door slammed open. “YOOO! How’s our newest teacher assistant holding up?!”

Your stomach flipped. Present Mic strolled in, grinning ear to ear, and before you could even process the way your heartbeat definitely skipped, he was dropping into the seat beside you, all energy and enthusiasm.

“I heard 1-A gave you a hell of a welcome,” he laughed, elbowing you lightly. “Gotta say, I love the enthusiasm, but you good?”

Your brain was short circuiting. He smells good. Why does he smell so good?

You snapped out of it immediately. “Y-Yeah! Totally fine! Just y’know, Students being students, and uh, some… unexpected questions.”

Aizawa gave you a slow, knowing side eye but said nothing, sipping his coffee. Hizashi leaned in slightly, his expression full of curiosity. “Ohhh? What kind of questions?”

The door opened again, giving you a much needed second to gather yourself as Midnight, Cementoss, and Snipe walked in. Midnight smirked the second she spotted you. “Oho? Is this about the interrogation 1-A put you through?”

You groaned. “Why does everyone already know about this?”

Cementoss chuckled. “Word travels fast when it involves that class.”

Snipe took a seat, tipping his hat back. “So? What’d they grill ya on?”

You hesitated, but of course Midnight leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Don’t be shy now. Spill.”

You exhaled in defeat. “Okay, fine, Kaminari apparently thinks we’re getting married, Mina demanded to know if I ever had a teacher crush, and the rest were just hyping them up.”

Silence. Then, Midnight lit up. “Oh, now this I gotta hear.”

“No, you really don’t,” you muttered.

But it was too late. Present Mic gasped dramatically beside you. “WAIT.” He pointed at you with exaggerated excitement. “You had a teacher crush?!”

Your face felt hot. “Nope! That’s classified information,” you said way too quickly, reaching for your drink like it could physically save you from this conversation.

Hizashi let out an offended noise, leaning closer. “It’s me, isn’t it?!”

Your brain short circuited. Your entire body froze. Aizawa, who had been silently watching this train wreck unfold, took a slow sip of his coffee. “It’s not you.”

“You don’t know that!” Hizashi shot back, grinning, and oh no, he was looking right at you.

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, but you refused to crack. “I- I am not answering that.”

Midnight smirked, clearly catching something. “Hmm… interesting.”

You glared. “Drop it.”

“Never,” she teased.

Meanwhile, Hizashi was still grinning, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Aw, c’mon! I won’t tell anyone!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I literally don’t trust you.”

The teasing continued as the rest of the staff ate, and even though your entire body was still burning from that interaction, you had to admit… it wasn’t a bad way to spend your break.

—

You walked beside Aizawa, still recovering from the absolute disaster that had been lunchtime. Your face felt like it was permanently warm, and you were convinced you’d never be able to look Present Mic in the eyes again.

“So,” he started, voice dry as ever, “you want to be a teacher?”

You nodded, still staring ahead, trying to will away your embarrassment. “Yeah. I mean, today was hectic, but it felt… right, y’know?”

Aizawa hummed. “Uh-huh.”

Something about his tone made you glance at him warily. “…What?”

“Oh, nothing.” He took a slow sip from his coffee, expression unreadable. “Just thinking about how subtle you were about it in the lounge.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He side eyed you, and even though his face barely changed, you could feel the judgment.

Your stomach dropped. “I—what—” You groaned, covering your face. “Please stop.”

“Just saying,” he continued, deadpan, “if this was a test on subtlety, you’d be repeating the year.”

You groaned louder. “Oh my god.”

He sipped his coffee again, shrugging. “But, y’know. Mic’s an idiot, so you’re probably fine.”

“That is not reassuring.”

He didn’t respond, just kept walking like he hadn’t just ruined your entire life. You, on the other hand, were spiraling. How obvious had you been? Was everyone going to figure it out? Was Hizashi already onto you?

Before you could fall further into despair, Aizawa glanced at you again. “But if you’re really serious about teaching, you should stick with it. You did fine today.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Sure.” He paused, then added, “Just maybe work on your poker face.”

You groaned one last time, and Aizawa smirked ever so slightly as you both headed back to class.

—

It was the next day and stared at Aizawa like he had just told you to fight a Nomu with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re assisting Yamada for the day,” Aizawa repeated, his tone flat as always. “He’s leading practical drills, and it’s good experience for you.”

Your stomach twisted. This is fine. This is totally fine. It was not fine. Because Present Mic. Hizashi Yamada was the one teacher you definitely didn’t trust yourself to be normal around.

It had been so much easier when you were a student, admiring from afar. But now? You had to work alongside him, one on one, for the entire day, and if yesterday’s conversation in the teachers’ lounge was anything to go by, you were one slip-up away from giving yourself away entirely.

Still, you swallowed your nerves and forced yourself to nod. “Got it.”

Aizawa gave you a slow, knowing look, because of course he did but didn’t comment. “Good. He’s in Gym Gamma. Try to keep up.”

You huffed. “I can keep up.”

Aizawa smirked slightly like he knew something you didn’t. That was never a good sign.

—

By the time you reached Gym Gamma, you could hear his voice from outside the doors.

“Alright, listeners! Today’s all about reflex training! You gotta be fast, ya gotta be alert, and ya gotta be ready to move at a moment’s notice!”

You took a deep breath and stepped inside.

The moment you did, Hizashi turned to face you, his signature grin in full force. “Ayooo! There’s my assistant for the day!”

You swore you felt your heart stutter for a second.

“Hope you’re ready!” he continued, jogging up to you. “’Cause today’s lesson is all about speed and adaptability!”

You forced yourself to nod, pretending you weren’t two seconds from combusting. “Right. Sounds good.”

He clapped a hand on your shoulder, and oh no he’s touching me—

“You ever seen my sound-based reflex drills in action before?” he asked, completely oblivious to the absolute crisis happening in your brain.

“uuuh not up close.”

He gasped, offended. “WHAT?!” He grabbed his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “Then today’s your lucky day, sidekick, ‘cause you’re not just assisting, you’re participating!”

You tilted your head. “oh? set the stage then”

The students murmured at that, sensing the challenge. Hizashi raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Ohooo, confidence! I like it!”

You just smirked. “Let’s get started.”

—

The second he fired off his first attack “HEY!!” your body reacted on instinct. In reality this was probably the worst person to fight against you for the demonstration against mic. Because with his quirk it basically didn’t work on you

Before the shockwave could hit, you shifted into light, letting the sound waves pass through you harmlessly before reforming on the other side.

The class gasped.

Even Hizashi blinked in surprise. “Well damn!!”

You shrugged, barely fazed. “Sound doesn’t hit photons the same way.”

Hizashi’s grin grew. “Ohhh, this just got interesting.”

What followed was an all out battle of speed.

Every time he tried to catch you off guard, you moved like light itself, phasing through attacks, blinking across the battlefield, even absorbing energy and redirecting it when necessary.

At one point, he fired off a rapid burst of sound—

“YEAHHHHH!!”

—and you split into pure photons, streaking through the air before reforming behind him.

The students went wild.

Kaminari practically screamed. “YO, THIS IS INSANE!”

Mina was jumping up and down. “OUR TEACHER ASSISTANT IS A BADASS!”

Meanwhile, Hizashi looked positively thrilled.

“You’re fast,” he admitted, pushing his shades up. “I like that.”

You smirked. “Told you I could handle myself.”

His grin widened. “Alright, alright, I see you.”

—

Training continued as you and Mic took turns guiding the students through drills. By the end of the session, they were still buzzing with excitement, practically vibrating with leftover energy. You, on the other hand? Barely broke a sweat.

Even after all that work, they were still hyped.

Mina came sprinting toward you, a crowd of students following close behind. “You are officially my favorite person now.”

“SO—ABOUT THAT MARRIAGE PROPOSAL—”

Before he could finish, Bakugo decked him straight into the ground. You barely had time to react before you were kneeling beside the poor guy, eyes wide in alarm.

Meanwhile, Shoto stood nearby, still deep in thought. “Can you move at the speed of light, or is it just partial?”

Midoriya, frantically flipping through his notebook, barely spared the scene a glance. “And if your body converts into photons, do you still feel force? Can you absorb soundwaves instead of dodging them?”

“Sensei, can you teach me how to be that fast?” Mina asked, practically bouncing.

“Yeah!” Kirishima grinned. “You gotta have some training tips, right?”

You chuckled. “It’s all about reflexes and learning how to read your opponent. I’d be happy to show you some drills.”

The class collectively cheered.

Even Bakugo gave a considering nod, though he still scowled. “Tch. I guess that was decent.”

Hizashi, standing beside you, elbowed you lightly. “Look at that, you’re already building a fan club.”

You felt your face heat up. Not now, heart. Not now

You sighed with a smile on your face, rubbing your temples before looking over at Hizashi, who was grinning like a proud parent.

“Man,” he said, shaking his head. “Didn’t expect you to steal the whole show!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

Hizashi strolled over, hands on his hips, still beaming. “I gotta say, did not expect you to be this OP.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Guess I like surprises.”

He chuckled. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.”

Then, he winked. Damn it. You were this close to completely losing your composure.

—

The students were still hyped as they cleaned up, practically buzzing with leftover energy. Kaminari was full on re enacting the moment you dodged a sound blast, complete with dramatic slow-motion effects, while Mina hyped him up like a ringside announcer.

Meanwhile, you and Hizashi strolled toward the exit, letting them finish up.

“I gotta say,” he grinned, hands behind his head, “I knew you had skills, but damn! You didn’t even break a sweat!”

You smirked, keeping it cool. “Well our quirks kinda cancel each other put, I don’t know if i’m all that good”

He laughed, and damn it. why did it sound so nice up close?

“A bit of an advantage? You made dodging my attacks look like a warm up.”

You shrugged, playing it off. “Maybe I’m just really fast.”

He shot you a teasing look. “Ohhh, I see how it is, you’re humble about it, too.”

You chuckled, shaking your head, but something about this moment felt… surreal.

Because walking next to Hizashi like this, like equals, just chatting after sparring was something high school you never would’ve imagined.

You used to have a massive crush on him. And not just a little one. No, it was bad. He was your teacher, but also the funniest teacher in the school. You always looked forward to passing him in the halls, laughed at his corny jokes, and maybe, maybe daydreamed a little too much about him calling your name in attendance.

And now?

Now you were working with him. Now he was grinning at you like you were someone worth his attention.

You were so distracted by that realization that you nearly walked straight into a wall.

“Oi.” Hizashi nudged you before you could embarrass yourself further. “You still with me?”

You cleared your throat, trying to refocus. “Yeah! Yeah, just, thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oho? What about?”

How I used to have a hopelessly embarrassing crush on you, and now you’re standing next to me, smiling, and my brain is actively trying not to short circuit.

“…Lunch,” you blurted instead. “Thinking about lunch.”

Hizashi blinked. Then laughed, shaking his head. “Man, if that’s what’s on your mind after training, I must not’ve pushed ya hard enough!”

You grabbed onto the distraction like a lifeline. “Oh, please. I could do that all day.”

He shot you a grin. “Good. ‘Cause we’re definitely doing that again.”

Your brain short-circuited.

Oh.

But, no. You weren’t gonna let him have all the fun.

Summoning whatever ounce of courage you had left, you smirked. “Oh yeah? You sure you can keep up?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake. Hizashi’s grin widened. Way too much.

“Ohhh,” he said dramatically, cupping his ear. “What was that?”

You instantly regretted everything.

“I—I said—” You hesitated. Why did he look so amused?

“You asking if I can keep up?” He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “Ohooo, you’re getting bold!”

Your face burned. “Never mind.”

“Nah nah, too late now!” He laughed, giving you a playful nudge. “I love this side of you!”

You turned away, internally screaming. Hizashi, completely unaware of your impending emotional crisis, just grinned. “Hope you’re ready for round two, Y/n!”

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to recover. “Looking forward to it,” you said, managing to sound almost confident.

Hizashi?

He just smiled that was the moment you knew, you were so screwed.

.

——-

It started off as a normal conversation in the common room. The class was unwinding, chatting about training, when Mina, of course, had to bring it up.

“Okay, but seriously,” she said, sitting cross-legged on the couch, “did anyone else notice the energy between Present Mic and our assistant today?”

Sero smirked. “Oh yeah. Flirt Central.”

“Flirt Central?!” Kaminari sputtered, nearly dropping his drink. “Nuh-uh. No way. I refuse to accept this!”

Mina blinked. “Uh… what?”

Kaminari crossed his arms, looking like a very pouty child. “They’re our teacher. They shouldn’t be flirting with some old dude!”

“Old dude?” Midoriya raised an eyebrow. “Hizashi-sensei is 30.”

“Yeah, and our TA is 22! That’s a huge gap!” Kaminari argued.

Yaoyorozu tilted her head. “eight years is maybe stretch for—”

“I don’t care! It’s not fair!” Kaminari whined, flopping over onto the couch.

Mineta, who had been unusually silent up until now, suddenly slammed his hands onto the coffee table.

“You’re all missing the point!” he cried dramatically. “This is a mentorship t-to-slow-burn romance unfolding right before our eyes! WOMEN WHEN THEYRE VULNERABLE MAKES THEIR BOOBS so-”

The room collectively groaned.

“Mineta, shut up,” jirou snapped from the corner.

Mineta ignored her, eyes sparkling with excitement. “We should be celebrating this! They have the perfect dynamic! The confidence! The power balance! The forbidden allure of—”

Jirou smacked him over the head. “You’re disgusting.”

“OW! You just don’t appreciate a good romance—”

“I appreciate not hearing you be a creep,” Jirou shot back.

Meanwhile, Kaminari was still sulking. “I don’t care what any of you say. Our assistant deserves someone their age. Like…like me!”

The room went silent.

Mina squinted. “Denki. You’re 16.”

Kaminari groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “That’s not the point!”

“Yes, it is,” Sero said bluntly.

“But, like, imagine!” Kaminari sat up. “What if we had a thing going instead? They’d be so much happier with me!”

“Dude, you barely passed last week’s quiz focus on today first,” Sero deadpanned.

Kaminari gasped. “That has nothing to do with my marriage!”

Meanwhile, Midoriya, who had been furiously scribbling notes the whole time, looked up.

“You guys are focusing too much on how… conventionally pretty she is” he said nervously . “What we should be discussing is how their quirks could compliment each other in battle.”

Iida nodded. “Now that is a productive conversation.”

“Boooooring,” Mina said. “I wanna talk about how they’d be the coolest staff couple ever!”

Kirishima grinned. “Yeah! Imagine the interviews!”

Ochaco gasped. “Oh my gosh, the fan edits would be insane.”

“I know!” Mina grabbed her shoulders. “Someone has to start a ship name.”

Kaminari screamed into a pillow.

As the chaos unfolded, Bakugo groaned, standing up abruptly. “I swear if you extras don’t shut up about this, I’m blowing up the common room.”

“Aw, c’mon, man!” Kirishima laughed. “You gotta admit, they have good chemistry!”

Bakugo scowled.

—

Meanwhile, completely unaware of the discourse happening in the dorms, you were in the teacher’s lounge, where Hizashi was currently trying to convince you to join him for karaoke after work.

And if your face was a little too warm every time he winked at you…

Well.

Nobody needed to know.

You: i'll see a man with long hair and remember i'm not above temptations of the flesh

Edward Nygma (Gotham TV show) X Reader

⍰ ⍰ Sweet Eddie ⍰ ⍰

the riddler is my biggest fictional crush

masterlist

He’s always been your sweet innocent Eddie, though what if you find out he’s not so innocent.

⍰ ⍰ ⍰ ⍰ The streets of Gotham were wet with the remnants of last night’s rain, the puddles reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. The city never slept, but the Gotham City Police Department had been unusually quiet that day aside from the usual scumbags who seemed to find their way into the holding cells like clockwork.

Detective Y/n sat at her desk, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface as she reviewed an old case file, but her focus was elsewhere. Edward Nygma had been acting strange lately. Stranger than usual.

You had always considered him a friend, one of the few in the GCPD who wasn’t a complete asshole. Sure, he was odd, but he was kind to you. He brought you coffee in the mornings, even remembered how you liked it little things that showed he paid attention. He would ramble on about riddles, facts, and obscure trivia, and while most of your colleagues found it annoying, you didn’t mind.

But lately, he had been distant. His usual enthusiasm had dulled, and his eyes carried a weight you hadn’t seen before. He barely spoke to you unless necessary, and when he did, he was quick to end the conversation. It didn’t sit right with you.

So, you decided to check up on him.

¿¿¿¿

You knocked twice before calling out, “Ed? It’s me.”

There was a rustling sound inside, followed by what you swore was a hushed curse. Then, the door swung open, and there stood Edward Nygma.

He looked… awful.

His tie was slightly crooked, and his usually pristine suit was wrinkled like he had been wearing it for too long. His eyes were wide, darting from you to the hallway as if someone might be watching. The moment he saw you, his lips curled into a strained smile.

“Y/n! What a what a surprise!” he stammered, voice an octave higher than usual. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I figured.” You raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t at work today.”

Edward’s fingers twitched against the doorframe. “Ah, yes, well feeling a bit under the weather. Needed rest.”

You tilted your head. “Then why do you look like you haven’t slept in days?”

His breath hitched, just for a second, but you caught it.

“That’s an exaggeration.” He forced a chuckle. “Anyway! What brings you here? Surely, not just to check on little ol’ me.”

You frowned. This wasn’t normal. He was jittery, nervous, and his attempts to steer the conversation away were painfully obvious.

“Ed,” you said, voice softer now. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve been avoiding me.”

His lips parted, and for a fleeting moment, something like guilt flashed across his face. But then he quickly shook his head. “Nonsense! I’ve just been… preoccupied with personal matters.”

You folded your arms. “So preoccupied that you can’t talk to your friend?”

Edward swallowed hard, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Look, I appreciate the concern, truly, but I I can’t”

A noise came from inside the apartment. A shuffling sound.

Your instincts flared.

Edward’s face went pale.

“Ed,” you said slowly, your body tensing. “Who’s in there?”

He took a step in front of you, blocking the doorway. “No one!” he said, too quickly. “That was uh just the TV! Yes, the uh late night nature documentary.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Let me in.”

Edward hesitated. “That’s really not necessary.”

“I wasn’t asking.” You stepped forward, and though he tried to stop you, you pushed past him into the apartment.

The air was thick with something unspoken, something secret. The living room was dimly lit, a few scattered papers on the table, an untouched cup of coffee going cold. But it wasn’t the state of the apartment that made your breath hitch.

It was the man sitting on the couch.

Oswald Cobblepot. The Penguin.

You froze.

It had been during your first week at the GCPD back when you were still learning the ropes, shadowing Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock. You remembered walking into Fish Mooney’s club, the atmosphere thick with cigar smoke and whispered deals. And there he was. The umbrella boy. Scrawny, meek, and eager to please, hovering near Fish like a loyal dog.

That was the man sitting before you now only this wasn’t the same Oswald. He was thinner, paler, his usual pompous attitude dulled by exhaustion, but his sharp eyes still carried that same calculating glint.

Your heart pounded as the weight of the situation settled in.

You were standing in Edward Nygma’s apartment. And Edward Nygma was harboring a criminal.

Your body moved before your mind could catch up. You turned sharply toward the door, instincts screaming at you to leave, to report this, to do something but before you could take a step, hands gripped your shoulders.

“Wait!”

You flinched at the contact. His hands, usually so delicate when handling evidence, felt like iron now. His fingers dug in, not painfully, but firm too firm. He was trying to keep you here.

“Y/n, please just listen.” His voice was high and frantic, not the usual steady, confident tone he used when rattling off crime scene details. His body was close, too close, his warmth pressing against your back. You could hear his breath, quick and uneven.

Your pulse skyrocketed. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

This was Edward sweet, nerdy Edward who always brought you coffee, who stammered when he got too excited, who sent you riddles on your phone just to make you laugh. The same Edward you had God help you started to like.

And now he was standing between you and the door, trying to keep you from leaving.

You pushed against his grip, but he held firm.

“Edward,” you hissed. “Let me go.”

“I can’t.” His voice cracked. “Not until you understand.”

Understand what? That he had gone insane? That the man you thought you knew was keeping a wanted criminal in his apartment like some twisted house guest?

You struggled again, but his grip only tightened.

“You’re panicking,” he said quickly, his breath fanning against your ear. “I know this is shocking, but please, Y/n, just let me explain”

“She doesn’t need you to explain, Nygma,” Oswald interrupted.

His voice sent a chill down your spine.

You finally wrenched yourself free from Edward’s grasp and stumbled a step forward, putting space between you both. Your breath came in quick bursts as you turned toward Oswald, who was watching the scene with an amused smirk despite his obvious injuries.

“Please, tell me she’s not actually surprised,” Oswald said, gesturing lazily toward you. His voice was hoarse, weaker than you remembered, but still laced with that familiar arrogance. “You’re a detective, darling. Surely, you’ve noticed something’s been off with your friend?”

Your hands curled into fists at your sides. “Shut up, Cobblepot.”

He chuckled. “Oh, you do remember me.”

Unfortunately.

Your head spun. There was too much happening at once. Your mind screamed at you to act, to arrest someone, to run, to do something but you were frozen in place.

Edward took a cautious step toward you. “Please, just let me explain.”

You snapped your gaze back to him.

“You’re housing Penguin,” you spat. “What explanation could possibly make that okay?”

Edward flinched, his lips parting as if he had an answer ready, but before he could speak.

“I can give you a better one,” Oswald cut in, his smirk widening. “Why don’t we talk about what else Eddie has been up to?”

You went still.

Edward’s face drained of color. “Don’t.”

Oswald’s smirk didn’t falter. He leaned back against the couch, watching you carefully. “Oh, she doesn’t know, does she?”

Edward’s hand twitched. You looked between them, your stomach twisting into knots.

“What is he talking about?” you demanded.

Edward clenched his jaw, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His whole body was tense, every muscle locked as if he were preparing for a fight.

“The girl,” Oswald said simply. “Kristin Kringle.”

Your breath hitched.

Your hand flew to your mouth.

No.

No, no, no.

Kristin.

You knew that name. She had worked at the GCPD, sweet but sharp, always polite in passing. You hadn’t known her well, but she had been there and then one day, she wasn’t. She had left. That’s what everyone said. Moved away. Or at least, that’s what Edward had said.

Your stomach twisted violently.

Slowly, as if in a trance, you turned toward Edward. He wasn’t looking at you anymore. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his hands shaking at his sides.

“…Ed?”

Nothing.

Oswald let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, dear. You really are slow on the uptake, aren’t you?” He turned toward Edward. “Go on, Eddie. Tell her what happened to dear Kristin. Or should I?”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

Edward’s breathing grew rapid. “I”

You shook your head. “No. No, tell me this isn’t”

He swallowed hard. “I… I didn’t mean to”

Your whole body went cold.

Kristin wasn’t gone. She hadn’t moved away. She was dead. Because of Edward.

The same Edward who had made you laugh on long shifts, who had always seemed so eager to help, who had

Who had lied to you.

You staggered back a step, bile rising in your throat.

“Y/n,” Edward started, reaching toward you. “Please, just listen”

But you flinched away, breathing hard.

⍰ ⍰ ⍰ ⍰

You didn’t know how long you sat there.

Oswald Cobblepot was beside you on the bed, his presence like a ghost at your side, cold and unwelcome. Every time you glanced at him, a shiver ran down your spine. His pale, calculating eyes flickered to you occasionally, a smug knowing in his gaze. He was enjoying this watching the truth unravel right in front of you.

Meanwhile, Edward was pacing.

Back and forth.

His long legs carried him across the room in frantic strides, his hands twisting together as he muttered under his breath. His mind was racing, calculating every possible outcome, every potential disaster. You knew that look. It was the look of a man trying to solve an impossible puzzle, one with too many variables, too many risks. you were the biggest risk of all.

You sighed.

Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you as you looked at him, watching the sheer panic that had taken hold. If you were here, then it was only a matter of time before someone Jim, Harvey came looking for you. And Edward knew that.

He finally stopped pacing and looked at you, his glasses slightly fogged from how hard he was breathing. His whole body was taut with tension, like he was one wrong word away from completely breaking apart.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him for a moment before exhaling.

Then, slowly, you stood up.

Edward immediately took a step back, his whole body rigid, watching you as if you were about to pull a gun on him.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you looked him straight in the eye and said, “I won’t say anything.”

Silence.

Edward blinked at you. His lips parted slightly, his brows furrowing as if he couldn’t quite process the words. “…What?”

You crossed your arms. “You heard me.”

His expression twisted, suspicion creeping in. “Why would I believe that?” His voice was shaking, filled with something between fear and desperation. “You’re a detective, your job is exactly against that.”

Your chest tightened.

He didn’t trust you. And why should he? You were a cop, and he was well, this. A criminal. A murderer.

He took a slow step toward you, his head tilting slightly. “You could leave here and go straight to Jim and Harvey. And then what? What happens to me? To Oswald?”

You felt another chill at the mention of Oswald, but you didn’t turn to look at him.

You didn’t want to look at him.

Instead, your focus stayed on Edward the man you had once believed was incapable of something like this. you just didn’t care the way you were supposed to.

Edward was spiraling. His hands were shaking now. His whole body screamed paranoia, and you knew if you didn’t do something now, he might make a decision that neither of you could come back from.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You reached out, grabbed his tie, and yanked him down and kissed him… maybe this was more for you than anything.

Edward made a muffled noise of surprise, his whole body tensing.

For a moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. Then, slowly, his hands came up, gripping your waist as he kissed you back, hesitant at first then deeper. His panic melted into something else entirely, something raw and real. His fingers curled against your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

You should have felt disgusted with yourself. You should have. But you didn’t. When you finally pulled away, his eyes were wide, glassy, his breath uneven.

“…Oh,” he whispered.

You swallowed hard. “Does that answer your question?” A beat of silence.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Oswald groaned from the bed, breaking the moment entirely. “That’s your proof? That’s it?”

Edward turned his head sharply, his expression darkening. “Oswald”

“No, no,” Oswald huffed, waving a hand. “Forgive me if I don’t find a little kiss to be a solid alibi. Who’s to say she doesn’t walk out of here and still go to Gordon?”

Edward’s hands twitched against you.

For a moment, you thought he might reconsider letting you go.

But then, slowly, he stepped back.

His fingers brushed his lips absentmindedly, his gaze flickering between you and the door.

Finally, he nodded.

“Go,” he whispered.

You hesitated, glancing at Oswald who just smirked bitterly at you before looking back at Edward.

“…thank you” you said softly.

Edward let out a shaky breath, then smiled.

“don’t make me regret this”

⍰ ⍰ ⍰ ⍰

The precinct was buzzing with activity.

Detectives rushed from desk to desk, officers fielded phone calls, and the usual tension that came with working in the GCPD hung in the air like cigarette smoke. The case against Theo Galavan was reaching a boiling point, and everyone was on edge including you.

But your nerves had nothing to do with Galavan. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the open case file in front of you. Words and crime scene photos blurred together as your thoughts spiraled.

Edward. Penguin. Kristin Kringle.

The secrets you now carried felt like weights around your neck, suffocating and heavy. You were a detective, trained to uphold the law, to seek justice. You worked with Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock two men who would never let something like this slide… well they would but how much Harvey bullies him he’d do it in a second.

You had sat in Edward’s apartment, heard the truth, and then kissed him. You had let him go. Your fingers tightened around the file in front of you. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Hey.”

You jolted slightly as Jim’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Looking up, you found him standing across from your desk, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But his sharp eyes too observant for their own good were locked onto you with scrutiny.

“You alright?” he asked.

Your mouth went dry.

You had worked with Jim long enough to know that he wasn’t just asking to be polite. He knew something was off.

“I’m fine,” you answered quickly.

Jim didn’t look convinced. “You sure? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

“I’m just tired.” You forced a small, tired smile. “You know how it is.”

Jim held your gaze for a long moment, clearly debating whether or not to push further. But then, a uniformed officer called his name from across the bullpen.

With a final, lingering look, he turned away. As soon as he was gone, you exhaled sharply. You needed to get out of here.

Without wasting another second, you pushed back from your desk, grabbed a random file to make it look like you had a purpose, and speed walked down the hallway.

To anyone else, it would seem normal just another detective heading to the records room to pull information.

But your heart was pounding.

You slipped inside the records room and shut the door behind you, leaning against it as you tried to calm yourself.

Your whole body felt too warm, too wired. The panic that had been simmering inside you since last night was reaching a breaking point. You had never kept something this big from Jim or Harvey before.

You weren’t even sure why you were keeping it now. You groaned quietly, pressing a hand to your forehead. You felt stupid like a rookie detective who had been played. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the hum of a flickering fluorescent light overhead. Shelves stacked with case files loomed around you, but you weren’t here for a file. You were here to breathe. To think. To process the whirlwind of events that had turned your world upside down in the span of a single night.

Edward had killed Kristin Kringle.

Edward had been hiding Oswald Cobblepot. And you had let him go.

You squeezed your eyes shut, dragging a hand down your face.

You weren’t stupid. Jim was already suspicious. He hadn’t pushed you not yet but it was only a matter of time. And when that time came, what were you going to say? That you’d harbored a criminal? That you’d ignored a confession to murder? That you had kissed Edward Nygma as some desperate way to convince him to let you leave?

Your stomach churned.

You weren’t just a detective. You were a damn good one. You had worked too hard, pushed through too much, to be here to be respected in a department filled with men who looked down on you. And now, you had just thrown everything away for Edward fucking Nygma.

A creak from the doorway made your breath hitch.

You turned sharply, heart jumping into your throat, only to see him.

Edward.

He stood just inside the room, the door shutting softly behind him. His green eyes flickered under the dim light, watching you carefully. He looked different now not frantic, not unraveling. Just… composed. As if, after everything, he had made peace with his actions.

He smiled soft, almost shy. “I thought I might find you here.”

Your pulse quickened. “Edward,” you warned. “What are you doing?”

He took a slow step forward. “I was worried about you.”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Worried? About me?” You gestured vaguely at him. “You murdered your girlfriend, Ed. You’ve been hiding Oswald. And I” Your voice faltered. You swallowed, lowering it to a harsh whisper. “I didn’t turn you in. You should be worried about yourself.”

Edward’s eyes softened. “That’s exactly why I’m worried about you.”

You stiffened.

“You could have run straight to Gordon.” He took another slow step. “You could have told him everything. And yet… here you are. Alone. Thinking.” His head tilted, a knowing glint in his gaze. “You’re struggling with it, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Edward was smart too smart. He had always been able to read people, to see the patterns in their behavior. And right now, he was reading you like a book.

You clenched your fists. “It doesn’t matter what I’m struggling with,” you said. “What matters is that you killed someone, Ed. And no matter how much you try to justify it, that doesn’t just go away.”

Edward sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know.” He looked away, pressing his lips together before glancing back at you. “But does it change the way you see me?”

You swallowed.Did it?

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to say that knowing what he had done made you disgusted, that you could never look at him the same way again. That the boyish, awkward forensic scientist you had shared coffee with every morning was gone.

But then you thought of the way he had looked at you last night terrified, desperate, human. The way he had kissed you back like you were the only thing tethering him to sanity.

The way your own heart had raced, not out of fear, but out of something far more dangerous.

You took a shaky breath. “I don’t know.”

Edward studied you carefully, then nodded. As if he had expected that answer.

Silence settled between you.

Then, Edward took another step forward, and you didn’t stop him.

His fingers brushed your wrist just barely, a ghost of a touch. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t move away. You didn’t know why.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he murmured. “I don’t expect you to understand. But… I need you to know that you’re important to me.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat.

“I’ve always noticed you, Y/n,” he continued, his voice quiet but steady. “Long before all of this. Before Kristin, before Oswald, before… everything. I noticed the way you actually listened to me when I rambled. The way you never brushed me off like the others did. The way you smiled when I brought you coffee.” His lips twitched, almost wistful. “The way you solved riddles faster than anyone else.”

You swallowed, unable to look away from him.

“You’re not just another detective to me,” he whispered. “You never have been.”

Your chest ached.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he could say these things now when everything was already too messy, too complicated.

You forced yourself to take a step back. Edward’s expression fell slightly, but he didn’t move to stop you.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

Edward nodded slowly. “I know.”

A heavy silence stretched between you.

You didn’t know what this was anymore. You didn’t know what you were doing, what you were feeling, what was right or wrong.

“You made a choice,” Edward said softly. “A choice to protect me.”

You looked at him, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was easy too easy to forget what he had done when he looked at you like that. When his voice softened, when his hands were so careful with yours. Your lips parted, but you didn’t know what you were about to say.

Before you could figure it out, the door to the records room creaked open. You both tensed. A uniformed officer poked his head in, oblivious to the tension in the air.

“Hey, Detective, Gordon’s looking for you.”

Your heart stopped.

Edward’s grip on your hand tightened for the briefest moment then, just as quickly, he let go, stepping back.

You forced yourself to nod. “Right. I’ll be there in a sec.”

The officer left without a second glance.

You turned back to Edward.

His expression was unreadable, but something flickered behind his eyes.

“Go,” he murmured.

You hesitated. Then, without another word, you slipped out the door, leaving him alone in the records room.

DC COMICS - Masterlist

BATMAN | Bruce Wayne

ᯓ★ Gotham Socialite

ᯓ★ You’re Weird

ᯓ★ Someone Thought Of Me (Batmom)

ᯓ★ My Sons Boyfriend (Batmom)

NIGHTWING | Dick Grayson

ᯓ★ Voice on the line

SUPERBOY | Connor Kent

ᯓ★ Batblood

THE RIDDLER | Edward Nygma

ᯓ★ Sweet Eddie

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Characters I want to write ⋆✴︎˚｡

Ray Palmer - arrowverse

Jason Todd

John Constantine

and more….

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

no hate to yall but someone give a fun teasing, sweet and lighthearted astarion fic. I don’t want smut, I don’t crave the angst (at least at the moment) LIKE SLICE OF LIFE OR SOMETHING. let this man be happy and safe and comforted. Even some scenes within the first week of meeting tav. YALL ARESOMEANTO HIM!!

a weee but revised. not by a ton because full time job means no time 😻

Bruce Wayne | Batman X Reader

ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ Gotham Socialite ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ

masterlist

I want to make some batman themed oneshots where it explores a relationship between you and him.

EDITED- changed a bit of dialogue and description because I want the reader to be super cool and amazing

High society, meet the reporter reader. Reporter reader, meet Bruce Wayne

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Gotham’s elite are as gaudy as the chandeliers hanging above them. expensive, bright, and utterly useless. The grand ballroom of the Gotham City Opera House is filled with them, men and women draped in designer gowns and tailored suits, sipping champagne as if their wealth isn’t built on the backs of the people suffering outside these marble walls.

You move through the crowd like a ghost, unseen despite being one of the few people here actually worth listening to. They invited you because of your work because your name is attached to articles Gotham’s wealthy pretend not to read but secretly obsess over. You don’t write puff pieces about Gotham’s heroes; you write about its monsters. You dig into their minds, their motivations. Why does Edward Nygma need to prove he’s the smartest man in the room? Why does the Joker turn his suffering into a performance? What makes a villain tick? That’s what you care about.

Not this.

Not the empty smiles. Not the soulless small talk. Not the way these people clutch their designer purses like they contain anything of real value.

You exhale sharply through your nose, taking another sip of your drink just to give yourself something to do. It tastes expensive but meaningless, like everything else here.

As you turn to leave, you accidentally bump into someone a woman in a tight, sequined dress that probably costs more than you’ve made in the last six months.

“Oh, my God,” she snaps, stepping back as if you just assaulted her. “Are you serious?”

Your brows lift. “Oh, relax. You’ll live.”

Her expression twists in outrage, but before she can respond, a man approaches tall, broad shouldered, with a perfectly practiced smile. And just like that, she flips a switch.

“Oh my God, Bruce!” she gasps, laughing like she wasn’t just seconds away from throwing a fit. She rests a hand on his arm the same arm she previously flung up in disgust when you bumped into her. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up tonight! You never come to these things anymore.” You watch with mild disgust as she transforms in real time. It’s like watching an AI desperately try to mimic human emotion.

“Yeah,” you mutter, just loud enough to be heard. “hmmm I might see myself out”

Bruce Wayne glances at you then, his interest piqued. You don’t fawn over him. Don’t preen or attempt to charm your way into his good graces. No, you just look at him like you’re wholly unimpressed. Its not that he wasn’t appealing. Of course you found him attractive. Though finding him attractive felt a little like betraying the people you grew up around. Just because you escaped the extremely poor doesn’t mean you want to abide by it.

“You know,” you say, tilting your head, “for a guy whose while company is built on working with the community , you don’t seem to have much of a grip on reality.”

The woman beside him gasps in horror, clutching Bruce’s arm even tighter, but you’re not done.

“This whole act,” you gesture vaguely at him, “isn’t cute. I mean no disrespect though, go party and go crazy.” Your eyes lock onto his with something sharper than hatred indifference. “I don’t know how you stomach it. It’s honestly an insult to humans.” Silence settles over you like a fog. The woman looks scandalized, staring at you as if you just spit in her drink.

Bruce, on the other hand, just looks intrigued. His usual mask of carefree billionaire playboy falters just for a second. His blue eyes search yours, something thoughtful flickering behind them. Then, just as quickly as it had cracked, the mask slides back into place. He lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in feigned sheepishness. “Well,” he says, flashing that same easygoing smile he always wears in public, “can’t please everyone, I guess.”

The woman beside him giggles like an idiot, but you just roll your eyes. Bruce Wayne is a good actor, you’ll give him that and judging by the look in his eye, he looks a little off put.

You don’t give Bruce another glance as you turn on your heel, moving toward the exit with the same single minded determination as a prisoner inching toward an open cell door. You’ve had enough of this place enough of the fake smiles, the rehearsed laughter, the suffocating air of money and ego pressing in on you from all sides.

Bruce watches you go.

He should just let you leave. He should turn his attention back to whatever mindless conversation he was meant to be entertaining tonight. But he doesn’t. Instead, his gaze follows you, his interest snaring on something he hadn’t expected.

You very evidently don’t belong here. Not in the way these people do, with their polished exteriors and empty souls. He mentally jokes that press training might be on a to do list for your manager.

No, you move like someone who doesn’t care to belong. Which from his relationship woth selina, Its definitely evident that women from the narrows dont care. You weave through the room with an awkwardness that’s both endearing and painfully obvious dodging trays of champagne like they’re landmines, sidestepping small talk with barely concealed irritation. Your distaste is written all over you, from the way your fingers tighten around your glass to the way your shoulders hunch slightly, as if trying to make yourself smaller, less noticeable.

But that’s the thing. You are noticeable. More than anyone here. Bruce takes in the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the way you mutter something under your breath when a socialite nearly clips you with a careless turn. He watches as you catch your footing after bumping into a server, your apology quick and sincere so different from the sneering entitlement of the rest of the room.

A quiet chuckle leaves his mouth as he watches you finally get to a corner. Bruce’s lips press together, something flickering in his chest that he doesn’t have time to name.

He should let you go. Instead, he steps forward, slipping through the crowd with the kind of practiced ease that only someone used to wearing masks can manage. You don’t notice him until he’s beside you, his voice cutting through the noise of the room like a knife.

“You’re not very good at this,” he says, amusement lacing his words.

You glance up at him, eyes narrowing slightly. “At what?”

Bruce gestures vaguely to the room. “Blending in.”

A scoff leaves your lips as you finally reach the exit, one hand already pushing against the heavy door. “Yeah, well,” you say, sparing him one last glance, “I’m used to this kind of thing.” And then you’re gone.

Bruce watches the door swing shut behind you, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. For the first time all night, he finds himself smiling.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce barely makes it through the front doors of Wayne Manor before he’s pulling at his bow tie, loosening the suffocating knot that had been pressing against his throat all evening. The moment the silk slides free, he exhales, rolling his shoulders as if shedding the weight of the night along with it.

The grand doors swing shut behind him, the quiet of the manor swallowing the distant hum of Gotham’s high society. The transition is immediate, like stepping out of a suffocatingly bright stage and into the cool embrace of shadow. The mask the one made of careless grins and charmingly vague conversation falls away as effortlessly as the jacket he shrugs off, tossing it onto the nearest chair without care.

From the hall, Alfred watches the display with an arched brow, ever the picture of poised amusement. “Welcome home, Master Wayne. I see the evening was as eventful as anticipated.”

Bruce sighs, running a hand down his face. “That might be an understatement.”

Alfred steps forward, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “I assume you spent the night ok though master wayne?”

“Something like that.” Bruce rolls his neck, loosening the last remnants of his socialite persona. “A lot of people talking without actually saying anything. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”

“The inevitable I hear,” Alfred muses, “you always seem equally miserable every time you return.”

Bruce lets out a humorless chuckle, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt. “That’s because it never gets any less exhausting.”

Alfred gives him a knowing look before stepping toward the chair where Bruce had carelessly discarded his jacket. He picks it up with practiced ease, shaking his head. “One of these days, you might consider hanging these properly.”

“I consider it every time,” Bruce remarks, already making his way toward the hidden entrance to the Batcave. “Just never quite get around to it.”

Alfred merely sighs, following him with a well worn patience. “Shall I prepare something for you to eat? Or will you be brooding on an empty stomach this evening?”

“Not brooding,” Bruce corrects as he reaches the hidden panel in the wall. The mechanism clicks, revealing the passage leading down into the cave. “Just… following a curiosity.”

Alfred hums, ever perceptive. “Would this curiosity have anything to do with the young woman who managed to offend half the room tonight?”

Bruce pauses mid step, glancing back at him. “You heard about that?”

Alfred gives him a pointed look. “Master Wayne, the moment someone dares to tell off a socialite at an event like that, it becomes the only thing worth discussing. I’d be surprised if her picture isn’t already pinned on some poor soul’s dartboard.”

Bruce huffs out a short laugh before shaking his head. “I’ll be in the cave.”

Alfred merely nods, already knowing there will be no convincing him otherwise.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ The Batcave hums softly with the sounds of running water and flickering monitors, a stark contrast to the suffocating luxury of the ballroom he had left behind. Here, Bruce is no longer Gotham’s golden boy. No longer the playboy billionaire.

Here, he is himself.

He settles into the chair before the Batcomputer, fingers swiftly typing as he pulls up a search. He hadn’t planned on looking you up. At least, that’s what he tells himself. But there was something about you something about the way you moved through that room, awkward yet unyielding. You didn’t belong there, and you didn’t care to. The way you had looked at him, unimpressed and disinterested, had been a rarity in a world where everyone was either too enamored by his wealth or too busy trying to figure out what game he was playing.

His fingers move with purpose, bringing up your name, your records. The first thing he finds is that, unlike many of the people who had surrounded you that night, your life had been anything but privileged.

You were born and raised in the Narrows Gotham’s forgotten underbelly. A place where opportunities were scarce, and survival was a skill honed from childhood. Your record is clean remarkably so, for someone who grew up in the part of Gotham where crime wasn’t a choice but a necessity. No arrests, no notable scandals. You had gone to school, worked through college, and carved out a place for yourself in a city that did everything it could to swallow people whole.

But what catches his attention the most are your writings. Articles. Interviews. Pieces dissecting the minds of Gotham’s most notorious criminals. Not in the sensationalized way tabloids did, but with an analytical depth that spoke of genuine understanding. You weren’t interested in painting them as mere villains or glorifying their crimes you wanted to understand them.

Your work focused not on the spectacle of their actions, but on the why. The motivations. The cracks in Gotham’s system that had allowed them to exist in the first place. You had interviewed ex gang members, street level criminals, and even those who had managed to escape Gotham’s cycle of violence. You wrote about the lives that high society ignored the people who lived in the shadows cast by the city’s towering skyscrapers.

You gave them voices.

Bruce leans back in his chair, studying the screen. You had lived a normal life at least, as normal as someone from the Narrows could. You had no connections to the criminal underworld beyond your work. No secret vendettas, no affiliations.

And yet, your writing showed a perspective that very few people in Gotham ever took the time to understand. You weren’t just observing Gotham’s worst. You were showing that they had stories worth telling.

Bruce’s eyes flicker over the last article on the screen, the words settling in his mind.

“Society has already decided who deserves redemption and who doesn’t. But if you never listen to someone’s story, how do you know they weren’t doomed from the start?”

His fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before he finally leans forward again, exiting the search.

Curiosity, he tells himself. That’s all this is and yet, as the screen fades back to black, he can’t shake the feeling that you might be someone worth paying attention to.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you wanted your stories to be heard, you had to be seen. That’s what your publicist told you. That’s what you repeated to yourself as you stepped through the towering entrance of yet another Gotham high society event, where old money mingled with new power, and influence dripped from every word spoken between sips of champagne.

You didn’t belong here. You never did. But belonging wasn’t the point.

This was the price of being heard. If you wanted your work to matter if you wanted people to actually read what you wrote, to listen to the stories Gotham’s forgotten had to tell you had to stand in rooms like this. Not because you cared about these people or their whispered scandals, but because they had the power to shape the city’s narrative, whether they deserved that power or not.

And so, despite the suffocating air of wealth and self importance, you showed up.

The ballroom was an exhibition of excess. A long, lavish table stretched the length of the room, set with gold rimmed plates, crystal glasses, and floral centerpieces so elaborate they could have easily funded an entire year’s worth of rent for a struggling Gotham family. Conversations bubbled up around you hollow laughter, polite murmurs, the occasional hushed gossip passed between sculpted lips.

You found your seat. And nearly laughed. Right beside Bruce Wayne. Of course.

You weren’t sure if this was some kind of twisted joke or if the hosts had simply thrown darts at a seating chart, but there it was your name card placed neatly next to Gotham’s most beloved. Maybe they thought you were more important than you actually were. Maybe they thought Bruce had the patience of a saint. Though you have a feeling after your last stunt, they were trying to see if another PR disaster would come from this. Maybe more publicity for them. Any publicity is good publicity you guess.

Either way, it was too late to change it now. Sighing, you pulled out your chair and sat down, reveling in the last few moments of solitude before the night officially began.

And then, the atmosphere shifted. Even before you turned your head, you knew. Gothams golden boy had arrived.

The energy in the room changed, as if the very air had been pulled toward him. Conversations faltered just slightly, eyes flickered in his direction, and there was a quiet ripple of interest that passed through the gathering like an unspoken current. It was always like this.

The city’s most eligible bachelor. The name that sent tabloids into a frenzy and made socialites tilt their heads just so, hoping to catch his attention. He was power wrapped in effortless charm, an untouchable figure who played the role of the careless heir so well that even the most cynical couldn’t help but watch him.

You risked a glance. Of course, he looked perfect. Dressed in a dark, tailored suit that cost more than your entire apartment’s worth of furniture, he moved through the crowd with the kind of casual grace that made it seem like he belonged everywhere. A relaxed smile curved his lips, and the people surrounding him whether they were whispering behind their glasses or outright gushing were captivated.

It was almost infuriating, how easy it was for him. Why can’t beautiful people feel more im reach?

When then he reached his seat and saw you. For the briefest moment, the mask slipped. Not much just a flicker of something sharp in his eyes before it smoothed over, replaced with something unreadable.

He barely acknowledged the lingering hands on his arm, the voices vying for just another second of his time. His attention had already shifted. To you. You on the other hand are practically clutching your pearls to remain calm. Your publicist told you to absolutely DO NOT fuck up again.

Bruce had been willing to chalk that first encounter up to chance. A passing curiosity. Now he was beginning to think fate had a sense of humor.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he murmured as he sank into his chair, his voice carrying the warmth of amusement.

You exhaled through your nose, already bracing yourself. “Yeah, well. maybe i won the lottery to be seated next to Gotham’s golden boy.”

His lips twitched. “I doubt im anything that special”

You gave him a dry look. “Didn’t take you for a masochist, Wayne.”

He chuckled, low and quiet. “Only selectively.”

You sighed, picking up your menu just to give yourself something to do. “I do want to apologize for last time, I swear im more civilized. I guess that I kinda got thrown off a bit?” Bruce leaned in slightly, his voice dipping just enough that only you could hear.

“Acting all fancy? Where’s the fun in that?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ If you had to endure one more second of this sanctimonious drivel, you were going to jam your fork into the back of your hand just to feel something.

The dinner had been dragging on for what felt like an eternity, and the conversation at the table was as unbearable as expected. The hosts, a couple who clearly thought themselves Gotham’s greatest benefactors, were speaking at length about their so called “generosity” and the many ways they had given back to the community. It was all so painfully rehearsed.

“We simply couldn’t sit idly by while Gotham suffered,” the woman declared, holding her glass delicately between her fingers. “Which is why we’ve dedicated ourselves to philanthropy.”

Her husband gave a solemn nod. “Yes. Our foundation has put millions into rehabilitating Gotham’s most… unfortunate areas.”

Unfortunate areas. You took a slow sip of your wine, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from blurting something you’d regret. They were talking about the Narrows. Where you had grown up. Where people still fought to survive every single day, no thanks to the people in this very room.

They spoke as if their generosity was some grand solution to the city’s suffering. As if they had single handedly saved Gotham. You exhaled through your nose, already feeling your patience fraying. It was then that you felt someone shift beside you.

“Did you hear that?”

The words were spoken so casually, so smoothly, that at first, you weren’t sure you had heard them at all. You turned your head slightly, finding Bruce Wayne sitting beside you, his face the perfect picture of polite interest. His voice was quiet, just low enough that only you could hear him.

“Hear what?” you muttered, confused.

He took a sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. “The sound of Gotham being saved.”

You blinked. “what?”

Bruce gestured subtly toward the hosts. “Between the Restoration Project and last week’s fundraiser, I think we can safely say Gotham’s problems have been solved.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. Then, before you could stop yourself, you let out a sharp, amused breath. “Oh, absolutely,” you whispered back. “Crime? Poverty? Completely eradicated. I bet even the Joker is rethinking his entire life’s work.”

Bruce tilted his head, considering it. “Maybe he’ll go into finance. Become a hedge fund manager.”

You snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”

Bruce hummed, pretending to ponder it. “Or accounting. Something low risk. Maybe he’d be great at tax fraud.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself not to laugh.

“Honestly?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer. “A few more dinner parties and we might even get Two Face to start a nonprofit.”

Bruce’s mouth twitched. “And I hear Penguin’s investing in an animal conservation project.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, shaking your head. How had this happened?You had been so close to losing your mind just minutes ago, and now here you were, whispering snide remarks with Bruce Wayne of all people. The absurdity of it hit you all at once.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This is ridiculous.”

Bruce arched a brow. “What is?”

You glanced at him, lips twitching. “Didn’t think you were so much of a hater.”

Bruce leaned slightly closer, his voice amused. “Isnt that your job? you haven’t stopped being one.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smirk. “I think it’s a little more nuanced than that. Guess I’m a glutton for punishment.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes sharp with something unreadable. “Funny. Me too.”

Bruce wasn’t sure when it happened. When the night had gone from something exhausting to something… bearable. Enjoyable, even.

He had sat down at this table expecting the usual the same empty conversations, the same mindless flattery, the same performance he had perfected over the years.

You, who had spent the first half of the evening looking like you wanted to crawl out of your skin. You, who had made no attempt to charm him, who had barely acknowledged his presence at all until he had decided to push you just a little. when you had responded, it had been effortless. Natural.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had felt that. Since he had been able to talk to someone like this without posturing, without pretending. It reminded him of something. Something old. Something familiar. A woman in a black catsuit, teasing him from the edge of a rooftop. Bruce’s fingers curled slightly against his knee.

Selina had been one of the first people to remind him what it felt like to be real. To be alive and now, somehow, you were doing the exact same thing and you didn’t even realize it.

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were still trying to suppress a smile, still glancing around the table like you couldn’t believe you were actually enjoying yourself. He found himself studying you really studying you. You didn’t belong here, that much was obvious. The way you sat stiffly in your chair, the way your fingers tapped lightly against your wine glass when you were irritated, the way you watched the room rather than participated in it.

You were observing. Just like him. Just like he had been doing since he was a boy, since he had first learned how to read a room, how to pick apart every detail, every lie. for all your sharp observations, you had completely missed the fact that you had captivated him.

Bruce Wayne was staring at you like you were a puzzle he needed to solve.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your voice cut through the air softly, and Bruce blinked, pulled from his thoughts. You had caught him looking. For a brief moment, he considered deflecting, playing it off with a practiced joke. But he didn’t want to.

So instead, he simply shrugged. “I was just thinking,” he said, voice low, “that this might be the first time I’ve actually enjoyed one of these things.”

You frowned, clearly skeptical. “Bullshit. You go to these all the time.”

Bruce smirked. “Doesn’t mean I like them.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still not quite believing him. “And I’m supposed to believe this dinner is different?”

His smirk deepened. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

You blinked, and Bruce almost laughed at the way you processed his words, as if you weren’t quite sure what to do with them. But then, slowly, you shook your head, exhaling a quiet laugh.

“You’re so full of shit, Wayne.”

Bruce grinned. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

For the first time that night, he didn’t feel like the billionaire playboy. Didn’t feel like Batman. He just felt like Bruce. Which wouldn’t that feel weird? He always believed that Batman was the real him. Right now feeling like a teenage boy meeting a girl.

&&&&

The second the speeches ended, you were on your feet. Not rudely just quickly. The second round of self congratulation had begun, and if you had to listen to one more person pat themselves on the back for “saving” Gotham, you were going to lose your mind.

You made your way toward one of the grand patios, slipping past gilded columns and chandeliers that cost more than your entire apartment complex. The doors were open, the cool night air seeping in just enough to make you crave the quiet outside. The moment you stepped onto the patio, you exhaled.

It was massive of course it was. Probably bigger than some of the city blocks you had grown up on. A perfect marble terrace with pristine railings, overlooking the twinkling skyline of Gotham. You leaned against the stone railing, closing your eyes for a moment. Peace. Finally. But, of course, peace never lasted long in Gotham.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t like high society events, you sure end up at a lot of them.”

You opened your eyes, lips already twitching into a smirk before you even turned around. Bruce Wayne stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking at you with that same insufferably amused expression. A short, incredulous laugh escaped you. “stalking me now rich boy?”

Bruce stepped further onto the patio, shaking his head. “Just wanted the air, cant blame me”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the skyline. “Mhm. Right. Sure. Just a coincidence you keep popping up wherever I am.”

Bruce leaned against the railing beside you, his voice casual. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to keep a three foot distance from now on.”

You smirked. “Six, just to be safe.”

“Ten, and I might start getting offended.”

You shook your head, biting back a grin. There was something so easy about talking to him. Too easy. The thought was unsettling. “I have to admit,” Bruce mused, tilting his head slightly. “I didn’t expect you to show up tonight.”

You sighed, toying with the rim of your glass. “Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I would have.”

“you can say that again”

You exhaled through your nose, staring out over the city. “Yeah, well. If I want my stories to actually matter, I have to be seen.”

Bruce was silent for a moment, watching you. Then, his voice softened. “Is that why you do it?”

You turned to him, brow furrowing. “Do what?”

“Write the stories you do.” His blue eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering behind them. “Why villains? Why not the heroes? You’d probably get a lot more recognition if you did.”

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. “Because the heroes don’t need me.”

Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. “And the villains do?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around your glass. “The people who get thrown into Arkham, who are labeled as ‘monsters’ and ‘freaks’ and just written off most of them have stories no one ever hears.” You exhaled. “I want people to understand them. Or at least see them. Even if they don’t deserve sympathy, they at least deserve to be known.”

Bruce didn’t say anything right away. He just stared at you. Not in an uncomfortable way, not in the way men at these events usually did. No, Bruce was really looking at you. And for some reason, it made you shift under his gaze.

“…What?” you muttered.

Bruce just smiled slightly, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect that answer.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, well. Sorry to disappoint. I know the usual arm candy around here doesn’t have thoughts.”

Bruce snorted. “You really think that’s all I see you as?”

You arched a brow. “What else would I be?”

His expression turned thoughtful. “I dont really know”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re looking for something interesting, you should probably set your sights somewhere else. I have no interest in being one of the people you “help” from the sidelines”

Bruce’s lips quirked. “help from the sidelines?”

You gestured vaguely. “I want to respect the people in there. the ones who have influence. Though when you’re on the other side of the spectrum its a little rough. The rich like to be seen and not heard.” You turned to him, meeting his gaze directly. “I have no intention of being a footnote in the pretend of gotham.”

Bruce watched you for a long moment, his smirk slowly fading into something softer. Then, finally, he spoke. “I have no intention of making you just a fling or to discard your work.”

The words were said so smoothly, so matter of factly, that they took a second to register. You blinked. Your mind blanked. Your entire brain shut down for a solid five seconds. Because what…what did he mean by that? You weren’t sure what part of the sentence flustered you more.

The fact that he wasn’t denying wanting you, or the fact that he had just so casually implied that you are going to be something more than a just a thought. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Bruce just smirked, watching you flounder. Then, slowly, he leaned in just a fraction.

“Speechless?” he murmured, voice low.

You snapped out of it, your pride kicking back in. “Please.” You scoffed, turning away. “You wish.”

Bruce chuckled, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

And as much as you hated to admit it… You kind of loved that he had caught you off guard.

The soft breeze ruffled your hair as you leaned back against the stone railing, trying to gather your thoughts. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had left you this disoriented. Bruce’s smirk only deepened as he studied your reaction, clearly enjoying the fact that he had thrown you off balance. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of cool air could wipe the warmth from your face.

“So…” he began, his voice far too smooth for your liking. “I take it that wasn’t exactly the response you were expecting?”

You forced yourself to look at him, swallowing back the knot in your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” His gaze darkened just a little, and for a moment, there was no teasing, just something more genuine. “I think you do.”

The way he said it made your stomach flutter uncomfortably. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to laugh or slap him so you did neither. Instead, you stepped back from the railing, trying to put some distance between you and the overwhelming presence that was Bruce Wayne.

“fucking rich people,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest as if to shield yourself from him.

Bruce didn’t move, his eyes still locked on yours, his lips slightly curled. “Is that a no?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “A no?” you echoed, unsure if you had heard him right.

Bruce gave you that damnable, knowing look again. “You know, you don’t have to act all tough. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I’m not acting tough,” you shot back, despite your nerves. “I just I don’t even know what you’re asking me.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “I’m asking you if you’d like to go out with me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Yes. That.”

You stared at him, utterly baffled, before glancing at the ground as if it might have the answers to everything you had just heard. You couldn’t tell if you were about to burst out laughing, slap him, or just walk away and pretend none of this happened.

“…You’re serious?” you managed to croak out after what felt like an eternity.

Bruce simply gave you a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Dead serious.”

For a long, torturous moment, all you could do was blink at him, trying to make sense of the situation. Bruce Wayne Gotham’s richest, most infamous playboy was asking you, the rebellious daughter of the shadows, on a date and you couldn’t even think of a single coherent response.

Finally, you let out a frustrated breath and turned your head away. “You’re insane.”

Bruce’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile. “I try.”

You shook your head, not knowing whether to feel mortified or weirdly elated. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Well, you could say yes,” Bruce offered casually, his voice now a little more sincere.

You looked back at him, your heart still racing from the unexpected turn of events. “…I’m going to need a lot more time to process this.”

Bruce raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll give you time. But just so you know… I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension between you two was still there, thick in the air. But for some reason, it didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. More like the beginning of something unexpected. Something that might change everything. And just like that, you were thrown back into the whirlwind that was Bruce Wayne.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ It was a quiet night as you walked home, the cool breeze against your face, your mind lost in thought. It had been a long day at work reporting, editing, and finalizing a piece about Gotham’s growing underbelly, a story that seemed to sink deeper with every layer you uncovered. You were used to it. You thrived on it. The truth was your domain, and you’d learned how to swim in the darkness long ago. It was something that made you feel connected to your roots, to the people you came from.

The streets of Gotham felt familiar, in a way. No matter how much money flowed into this city or how many pretty buildings sprang up in the skyline, you couldn’t forget the parts of it you grew up in. The darker corners, the alleys, the people who had nothing but each other to survive. They were your people, the ones you understood more than you ever could the high society types you’d been forced to mingle with.

You rounded the corner onto a familiar street, just a few more blocks before you were home. Then, without warning, the atmosphere shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you slowed your pace. Gotham had a way of making you hyper aware, and tonight was no exception.

You felt it before you saw them. The footfalls behind you, too quiet, too steady. Your pulse quickened.

Before you could even react, two men emerged from the shadows, blocking your path. The dark shapes loomed over you, the threat in their eyes clear. One was holding a sharp looking knife, the other a crowbar. The older, taller man grinned, a twisted, unsettling look that made your stomach churn.

“Give us your bag, sweetheart,” he sneered, a rough, gravelly voice edging the threat. “We don’t want any trouble, but we will make it happen if you don’t cooperate.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t back down.

“Sorry, I don’t have time for this,” you muttered, trying to side step the bigger man, but he was quick, grabbing your arm with a vice like grip.

“Not so fast,” he growled. “You’re not going anywhere until we get what we want.”

You spun around quickly, your elbow connecting with his ribs in a sharp strike. He grunted, but it didn’t stop him from tightening his grip. The other man stepped forward, the crowbar raised as if to swing.

That was when you knew you were in trouble. But only for a second. You kicked back, slamming your foot into the first man’s knee, hearing the sickening crack as he stumbled backward. He swore, holding his leg in pain. You used the opening to break free, turning to face both men. The one with the crowbar swung at you wildly, but you ducked under his reach and used his momentum against him, redirecting his strike into the side of the nearby wall. Your movements were quick, practiced clean, precise. You didn’t need to fight dirty. You didn’t need to be anything other than efficient. All you needed was enough of an excuse to escape. Within seconds, the two men were on the ground, groaning in pain, incapacitated by your calculated strikes.

Breathing hard, you exhaled slowly, dusting yourself off. That was easy. But when you looked up to check for any more threats, the air around you grew heavy.

Batman was standing at the edge of the alley, his towering form almost blending with the shadows. His cape fluttered slightly in the wind, the symbol of the bat glaring on his chest, and those piercing eyes those damn eyes locked onto yours.

You froze. For a moment, it felt like time slowed down. It was him. Batman. The dark vigilante, the city’s protector, who had always hovered over Gotham’s criminal world like a myth, now staring at you with an unreadable expression.

His eyes narrowed. Recognition flashed across his face, though his expression remained carefully controlled.

You stared at him, blinking rapidly, confusion clouding your mind. You knew him. But how? But you hadn’t had you really? You were too caught up in your own world to truly pay attention to the rumors and gossip. He was, after all, just the Batman to you. That was all you cared about. But in that moment, you realized with an unsettling clarity: He knew who you were.

You laughed awkwardly, feeling a rush of heat to your face. “Oh great, just what I needed tonight,” you muttered under your breath. You quickly brushed a hand through your hair, trying to act like this wasn’t the most bizarre encounter you’d had in a while. “Listen, don’t worry about me. I appreciate what you do for the community though.”

Batman didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. His posture remained rigid, intimidating, but his eyes… his eyes seemed to soften for a split second. There was something in them something that spoke volumes. You couldn’t place it, but it felt like something more than just the bat.

“No,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words were firm, but there was a thread of concern beneath it. “Gotham isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, well, Gotham doesn’t care about safe,” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “It’s just me out here. If I want to get home, I’ll get home.” You didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about the way he said that it made you feel smaller. But you didn’t let it show. You lifted your chin, defiant. “I can take care of myself. Just like I did with them.”

You gestured to the two men still groaning on the ground, the earlier tension dissipating into the night air. But Batman didn’t reply. His eyes swept over you in a way that sent a chill down your spine. His body language shifted just slightly, enough for you to notice, but before you could say anything more, he was moving.

“Get inside,” he said abruptly, his voice unwavering. “I’m not letting you walk home like this.”

There it was again. The command in his voice. You narrowed your eyes, a little defiant but feeling a strange pull toward the urgency in his tone. “It’s very courteous of you but please. I told you, I’ve got it. I’m fine.”

Batman didn’t even blink, his tone now sharpened. “Get inside, now.”

His words left no room for argument. You were tempted to push back tempted to keep up your independence. But there was something about the way he said it, the way his gaze hardened, that made you swallow your pride. With a small, frustrated sigh, you turned and started walking towards the street, heading home. You could feel his presence lingering behind you, watching, making sure you weren’t followed.

For a split second, you almost wanted to ask him more. But you stopped yourself. You didn’t need him. Not really. He was just Batman, after all. You shook your head. No need to think about it. Sometimes you want to find and interview him for why he punches first and asks later. Though the bias for your work might be interfering with those thoughts.

But somehow, you couldn’t ignore the tight knot in your chest. The tension in the air between you and him felt like more than just a confrontation. It felt like something else. And that something else… well, it lingered.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ Bruce Wayne stood in the Batcave, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of the Batcomputer. His cape hung loosely behind him, still damp from the rain soaked night. The adrenaline of his patrol had long since faded, but an odd unease lingered in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t quite shake.

He’d spent countless hours in this cave, fighting Gotham’s worst and dealing with the city’s many challenges. His mission had always been clear: protect the innocent, bring justice, and make Gotham a better place. But tonight, something was different. Something about the encounter with you had stayed with him in a way he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you had handled yourself, standing tall despite the danger.

He had seen countless people fight back, but there was something unique about the way you did it. You weren’t just trying to survive you were alive in the moment, every move deliberate, confident, and unapologetic. You weren’t waiting for someone to come save you; you were saving yourself. It was rare in Gotham, a city where people often needed help just to make it through the day.

And yet, there was a sadness to it all.

Bruce knew that the city had a way of wearing people down, turning them into something else something bitter or broken. People like you, who had grown up in the shadows, had learned to fend for themselves because Gotham didn’t make it easy. He couldn’t help but wish that you hadn’t had to be so strong. You shouldn’t have had to fight alone.

His thoughts wandered back to the moment he’d seen you in the slums. Despite your strength, despite the control you’d taken of the situation, Bruce felt a pang of sympathy. The city had failed you, just as it had failed so many others. Gotham had a way of demanding too much from its people, and it had never been kind to those who were already struggling.

It was clear you weren’t someone who needed saving. You had made your own way, fought for your own space in a world that hadn’t always welcomed you. Bruce couldn’t help but admire that. It was something he understood well carving out a place for yourself in a city that tried to break you. But it still frustrated him that Gotham had forced you into a corner like that.

He pushed away from the computer, rubbing his eyes as he tried to clear his thoughts. He had a duty to the city, a duty that didn’t leave room for distractions or feelings. Yet, something about the way you carried yourself, how you didn’t let Gotham’s grime get the best of you, lingered in his mind. You were a reminder of the resilience he’d always admired in this city, but also a stark reminder of how much still needed to be done.

Bruce had always seen Gotham as a city to fix, a place in desperate need of change. He’d dedicated himself to that cause, but seeing you, standing strong in the face of everything this city threw at you, made him think what if there were more people like you?

But you shouldn’t have to be like that. You shouldn’t have to fight for your survival in a city that was supposed to be your home. And yet, you had.

Bruce exhaled deeply, leaning back against the stone wall again. It was moments like these that reminded him of how complex Gotham truly was. People like you weren’t just victims or criminals. They were the heart of the city, the ones who kept going even when the world seemed determined to make them quit.

He didn’t have the answers, but seeing you hold your own, standing up to those men like it was just another day, reminded him why he kept doing this. Gotham wasn’t just about fighting crime it was about protecting the people who refused to be broken. People like you.

Bruce let out a slow breath, turning back toward the Batcomputer, but his thoughts were still on you. He wasn’t sure where this would lead, or if it would lead anywhere at all. But for the first time in a long while, he found himself hoping that, somehow, Gotham would be a little less lonely for you.

For all of them.

Alfred: So, how did the gala go, Master Wayne?

Bruce: I think it went well. There was a very pretty woman. She didn’t say no when I asked her out

Alfred: Fascinating. Like watching a car crash in slow motion and calling it a graceful landing.

Bruce: …I’m sensing sarcasm.

Alfred: No, no. I’m very impressed. You managed to express interest without brooding in a corner or vanishing mid conversation. Progress.

Bruce: I hate it when you bully me.

Alfred: And yet, I persist.

Can I ask for Sale Fisher x fem!reader that's popular? And could you PLS PLS PLS don't make her mean? Like, I want her to be popular becouse she's one of those poeple that just sthraight up go talk to anyone.

And maybe Sal's friend group thought that shes propably a bitch, but like.

'She sat at our table?.....and didn't make fun of us?.....in fact she gives compliments that don't feel backhandead?......wtf?'

⬆️just an example, you can do whatever with this.

Sorry for possibile grammer errors or speeling mistakes, english isn't my first lenguage. Thank you and I hope you'll have a nice day ♥️

Hey! I THOUGHT THIS COULD BE SO CUTE!! so Ive seen many fics on this and i wanted to take a different approach. I hope you enjoy it. I love Sal and I hope this isn’t too crazy. I wrote a version yesterday and made everyone a little too mean and I don’t believe any of them would be assholes. So! Hopefully this satiates y’all.

masterlist

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ Your legs ache from practice, the soles of your sneakers sticking a little to the hallway tile with each step. You smell faintly of sweat and cherry body spray, the cheer uniform still clinging to your skin like it’s part of you now tight pleats, school colors, and all. You could’ve changed, sure, but exhaustion said no. So here you are, hair in a high ponytail, shoes untied, carrying a stack of junk mail and a single envelope that doesn’t belong to you.

You look at it again under the flickering hallway light, flipping it over in your fingers like it’ll magically reroute to the correct mailbox on its own.

SAL FISHER

UNIT 402

You know the name. Everyone at school does. The kid with the face cover. You’ve never spoken to him he doesn’t really hang around the same kind of people you do but he’s always there. At lunch, in the halls, sometimes sitting out near the tree line when no one else is around. You didn’t peg him as the chatty type.

You stare at the letter like it might bite you. Then sigh. “Why not be a good neighbor,” you mutter, dragging your legs toward the elevator.

The ride to the fourth floor feels longer than it should. It shudders a little on the way up. You keep your eyes on the numbers. Three… four. The doors open with a ding that sounds half hearted.

You’ve never actually been up here.

The fourth floor feels… worse. Everything smells faintly of dust and something like mothballs and metal. You don’t know why, but the lights here feel dimmer. You walk slower, steps echoing.

You find the unit: 402. You raise your hand to knock. There was a pause for a few seconds.

A man stands in front of you, tall, a little disheveled, and definitely not Sal. His presence is immediate, like he fills the space just by being in it. You blink.

“Oh hi! Sorry,” you start, holding the envelope out, “I was just dropping this off”

“He’s in his room,” the man says before you finish.

You freeze. “Oh, no, I wasn’t trying to bother him, I just thought I’d–”

“Just go on in. Down the hall, last door on the left.”

You blink again. You’re not even sure he’s looking at you. Just staring somewhere past your head, like he’s already decided this conversation is over.

“I mean, I could just leave it here”

“Last door on the left.”

He steps aside, just enough for you to enter. You do, but not on purpose. Your legs just move. You step into the apartment, and it’s… weird. Not gonna lie, being in any strangers apartment never really felt cool. You walk toward the hallway, clutching the letter, mind screaming at you to stop being so polite.

“Damn old people,” you think, jaw tightening. “I just wanted to drop something off, not go all this way”

The hallway feels longer than it is. The floor creaks behind you, or maybe above you. You don’t look back. You keep walking. Last door on the left.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You knock lightly once, twice then pull your hand back like the door might burn you. A pause. Then the knob turns. The door creaks open slowly, revealing a familiar figure just behind it. Blue pigtails. The mask.

Sal Fisher.

He stares at you. You stare back. Neither of you says a word. And because silence is somehow gnawing at your neck, you blurt, “Hi! Um, I think our mail got mixed up I swear I didn’t just barge in.”

You thrust the letter forward like it’s a peace offering. “This was in my mailbox. For you. I thought I’d, y’know, be neighborly and return it. I didn’t open it or toss it or anything. Your dad sent me over this way”

He takes the envelope slowly, his fingers brushing yours for the briefest moment. His gaze flicks down to it.

“Thanks,” he says. His voice is quieter than you expected. Almost gentle.

You nod. Then freeze. Then nod again. You’re still standing there, very much in his doorway, very much uninvited. His room is in full view behind him. Posters of metal bands you’ve only heard mentioned in passing. Skulls, red and black ink themes. A guitar in the corner. Tiny, vaguely creepy figurines lined up on a shelf.

“Your room’s so cool,” you say before your brain can stop you. You lean forward just a little, peering past him. “Seriously. This is like… Sid and Nancy level. How do you even find posters like that anymore? Oh my god is that an actual cassette player? That’s so sick.”

You wince as the words leave your mouth. “God, sorry, I’m not trying to be weird. I mean that in a good way. Promise.”

Your voice is speeding up. You’re spiraling. And you know it.

Sal just keeps watching you like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or a very strange dream. A cheerleader. In his doorway. Talking about cassette players. You finally cringe so hard your whole body folds in on itself.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, backing toward the hallway. “Sorry for the whole… I don’t know what that was. I was just trying to be a good neighbor and it turned into, like, a monologue of whatever the fuck.”

You turn halfway around to leave when you hear

“You wanna take a look around?”

You glance over your shoulder.

Sal is still standing there, holding the envelope like it might vanish. His posture is stiff, like he’s surprised the words came out of his mouth, too.

You blink. “I mean… sure?”

He nods. “If you’re into the posters, Do you dig that kind of music?.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well I wouldn’t say it’s exactly my style but I’m a all things can be redeemable if you give it a try”

He jerks his head toward the room. “why not give it a try then”

You’re already stepping inside before he finishes, smiling wide. “You had me at ‘cool’ and sealed the deal with ‘band.’ Show me.”

The second you cross the threshold, it’s like entering another world. The bland apartment hallway behind you disappears into a mess of amps, guitars, wires, dark posters, and the faint scent of incense and old vinyl.

Sal gestures toward a small desk setup with beat up speakers and a laptop. He grabs a pair of headphones well worn, slightly cracked along the band and offers them to you.

“You don’t have to pretend it’s good,” he mutters. “Honest opinion’s fine.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and take the headphones like they might unlock the secrets of the universe.

He clicks play.

The drums hit first loud, fast. Then comes the guitar: raw, rich, angry. A distorted voice cuts through the noise melodic under the layers of whatever was happening, but clawing to be heard. Your eyes go wide. You start bobbing your head slowly. Then more. A grin creeps up your face, shoulders bouncing slightly as the music crashes through your ears. You grip the headphones tighter, fully in it like you’ve been dropped into a private punk rock concert in a dream.

When the song fades, you pull the headphones off with a breathless laugh. “That was… so good,” you say, eyes lit up. “Like, very loud but in the best way. I felt like I could punch God in the face. I loved it.”

Sal’s ears what little you can see of them turn just slightly pink. He shifts, crossing his arms. “Yeah?”

You grin. “What, because I’m in a cheer uniform, you think cheerleaders don’t have rage?”

He laughs softly. It’s warm. Unexpected.

You glance at the clock and groan. “Ugh. I should probably head back and pretend I’m responsible or whatever. Homework calls.”

You hand the headphones back, your fingers lingering a second before letting go.

“Thanks for showing me that,” you say. “Seriously. its super sick.”

Sal shrugs, casual, but he still won’t quite meet your eyes. In his head, he’s screaming. Because what the hell. A cheerleader just walked into his room, complimented his taste in music, vibed to Sanity Falls, and then thanked him like he did her a favor.

Respectfully and he does mean that. you’re hot. this whole thing feels like a glitch in the matrix. Like someone else’s life. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Uh. Anytime.”

You flash one last smile before turning to leave. Sal Fisher stands frozen in his room, A pretty girl was in his room.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ the clatter of trays, bursts of laughter, the shriek of a chair scraping too hard against the linoleum. Sal sat across from Larry, Ash, and Todd, picking at the edges of his sandwich more than actually eating it. His thoughts weren’t really on food. Not when they kept drifting back to the night before.

Cheerleader. In his room. Pretty girl. She liked his music.

“Hey,” he said finally, pushing his tray forward and folding his arms on the table. “Do you guys know that new girl who lives on the third floor now?”

Larry paused mid bite, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Third floor?”

Ash glanced between them, already suspicious. “Wait. Are we talking about that new girl? Y/N something?”

“Yeah,” Sal said, tone casual like he wasn’t rehearsing the question all morning. “she dropped something off last night. Just wondering if you knew her.”

Larry barked a laugh. “The cheerleader? Yeah, she’s definitely one of those girls.”

Sal blinked. “Those?”

“You know,” Ash chimed in, leaning her chin on her hand. “Perfect hair. Always smells like a mall. Probably part of one of those fake bestie cliques that post about how much they loveee each other but secretly hate one another’s guts.”

Larry nodded, already back into his food. “Plastic. The kind that calls everyone ‘babe’ but doesn’t know your actual name.”

Todd, sipping from a thermos, finally looked up. “You guys don’t even know her.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “And you do?”

“I’ve had class with her. She’s… quiet,” Todd said thoughtfully. “Pays attention. Says thank you when someone passes her a worksheet. She helped a freshman with their locker on the second day.”

“That’s your bar for decency?” Larry said, skeptical.

“I’m just saying, you’re judging her and like Sal was new too once,” Todd said. “You don’t know anything real about her.”

Ash groaned. “You don’t need to know someone to know someone, Todd. Some people just radiate mean girl energy. Trust me.”

Todd narrowed his eyes. “That’s a shallow assumption and you know it.”

Ash muttered something about “cheerleaders being a plague” under her breath, and Larry snorted.

Sal, who had gone unusually quiet, finally spoke again. “She’s not like that.”

All three of them turned to look at him.

Larry’s mouth slowly curved into a smirk. “Wait. Hold up. Why are you asking about her, dude?”

Sal looked down, then up, tone clipped. “I told you. She dropped off mail. That’s it.”

Ash crossed her arms. “why did she just come all the way up to your place to give you a letter?”

Sal shrugged. “Her mailbox got mine by accident. then stayed for a bit”

Larry leaned forward, grinning. “What, did she get lost on the way out?”

Sal blinked. “She liked my music.”

Ash scoffed. “What, like out loud?”

Sal nodded. “Yeah. She tried my headphones. Even headbanged a little.”

Todd smiled slightly. “That’s kind of cool.”

Larry shook his head like he was witnessing a miracle. “Okay, wait a minute. A cheerleader, listened to screamo music, and didn’t run screaming for the suburbs?”

Sal shrugged again. “She said it made her want to punch God.”

Ash froze, lips parting in a mix of confusion and, for the first time, mild interest. “Okay… that’s actually kind of hardcore.”

“She said my room was cool,” Sal mumbled, mostly to his tray.

Larry threw his hands up. “Okay, what the hell, Sal. Are you telling me you Sal ‘I sit by myself and listen to death metal’ Fisher just casually had a cheerleader in your bedroom?”

Sal didn’t reply, but his fingers drummed on the table a little too fast to be casual. Larry leaned in. “Dude. You got a cheerleader in your room. Are you sure this wasn’t a dream? Like a fever dream after one too many gas station burritos?”

Todd tilted his head. “Or maybe… maybe she’s just a person. Like the rest of us. Who happens to like punk and be good at flips.”

Ash scowled. “God, Todd, you sound like a teacher.”

He shrugged. “Just saying.”

Larry still wasn’t over it. “Next thing you know she’s gonna show up in all black with eyeliner and join a band.”

Sal didn’t say it out loud, but a flicker of a smile played under the edge of his mask at the idea. He kinda liked that you were so different. the juxtaposition of your looks and what you seemed interested was very cool to look at.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You strolled through the crowd with your cheer squad flanking both sides laughing, gossiping, spinning their hair around fingers like it was a competitive sport. You listened absently as one of them launched into a dramatic retelling of how her ex “accidentally” liked her finsta post at 2 a.m.

You weren’t really paying attention. Not because you didn’t care, though the first time she talked about it had you engaged. but because your eyes had already locked onto something else across the cafeteria. A short blue haired guy sitting at a table near the back with a group of kids you’d only ever heard about through whispered rumors and cruel nicknames.

There he was. Sal Fisher. without really thinking without asking yourself anything at all you broke away from your group mid laugh. Just veered straight toward him like your legs had made the decision before your brain did.

“Wait, where are you going?” one of your friends asked behind you.

“BRB,” you called over your shoulder. “I want to bother someone.”

Across the cafeteria, at a table meant for the misfits, Sal was in the middle of pushing peas around his tray when a sudden blur of cheer uniform and bounce came into view. He looked up.

You stopped right beside him and sat down immediately grabbing his arm, breathless and grinning. “Okay, so, I’ve been thinking about that song you showed me all night. Like, literally, I couldn’t sleep. I need more. You got a playlist? A mixtape? A USB drive from hell? Gimme.”

For one perfect, cinematic second, the entire table was silent. Larry dropped his fork. Ash’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. Todd blinked like you had just walked through a wall.

Sal just stared. “You… what?”

You nodded eagerly, lowering your voice like it was sacred. “You ruined all my playlists. I need more of that noise in my life.”

He blinked again. “You sure?”

“You say that like you thought I wouldn’t.”

“I–” Sal started, then stopped, looking absolutely stunned.

You turned to the rest of the table, realizing they were still staring at you like you’d just sprouted devil horns and declared yourself prom queen of hell. You raised a hand sheepishly. “Hi. Sorry for interrupting. I’m Y/N. just moved this year.”

Ash looked like she was physically holding herself back from combusting. Larry was still open mouthed, and Todd was watching with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for alien encounters.

“If you’re anything like Sal,” you added, offering them a genuine smile, “then I’m sure you’re all cool as hell.”

Larry looked to Sal, eyes wide. “Yeah, he’s crazy cool. Though he did learn from the best” Larry awkwardly replied while pointing himself

Ash leaned toward Todd. “I think i’m on drugs, what’s happening” Todd just smiled quietly.

You turned back to Sal, who was very much glitching out in real time. “I’ll give you my number later,” you said with a wink. “Text me a playlist. Or this time I’m breaking into your room.”

Sal opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded once like he was in shock. “Okay.” And then you were gone, skipping back to your friends, who were whispering furiously and shooting glances like you’d just fraternized with the enemy.

“what was that?” one of them hissed.

You smiled, tugging your ponytail higher.“you’re the one who told me to make friends here, thats all i’m doing.”

Back at the table, Sal stared down at his tray like it might give him answers.

Larry leaned in, whispering, “Bro. Are you a witch? Did you hex a cheerleader?”

Sal just shook his head.

“I think,” he said slowly, still stunned, “i think its jover for me.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ You weren’t quite sure how it happened. One second you were joking in the hallway with Sal about your shared hatred for lukewarm cafeteria pizza, and the next you were in his room, cross legged, spinning slowly on his desk chair while he nervously adjusted the volume on his old stereo system.

The room was quiet, save for the soft murmur of some obscure post punk band playing from the corner. You didn’t recognize the lyrics, but it felt like something you wanted to memorize.

“You know,” you said, glancing around, “I kinda expected more skulls. Or like… weird taxidermy?”

Sal laughed soft and surprised. “Yeah, you’re not the first to say that. I think Larry was disappointed when he first came over and didn’t find a Ouija board or something.”

You gave him a playful squint. “Wait, you don’t have one?”

Sal grinned slightly behind the mask. “Okay, I do. But it’s under my bed and mostly for decoration. Larry gets carried away.”

You hopped off the chair and crouched, peeking under the bed like you were on a mission. “You’re telling me there’s a haunted board game down here and you’re not showing me?”

“It’s not haunted,” he replied, clearly amused. “It’s just from a yard sale. Probably cursed with suburban angst at most.”

You laughed, brushing your fingers over a dusty shoebox. “Still cool. You’ve got good taste. I mean, look at this stuff.”

Posters of bands you’d never heard of were plastered across the walls, scribbled notebook pages taped in between like patchwork wallpaper. An old lava lamp flickered halfheartedly in the corner. There were stacks of CDs, cassette tapes, and one particularly weird clay sculpture that looked like it might’ve been made in a sleep deprived art class.

You plopped onto his bed and tilted your head. “This one’s my favorite,” you said, pointing at a crooked drawing of a girl with hollow eyes and messy hair. “She beautiful.”

Sal stepped closer, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. “That was… something I did when I was like, thirteen. Supposed to be a ghost from this dream I had. I kept seeing her for weeks after.”

You looked at him, expression soft. “You see ghosts a lot?”

He hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Sometimes. Not all the time. But yeah.”

“Damn. That’s metal.”

Sal let out another laugh, more comfortable now. “That’s what I told my therapist.”

You leaned back on your elbows, smiling at him from his own bed like you’d done it a hundred times. “So, what else are you hiding in here? Secret dungeon? Portal to hell?”

“Uh,” Sal said, eyes glinting with something playful. “Larry stole all the portals to hell. I’m more of a secret music archive guy.”

You shot up. “Prove it.”

He smirked and crossed the room to a cabinet by his desk, pulling open a drawer to reveal a mess of burned CDs, USBs, old MP3 players, and one tiny cassette player with a sticker that said “Play if you hate the world.”

You gasped like he’d opened the Holy Grail. “Sal. This is the coolest shit I’ve ever seen. You better send me everything.”

He knelt beside you, pulling out a CD with careful fingers. “This one’s the first mix I ever made. It’s super rough.”

You took it from him reverently. “I love rough.”

Sal’s ears went pink. “I, uh, that came out weird.”

“Yeah,” you teased. “but cant a girl say how she feels.”

You glanced at him, and he was already watching you, like he couldn’t believe you actually said that. Like you’d disappear if he blinked too long.

“Hey,” you said, quieter now. “You’re kinda talkative tonight.”

He shrugged, brushing some hair from his face. “You’re easy to talk to.”

That made something flicker warm in your chest.

“Same,” you murmured. Then you nudged him with your shoulder. “Do you like me here?”

Sal tilted his head, mock serious. “People probably that I’ve summoned a demon cheerleader to possess me.”

You grinned. “Yeah? Hope they’re right.”

And he laughed again. You liked that sound. You wanted to hear it more.

You and Sal stayed like that for a while, just talking. The kind of conversation that meandered and curved around strange facts and half finished thoughts. He told you about a ghost that used to knock on his closet door when he was little. You told him about the time you accidentally summoned a raccoon with a ritual you found on Tumblr. Somewhere between laughter and another CD recommendation, you spotted a small, beat up notebook tucked between the mattress and wall. It looked old, like something with secrets.

“Ooooh, what’s that?” you asked, already reclining across the bed to reach it.

Sal looked up, immediately alert. “Wait no, that’s!”

Too late. You stretched out, reaching over him as he sat back against the headboard. Your fingers brushed the edge of the notebook only for your balance to shift, the mattress dipping under your weight.

Thump.

You landed right on top of him. For a moment, neither of you moved. You were nose to nose, your chest pressed against his, hands awkwardly splayed on either side of his shoulders. His mask had tilted slightly, and you could see just a glimpse of the scar beneath it before he quickly adjusted it. His breath hitched so did yours.

Your eyes met.

Sal’s eyes were wide, pupils flicking between yours like he was scanning for some kind of signal. You suddenly became very aware of the warmth radiating off him. Of the way your knee was pressing slightly between his legs. The room, the music, the whole world had gone still.

“Uh,” he said softly, like he was trying not to spook you.

You blinked. “Sorry. Um. .”

“it’s okay,” he said, voice an octave higher than usual. “Totally. You’re all good trust. Yeah.”

You were about to say something maybe a joke, maybe not when the door slammed open with the force of someone who had never knocked in his entire life.

“Yo, Sal HOLY SHIT”

You scrambled off like you’d been hit with a taser, rolling off to the side and nearly falling off the bed. Sal sat bolt upright, stiff as a corpse.

Larry stood in the doorway, a soda can in one hand and a box of cookies in the other, blinking like he was trying to make sure what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination.

“Dude,” he said, utterly stunned. “Did I interrupt something?”

Sal buried his face in both hands with a groan. “Larry.”

“No, because this is like… well im not going to say. You’re on the bed, she’s on top of you, the music’s playing do you guys want me to turn the lights down? Light a candle or something?”

You threw a pillow at him.

Larry dodged it “I can come back later. Like, waaay later.”

“You weren’t even supposed to come now,” Sal hissed, his voice muffled behind his hands.

Larry grinned. “I felt a disturbance in the force.”

You sat up and crossed your legs, trying to fix your hair and your dignity. “Hey Larry, how’s it going?.”

Larry raised his brows and backed toward the hallway with exaggerated steps. “I meet you once and you’re already over my man right here”

And then he was gone, disappearing down the hall with the sound of crinkling cookie packaging trailing behind him. Sal finally peeked up at you, his face still a little flushed. “…Im sorry about that.”

You smiled, brushing your hair back. “Im not too worried, He seems like a nice guy.”

Sal blinked, then laughed “I think I like having you around,” he murmured, almost too quiet to catch.

You grinned, nudging his knee with yours. “Then send me that damn playlist before I tackle you again.”

“…Not the worst threat I’ve heard,” he replied.

And the music played on.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆You sat criss cross on the grass with your cheerleader friends, your lunch mostly forgotten as you braided strands of your best friend’s hair while another girl animatedly recounted some drama from first period.

“…and then he said, ‘It’s not cheating if we were on a break!’” she shrieked, clutching her phone like it was sacred.

Everyone groaned, gasped, or fake fainted in synchronized horror.

You laughed, tossing a piece of grass in her direction. “He used the Friends defense? God, we need to start handing out red flags on flashcards.”

You were comfortable here. It was loud, messy, dramatic but it was yours. And they loved you because you weren’t just part of the cheer squad, or the new girl, but because you talked to the theater kids, the band nerds, the weird guy in the dinosaur hoodie. You didn’t care about cliques. You liked people. People were weird and interesting.

Eventually the bell rang and everyone stood, gathering their things in a flurry of hair and perfume.

“I’ll see you after school!” someone called. You waved, backing away toward the building with your backpack swinging behind you.

And that’s when you heard it. “Pick it up, you little freak. Or do you need your mommy to do it for you?”

You rounded the corner and froze. A smaller kid, maybe a freshman, was scrambling to pick up their books, hands shaking as a taller guy stood over him. Shaggy hair,, fists clenched like he wanted someone to look. A few papers blew past your feet. You didn’t step in. You knew better. You weren’t built like that couldn’t throw a punch or bark louder than a threat. And you knew the look of someone who’d use that.

But still… once the kid grabbed his stuff and scurried off like a spooked rabbit, you found your voice.

“Hey.”

The guy turned to you, annoyance etched into every line of his face. “What?”

You took a slow breath and tilted your head. “What’s your problem?”

He blinked, like you’d just asked him the square root of an existential crisis. “You wanna go?” he said, stepping toward you with all the bravado of someone who’d been fighting shadows his whole life.

You didn’t flinch. Just crossed your arms and stared. “You seriously pick fights with kids who can’t fight back? What, did your cereal bully you this morning?”

That got him. Just a flicker but it was there. A crack in the tough guy mask. He scoffed. “Don’t act like you know me.”

“I don’t,” you said honestly. “But I know whatever that was back there? Thats fucked, stop being a dick and maybe your mommy would do something about it.” His jaw flexed like he was holding back a hundred things he didn’t know how to say. “I’m not scared of you,” you added softly. “But you being a dick is pointless.”

He stared at you for a long time. Long enough that it should’ve felt uncomfortable. But instead, it felt… tense. Not dangerous. Just tight. Like something holding its breath.

Then, just before turning, he muttered, “Tch. Whatever.”

You watched him go, the anger in his steps still there but dulled, somehow. Like your words had wedged into the gears of whatever rage machine he operated on. You found out later from someone in gym class that his name was Travis. Just Travis. No one knew his last name, just that he was trouble, had a rep, and probably didn’t have many people who called him anything else.

Ash had seen it.

She’d been leaning against the side of the vending machines, chewing on the straw of her empty smoothie cup, eyes darting around the quad like they always did. She wasn’t looking for drama, not really, but if it stumbled into her path, she sure as hell wasn’t going to ignore it.

She watched the whole thing Travis towering, spitting venom, and you standing there, not brave enough to throw hands, but bold enough to ask why. Not backing down. Not even flinching.

When he walked off, still pissed but quieter somehow, she tossed her smoothie into the bin and strolled over like she wasn’t deliberately inserting herself.

“What was that?” she asked, casually, like she’d just seen you pet a lion.

You turned, slinging your backpack higher on your shoulder. “What was what?”

Ash raised a brow. “With Travis. You said something. He didn’t hit you. That’s basically a miracle.”

You shrugged, still feeling the adrenaline buzz in your ribs. “I don’t know. Just… couldn’t walk past it.”

Ash snorted. “People walk past him all the time. He’s an ass. A racist, sexist, homophobic caveman with fists for brains. Trust me, most people are glad to stay out of his way.”

You chewed your lip. “Yeah. I guess. I just. I don’t know. People who are assholes need someone to speak up.”

She tilted her head, considering that for a beat. “You ever get into fights?”

“God, no,” you said quickly. “I’d die.”

Ash smirked. “That checks out. Still, you didn’t run. Didn’t go fake sweet or start crying to a teacher. You just… confronted him. That was kind of bold of you new girl.”

“Thanks?” you offered, unsure.

She walked with you now, matching your steps as you made your way down the hall. It was quiet, the rush between lunch and next period tapering off.

Ash glanced sideways at you. “Y’know, I pegged you as another one of them.”

You didn’t need to ask who them was. You’d seen the way she looked at your cheer friends. Glitter and high ponies didn’t mix with combat boots and smudged eyeliner.

You smiled softly, still looking ahead. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”

She didn’t say anything for a second. Then: “Turns out you’ve got more bite than you let on.”

You turned to her, surprised. “You saying that like it’s a good thing.”

Ash shrugged. “Might be.”

That was it. No over explanation. No emotional dive into friendship territory. Just the Ashley Campbell version of a peace offering. She didn’t invite you to hang out or trade numbers. She didn’t ask personal questions or gush. But the next time she saw you in the hall, she nodded at you instead of looking through you.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ The bell had just rung, and the hallways were alive people yelling across rows of lockers, someone dropping a textbook with a dramatic slam, and the smell of cafeteria pizza already creeping in. You scanned the crowd like a bloodhound on a mission.

Sal Fisher. Quietly standing near the usual corner with Larry, Todd, and Ash. He had his hands in his pockets, head tilted as Todd went off about some new theory, probably ghosts or government tech. Ash was chewing on a straw and nodding vaguely, while Larry interrupted every other word with “Nah, but listen what if?”

You didn’t even think twice.

“Hey!” you called, bounding over like a cartoon character with too much energy and absolutely no sense of personal space. “There you are, Blue.”

Sal looked up right as you reached him. “Blue?”

“You’re wearing blue,” you said, pointing at him. “And your hair’s blue. You’re very committed to the aesthetic.”

He tilted his head. “I wear black more than anything.”

“Technicalities,” you said, grabbing his sleeve. “Come on. We’re doing something.”

Larry raised a brow. “Is this a kidnapping?”

“Definitely,” Ash answered flatly.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Sal asked, laughing under his breath as you pulled him gently away from the group. “Do I get a say in this?”

“You get to walk or be dragged, your call.”

“That doesn’t feel like much of a choice,” he muttered, but he let you lead him anyway.

“Where are you taking him this time?” Todd called out with actual concern.

“To the moon,” you replied without turning around. “Or maybe just the vending machines. We’ll see.”

Ash cupped her hands around her mouth. “Bring him back in one piece!”

Larry shouted after, “AND IF HE COMES BACK MARRIED IM ATTACKING YOU FOR NOT LETTING ME BE BEST MAN!”

You groaned and shot them a look over your shoulder. “Y’all are so dramatic.”

“We’re dramatic?” Ash asked, gesturing wildly. “You swooped in like a caffeinated falcon and stole our boy mid convo!”

Sal laughed beside you, his eyes squinting just slightly with amusement behind the mask. “You kinda did.”

“Okay, but be honest,” you said, bumping your shoulder into his. “You weren’t even really paying attention to Larry’s alien rant.”

“…It was about space cats this time.”

“See? I’m rescuing you.”

He chuckled again, a little softer this time. “Then thanks, I guess. You know, I’ve started looking forward to these.”

You slowed your pace, peeking at him from the side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a bit bashful now. “You’re crazy and I am definitely living for it.”

Your smile tugged wider, warmth blooming in your chest. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need better friends,” he teased.

“I have you,” you shot back.

And that quiet moment hung between you both for just a second comfortable, kind of sweet, a little electric.

Back at the hallway corner, the trio watched you both disappear down the hall. Ash crossed her arms, a curious look on her face. “Im glad to have found out she’s not just some glitter clone.”

“Nope,” Larry agreed. “She’s cool. Like, actually so cool.”

Todd smiled faintly. “And Sal likes her. That much is obvious.”

Ash gave a small nod, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “Yeah. He really does.” for once, none of them said anything snarky.

Mirio Togata X Reader

°❀.ೃ࿔Sunshine boy °❀.ೃ࿔

synopsis: the optimist always gets to the pessimistic

this drabble took so long… i haven’t the faintest idea why but i kept on having to come back to it. Also of course hawks is in it because this man will slip into here all the time.

If someone had told you years ago that you’d end up working closely with Sir Nighteye, you would’ve laughed in their face. It wasn’t that you didn’t respect him, he was a brilliant tactician, a respected pro hero, and had an impeccable track record. But you? You were the type to fight with instinct, to make decisions on the ball, to trust in your power and your gut rather than detailed predictions and meticulous planning….So why the hell were you here, standing across from the man himself in his office, flipping through yet another thick case file while he watched you with that unreadable expression?

“You’re still not much of a strategist,” Nighteye remarked, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the aftermath report of your latest joint mission.

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re still not much of a field agent.”

He sighed. “That’s exactly why this partnership works.”

/////////

“YEAHHH! IT’S LUMINE!  Alright, listeners, it’s time for another Pro Hero Spotlight! And today, we’re talkin’ about someone who SHINES!! LITERALLY!

!!!!

Name: Lumine!

Quirk: Photon!

!!!!!

“This top ten hero is all about brightening it up, baby! She can absorb and manipulate photons to move at the speed ofwell, light! That means energy blasts, insane reflexes, and even phasing through attacks when she shifts into pure energy! How cool is that?!”

//////

The streets were in chaos. Smoke curled into the air, glass crunched underfoot, and a massive villain with reinforced armor was tearing through the city like a wrecking ball.

Sir Nighteye stood in a secluded location watching every movement below with razor sharp focus. And then

FWOOOOSH!

A streak of golden light SHOT through the sky, illuminating the battlefield in a flash before re forming into Y/n! You landed in front of the villain, body still pulsing with residual light. “You’re making a mess,” you quipped, cracking your knuckles. “How about we clean it up?”

The villain roared, lunging at you. But before he could land a hit “DODGE! NOW!” Nighteye’s voice cut through your earpiece. You didn’t hesitate. Your body shimmered as you phased into photons, the villain’s massive fist passing right through you. Reforming at his side, you unleashed a concentrated beam of energy, sending him skidding back.

“Shut up, i’m the one doing the fighting”

“Four seconds,” Nighteye said through the comm completely ignoring your statement. “His armor is weakest at the joints. Hit the right knee now.”

You grinned. “Got it.” just like that, you MOVED lightning fast, reappearing just in time to drive a photon charged kick straight into the villain’s knee joint. The armor CRACKED, and the villain staggered. “this is so lame, why does this feel so boring” The villain reeled back, dazed, and You exhaled, rolling your shoulders. “Well, as fuuuuun as that was, we still have to find the missing cargo.” Nighteye adjusted his glasses. “Hmph. ” You groaned. “ugh this is such a pain”

——-

Below, the warehouse bustled with activity villains moving in and out, unloading crates from a truck into the building. Whatever they were smuggling, it wasn’t legal, and it was your job to put a stop to it.

“This should be a straightforward operation,” Nighteye murmured, sharp eyes calculating every movement below. “We take out the guards, secure the cargo, and apprehend the ringleader before they realize what’s happening.”

You nodded, scanning the scene. “And what about the new guy you were telling me about?”

“He’ll be assisting,” Nighteye replied, his voice as unreadable as ever.

Right on cue, the rooftop door creaked open behind you. “Sorry for the wait!” The voice was bright, confident, and unmistakably full of energy. Turning, you saw a broad shouldered blonde stepping onto the roof, adjusting his gloves. Even through his mask, his beaming smile was obvious.

Mirio Togata.

Even if you hadn’t known his name, you would’ve recognized him by reputation one of U.A.’s most promising students, currently interning under Nighteye. But what caught you off guard was his presence. He wasn’t just strong; he radiated warmth, like the human embodiment of sunshine. “Lumine, right?” he asked, walking up to you with an easy confidence. “Sir’s told me a lot about you! It’s really cool to finally meet you.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nighteye. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of my work, Sir.”

Nighteye adjusted his glasses. “I made a passing mention of you. He was relentless in asking for details.” Mirio laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “Guilty! But can you blame me? You’re a top pro! It’s not every day I get to work with someone like you.”

You smirked. “are you kissing ass your way to the top?.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he grinned.

Nighteye cleared his throat. “Lumine, you’ll take the east entrance. I’ll enter from the west. lemillion, infiltrate the main warehouse and secure the interior. Stay alert for reinforcements.”

“Yes, Sir!” Mirio saluted, then turned to you. “Stay safe out there!” You gave him a nod before vanishing into a stream of light, dashing toward your position.

———

The mission went smoothly at first. You dismantled the outer guards with ease, your photon based quirk making it simple to blind and disarm them. Inside, Mirio weaved through walls and floors, taking down enemies before they could react. Nighteye, as always, operated with precision, his foresight ensuring every move was calculated. Then, as you were securing the last of the cargo, a villain lunged at you from the shadows.

You barely had time to react before an arm wrapped around your waist and yanked you back just as a blade slashed through the air where you had been standing. A blur of blue and gold moved past you as Mirio landed between you and the villain, his usual cheer replaced by sharp focus.

“Whoa, that was close!” he said, keeping an easy stance but never taking his eyes off the attacker.

You let out a breath. “Did you just—”

“Pull you out of danger? Yup!” he grinned over his shoulder. “Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

Before you could respond, the villain lunged again. Mirio immediately let himself phase, the blade passing through his chest like mist. The attacker barely had time to register what had happened before Mirio resolidified behind him, delivering a precise, forceful punch that sent the villain sprawling.

You crossed your arms, smirking. “Not bad, lemillion.”

“Thanks! But, uh, if I could phase other people, I probably would’ve just pulled you underground instead of doing it the old fashioned way.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

“I’m glad you can’t,” you shot back. “I’d rather not find out what being buried alive feels like.”

Mirio laughed. “Fair point!”

You both turned as Nighteye approached, his usual unreadable expression in place. “I assume everything is under control?”

“All good!” Mirio said with a thumbs up. “Teamwork makes the dream work!”

You shook your head, amused. “Not a bad first mission together.”

Mirio beamed. “Hopefully the first of many!” as you’d later find out, it was.

—-

You learnt very fast that it was not just a one time thing. He came barrelling into the next big mission that you were working on. As the battle was over, the villains secured, and the dust had finally settled. The tension that had filled the air minutes ago had been replaced by the steady hum of cleanup efforts. You stood off to the side, rolling your shoulder as you surveyed the scene. Another mission completed. Another long night.

“Lumine!”

The familiar voice cut through the chaos, warm and unmistakably bright.

You turned just in time to see Mirio jogging toward you, weaving effortlessly through the debris and uniformed officers. His blue cape fluttered behind him, and despite the scuffs on his costume and the streaks of dust across his face, his grin was as radiant as ever.

He skidded to a stop just in front of you, hands on his hips as he looked you over. “You okay?”

You smirked. “I should be asking you that. Pretty sure you took on half the villains yourself.”

Mirio laughed, but there was a softness in his gaze that hadn’t been there the last time you’d worked together. “Eh, nothing I can’t handle. You, though, you were amazing out there.”

You rolled your eyes. “You always a charmer?”

“Because it’s always true.” He grinned, leaning forward just slightly, voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “You know, I’ve seen a lot of pro heroes in action, but you? You’re on another level.” Your smirk wavered for half a second, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t teasing or joking he meant it. Mirio, for all his strength and confidence, never acted like he was above admiration. He gave it freely, effortlessly, like it was second nature.

“…Not bad yourself, Togata.” You nudged his arm, trying to shake off the warmth creeping into your chest.

His eyes lit up. “togata? I haven’t given you my name yet, second meeting and is this a good thing or a bad thing?”

“oh my.” Warmth spread from your face. Respect was a huge thing in your book. But you’d be lying to yourself if his name didn’t reply in your head after your last encounter. you crossed your arms. “i’m so sorry lemilion! we haven’t even left the battlefield and you don’t even know me-”

Mirio’s laughter was bright, like sunlight breaking through the remnants of the night. “Don’t worry about it!! just a silly little slip”

Before you could answer, Nighteye approached, his usual composed expression in place as he took in the two of you. “You did well today,” he said simply.

your daze slightly disappears looking up to him “High praise, coming from you.”

Nighteye adjusted his glasses. “Don’t get used to it.”

Mirio chuckled, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Sir’s just being modest. We both know he’s impressed.” Nighteye sighed but didn’t argue, which only made Mirio’s grin widen.

You shook your head, glancing at Mirio. “i’m starting to think in the inside you’re a bright shiny ball puppies and rainbows in there” “you surround yourself with smiley blondes and people with a very bright outfits.

Nighteye’s expression barely flickered, but you swore you saw the tiniest twitch of his eye at your words. You smirked, pressing your advantage.

“I mean, really,” you continued, crossing your arms. “Mirio? All Might? Bubble Girl? Myself? What is it with you and people who radiate pure sunshine? Do you just absorb their energy like some kind of grumpy solar panel?”

Mirio snorted, clearly trying to hold back laughter, while Bubble Girl who had just arrived on the scene blinked in confusion. Nighteye sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if you were giving him a migraine.

“I surround myself with competent heroes,” he corrected, but there was a hint of exasperation in his tone.

You raised an eyebrow. “Right, and it just so happens that all those ‘competent heroes’ have the same golden retriever energy? Be honest, do you break out in hives when you’re around pessimistic people?”

Mirio was straight up laughing now, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the exchange like it was the best thing he’d seen all night.

Nighteye merely adjusted his glasses again, as if recalibrating his patience. “Y/n,” he said evenly, “perhaps you should spend less time making baseless observations and more time debriefing the mission.”

“Oh, so you’re avoiding the question? Interesting.” You tilted your head. “That means I’m right.”

He gave you a long, flat stare before turning on his heel and walking away. You caught Mirio covering his mouth, trying and failing to stifle his amusement.

“You’re awful,” he whispered between chuckles.

You grinned. “He makes it too easy.”

——-

The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as you leaned against one of the agency’s desks, arms crossed, watching Mirio dig through a cabinet with the focus of someone searching for the meaning of life. His uniform was slightly rumpled from the day, his tie loosened, the top button undone. Without his hero costume without the grand, larger than life energy he carried in battle he looked more like a regular student, just a little tired, a little more human. But still, somehow, undeniably bright.

“You lose something, Togata?” you asked, voice dry as ever.

Mirio, undeterred by your deadpan tone, straightened with a triumphant grin, holding up a can of juice like it was a legendary artifact. “Victory!” he declared before cracking it open with an exaggerated flourish.

You raised an eyebrow. “That felt high stress for such little reason.”

“Hey, sometimes it’s the little things,” he said, taking a sip. He sighed contentedly, as if this really was the highlight of his day. Then, as if just noticing, he tilted his head at you, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “You’re here a lot, huh?”

You shrugged. “Guess so.”

Mirio hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against the can. “Shouldn’t you be at your own agency? Not that I’m complaining, it’s always nice to see you.”

There was something in the way he said it casual but genuine, like he meant it. Like HE liked having you around. It threw you off for just a second.

You smirked, shaking off the feeling. “Oh, I got kicked out.”

Mirio blinked, his whole body pausing mid sip. “…Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms. “Turns out, if you glare at one too many people, they start thinking you ‘disrupt workplace morale.’”

For a second, his face flickered with concern, his brows furrowing just slightly. But then you saw it the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, the telltale sign that he was just now getting the message. there it was. His laughter erupted, full and unrestrained. “No way! You had me for a second!”

You grinned. “I have my moments.”

Mirio shook his head, still chuckling. “Man, you’re something else.”

“I try.”

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t awkward just a lull, comfortable and easy. Mirio leaned against the desk beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. He always carried this… presence. Like standing next to him meant standing in a patch of sunlight. It was disarming.

Mirio, apparently, wasn’t one for silence. “So, if you’re not actually exiled from your agency, why do you spend so much time here?”

You hesitated for a beat before answering. “…I guess it’s not bad here.” You nodded toward the space around you. “Nighteye’s strict, but I can respect him. The work is solid. And the company’s… not terrible.”

Mirio’s lips curled into a playful grin. “Wow, your compliments feel kinda lackluster.”

“Hush now,” you said smoothly. “Don’t tell me you’re tired of me being here.”

“Never!” His response was immediate, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. His smile softened a little. “Actually, I think it’s nice. I was gonna say you’re kinda like an honorary member at this point. But, y’know…” He glanced at you, an easy warmth in his gaze. “That makes it sound like we don’t want you here when we do.”

Something about the way he said it lighthearted, but undeniably sincere made you pause.

“…Huh,” you said, for lack of anything better.

Mirio leaned in a little, grinning. “Huh?” he mimicked playfully.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m just not used to people being that direct, is all.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “That direct, or that nice?”

You gave him a look, but he just smiled wider, like he knew he had a point.

“You’re not bad company either, y’know,” he said after a moment, his voice a little softer now, like he was just saying it to you and not to the room. “I mean, you’re cool, and you’re strong, but you’re also… kinda funny. Even when you don’t mean to be.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m accidentally entertaining?”

“I’m saying you’re interesting,” he said easily. “And that I’d rather have you around than not.”

Your chest tightened, just slightly. It wasn’t often that people just… said things like that. At least, not to you.

Mirio, as if sensing he might’ve thrown you off, nudged your shoulder. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around more,” he said, grinning again. “Y’know, in case you get actually exiled one day.”

For once, you didn’t have a sharp reply. You just shook your head, looking away to hide the small, involuntary twitch at the corner of your mouth. “…Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”

His laughter was softer this time, but the way he looked at you like he genuinely wanted to know you, like he already considered you a friend made something in you settle.

———

The walk to U.A. was calm, the late morning sun casting a warm glow over the city as you and Hawks strolled along the familiar path. The school loomed in the distance, its towering gates just visible beyond the trees lining the sidewalk.

After a moment of quiet, you sighed. “You know… I feel like we’re getting the short end of the stick here.”

Hawks glanced at you, amusement flickering in his golden eyes. “Oh? How so?”

You gestured vaguely ahead. “Nezu gets free labor, the kids get their little motivational speeches, and what do we get? A pat on the back?”

Hawks let out a light chuckle, his wings shifting slightly. “You mean to tell me the honor of inspiring the next generation isn’t enough?”

You gave him a dry look. “I’m sure they’ll be fine without our wisdom.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, but a little guidance never hurts.”

You exhaled, watching as a breeze rustled through the trees. “I guess.”

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you walked, the steady rhythm of your footsteps filling the space.

“At least we get a good meal out of it,” Hawks remarked after a moment, stretching his arms behind his head.

“If Lunch Rush is cooking, sure,” you said. “If not, I’m leaving early.”

He laughed. “I respect the standards.”

You smirked. “You should. I refuse to sit through a whole day of talking if the food isn’t worth it.”

Hawks tilted his head, as if considering something. “Y’know… spending the day at U.A. like this almost feels nostalgic.”

You glanced at him. “You think you would’ve been good in school?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “But sometimes I with for the simplicity of it. Having a schedule, training, learning new things every day.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah. It was… different.”

“Different’s a good word for it,” he mused. “We didn’t have a normal school experience, but it had its moments.”

You nodded, a small, knowing smile forming. “Like sneaking out past curfew?”

“Or convincing commission teachers we were just ‘exploring alternative training methods,’” he added, smirking.

You chuckled. “We got away with too much.”

“Eh,” Hawks said with a shrug. “Guess they figured we’d be fine in the end.”

You didn’t respond right away, but there was an understanding in the quiet between you. The path ahead felt familiar, but the two of you had changed since your own school days.

Hawks nudged your arm lightly. “Alright, be honest, what kind of student do you think is gonna annoy you the most?”

You sighed. “The overly eager one. From what i’m hearing about 1A i feel i need a Xanax. The one with too much energy, too many questions, and zero sense of personal space.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, there’s always one of those.”

“If we get stuck with a kid who talks back, you’re handling them,” you added.

“Deal,” he said easily. “As long as you grab me some extra food on the way out.”

You shook your head, amused. “Unbelievable.”

And with that, the two of you stepped inside, ready to face whatever the day had in store. It wasn’t often that you found yourself back here not as a guest, anyway. But after Nezu had oh so politely requested (read: roped) you and Hawks into speaking to the students about what it was like to become a pro hero so young, you hadn’t exactly had a choice. It made sense, you supposed. You and Hawks were among the youngest top ranking heroes, and Nezu likely figured your experiences would be valuable to the next generation.

Walking through the towering gates, you let out a quiet sigh. “Alright, if we leave now what consequences would we really have?”

Beside you, Hawks stretched, wings ruffling slightly. “Nezu said guest speakers. I heard free food.”

You gave him a flat look. “We’re not getting paid for this.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but we are getting exposure. And what’s better than exposure?”

You groaned. “Literally anything else.”

Before Hawks could tease you more, the school doors swung open, and there stood Nezu, looking far too pleased with himself. “Ah! Lumine, Hawks! Welcome to U.A.!”

Hawks gave a lazy salute. “Hey, little boss.”

Nezu chuckled. “Now, now, Hawks, I prefer ‘Principal.’”

You crossed your arms. “I prefer to not be scammed into free labor.”

Nezu simply smiled, ever unbothered. “Oh, but this is a wonderful opportunity! You’ll be inspiring the next generation!”

Hawks and you exchanged a knowing glance before he sighed dramatically. “Oh, what an honor.”

Nezu, unfazed, continued, “Before your talk, I thought it would be nice for you to get a tour of the school. And I’ve arranged for some of our top students to lead it.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice rang out “Lumine!”

You turned to see Mirio, his wide grin already on display as he jogged up to you. “Yo! You finally came to visit us!”

You grinned back, stepping forward to meet him. Before you could say anything, he pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly. “It’s been too long! You’re looking good out here, away from the chaos of missions!”

You laughed, half surprised by the bear hug. “Calm down, Mirio. I’m just here for a quick talk.”

Hawks grinned. “Careful, Mirio she’s not used to being this popular.”

You elbowed Hawks lightly, but Mirio only laughed, undeterred. “It’s just cool! We usually only work together in high-stakes situations. Now you’re here!”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, walking over with a smirk. “Should we be worried that you’re this excited to see her? I feel like I’m being replaced.”

Mirio stepped back and smiled at you, his enthusiasm unwavering. “Of course not! I’m just happy to see my friend.” He then glanced at Hawks, before pointing at him playfully. “And definitely not because of him.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging Hawks. “Look at that, he’s already here to steal my spotlight.”

Mirio laughed, pulling away just as Neijire bounded over, her bright energy almost contagious. “Lumine!” She looked at you with wide eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “You’re even more amazing than I thought! And you’re here with Hawks!”

“Yep, unfortunately,” you said dryly, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

Nejire suddenly appeared beside him, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh wow, you and Hawks are so close, right? You work together all the time, and you both got into the Top 10 super young! Wait, wait…. are you dating?”

Tamaki, standing slightly behind them, visibly tensed.

You and Hawks exchanged a glance, the kind that spelled trouble. “Oh, absolutely,” you said smoothly, nodding.

Hawks let out a dramatic sigh, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Nejire, you caught us. Our secret romance, exposed.”

You shook your head. “We had a plan, too. Big reveal, dramatic photoshoot, matching hero costumes…”

“Matching hero costumes?” Hawks repeated, amused.

You shrugged. “Might as well commit to the bit.”

Nejire gasped, eyes sparkling. “Oh my gosh, really?! That’s so cute!” Tamaki looked like he wanted to teleport away.

“No, they’re not.”

You and Hawks immediately stopped, mid tease, and turned to Mirio.

Hawks raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That was fast.”

You and Hawks immediately shared a look, both of you smirking as you were about to go on your teasing tangent again.

“Oh, Neijire, sweetie,” Hawks started, voice oozing with sarcasm. “If you knew the kind of annoying this one brings into my life—”

“annoying ?” You cut in, laughing. “You are the annoying one, bird brain.”

“I’m just saying,” Hawks said, dramatically holding a hand to his chest, “that being with you is like being surrounded by a storm of bad decisions and caffeine.”

You grinned. “And don’t forget the occasional midnight chicken emotional breakdown because you can’t stop talking.”

Neijire’s face lit up with curiosity. “Wait, but are you sure?” She leaned toward you both, wide eyed. “You guys aren’t a thing? You’re so close like, a sibling vibe. But siblings wouldn’t…”

“You’re making this way worse than it is,” you interrupted, barely containing your laughter.

Hawks shot you a look, his own grin widening. “I’d like to see you try to keep up with all of her sass. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

Just as you and Hawks were about to double down on the teasing, Mirio suddenly interjected. “Nope! They aren’t dating.” Both of you stopped in your tracks, blinking. You stared at Mirio for a moment, then looked at Hawks.

“Uh… okay,” you said, a little thrown off by how fast Mirio had spoken.

“Yeah, we’re not,” Hawks confirmed, but he raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mirio.

Mirio, still peppy, shook his head. “I mean, you could be dating, but you’re not. You two are way more like siblings. Plus, Hawks would never stop bragging about it if it were true.”

Hawks gasped. “The little nugget is fighting back!”

You smirked. “No, no, he’s right. You would be unbearable.”

Mirio grinned. “Exactly! So, no, you’re not dating.”

Neijire smirked, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “Ohhh, Mirio, I see. You’re relieved, huh?”

Mirio looked momentarily flustered. “What? No, I—I’m just making sure everyone knows the truth!”

Neijire’s smile grew wider as she wagged her finger at him. “So, you like older women, then?” she teased, glancing between the two of you.

Tamaki, who had been standing quietly off to the side, suddenly spoke up, his face flushed. “Wait—no, no! That’s not what—” He nervously glanced at you. “I mean, you’re not old… right?”

You raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. “Tamaki, I’m only twenty. I think I’m safe from the ‘older woman’ label for now.”

Neijire blinked, realizing her slip-up. “Ah! Right! Sorry! I just got carried away…” She quickly backpedaled, practically bubbling with apologies.

Meanwhile, Mirio, still the image of cheerfulness, blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

Nejire leaned in eagerly to mario’s ear. “Well? Do yoooou? Do you like older women?”

For the first time, Mirio hesitated, opening and closing his mouth before laughing sheepishly. “That’s… not really the point here.”

Hawks lost it. He practically collapsed onto Mirio’s shoulder, wheezing. “Oh my god”

You smirked. “So, Mirio, should I be expecting a confession letter soon, or do you need someone middle aged…?”

Mirio let out a goodnatured chuckle. “Nope! But hey, if you do get one, I promise I’ll deliver it personally.”

Nejire mouth dropped all the way to the center of the earth. “PAUSE WHAT”

Hawks sighed trying to segue. “I’m stuck with her as my honorary sibling instead.” You shook your heads in ignorance to the bubbly blue haired girl.

“And I’m stuck with him making chicken nugget jokes at my expense,” you added.

Mirio laughed. “Chicken nugget jokes?”

Hawks smirked. “The students are like chicken nuggets tiny, but still good.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. U.A.’s finest. A box of premium nuggets.”

Mirio grinned. “Well, I hope we’re at least the good kind.”

Hawks clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re definitely a top tier nugget.”

Nejire giggled, Tamaki sighed in relief, and Mirio just shook his head, still smiling.

Hawks stretched. “Alright, let’s get this tour over with before Lumine escapes”

You scoffed. “Please. U.A. doesn’t scare me.”

Mirio grinned. “Well, in that case, welcome to U.A.! Let’s go!”

And with that, the tour began—

with you and Hawks following behind, still laughing.

REMEMBER: You’re 20. Then when you get to the school, you’re immediately thrown into a tour by the big three. Mirio being excited to see you. Neijire being bubbly as ever asking questions like if you and hawks are together and all that. Tamaki looks so nervous as if he hasn’t been fighting with fat gum. You and hawks having such a close friendship bully all of them from the question. Then mirio comes in and says you and hawks aren’t dating. interrupting you and hawks mid teasing. Both of you stop really fast, laughing and agreeing that you aren’t. Then pause to think about how fast mirio said it. Other than the missions he knew nothing about you. neijire joking after that mirio liking older women. Tamaki immediately defending you and not calling you not old. then neijire bubbly backtracking. meanwhile mirio is looking flustered and Hawks falling on mirio laughing. Then telling you that your fans are so cute.

——

The day had stretched long, but now, with the sun dipping below the horizon, U.A. had finally settled into a peaceful quiet. The tour, the teasing, the guest lecture it was all behind you now. You leaned against the railing of one of the school’s outdoor walkways, watching as the last bits of golden light painted the sky.

You heard footsteps behind you before you saw him.

“I was hoping I’d find you before you left,” Mirio’s voice was softer than usual still bright, still him, but lacking the usual boundless energy.

You glanced at him as he leaned against the railing beside you, arms resting against the cool metal. His school uniform was slightly ruffled, hair still tousled from the day’s events. But his usual grin was missing, replaced by something more thoughtful.

“Here to give me a final tour of the sunset?” you quipped lightly.

Mirio chuckled. “Something like that.” A pause. Then, “I wanted to apologize.”

You frowned, turning to face him fully. “For what?”

“For earlier.” He didn’t hesitate. “For interrupting when Nejire asked if you and Hawks were together. I just.” He exhaled, looking down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. “I had no right to say anything. I don’t really know you, not outside of missions. I shouldn’t have acted like I did.”

You blinked. Of all the things Mirio Togata had to apologize for today, this was not what you expected.

“You really don’t have to apologize for that.”

He gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. “I do.” Then, quieter, “Because when I thought even for a second that you weren’t available, it made me sad.”

Your breath caught.

Mirio looked back at the horizon, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s kind of silly. We’ve barely spent time together outside of work. But I like seeing you. You’re always so bright even when you’re not fighting. It’s not just about battle, or power, or anything like that. You just are.”

You swallowed. “That’s just the reflection from your own sunshine, Togata.”

He laughed at that, and the warmth of it settled deep in your chest. Then he tilted his head. “You know what else I like?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re unflashy in the media.”

You blinked. “…Wow. Thanks?”

Mirio went blank then immediately, shaking his head. “I mean—you don’t put on a show for anyone. You don’t chase the cameras, or try to be something you’re not. You just do the work. You help people. You’re genuine.” His voice was softer now. “You’re a good person.”

Something in your chest tightened, a slow warmth creeping in before you could shove it down. You had been called a lot of things in your career. Powerful. Smart. Even intimidating. But good? That was rarer.

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t know what to say. The silence stretched between you. Mirio, ever patient, just smiled, waiting. And you feeling an unfamiliar heat rise to your face did the only thing you could do.

You turned on your heel and walked away.

“Hey wait!” Mirio called, laughter in his voice.

But you didn’t look back. Because if you did, you weren’t sure you’d be able to leave at all.

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.