#quirk registration

[sai-int]

officer!price

the red and blue lights flash in your rearview, and you groan, already slowing to pull over in the shoulder, lowering your too-loud music. this stretch of road’s quiet, and you know exactly who it is. small town, officer john price, and it’s not your first rodeo with him.

his boots crunch on broken asphalt, the flicker of the headlights catching the glint of his badge. you roll the window down, already half annoyed, but then you see him, and that’s when the irritation starts to fade.

“license and registration,” he says, voice smooth, like he’s in no rush.

you roll your eyes but reach for the glove box anyway. “what's it this time, price?”

his brow quirks. “that's officer price, to you, hun. know how fast you were going?” he asks, leaning down just enough to make his face fill the window.

“barely over the limit,” you reply, your voice sharp but not entirely convincing.

he hums like he’s thinking it over, then steps back. “step out of the car.”

you laugh under your breath. “seriously?”

he arches an eyebrow. “you got a problem with that?”

not really. not at all.

you open the door, sliding out with an indignant roll of your eyes, but you can’t stop the way your heart beats a little faster when he reaches for you. hands on your hips, guiding your chest flush with the hood of his car, like he’s done this a hundred times (he has).

“reckless again,” he says, voice rougher than usual as his hands slide down your waist and hips, searching for weapons. “i oughta teach you a lesson one of these days.”

you smirk, unable to fight the way your hips press backwards in search of his, “teach me, then.”

he sighs like a disappointed dad before tutting. “put your hands behind your back, sweetheart.”

edit: one shot for this is here

[makkir0ll]

you were minding your business while you were out driving, on your way to the grocery store, when you hear sirens behind you blaring. you look at your rear-view mirror to see the flashing red and blue lights, you tense up and pull over. you weren't even speeding, just going five over the speed limit. everyone goes five over the speed limit.

you try and calm yourself down, maybe he'll let you go easy.

you hear a tap on your window and look over to see a familiar broad chest in front of your window, with the familiar badge number and name tag on his chest. sawamura daichi. it read. you roll down your window and he bends down to get to eye level, you could recognize those brown eyes from anywhere, even if they were hiding behind a pair of aviators (that you bought him).

"hi ma'am, may i see your license and registration." he tilts his aviators down to get a better look at your face. you smile at your husband's antics.

"yes, officer" you say as you lean over to your glove compartment, going along with his silly act. you grab your registration and open your wallet to hand him your license. he takes it from your hand, making sure to brush his hand against yours.

as he's examining the two items you handed over he asks, "are you aware why i pulled you over ma'am?" he looks back down at you, handing back your license and registration.

"no officer." you say with a smile, trying hard to contain your laughter. clearly he's going with the bit.

"you were speeding, that's going to cost you." he pulls out his ticket book and a pen to write it down.

"but officer i was only going five over!" you plead, no way your own husband was about to write you up.

"five over it still speeding ma'am, not going to let a pretty lady like you that easily" he smirks, tearing off the ticket and handing it to you. "it'll cost you one kiss."

"really?" you quirk an eyebrow, all this for a kiss?

"yes really" he bends down into an uncomfortable position, cupping your cheeks and you lean into his calloused hands. he pulls you closer, head out the window as you kiss him deeply. hopefully this will keep him going for a while. you pull away, both of you smiling ear to ear at this dumb act. you pull him down by his collar again for another one, for good measure of course.

"is that enough officer?" you cheekily ask.

"yes ma'am, have a good day." he replies, pulling his aviators down the bridge of his nose to give you a wink before he walks away. you wink back at him.

"bye officer!" you yell at your husband as he walks away, rolling up your car window. you look at the ticket he gave you and you see that he scribbled the words:

we're out of milk

you roll your eyes as you open your phone, going to the contact labeled with daichi ❤️ to send him a text.

you: if we needed milk you could've just texted me

daichi ❤️ : now where's the fun in that?

@cottonlemonade , this one’s for you

[pocketramblr]

Please!

AU where both Izuku and Bakugou are rejected from UA Hero Course.

And to make it juicy. The reason for the rejections is the suicide baiting incident being known by UA. While Bakugou is rejected for obvious reasons. Izuku is rejected for his ‘own safety’ and because they won’t trust his psyche went unscathed.

1- The thing about Bakugou is that he was not particularly well liked by his classmates at Aldera. Oh, he had friends, and no one was willing to stand up to him, but plenty of students had grudges about how he acted. They rolled their eyes when Bakugou went on a rant about being the only one who could make it to UA, or his lackeys hyped him up, but then they'd look away without a word when he caught them and glared. No one was going to say he wasn't powerful and couldn't do it, just like they weren't going to say Deku had any chance. Sometimes, capable people are also very annoying, and you just have to deal with that, so the kids did. And if a few were in a small group chat that would sneak pictures or videos to show the kids not in their class and complain, well, that's what the kids did. And then one day, one filmed the conversation after school, after Bakugou threw out the notebook, and posted it publicly, as well as in the chat.

2- nothing came of this. Izuku had either blocked or been blocked by a lot of his classmates online, and hadn't really bothered to look for most of them anyway, so neither he nor Bakugou are aware of the video. The sludge villain sort of happened an hour later, and that's what got the big media buzz- the news couldn't publish the names of the teens involved if they ever even had them, but locally, people at Aldera knew who the kids on tv were.

3- the next year, UA has its recommendation exams. Every student is meticulously background checked before even being accepted as an potential for the exam and interview. A couple weeks later, they have the standard exam. The background checks will happen after this- UA after all has a very prestigious image. Bakugou wasn't wrong that if he took his lackey's cigarette and UA found out, his chances would be gone. Unfortunately for him, the video was still online. Mostly forgotten about... Until it contained not one but two potential UA students.

4- Nedzu and the six hero course homeroom teachers are on the board of student admissions, but so are two others each from administration, public relations, the school board, and the heroics commission. The top fifty scorers are ruthlessly picked through. The video is watched. Some want to exclude Izuku, some Bakugou, some both. Nedzu would prefer to have them both enrolled in separate classes, but is outvoted. He doesn't warn the board this will mean All Might will not be staying on to teach - he really can't, without telling secrets, but he does warn All Might the next night, and gracefully accepts his resignation.

5- a week after the exams, acceptance and rejection letters are sent. These are simply written on paper. Apparently neither of them are a good fit for the school. No further reason is given. Bakugou spends one day in his room, quieter than ever, then rush applies to other schools. Shiketsu is supposed to be UA's equal. Perhaps their admissions process will be less rigid. Or perhaps his rise to number one is "supposed" to come from humble starts, and Aldera Middle School wasn't that, but some mid rank hero school is. Meanwhile, on the beach, All Might tells Izuku that he actually ended up with the most rescue points in the exam, and his score was high enough to place him in top ten... It was just the screenings afterwards that did it. Perhaps the school was concerned about his health, with him breaking nearly every limb. Or perhaps his incorrect quirk registration was a red flag- either way, it's things All Might blames himself for, Izuku is the one who passed the test, and with only a few hours of having OfA too. So All Might asks Izuku what he wants to do- try for another hero school nearby? Toshinori probably can't get a job there on short notice without being suspicious, but he'll work to train him every day after, and come up with some other excuse for why he's in the field less. Or, should he reach out to I-island? Toshinori's even willing to see about setting up a personal internship with himself or Gran Torino, though he really kinda hopes Izuku doesn't pick that one. Izuku bursts into tears and apologies, having only held them back this long out of shame, they hug, and Toshi tells Izuku to take his time deciding, it'll be all right, because Izuku is here and he has full faith in him, regardless of what UA admissions thinks.

[willowser]

aww, you agree to stay home with your son until he becomes old enough to go to school, but as the summer ends and time draws near for registration, katsuki starts backtracking.

your son has a quirk. it's not so fancy as his father's, but it's more exciting than what you have, and even though he's big into katsuki's heroism, he hasn't shown any more interest in becoming a hero himself than any other boy his age.

at first you think it's katsuki getting nervous about putting him in public school, but he still doesn't seem sold on any of the private teachers you find. you want to go back to work, and it's not that he's telling you no—but there's just this edginess to him, whenever you push the conversation.

"still small," katsuki defends, murming into your hair as you're laying in bed. "another year 'n he'll be a lil' bigger."

it's true—your son is a little on the small side, but he has all the energy and determination of a kid twice his size. it's never stopped him before, nor has it ever had katsuki pulling him off the playground in the past; you're not sure why it matters, now.

"you said that last year."

"yeah, but he didn't grow that much."

"i don't think there's a height restriction for learning, honey."

katsuki sighs, and you can feel the frown pulling his mouth down. it's rare that he ever tip-toes around what he wants to say these days, more common when you first began dating, but he's always been vocal when it comes to your son. always wanted what was best for him, and didn't hesitate to ask for it.

you shift, scooting your head up his arm so you can look at him. "what're you really thinking?"

he doesn't look back at you, but instead keeps his eyes on the wall across from your bed. you can't exactly see the depth in them this way, but something about the tension lining his body tells you he's thinking, hard, about something other than your son.

"kids are assholes."

you laugh, because it's not what you were expecting and because you don't like whatever this is that's bothering him. you want it to go away. "yeah, i know. our kid is an asshole sometimes."

"well, i don't want someone being an asshole to our kid."

your stomach drops at the very idea of someone being mean to your son, not appreciating him the way he should be. what if he gets hungry and they don't let him eat? what if he has to go to the bathroom but he doesn't know where it is?

if you think about this for any longer, you'll burst into tears, and that will only further katsuki's case.

"kids just..." he shakes his head and glances towards the door of your bedroom, down the hall to where your son is sleeping. "say all kinda' shit. hateful shit."

you hug him a little tighter, because you know how much he hates feeling powerless—and that’s exactly how you feel, when it comes to this topic, but if you focused only on the negatives, you wouldn't ever let your son out of sight.

"he'll make friends, though, like you did." your words only make his frown deeper. "and he wants to learn, he is so curious about everything. i think he's ready, honey."

—but katsuki only grits his jaw, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he looks away from you and towards the window.

"well, i dunno if i am."

[yaespook]

Canines.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! Werewolf! Reader x Sub! Bottom! Wriothesley, no gendered terms used for reader, reader has a cock with a knot, oral (reader giving), snowballing, rimming (reader giving), gratuitous mentions of spit, muzzle and leash with collar used on Wriothesley, knotting. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The bottom paws of the fortune cat appear on the front desk.]

Getting a new rookie transfer under him this late into the year wasn’t exactly what Wriothesley was expecting.

His office door opens abruptly but you seem almost as bewildered as he is at this surprise. No biggie, the issue is sorted out quickly and seeing that you don't have any case files or inmate registration papers on you (or any sort of personal records at all for the matter), he runs through the essentials before sending you off with a list of duties. 

He watches as you leave his office, you'll undoubtedly be an interesting case to handle.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Wriothesley finds you nice enough to be around during work. You're considerate and you work hard to get your job done. It's pleasant to have another regular familiar face beneath the depths and he's not above sharing his tea with you during your shared breaks. And growing closer, he asks you to box with him.

“Just some training, for fun, that's all.” He's lounging in his chair and cracks an eye open to gauge your reaction. “Feel free to say no if you don't want to. I won't die from the rejection.”

Wriothesley is assured in his combat skills, given his experience in the ring and his daily training. So how is it exactly that he's found himself in this position? 

Dragging out the spar by starting off defensive, dodging his attacks, it seemed as if you were going easy on him.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re going easy on me?” He throws a series of hooks and a particularly forceful uppercut.

But he wasn't interested in winning this friendly battle, he wants to see what you're truly made of. Hence, kicking it up a notch, he doubled the speed of the punches he's throwing, forcing you on the offensive. 

“You’re asking for it, Wrio!”

He's caught off guard when you start reciprocating and meeting him with the same speed and intensity in your attacks. Sure, your footwork and pivoting could use some work, but there's something surprising in the force behind your punches.

It ends when you manage to wrestle him into a headlock, the both of you sweaty and panting, his head pressed against your chest as he's suddenly aware of how close the two of you are. Tapping twice on your bicep hooked around his neck, he admits his defeat this time around. Freed from your restraint, he takes the time to massage his trapezius muscles as he gives you a once-over. 

“That was a good one, another next week?” 

You cough, “I think I’ll need more than a week to recover,” your tone sheepish.

It’s not often he’s beaten during spars, and for a rookie like you to do so? Extremely interesting. What exactly is your background? The secret to your seemingly supernatural strength? Since this incident, he’s found himself drawn to you even more.

However, keeping an extra vigilant eye on you means that he picks up on the smaller things that might be signs. The next Friday, you clock in later in the day, missing your shared tea breaks with him, and you clock out far earlier than usual, evident from the little note you leave at your desk when he looks for you.

“Sorry Wrio! Something urgent came up!”

He quirks an eyebrow up at this. What could have been so urgent that you had to leave immediately? Are you alright? Glancing around, he notices a bag left on your chair. Perhaps you left it here in your haste while leaving, but what if its contents are important to you? No matter, he'll see if he can pass it to you after work, it's a good chance to check up on you too.

But since you aren't around for the rest of the day, Wriothesley has strangely discovered that he's getting through his mundane paperwork and administrative duties a lot slower than if you were present. His brows furrow as he sighs to himself and sips his tea alone before continuing his work.

By the time he's done wrapping everything up and leaving, the full moon is already high up in the night sky. When he tears his eyes away from it, he spots you out of the corner of his eye. Though he would call out to you, your behaviour is suspicious, slinking around the shadows sneakily as you try to stay hidden. Wriothesley decides to tail you, just to make sure that you don't get into any trouble that he'll end up having to sort out. (And that he's also worried about you.)

His guard is up when you step into a wild forested area. The dim moonlight breaks in through the leaves of the canopy area, just enough for him to make out the ground beneath him. He watches where he steps in order to avoid generating any noise that might alert you but the second he looks back up for you, you’re nowhere to be seen.

Uneasiness starts to kick in. Wriothesley is uncaring of all the ruckus he’s making while rushing past trees and brambles as he scrambles to search for you. The thorns scrape and tear at his clothes but he pushes on, launching into high gear.

However, the deeper he gets into the forest, the more Wriothesley begins to notice things going terribly wrong.

There’s a heavy presence lurking amongst the dark shadows, one that has its eyes trained on him, watching his every move. Lumbering footsteps echo throughout the forest around him, as if getting closer and closer to his location. The sound of twigs nearby snapping sharply and the rustling of dry bushes. Trying to get to a better lit area within the forest, the chase is on.

He’s being hunted.

The vegetation begins to thin out slightly as he skillfully weaves between trees and he reaches a clearing. Catching his breath, he surveys his surroundings, keen eyes looking for any signs of movement. The moon hangs overhead, sharing its pale light.

And from the treeline, something pounces.

He stumbles back at the sudden impact, the wind knocked from his chest as he collides with the ground, eyes clenched shut. A beat passes before the weight on him suddenly lifts and he hears a gravelly yet oddly familiar voice, “...Wrio?” 

Forcing his eyes open, he finds himself at a loss for words. 

“I’m so so sorry. I assumed you were some kind of hunter stalking after me and…” your words spiral and trail on but he can’t seem to process anything you’re saying since he’s preoccupied with taking in this sight of you.

In this form, you’re a lot taller than he is and your physique is nothing short of intimidating. Is this where your impressive strength comes from then? Raking his gaze over your body, he pauses at your flexed thigh muscles from holding yourself above his pelvis. (You could crush him between them and he’d die a happy man.)

Your fur gleams under the moonlight, captivating him as a gentle breeze ruffles through it. By the time he tunes back into your spiel, all he catches is you saying, “I’ll make it up to you-”

“Make it up to me?”

“Yeah?” 

“Fuck me then.” He sees your ears shoot up as you try to gauge whether he actually means it and he tacks on, “I’m being serious. Plus no one will find us here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Fine, but pipe up if I’m too rough on you.”

A grin stretches across Wriothesley’s face at your agreement but it’s quickly replaced with a hiss when you drop and grind your dick down against his. Leaning forward, you have him completely pinned beneath you, your body heat and larger frame on his is simply dizzying.

“I’ll give you some kisses to start, hmm?”

He watches as your maw opens wide, showcasing your sharp teeth. He can feel your canines on either side of his face as you lick at his lips but there’s enough trust between the two of you that you won’t clamp down, your fangs gently grazing his skin. You wouldn’t hurt him after all.

You bury your snout in his neck, taking in his scent as the both of you grind against each other, a snarl leaving your throat as you feel how hard and soaked he’s getting under you. 

“So wet, Wrio. Are you that desperate?” Shifting and sitting up to strip him of his clothes, he chuckles as he replies, “Only for you.”

Taking off his shirt, you let out a low whistle at the man before you. His broad shoulders, salt and pepper chest hair on his pecs, the body hair and healed scars littered throughout, and not to mention his lovely happy trail up till his naval. Truly, a sight to behold.

Getting him out of the rest of his clothes, you nudge his legs apart and settle between them. Compared to your looming stature, Wriothesley gets a sense of how much smaller he is when your hands grasp at his thighs. (Or are they paws? Whatever. As long as they treat him real good tonight.)

Tracing the tip of a claw down his inner thigh, you watch him shudder, eyes widening as you get closer to his drooling cock.

“What? Already so turned on by me hunting you down and a little grinding?” You tease and a heat rises to his face, retorting, “Shut up.”

You bury your face closer in, snuffling as you lave a rough warm stripe against the underside of his length, the taste of his precum on your tongue. His legs clamp down slightly on your head when you do so and it’s apparent that he’s enjoying your attention on him. Almost as if he wants you to devour him whole.

Changing tactics, you shift your focus to enveloping the underside with your tongue before taking him into your mouth, careful to watch your teeth. The heat engulfing him has Wriothesley groaning loudly, his hips bucking into the warmth as his restraint starts to slip.

“Mffph… so good-!” He throws an arm over his eyes, more clipped moans escaping him while you swirl your tongue, working him to his peak.

But just when he’s about to tip over the edge, you let him out of your mouth, panting as he watches a thick strand of saliva stretch from your tongue to the tip of his dick.

“Hah… Why did you stop?” Sitting up on his elbows and supporting a frustrated scowl on his face, he looks laughably similar to a kicked puppy.

“Patience, dear Wrio, you’ll get your recompensation in due time.”

Moving one hand to his cock, you pump up and down languidly, aided by the copious amounts of precum and spit. His head spins when he feels you tonguing and lapping at his balls, your hot breath hitting the sensitive skin there.

You dip further down to lick at his rim, peering up to observe his reaction. And it’s amusing. His hands fly to grab at your shoulders, eyes shot open as his chest heaves.

“You liked that?” When he nods, that’s all you need to continue.

Manoeuvring him and hiking his hips up, he yelps at the shift but it quickly tapers into a moan as you press your tongue flat against his rim. You don’t stop stroking his cock as you slowly breach his hole, gingerly prying him open. Wriothesley sucks in a sharp breath at this and grinds down on your thick tongue, forcing it deeper, the pleasure in him building and spiking.

It’s not long before he’s spurting onto his tummy with a drawn out moan, walls clenching down on you and his hips stuttering up with his orgasm. Detaching for a second, you lick a long way up from the base of his dick to his dripping tip and his heaving abdomen, collecting his cum on your tongue.

“Open your mouth, Wrio.” And when he complies, you let your tongue hang out of your maw, a mixture of his cum and his saliva sloppily dripping from you and into his mouth. The ravenous look he gets when he swallows sends a shiver down his spine.

“So good for me, Wrio. Let’s move on shall we?” You give him a sly lick on his cheek. “Can you loosen yourself up a bit more? Wouldn’t want to rip you apart when you take me.”

After coating his fingers in your slick spit, you watch as he preps himself for you. Gazing around, you spy your bag discarded to the side on the ground. 

“Aww Wrio, were you trying to bring me my bag I left?”

“Mmph yeah-! I was worried- ah! -about you,” he grunts out his answer.

You respond with a low pleased rumble, stalking over to your bag and rifling through it to find what you’re looking for. From it, you retrieve a set of a collar with a leash and an accompanying muzzle. To Wriothesley’s surprise, it’s in his colours, complimenting shades of reds and greys.

“I bought it impulsively earlier today, thought of you while doing so. I think I’m in some sort of a rut,” you explain lowly, your eyes level with his and he feels as if he could be consumed with your gaze alone. 

Licking the shell of his ear, he can feel your breath fan across his nape as you continue, “Because of you, Wrio, no doubt.”

“Put it on me then,” there’s no hesitation in his voice when he says this and a satisfaction fills him when he sees your tail start wagging.

Carefully, you latch the collar around his neck, making sure it’s comfortable for him before moving on to fixing the muzzle on him. Finally, you attach the leash, the clip sound completing the set. 

As you take in how utterly delectable your Wrio looks for you right now, a filthy sense of pride rises up within you. You, a beast, managing to twist and warp and transform your human’s visage into one akin to yours, to have him leashed and muzzled as if he were the one with piercing canine fangs and a monstrous secret. And that he doesn’t cower or tremble with fear when pinned beneath you. It’s all too deliciously sinful.

The end of the leash is held in your claws as you eye him down. You manhandle him onto his fours and you line the tip of your cock at his hole. 

“I’ll take it slow, tell me if it hurts,” your head presses against his rim as it gradually pries him open, the wind is punched from his chest at your thick girth. Slowly sinking into him, Wriothesley’s vision spins as you split him open on your cock, the stretch an intoxicating one that has him wanting more. 

When your tip nudges against his prostate, he’s left seeing stars, a debauched moan slipping from his lips.

“Ughk!? Is it- hah! -is it all in?” You shush him, ghosting your claws on the skin above his arched spines.

“Just a bit more, you can take it, can’t you, Wrio?” An uncharacteristic whine rips from him when you finally bottom out in him, flush against the back of his thighs as you reach unfathomably deep in him.

You give him time to adjust to your size before you start moving, setting a relaxed pace to begin with. He squeezes down on your cock as you roll your hips, unrestrained noises escaping him as all sense is fucked from his mind. 

Picking up the intensity, you pull out halfway before slamming back into him, positioning your tip directly at where his prostate is while tugging on the leash.

“Hngk-! So big- AH! Fuck!” Wriothesley’s eyes roll back into his head, mouth hanging open.

Your repeated motions have him going crazy, his arms wobbling at the brutal onslaught of pleasure before giving out, the only things keeping him up are the knees folded under him and your hand clamping around the side of his hip.

Seconds blur into minutes and he doesn’t even know when you’ve started pounding relentlessly into him. Your thick shaft drags against his walls and he can feel every vein and twitch of your cock. 

Sensing you pulling on the leash, he turns and looks up at you, letting you see the drool dripping from his parted lips in the muzzle, his eyes unfocused and glazed over with nothing but raw lust. You give him a lick on his cheek, a kiss, before you fold your body over his, completely pressed against his back, pinning him beneath your massive frame.

“I’m close Wrio,” cooing into his ear again, your gravelly voice brings him back, “Want me to knot you?”

He babbles pitifully, “Uh- uh huh! AH! Yeah-! I- I want you!”

“You’re really asking for it now,” growling at his mindless pleading, you drive your cock in, a guttural howl leaving you as you climax, finally knotting your Wrio. The knot at your base stretches Wriothesley out even more and he can feel your cum filling him up inside. The searing pleasure causes him to pull taut, his back arching as he orgasms again, moaning as he tightens up around you, milking you for all you’re worth. 

The forest clearing is filled with the sounds of the both of you panting as you recover, checking in with Wriothesley to assure that he’s alright. While you wait for your knot to go down, you take the time to free him from the muzzle. The second you do, he leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of your snout, a lazy grin hanging from his face.

“Hah… I think you’ve made it up to me,” a glint in his eyes, “Another round next week?”

[> You add a muzzle, collar, and leash set to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

[librababe99]

hi!! can i request enemies to lovers w sexual tension with young charles xavier?? <33

Hi Anon!! I had about three different ideas on how to take this request and I think I found the one that will work the best🤭I hope you enjoy!

A Heated Debate

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Young! Charles Xavier, Female Reader, Enemies to lovers, sexual tensions

Summary:  In the high-stakes world of mutant politics, You and Charles are bitter rivals. You’re, a fierce advocate for an aggressive approach to mutant rights, constantly clashes with Charles’ pacifist ideals during public debates. Their verbal sparring is intense, charged with both political conflict and unspoken desire. 

Word count: 1.5K

| Masterlist |

The room buzzed with the aftermath of the debate, the murmurs of the audience still echoing as people began to file out of the grand hall. You stood on the stage, arms crossed, seething beneath the carefully crafted mask you wore for the public. Another debate with Charles, another frustrating round of endless philosophical differences that seemed to lead nowhere but further entrenchment in your views.

Your fingers curled tightly around the notes in your hand, the paper crumpling slightly as you glanced toward him. Charles Xavier. Brilliant, articulate, annoyingly calm in the face of your fiery arguments. His peaceful rhetoric grated on you, especially in times like these when the world seemed to be falling apart for mutants.

"Mutual understanding," "humanity will come to accept us in time," "we must be patient." How could he still believe that? With anti-mutant violence rising, governments around the world pushing for mutant registration, and so many of your people living in fear—how could he remain so naively idealistic? Worse, how could he make it sound so convincing?

You had to admit it—he was good. Too good.

The crowd had loved him tonight, responding to his polished arguments with the kind of enthusiasm that made your stomach turn. And yet, beneath your frustration, there was something else. Something that made your pulse quicken every time you locked eyes with him during these debates. Something you despised acknowledging.

You heard the quiet click of his shoes as he approached from the other side of the stage, his posture as effortless as his argument had been.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” Charles said, his voice that smooth, infuriating calm you had come to know all too well.

Your eyes snapped to him, a fire igniting behind them. “I don’t need your compliments, Charles. I’m not here to be handled.”

His lips quirked slightly, that maddening half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he enjoyed needling you. As if your frustration was amusing to him. “That’s not what I meant,” he replied, tilting his head ever so slightly, his blue eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that felt as though he were trying to read deeper into you than you were willing to show.

“You always mean something,” you shot back, stepping down from the stage, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. “Some noble little phrase to make everyone believe that you’re the reasonable one, and I’m just the reckless, angry woman.”

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair as he followed you offstage. “That’s not how I see you.”

“Well, it’s how you come across,” you said, pivoting to face him when you reached backstage, your voice lowering, but the fire was still there, crackling between the two of you. “You don’t listen, Charles. You talk about peace and patience as if you’re the only one with a real solution, as if my stance—our need to fight for our rights—is just noise.”

“You think I don’t understand the urgency?” he asked, his own frustration starting to show through his calm exterior. “I know what’s happening out there. I see the pain. I feel it every day, but—”

“But nothing! You’re not fighting hard enough!” Your words came out sharper than you intended, but you were too angry to care. The pent-up frustration you’d carried for months, perhaps years, finally spilling over. “Every day, mutants are targeted. We can’t sit around and wait for humanity to wake up and suddenly decide we’re equals.”

Charles closed the distance between you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “And you think war is the answer? That more violence will somehow win us the respect we deserve?”

“Sometimes, force is the only language they understand,” you shot back, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You could feel the heat between you, both figuratively and literally, the air between you charged with something far more intense than simple disagreement. “You’re too soft, Charles. Too idealistic.”

“And you’re too angry,” he countered, his voice low, the calm veneer slipping away to reveal the passion underneath. “You’re letting your emotions dictate everything, and that will only lead to more destruction.”

“You don’t get to tell me how to feel,” you snapped, stepping forward until you were inches away from him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, though you refused to let it show. You couldn’t show weakness. Not to him.

“I’m not telling you how to feel,” Charles said, his voice dropping even lower, almost a whisper. “I’m asking you to see that there’s more at stake here than your anger.”

You stared up at him, your breathing shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly as the tension between you became almost unbearable. You could feel it now, the pull that had been lurking beneath the surface of every debate, every heated argument. The attraction that neither of you had dared to acknowledge.

And at this moment, the debate wasn’t just about politics anymore. It wasn’t about mutant rights or the philosophical differences that had driven a wedge between you and Charles for so long.

It was about the two of you. The crackling, undeniable heat that had been building with every word spoken, every glance exchanged.

“Why do you care so much about what I think?” you asked, your voice quiet but intense, eyes locking onto his. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

For a moment, Charles didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours as though he was weighing whether to say what he really wanted to say. The moment stretched on, thick with unspoken desire and frustration, until finally, he answered, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you.

“Because you matter to me. More than you know.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. But the look in his eyes—the way they darkened with something far more primal than political disagreement—told you everything you needed to know.

Before you could think, before you could stop yourself, you closed the final inch of space between you, your body pressing against his as your lips crashed into his.

The kiss was fierce, driven by months of unresolved tension and anger. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, fisting your hands in his shirt as if to anchor yourself to the intensity of the moment.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Everything about this was wrong. But you couldn’t stop. The fire that had fueled your arguments had turned into something much more dangerous—something neither of you could control.

His mouth moved against yours with a desperation that matched your own, his fingers digging into your hips as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You could feel the heat of his breath, the way his chest heaved as the kiss deepened, as if all the arguments, all the frustrations of the past, had boiled down to this singular moment of passion.

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, you pulled away, breathless, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are we doing?” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet backstage room.

Charles’ forehead rested against yours, his breathing just as ragged as yours. He didn’t answer for a moment, his fingers still gripping your waist as though he wasn’t ready to let go.

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted, his voice low, filled with the same uncertainty you felt. “But I can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

You swallowed, your mind racing as you tried to process the fact that you had just kissed Charles Xavier—your rival, your ideological opposite, the man who represented everything you were fighting against.

But he wasn’t just that. Not anymore. Not after this.

“I can’t…” you began, but the words faltered as you felt his thumb brush lightly against your side, the smallest of touches that sent electricity through you all over again.

“I know,” Charles murmured, his lips hovering just over yours. “But we don’t have to figure this out right now.”

You stood there for a moment longer, your breaths mingling as you struggled to regain your composure. The weight of everything that had just happened hung between you, but for the first time, it wasn’t oppressive.

It was electric.

Finally, you stepped back, creating a small but necessary distance between the two of you. You had crossed a line tonight, and while you weren’t sure what it meant, you knew that things would never be the same.

Neither of you spoke as you gathered your things, the silence thick with the knowledge of what had just passed between you. As you turned to leave, you cast one last glance at Charles, who was watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—part desire, part regret.

“Until next time, Charles,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

He gave you a small, knowing smile, his eyes still dark with the remnants of the fire that had burned between you.

“Until next time.” 

You walked out of the room, your heart still racing, your mind spinning with the weight of what had just happened. The debate wasn’t over. Far from it. But the battle between you and Charles had just changed—forever.

[catcze]

I just did my skincare routine, as one does, and I had an idea: spa night with Wriothesley! He’s reluctant to try it out at first, but now it’s his favorite way to relax and spend time with his beloved :,))

This !! Is !! So !! Cute !!

It wasn't a regular thing— not at first.

Wriothesley wasn't the type of person to put too much care into their skin before. You still remember the horror you felt when you learned he did little more than washing his face with tap water in the morning or evening. He'd been blessed by whichever archon was in charge of clear skin, you swore up and down for the longest time.

But all it took was him coming back early one evening, just in time to catch you in the middle of your skincare routine and a hesitantly asked, "...What's this?" as he held one of the many, many bottles in your stash aloft in his palm, and the rest is history.

Now, you've got him on his back, head rested in your lap and his eyes shut in relaxation. One of your cotton headbands keeps his spiky hair from brushing his forehead— the pastel colors are an adorable contrast to the dark strands.

"So then when I got to the store, there was this bitch who tried to fight me for the last box of pancake mix, even though I got my hands on it first. That motherfucker told me to go get my own pancake mix, and i told her, 'I just fucking did'," you say to him, recounting the harrows and drama of your day. Your hands are on Wriothesley's cheeks, gently massaging a moisturizing toner into his skin while he lays there and listens to you.

"Uh-huh, you go, sweetheart." There's the slightest of proud smirks growing on his lips, even as he keeps his eyes closed.

You nod vigorously, appreciating his support. As you turn back to the basket of goodies beside you, you debate on what to put on his face next.

"Hey love," you call him, and one of Wriothesley's icy blue eyes opens. You raise two bottles where he can see them, shaking each. "What are you feeling tonight? The squalane or the niacinamide?"

He hums in the back of his throat, thinking. Then shuts his eyes. "The niacinamide."

You have to fight back a grin, gently tucking the glass bottle for your squalane serum back into your basket. Before you can drop some of Wriothesley's chosen serum on your palms though, he quickly takes hold of one of your hands, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he mumbles, voice little more than a content rumble, lips ticklish against the back of your hand.

Before you can respond, he gives your hand back to you, and the quirk of his lips is back in place.

"Well?" He asks, leaning his weight even more into your lap. Not unlike a puppy, luxuriating in your hold. Hazily, his eyes meet yours even as he blinks drowsily. Soft and fond as they train on you. "I don't believe you were done telling me about that box of pancake mix."

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

[cherrycloy]

quirk science is like. so interesting to me and is probably an absolute bonkers field in the world of bnha, but one of my favorite bits is dabi's hair and teeth being immune to fire while the rest of him is even more vulnerable LMAO

(like yes i know its bc he needs to look appealing as a character but its so funny)

I need you to be so fucking real with me: Do we have any definite canonical proof he doesn't just have a fireproof wig and dental implants?

That's exactly what I was talking about though. someone needs to study whatever codominant inheritance/chimera nightmare the Todoroki kids have going on. The fact that Toya in particular is so messed up, at least to me, shows that people often don't just have "one quirk" but rather any number of mutations of which the most noticeable one gets written down in the quirk registry. I think the example of the girl with the water quirk izuku mentions already shows that quirk registration Is less of a diagnostic process and more of a self-report based formality (it only recording one quirk might be a remnant from a time in which quirks were still relatively new and combined mutations less common)

Those mutations can work together extremely well (Endeavor's ability to produce fire and having some degree of fire resistance), severely disable the person (Dabi or in even more extreme cases, the nomus) or have no interference at all (Tokoyami's bird mutation and dark shadow)

Shoto alone has an extremely lucky combination of least four distinct mutations but even people that aren't the product of morally dubious genetic experiments have clear advantageous combinations like Katsuki also being fireproof to an extent and having some form of shock resistance (For every Todoroki or Bakugo there are probably 10 people with technically the same quirk who could never use them for hero work because they don't have the additional invisible quirks)

[bnhaobservation]

Ultra Age bits: the Quirks

So I'm going to try and look in deep at the various bits of the fanbook, at least those that look potentially interesting to see if there's something new and comment on my finding or lack thereof. Beware, my comments might not be positive.

So next I've been looking at what the fanbook says about Quirks since it devotes two pages to it.

There really aren't new info, except for maybe the bit in which is confirmed Ida's Quirk falls into the Heteromorph type. I would have said Tokoyami and Fat Gun's Quirk are more in the composite group, which doesn't even get some space even though one of the main characters (Shouto) had a composite Quirk. Everything is very summarized, it completely skip the discrimination Quirk owners faced at the start, when Quirk appeared, and the fate of the mother of Quirks, it seems to focus more on the bullying Izuku received for being Quirkless than on the fact Heteromorphs like Shouji and Shuuichi were scarred or had pesticide tossed on them. It also doesn't mention the cases in which a Quirk is incompatible with the body of its owner, despite this being the main source of Touya's problem or a Quirk influencing someone's behaviour despite this being the cause of Himiko's problems.

So yeah, it might be useful as a summary, but it sure doesn't really add anything we didn't really know. Again, it's a wasted chance to share more background info now that the story is finished.

WORLD GUIDE I

Let's review what a “quirk” is and what the common sense/knowledge is in a world where Heroes use them.

A WORLD OF “QUIRKS”

“Quirks” are born, “Quirks” arise in everyday life, this has created a lot of confusion and problems.

THE BEGINNING OF “QUIRKS”

After the news of a glowing baby being born in Keikei, China, “paranormal abilities” were discovered all over the world, and this became normal. Now, about 80% of the world's population has paranormal powers, or “quirks,” and it has become the norm.

MANIFESTATION AND REGISTRATION OF A “QUIRK”

Individuals are born with a “quirk” and it usually manifests by the age of 4. In many cases, they inherit either one of their parents’ “quirks” or a combination of both. When a “quirk” manifests, they must report it to the government and register the contents of their abilities.

In a world where about the 80% of people have some kind of “quirk”, it is rare for people to be “quirkless”. This can lead to discrimination and persecution, making it a social problem.

ABUSE OF “QUIRK” AND VIGILANTE GROUPS

The roots of heroes lie in the emergence of volunteer Vigilantes who use their own quirks to fight back against the torment of people who misused their quirks to commit crimes known as “enemies/Villains”. Later, their actions gained support and came to be widely recognized by society as an official duty.

MOTHER OF “QUIRKS”

A mother complained about the insults her child received, saying “This is just my child’s “Quirk”. This anecdote caused her to be known as ‘the mother of “quirks”’ and supernatural abilities came to be called “quirks”.

3 FAMILY GROUPS OF “QUIRKS”

“Quirks” are broadly divided into three types: “Activation/Operative type,” “Transformation/Transformative type,” and “Mutant/Heteromorph type,” however there are also “Composite types” that combine characteristics of two or more of these three types.

ACTIVATION/OPERATIVE TYPE (HATSUDŌ-GATA 発動型)

“Activation/Operative type” is the most numerous and most standard type of “quirk”. It is a type in which one can activate their “quirk” by their will, and depending on the “quirk”, it is subdivided in a wide variety of ways such as “augmentation type” and “restraint type”, and it is no exaggeration to say that there are as many different types as there are users.

Examples of this type of ability include being able to control the activation of “One For All”, which All Might transferred to Izuku, Bakugo's “Explosion”, Ochako's “Zero Gravity”, and Aizawa's “Erasure”.

TRANSFORMATION/TRANSFORMATIVE TYPE (HENKEI-GATA 変形型)

Although their owners usually have a human form, they can change their body or parts of it by activating their “quirks”. The physical transformations are used for a variety of purposes, including attack, defense, and movement. Compared to other types, there are often limitations due to the burden on the body, their range, and their duration.

Examples include Mt. Lady's “Gigantification,” Kirishima's “Hardening,” and Tetsutetsu's “Steel.” Also, Fat Gum's body shape changes due to “Fat Absorption” which is a combination of activation and transformation.

MUTANT/HETEROMORPH TYPE (IGYŌ-GATA 異形型)

The “mutant/heteromorph type” is a type in which a “quirk” is constantly manifested from birth, and parts of the body or the entire body are shaped differently from humans. Unlike the “transformation/transformative type,” they have the advantage of being able to activate their abilities instantly. However, because of their unique appearance, they may face discrimination and prejudice in society...

Representatives of the mutant type are Īda which has engines in his legs, Ojiro's “Tail”, and Shōji's “Dupli-arms”. Tokoyami, who keeps ��Dark shadow” inside his body, is a bit unique, but is classified as having this type.

“QUIRK” MARRIAGE

“Quirk marriage” is when people choose a spouse to strengthen and pass on their quirks. After the discovery of “quirks,” this became common in the second generation and became a global problem, leading to inhumanity and the denial of human rights.

“QUIRK” FACTOR

A special factor embedded in a person's genes causes them to manifest a “quirks.” The factor is passed down from parent to child, and the strength of a quirk is also influenced by this inheritance.

THE “QUIRK” SINGULARITY

This theory suggests that quirks become stronger and more complex with each generation, and that eventually the power can no longer be controlled. Proposed by Villain scientist Garaki Kyūdai.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Izuku does Bakugou's "advice" only to reincarnate as a dog that Inko takes as her emotional support animal due to her trauma of not saving her son.

Midoriya Izuku

Quirk: Reincarnation

Description: When user dies they are able to be reincarnated into a new form. User possesses all memories of past life.

Inko stared at the Quirk description in her hands, her shoulders tense.

She had gotten a dog to be able to find some sort of stability after her son died. She'd wanted something to come home to, something to love now that her son was gone.

She found Izuku again. It wasn't obvious at first but the boy had gotten a hold of the old romanji letter magnets (All Might brand of course) and spelled it out for her.

Her son was back. Her baby boy…

Was a dog.

Taking him to several specialists revealed that the doctor had been wrong. Her baby was back.

Inko felt tears well up in her eyes, but the smile on her face said how happy she was.

“Izuku?” she called out. “Your registration came today!” the sound of nails clicking on the floor as her puppy son stumbled into the kitchen made her laugh.

Oh how she loved her baby.

[quirkwizard]

Hey hope you’re having a good day/night! Was looking for your thoughts on a bit of history in the MHA world, when quirks first started to emerge and the quirk registration was introduced, do you think would similar to what x-men series has? For example if a person refuses to register their quirk, would there be trouble? Keep being awesome

How does Quirk registration work?

I doubt that is the case. Often in the world of X-Men, the Mutant Registration Act was a tool used to classify and keep track of those with mutant abilities. While not an unreasonable idea on paper, it was often used to create prejudice against mutants and to police their powers. While Quirks were feared for a time, that was during a time of near total societal collapse and anarchy. And Quirks were popping up everywhere on the planet. To the point in a few generations, they started to become common place. There isn't really a reason to have something like that as a tool of fear when Quirks are no longer oddities. It's more likely that it was introduced to be used like any other piece of information about people: to help keep track and book keep any sort of conditions that people have. Like, here's your hair color, your eye color, and what your Quirk does. This could be for policing and medical reasons, but I doubt it's anything as nefarious as what the mutants have to deal with.

As for the act of registration, it's likely something that people do when their Quirk first manifests. They get looked over by a doctor, they do some tests to see how it works, they tell the parents about it, and the doctors give it a name. It doesn't even seem that serious either. Because we do know that people can change the names and details of their Quirk, like what happened to Izuku when they gave his new Quirk a fake name. This is for other practical reasons as well. That Quirks can change or be better understood as time goes on, but the user can't do it an unlimited number of times. I'm sure there are cases that slip through the cracks or people refuse to let others know about the Quirks of their children for whatever reason. Like I honestly think that Hawks didn't have a name for his Quirk until the Hero Commission gave him one given where he was before they found him. Hence, why he has a name as marketable as "Fierce Wings". The same goes for Endeavor, who I think renamed his Quirk to "Hellflame" in order to make it sound cooler.

[deusvervewrites]

Shielded Escape AU: So, I’m going to assume that the events of Two Heroes is right out. Also, what does Melissa use as her officially registered Quirk?

David knowing more about All For One would probably discourage him from making the Quirk Amplification Device, yeah.

I'm not sure what her official Quirk registration is. Given that she probably wasn't a documented citizen pre-rescue, she might be considered an I-Island native. She may not have any Quirk registration at all.

[pedropascallme]

Office Hours

Pairing: professor!Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: "'I’m sorry,' Your gaze settled on the knot in his tie before moving upwards to look him in the eye. 'I’ve been—I guess I’ve just been getting easily distracted…big room, lots of people.' Hot professor."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), implied age gap (Damien is his actual current age, reader is 20-22), student/teacher relationship, spanking, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, spitting, cum play, Medieval German literature (it needs a warning trust me), mild dom/sub dynamics, kinda softdom!Damien. If I missed anything please let me know!!

AN: Fuck it Damien Haas fic because that man has been tormenting me with his new hair and 5 o'clock shadow. I guess I write for the Smosh cast now.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses today.

His hair was pushed up, and you noticed he fiddled with it out of habit; short bangs falling over his face when he got into a point he was making before he pushed it back out of his face. It was an endless cycle.

His tie was ever so slightly loose around his neck, the first button of his shirt undone so that you could see the muscles in his neck quirk when he laughed.

If only you spent as much time studying for Professor Haas’s class as you did daydreaming about him, you might not be struggling to follow along with the lecture he was giving. But it all went in one ear and out the other; too focused on the way you could see his sharp upper teeth when he smiled at one of your peers, happy to answer a question. You liked the topic, in theory—really, you were taking the class for a reason, if Intro German Literature hadn’t appealed to you, you wouldn’t have signed up for it during your course registration, never mind that the man who taught it was young and pretty and sharp as a fucking tack. But you got so caught up with your own imagination, listening to his voice and the way he read lines of text that you otherwise wouldn’t have tossed a second glance toward.

And suddenly, it was your favorite class, and your lowest grade.

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall just as Professor Haas dismissed the class, his own line of sight cornering you where you sat. You packed your laptop away into your bag and began to follow your classmates out of the room when you heard your name called.

“Do you have a minute?” Dr. Haas leaned against the podium at the front of the room, looking concerned. You walked to the front of the lecture hall, fiddling with the straps of your bag and silently encouraging him to speak up again. “You’re not in trouble, I just—your grades are slipping. It feels unlike you.” He furrowed his brow, standing up straight to face you, and you hoped the fluorescent lighting did an alright job of hiding the blush that crept over your cheeks.

Busted.

“I’m sorry,” Your gaze settled on the knot in his tie before moving upwards to look him in the eye. “I’ve been—I guess I’ve just been getting easily distracted…big room, lots of people.” Hot professor.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” and he spoke with such sincerity that you almost believed him, the mortification seeping into your bones as if he knew exactly what was distracting you. “I know you’re a good student—honestly, I don’t blame you for getting distracted in here.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame, especially since Hildebrandslied is usually such an easy read.” You tried your hand at a joke to ease the tension you felt. He smiled.

“We could make it easier. Do you think one-on-one time could help?” He grabbed his jacket, laying it over his arm before returning his attention to you. “I have office hours tomorrow; I could carve out some time afterwards. Why don’t you swing by my office, we can go over some stuff.”

You tried to stop yourself from swooning, “I think that might help, yeah.”

“Great! Bring any questions you have. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You let him walk out ahead of you, leaving you alone in the classroom to consider what it would be like to spend time alone with the biggest crush you shouldn’t have.

~~~

“Come in!” You pushed the door open, standing idly in the threshold and cradling your laptop in your arms. “C’mon, sit.” Professor Haas looked up at you from the seat behind his desk. You’d never been inside his office before, but it had a cozy feeling to it; dark wooden furniture and cushioned chairs, a faint scent of lavender hanging in the air. He had knickknacks on his desk, characters you didn’t recognize, a small German flag hung over the door, and a bookshelf full of titles you were mostly unfamiliar with.

“It’s nice in here.” You spoke up, sitting in one of the chairs opposite him. He took off his glasses.

“Would’ve been nice to have a window. Dr. Topp, in psychology, is across the hall. Great window in his office.” You broke into a smile, and he did the same, keen to break up any awkward feelings to help you focus on your work. “What’d you bring for me?”

You set your laptop out in front of you, “I just…I don’t get it. And I knew I wouldn’t get it, since nobody gets it, because it’s, like, the worst, and it’s inconsistent, and riddled with copying errors—”

“Woah! Take it back a step,” He cut off your frustrated rambling with a laugh, “First things first, tell me which dialogue you’re having the most trouble with.”

“I guess…Hildebrand’s second speech? The one where he’s talking about Hadubrand.” You clicked your mousepad to open the PDF you had of the Hildebrandslied, highlighting the passage you were talking about before turning the screen towards your professor. He clicked his tongue at you.

“Think it might help to have an actual copy?” He arched a brow. You bit your lip, nodding an affirmative. You closed your laptop, watching him stand and walk over to the bookshelf, scanning the spines of the books with his finger before landing on the copy he was looking for, pulling it out of its spot on the shelf and bringing it back over to you.

“Thanks,” you expected him to return to his seat, but he remained behind your chair, leaning over you with his hand on the back of your seat to thumb through the pages until finding the passage you were confused by. “Maybe it was just the screen distracting me. Blue light, or whatever.” You offered, a shy joke to take your mind off of the way he loomed over you.

“Yeah? Wouldn’t be shocked. Helps to have it all down on paper sometimes.” His voice was deep, and it echoed through your whole body. He scanned over the words now, trying to find a good starting point, before letting out a triumphant exhale and pointing to the beginning of a sentence, “Start here.”

You began reading, painfully aware of your professor’s presence behind you and occasionally stumbling despite reading the modern English translation. You stopped when he cleared his throat.

“Tell me what that passage was about,” He prompted.

“I—I dunno, he’s talking about Hadubrand.” You felt yourself suddenly giving into the frustration this book had been causing you all semester.

“But what about Hadubrand? What’s the theme?” He pushed, trying to encourage more than a blunt, apathetic answer from you.

“I don’t know, Professor, you tell me.” You bit back, forgetting yourself and who you were speaking to for a moment, overwhelmed by him. “I’m sorry…” You mumbled, peaking at him from over your shoulder. He crossed his arms, looking down at you.

“What’s distracting you?” His voice was soft and calm, remarkably still for a man whose subordinate just snapped at him.

“I don’t know…” You lied through your teeth.

“Tell me. I can’t help if I don’t know what you need.”

You sucked in a breath, sharp and cold in your nostrils, before letting it out slowly, turning your body in your chair to face him fully. “…You.”

“Hm?” Professor Haas furrowed his brow, mouth parting slightly as if to say something before quickly closing it.

“You’re…distracting me.” You swallowed. The air around you suddenly felt thick, and you were prepared to hear him tell you how wildly inappropriate this was, how you needn’t even explain yourself, that you should just leave.

“Huh.” You watched him bite the inside of his cheek, raising an eyebrow. He walked back to the chair behind his desk, sitting with his legs spread, the fabric of his pants pulled taught over his thighs. “Come here,” he beckoned.

“Wh—” Now your brow furrowed.

“You need a little motivation. Come here. Sit.” He patted his thigh. You stood, pulse quickening as you walked toward him, hesitantly lowering yourself over him, thankful that you had chosen to wear a skirt that offered you the room to spread your legs wide as you straddled him. “That’s it,” he drank you in with his eyes, raking them over you, and you preened at his actions, arching your back into him slightly to give him a better view of you on his lap. “I think…for every wrong answer you give me, I get to punish you.” His voice took a wicked tone.

“And for right answers?” You whispered.

“So confident now,” He teased. “You’ll get what you deserve.” He smiled again, and you realized how beautifully dominant it made him look. “What’s the main theme of the story?”

“I—mm…” You racked your brain, now more distracted than ever, but trying desperately to make Dr. Haas proud, “I don’t know.” You answered meekly. You felt a sharp smack on your thigh, and you yelped, bunching the collar of his shirt in your hands.

“Try again.” He ran his hand in soothing circles over the spot he had hit.

“It’s—is it honor?” You felt him squeeze gently at the meat of your thigh before his hand glided over your skin to knead your ass.

“Good girl.” He gave you a particularly rough squeeze and you moaned, falling forward onto his chest, sticking your ass out to offer him easier access. “That’s right. See what happens when you do a good job?” His fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties. You mumbled a yes into his shirt, and he gave you a light spank. “What’s that?”

“Yes, sir.” You corrected yourself, hoping that’s what he was waiting for. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against him so that your nose touched his.

“You like doing a good job?” His words were growled, and you nodded enthusiastically, “Gonna keep doing a good job?” You nodded again, and he continued his line of questioning. You remembered characters you thought you had no recollection of; names and places that had otherwise escaped you, as if sitting on his lap and letting him manhandle you was all you had needed to succeed. You lapped up the praise he offered you when you did well, and squirmed and whined when he punished your forgetfulness.

After 20 minutes, you found yourself huddled against him, face nuzzled into his neck as he recounted the things you needed more practice with, his hands roaming over your body. He pulled you out of your hiding spot gently, coaxing you to make eye contact with him. “Do you need anything else?” His fingers traced your jawline.

“Mm…” You leaned into his touch, “Need you, sir.” He halted his movements, and his hand found the back of your neck.

“Can I kiss you?” He scanned your face, dropping the façade of dominance; you saw his eyes anxiously searching for signs that he was overstepping any boundaries you had. You almost laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck, and closing the distance between you. You moaned at the taste of him against you, eagerly slipping your tongue into his mouth. He pulled at the hair on the back of your head, stepping back into his dominant role and setting the pace, showing you that he was in charge. He bit at your bottom lip before running his tongue over it to soothe the sting, then repeating the action over again. Your hand came to rest on his chest, fingers sloppily attempting to undo the buttons of his shirt, and he smirked against your lips. You felt one arm wrap around your waist, the other gripping your ass, and he stood up, holding you tight before placing you onto the desk. You wrapped your legs around his hips, and he undid his tie, giving himself space to undo the buttons of his shirt that you had been unable to.

“So pretty,” He broke from you briefly to untuck his shirt from his pants, “So pretty, so fucking good. Smart, pretty girl.” He reconnected his lips to yours, his hand on your jaw forcing your mouth open wide, allowing him to lick into you and watch saliva pool over your bottom lip. “Just needed a little discipline.”

You mewled, reaching out to trail fingers over his now uncovered skin, relishing the warmth of his abdomen as your palm connected to him. He moved down to kiss your jawline, nipping and sucking shapes onto your neck, pulling moans from you as he did so.

“Please,” You breathed out when he sucked on a sensitive spot over your collar bone, biting at the new bruise before licking over it. “More.” You felt his hand reaching between your bodies, flipping up your skirt, fingers pressing against the growing wet spot on your panties. You unwound your legs from around him, giving him space to touch you properly.

“Like this?” He was taunting you, watching you lean your head back on nothing and move your hips against his fingers in an attempt to gain friction where you desperately needed it.

“Yes, s—oh!” You wrapped your fingers around his forearm when he moved your panties to the side, plunging two thick fingers into your heat and moving his thumb in tight circles over your clit.

“There y’go,” He looked absolutely filthy like this; his hair falling over his eyes, muscles in his arm tensing as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, jaw clenched in focus, “need a reward for all the work you did today?”

You whimpered, grinding against his hand and choking on your breath when the tips of his fingers brushed the sensitive spot inside you. “Yes, sir—need you.”

“I know, baby,” He curled his fingers, pressing his palm against your clit and watching you squirm for him, “Let me see how pretty you look when you cum—show me how my good girl looks when she cums for me.” He feathered his fingers over your g-spot; fast, ticklish touches that made your toes curl and your back arch, and he soon had you trembling for him, cunt squeezing him when you came. He removed his fingers, and you felt yourself clench around the emptiness when he brought them to your mouth and told you to suck. “Yeah, good girl…” He palmed himself over his pants, and you hummed, licking your cum off of his hand before releasing his fingers with a quiet pop and reaching down to undo his zipper. He let you, watching you pull his cock from its confines.

You dropped from the desk and onto your knees, pumping his length in one hand and spitting on the other, joining them together to stroke him. He felt heavy in your hands, and you felt excited heat building in your stomach when you took his tip in your mouth, looking up at him from under your lashes to see his mouth agape, eyes focused on your movements. He pulled stray strands of hair out of your face, tugging them into a ponytail and guiding your mouth over him.

“God, I want to fuck your face,” his thumb swiped at the drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. “Want me to do that next time, baby? Use your mouth whenever you get an answer wrong?” You moaned, muffled by his cock in your mouth, thrilled by the promise of a next time. Your jaw quickly became sore, the stretch of his thick cock almost too much, and you gagged when his tip pushed against the back of your throat. He laughed softly watching you struggle to take it, hand guiding you backwards to give yourself room to breathe.

“You wanna get back up here and let me fuck you?” You pulled yourself off of him, clamoring to sit back on the desk and stripping your clothes from your body as quickly as you could, then letting him spread your legs open as he lined himself up with you. “So fucking eager—is this what you kept daydreaming about? Sitting in my class and thinking about letting me fuck you?”

“Yes—yes, sir. All I could think about,” You pulled him closer, letting him crowd you and pressing kisses into his neck while he stroked himself against you, “Needed it.” He grabbed you by the chin to bring your line of sight up to him, forcing you to look him in the eyes while the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Open your mouth,” you did as he said, shivering when he spit into your mouth before forcing your lips closed with his hand, “Swallow it.” You obeyed, opening your mouth once more to show him you followed his instructions, and he smiled, repeating the action, then dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste himself on you. The head of his cock still nudged your cunt, and you began to feel impatient.

“You want me to fuck you?” He was baiting you, had you exactly where he wanted you, and now all he needed was to hear you beg for it. It worked; rambled pleads and begged gibberish fell from your lips, imploring him to take you, hungry and desperate to feel his cock split you open. He pushed forward, nearly overwhelmed by the wet heat of your cunt as you swallowed the first inch, then the next.

“Fu—ck,” You let out a strangled cry, and he clapped a hand over your mouth.

“Gotta be quiet for me, baby,” though he desperately wanted to hear your moans, he knew it would be best to keep quiet, to not draw any attention to yourselves. Still, it didn’t stop him from pushing the rest of his length into you, watching your face contort in pleasure when he bottomed out. You let out a string of soft, pathetic whimpers, and he pulled you against his chest, letting you muffle your cries into his skin.

“So fucking perfect—fuck!—oh my god…perfect girl, take it just like that.” His voice came out in a growl as he rocked his hips into you roughly, pushing you back with the force of his thrusts until you were lying on the wood of the desk with your legs swung over his shoulders, eyes glazed over with satisfaction, completely cockdumb for him. His hands ventured upwards, squeezing your breasts before reaching back down to massage your clit. You arched into his touch, eyes rolling back and letting out whispered pleas for him to give it to you harder, faster, rougher, please, sir.

He gave you what you wanted; one arm enveloping your legs where they rested against him, guiding your body over his cock and watching the way your cunt hugged him, fluttering around him when he told you how pretty you looked, how his smart girl was taking his cock so well. The fingers on your clit sped up, primed to pull another orgasm from you.

“One more, baby, you can do it—let me feel you squeeze me nice and tight.” He leaned over you, thrusts still harsh and fingers on your clit moving with precision as he brought his lips to yours again. You let your legs drop from his shoulders and wrapped them around his torso, pulling him into you and letting him bury his cock inside of you. He rewarded you with a groan.

“Wanna cum—cum for you,” You stammered, fingers laced through his hair while your other hand gripped his bicep, “make me cum, sir.”

Your words spurred him on, and his thrusts became slow and deep, remaining absolutely carnal, pushing against your most sensitive spot and making your vision blur behind tears that threatened to spill. You pulled him down by his neck for another kiss, climaxing when his mouth connected with yours, legs spasming and thighs squeezing around his waist.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you watched his head loll forward and his eyes squeeze shut, nearing his own high. His thrusts were sloppy now, frenzied with need. He pulled out, fucking his fist before spilling over you; his cum painted your pussy, dripping over your swollen clit, your lips and inner thighs, before disappearing between the plush skin of your ass. He swore he would remember the image forever.

He got on his knees in front of you, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk before nipping at your thighs, licking his cum off of your skin. You sighed, before letting out a whimper when his tongue licked into your hole. He groaned at the way your taste blended perfectly with his own, sucking softly on your overstimulated clit while you tugged at his hair, mewling when he dipped his tongue into you again. He continued his ministrations for a while longer, returning to your thighs and sucking bruises onto the flesh. He returned to your core again, and the messy, wet sounds of his mouth on your cunt were music to your ears.

He stood again, panting, planting his hands on the desk on either side of you and head falling onto your chest. You combed your fingers through his hair.

“C’mere,” he straightened up and pulled you towards him, letting you wrap yourself around him and feel the warmth of his flushed skin against your own. His hand came to grip your jaw and you opened your mouth, "You learn so fast when you're paying attention." He mused, spitting into your mouth and watching you swallow. There was a moment of drawn out quiet; both of you steadied your breathing, remaining intertwined with each other. Professor Haas broke the silence first.

“Was that ok?” He stroked your hair, making ringlets around his finger before letting them unravel and repeating the movement with another strand.

“Just what I needed.” You spoke, voice still shaky from pleasure.

He cupped your cheek in his hand, analyzing your features with heavy lidded eyes. “Can I kiss you again?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “Your cum is dripping down my leg. You can do whatever you want.”

“Can’t blame a guy for asking,” He grinned and pulled you into him, taking his time with the kiss and savoring the way you tasted, his tongue occasionally bumping into your own as you patiently explored each other in your post-coital bliss.

“Think you’ll be able to pay attention during class time now?” He leaned his forehead against yours.

“Absolutely not,” you giggled, and he kissed your forehead, “might need more one-on-one time.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, the hand that was cupping your face moved to trace shapes on your back and shoulders, “think we could work something out.”

[winters-many-muses]

I just realized that we haven’t seen much of Cookie, can we get silly facts and HCs for her?

- lofi/aria

( leans on wall with a grin )

( Legally, she does not exist. There is no name, no registration for her. And because she always goes by “cookie”, nobody knows who she truly is, not even Casper, though he has his suspicions )

( Cookie also has insanely good hearing! The floppy ears on her head are what allow that. If she presses her ears against the ground, she can still hear pretty good, from mice scurrying around to people in trouble. )

( Cookies quirk is connected to another person, they are who she gets her powers from. That is all i’m going to say :3 )

[pocketramblr]

For the ask game, how about an au where Izuku is the product of a quirk?

What I mean is maybe a slug was born with a quirk to manifest something to protect it, and a human was what it summoned (or something along those lines)

Hi so that is an incredible mix of funny and existential but ok

1- we're keeping the slug thing. The spotted green slug doesn't have a name, due to being a slug, but when a child tries to poke it with a stick, the slug's quirk activates and now there is a second child who instinctively protects it

2- the green, spotted child scoops the slug up and keeps it on their shoulder, feeding it leaves. The child, having just been spawned into being, is able to talk enough to get threats away but like. They didn't have any clothes, they're trying to eat leaves and dirt too. It's ok though, they can't starve or die- the slug's quirk is what maintains them or heals their injuries. Eventually, someone calls CPS.

3- the police try to take the slug away from the wild child, but they scream and bite and eventually say "my quirk" so they give up and let them keep it as they go to the hospital to get him checked over. The kid also doesn't legally exist, so they have to figure that out too. When the nurse looking over the kid puts together the pieces (aka, listens to what the kid says), she looks up sentient quirks and animals with quirks on her phone. If she tells the truth, the best this kid can hope for is someone like Nedzu taking them in to protect them, but more likely the slug would be sent to a lab where the kid would be unable to protect it and who knows what would happen then. So Nurse Midoriya lies on the paper and when she brings the kid out, and the child is sent to a children's home with the quirk registration of "slug: manifest and bond with a slug"

4- luckily, neither AfO or Ujiko is interested in a quirk like that. Some months later, Inko returns and adopts him. The slug is pleased with this arrangement as it's quirk is no longer having to protect him from all the other children and caretakers, and Inko ensues there are good food sources around the apartment for it. She even gets a safer travel terrarium for the child, Izuku, to use to carry it around during school. Izuku is able to learn and grow since the they and the slug sees others found it, and Izuku decides they want to be a hero- they have to still prioritize protecting the slug, but why not be a hero and protect others too?

5- when Inko's child comes home from school one day with a cracked terrarium, a uniform that smells like the sewers, and a scorched notebook, declaring that they got All Might's signature and also found out that they don't need to breathe today, and that they are a hundred percent sure that they want to go to UA, Inko realizes that she's going to need to send that letter to Nedzu after all, and hope desperately that he reads it before the entrance exam. (To her surprise, she gets a phone call before the end of the month.)

[five-rivers]

Gambler's Fallacy

AO3

Izuku’s expected path down, face-first into the concrete, halted.  He floated, staring at the retreating sidewalk, uncomprehending.  

“Sorry!” said an unfamiliar voice.  “I hope you don’t mind, I used my quirk on you!  Falling would be bad luck, wouldn’t it?”

“Um,” said Izuku, not sure how to explain that was the point to this very pretty girl with this super cool quirk, oh, no, why was she even talking to him?

She tapped her fingers together, and her quirk let him go.  “Good luck on the exam!” she said, walking away.

“Uh-um, y-yeah,” said Izuku.  

Crap.  Did that interaction count as good luck or bad?  Obviously, Kacchan literally running into him on the way in was bad luck, and tripping was bad luck, but a cute girl rescuing him?  And then Izuku completely humiliating himself by not being able to say thank you?  If only his quirk took other people’s actions into account more, maybe he’d be able to tell.  Especially when he was trying to save up his bad luck by pulling on the negative side of his quirk.  

Speaking of which, he had an entrance exam to get to, and this would be the biggest test of his quirk since the day with the sludge villain.  That day had been awful.  He’d burned through his ‘stored’ luck and then some when All Might rescued him, bit his tongue so hard he wasn’t able to ask the man any questions, and then on the way home, he’d run into the sludge villain again, but this time, it was attacking Kacchan, and he’d had to tip his quirk balance even further into ‘debt’ for the luck to stab the villain in the eye with his pencil.  When he finally got the chance to go home after that, when the heroes (except for All Might) were debating whether to berate him for quirk use, or interrogate him over his ‘clearly fake’ quirk, only constant vigilance kept him from being run over by a car or kidnapped.  

(Luck only took you so far.  Skill and hard work closed the gap.)

But he was far more prepared today!  The last time he’d spent a significant amount of luck all at once was when he met Mr. Yagi, who’d been organizing a community volunteer event to clean up Dagobah beach.  Izuku had… needed a pick-me-up after his quirk registration had been audited again.  He was glad he did.  Mr. Yagi was the sort of guy who was so uncool he sort of rolled over into being cool again, and he worked at Might Tower.  Izuku really liked Mr. Yagi.  Even if he did sometimes look at Izuku as if he were debating saying something life-altering.  

Point being, he had a bunch of luck saved up, and he’d keep saving it all the way until he was taking the exam, leaning on his quirk just enough to make himself moderately unlucky until then.  

It worked pretty well, in his opinion.  The random seating for the written exam and for the practical orientation both put him next to Kacchan, he somehow grabbed the attention of someone confident uptight enough to scold him for muttering in front of a whole auditorium of people, he kept getting hit by doors, the robot bus driver somehow decided to register him as a bush, instead of a human, he tripped getting off the bus, the uptight guy scolded him again, and then–

“Start!” screamed Present Mic, from the announcer’s box.  

Izuku didn’t have to be told twice.

.

Izuku didn’t actually mind having bad luck.  

Not usually.  Not as long as it was only a little bad luck.  After all, what you did with your luck was what dictated your fate.  Plus, most small unlucky events, like spills, tears, and lost items, could be countered with only a little forethought.  Izuku had two of everything that was really important, and carried a mini sewing and stain removal kit with him almost all the time!

But… good luck was freedom.  Good luck made him feel as if he was invincible, as if he was flying, a thousand miles up and only getting higher.  Good luck was amazing.  

Good luck was an almost ideal weapon in his hand the minute he stepped into the fake city, a piece of pipe that was just the right length, the right height, the right width for him to hold onto easily. 

Good luck was catching sight of other students hitting the weak points of robots so clearly he knew he would be able to target them as well.  

Good luck was partially-destroyed but still functional robots practically offering themselves up to him for points.  

Good luck was being able to dodge every attack and stray friendly fire without even trying.  

Good luck was spotting when people were in trouble before they even knew it, and pulling them out of the way.  

Good luck was seeing that nice girl trapped under rubble, and throwing his pipe, spear-like, at the zero-pointer and having it hit something so vital that its progress ground to a stop.  

Good luck was… rapidly running out.  Actually, he’d burned through his saved buffer of bad luck a while ago.  

Oops.  

He didn’t even see the bit of rubble that fell on his head.  

He didn’t see anything until hours later when Recovery Girl woke him up in the infirmary.  

He didn’t even get to talk to the nice girl again.  

But… he thought he’d done well.  He could only hope he’d done well enough.  

.

He had!

.

Izuku checked to make sure he wasn’t leaning on the negative side of his quirk too hard.  A quirk assessment?  A physical quirk assessment?  On the first day?  One with expulsion as a possible consequence?

He was going to die.  

It wasn’t like he’d neglected physical training.  Mr. Yagi had even given him some suggestions for it!  (It turned out that before he’d been a secretary, he’d been a personal trainer… who knew?)  But, naturally, he’d focused on his quirk, and his quirk was anything but physical.  In a class with Kacchan and people with enhancement-type quirks…

Kacchan promptly underlined the point by blasting a baseball hundreds of meters away in the ball toss while shouting “DIE!” at the top of his lungs.

He was really going to die.  

Unless… unless everyone else lost.

He raised his hand.  “Mr. Aizawa, do you mean we can do anything to make our scores better in comparison with our classmates?”

“As long as you don’t injure anyone, yes.”

Well.  He’d learned long ago that good luck for him sometimes meant bad luck for other people.  He… really didn’t want to be expelled.  But could he do that to his new classmates?  Could he sabotage them like that?

.

The answer was, no, he couldn’t.  But he could, apparently, get one of UA’s observation drones to go haywire, catching his baseball at the top of its arc and then zooming off to who-knew-where over a kilometer away at high speed.  

He could also promptly get plowed into by another drone, which had suffered from the same AI malfunction as the first, and have to go to Recovery Girl for the resultant broken arm.  

.

Sometimes, Izuku wondered if his quirk had a mind of its own, and, if so, what was up with its sense of humor.  

No one was expelled.  

.

Izuku stared at the numbered ball in his hand.  He’d decided to take it easy in the luck department today, not leaning on it either way, but, really, this was far too much, just to make things even.  

Next to him, stood Uraraka, who he might finally have a real conversation with.  Across from him, stood Kacchan, who was definitely going to take this opportunity to beat the crap out of him.  

Thank goodness nothing big was riding on this Battle Trial.  Even if All Might kept looking at him like he was going to say something life-altering.  

Actually…  Was All Might related to Mr. Yagi?  No, that was silly.  Just because two people worked in the same place and had similar mannerisms, and the same color of hair, and the same color of eyes, and the same smile, and similar heights, didn’t mean… um…  Hm.  

That was a thought for later.  

For now…

“My quirk is called Gambler’s Fallacy,” said Izuku.  “It lets me manipulate my luck.  I can store up bad things that happen to me, and then use them to make me lucky later, or, if I don’t have any luck stored, I can make myself lucky now, but I have to pay for it later.  I can also make myself unlucky on purpose, and store up the bad things that happen because of that.  But I don’t have anything stored up right now, since I spent it all yesterday, during the quirk assessment.”

“Wow,” said Uraraka, “that sounds really complicated.  So, you could just… make us win?”

“Not exactly.  If winning or losing was based entirely on chance, then, yes, but it isn’t.  This is mostly skill and ability.”  

“Mm,” said Uraraka.  “So we’ll just have to be more skilled!  Anyway, even if you can’t make us win, we’ll know that we didn’t lose just because of dumb luck, right?”

Izuku nodded.  “You’re right!  I, um, I do have a plan.”

“Let’s hear it!”

.

Izuku’s quirk apparently thought winning  was worth breaking an arm (again).  Maybe if he factored in Recovery Girl’s quirk, he could understand that.  

But it still hurt.  

(And Kacchan was still angry.  Izuku wished he’d stop blaming all of his bad luck on him.  Even if it was Izuku, this time.)

.

Getting trampled twice in one day, first by reporters, then by people running away from reporters, was definitely bad luck.  

.

“I tend to say whatever is on my mind,” said Asui– No.  Tsu.  She said to call her Tsu.

“Okay?” said Izuku.  

“Your quirk is very hard to understand.”

“Ah, yeah,” said Izuku, rubbing the back of his neck.  “It is.  I’m really glad quirks grow with you.  If I was able to push my luck then as much as I can now, I probably would have died.”  As it was, he'd gotten into a few bad situations over the years.  Once, while operating with neutral luck, he'd won a contest that was apparently more chance-based than advertised, and the results had been… interesting.

('Interesting' being code for terrifying.)

“Hah!” scoffed Kacchan.  “There’s nothing hard to understand about it!  He just sabotages everyone around him!”

“Like you’re any better,” said Kaminari, as Izuku slouched down in his seat, trying to disappear.  “If you don’t tone things down, all of us will be deaf by the time we graduate!”

“I could make you some earplugs, if you think that would help,” offered Yaoyorozu.  

.

As it turned out, being attacked by a whole league of villains during the first field trip of the school year was so absolutely, unmitigatedly bad that it topped off Izuku’s ‘gauge.’  The last time that had happened, he’d been in elementary school.  

It meant that he danced around the first attacks with ease, and when he did fall through a portal, it deposited him right outside a very clearly labeled maintenance door.  It was locked, but Izuku’s costume didn’t include a utility belt just for aesthetics.  He pulled a set of ‘universal’ keys out of one of the pouches, jammed the first one he grabbed into the lock, and grinned as he heard all the tumblers click home.  

Random chance was his friend today.

He ran up, into a sort of control room.  Several of the screens were blinking, warning that the system had lost connection to the main campus.  He cleared the warnings and swept his eyes over the controls.  There was a set of headphones on one of the monitors, and he put them on.  They’d been sized for someone bigger than him, but that was fine.  There were sounds coming through them, so… There.  He could switch freely between hidden microphones in a number of places, apparently.

More importantly, at the moment, he could control vital aspects of a number of the simulations.  He got to work, draining the shipwreck zone, strategically flaring the fires in the conflagration zone, activating a landslide in the landslide zone, ‘rebuilding’ collapsed houses in the typhoon zone…  Anything he could think of, to damage the chances of villains and let his classmates escape.  

Then, his elbow hit the microphone button, switching what the headphone channel to the central plaza just in time to hear ‘Shigaraki Tomura’ order ‘Nomu’ to kill Mr. Aizawa.  

.

All Might burst through the doors before Izuku could even begin to come up with a plan to escape the frankly horrifying Nomu, and never before had Izuku been so relieved to feel his luck drain away and equalize.  

All Might was here - and that was apparently equal to the villains in the eyes of his quirk.  They’d be safe, now.  They were saved.  

Izuku almost cried.  

Then he really did cry as Nomu and the portal villain actually proved to be a challenge.  If Nomu could hold All Might still, and the portal villain could portal one of All Might’s limbs to Shigaraki Tomura…  Or even if the portal villain could close a portal with something in transit…  

But that didn’t happen.  

Instead, All Might punched Nomu through the roof of the USJ.

Izuku tracked Nomu’s meteoric rise with a sense of wonder.  His quirk was great and all, but he’d never, ever be able to do anything like that.  

The rest of the teachers piled through the hole All Might had made in the side of the USJ, and the portal villain swept himself and Shigaraki Tomura away.  Izuku, finally, let himself relax, loosening his grip on his quirk.  

He… didn't think that anyone had died.  That was as lucky as they could possibly expect to be.

.

The problem with the sports festival was that the positive Izuku’s quirk was only effective for short periods of time.

Could he constantly maintain a low level of good luck, like he could with the bad?  Technically, yes.  He’d been tempted to do just that more than once.  But if he ever lost grip on his quirk while he was carrying around a big luck debt…  Well.  It was better to be owed luck than to owe it.  When not being actively managed, his quirk tended to just equalize.  

Could he save up and then slowly spend his good luck?  Again, technically, yes, but… and this was something Izuku was embarrassed to admit…

He was bad at spending good luck slowly.  In fact, not only did he usually push his good luck to happen faster than it usually would, when he was using that side of his quirk, he tended to overshoot.  By a lot.  Hence incidents like at the end of the entrance practical.  

(He was glad he hadn’t overdrawn his luck at the USJ.  He’d probably have had Nomu fall on him or something.)

If he wanted to do well in the sports festival, he couldn’t do that.  It wouldn’t do him any good to win, say, a relay race, like they’d done for the second event  a couple years ago, and then step on his shoelace and concuss himself before he could do anything for the next event.  

So.  He had to figure out how to either regulate his quirk use better, or how to pass at least one event without using it.  Preferably both.  

.

Izuku kept his quirk in neutral until the minefield.  Who decided that a minefield was a good idea for a school sports festival?  Well…  Plus Ultra, he supposed.  

He had an idea.  

He had an idea he needed to be lucky for.  But he'd only have to be lucky for a minute.  Maybe even less.  

He put his scrap metal shield aside, and started stacking mines.  When he figured he had enough, and had them in more or less the right shape, he picked up his scrap metal and, using it to shield himself, jumped on the mines.  

He went soaring.  It was exhilarating.  It was terrifying.  It was working.  

Kacchan and Todoroki were in sight.  He was gaining on them.  He was–

Getting hit by a bird. 

He tumbled sideways, away from Todoroki and Kacchan.  Barely, he managed to get the shield under him again, before he hit the ground and another mine went off, sending him shooting in the other direction.  He landed back in the path Todoroki and Kacchan had cleared, which was weird if his luck had run out…

It hadn’t run out.  

Then where had the bird…?  Why…?

It didn’t matter.  What mattered was that he wasn’t going to try that again, but he need to get a move on if he wanted to finish this race.  He wrenched his quirk back to neutral, and started running.  

He came in third, and collapsed in the waiting area.  Yeah.  Running.  Being exploded.  Still hard.  

It took a while for everyone else to cross the finish line.  A while during which Izuku wondered why he’d been hit by that bird.  Maybe Kouda…?  No, he was nowhere nearby, and he usually didn’t make his helpers commit suicide runs which… that probably was, unfortunately.  Was his quirk just broken?  He didn’t like the thought of that.  His quirk screwed him over in a lot of ways, but it had never backstabbed him or failed to work.  

But as soon as Midnight announced the results…

Yeah.  

His quirk wasn’t broken.  

(He’d have to burn some incense for that poor bird, though.  Yikes.)

He, in third place, had a headband worth two hundred points for the next event.  Kacchan had one worth two hundred and five.  

Todoroki’s was worth ten million.  

.

Izuku’s calvary team was made up of Uraraka, Tokoyami, and Hatsume, an unfamiliar girl from the support course.  Hatsume was the rider.  Izuku didn’t have any offensive quirk that being rider would let him leverage, Uraraka didn’t want to be in a position where she would have to use her quirk on herself, and Tokoyami and Dark Shadow were strong together.  Hatsume, meanwhile, had all sorts of unbelievable gadgets that she could operate from the rider position.  

Between her and Tokoyami, their ability to collect headbands shouldn’t be bad.  While everyone else went after Todoroki and Kacchan, they should be able to snag smaller point values.  Once they got a comfortable number, they could use Hatsume’s jetpacks and hide out in the air until the clocks ran down.

“I’m impressed,” she said, after Izuku finished explaining the plan.  

“It’s nothing fancy.”

“Not that, third place.  I’m impressed you’re letting someone else take the spotlight.”

“Well,” said Izuku, “I’m… probably not going to be a spotlight hero, honestly.  My quirk isn’t all that fancy.”

“Hm.  Maybe.  I feel like we’ll be surprised.”

And maybe she was right.

The more chaos inherent in a system, the more Izuku’s quirk could do.  The cavalry battle had a lot of chaos.

So, when Izuku flared his quirk to give them just that little edge, trying to keep their points out of Iida’s hands–

Rin’s team and Kamakiri’s team slipped and fell as Honenuki overshot his quirk use, becoming immediately disqualified.  Monoma brushed against Todoroki… while he already was holding Kacchan’s quirk.  The explosion wasn’t the biggest Izuku had ever seen, but it wasn’t small.  Kaminari, startled, shocked Iida, who stumbled, and almost capsized their whole team, letting Kacchan almost grab the ten million point headband, except that Todoroki suddenly caught on fire.  

Izuku shut his quirk off.  He’d used more luck than he intended, but he still has some for later, and for now…

“Take us up, Hatsume!”

“Thought you’d never ask, third place!”

.

When they landed, they hadn’t finished in first place, but they were far from dropping out, which was a true relief.  

The third event was single combat, which, hm.  Yeah.  His odds weren’t good on this.  He was planning on losing a lot of the recreational games between the second and third rounds, but the stakes of those were low, so he wouldn’t get a lot of luck from them.  In a bare concrete ring, one on one, skill against skill, with almost no outside variables…  It was possible for his quirk to make someone trip over their own feet, or get weird muscle spasms, but under these circumstances, it would be expensive.

Well, there was a little interlude even before that, so he was going to go freshen up…

.

Neither Izuku nor his quirk could decide what kind of luck overhearing all that counted as.  First Todoroki trying to have some kind of rivalry heart-to-heart with Kacchan, where he heavily implied he was the result of a eugenics project, and then whatever that was with his father.  Should he report this?  Who would he even report this to?  Who would believe him?  

He was kind of freaking out.  

And Todoroki’s quirk.

“I thought I was the only one who had self sabotage as part of my quirk,” he whispered.  

Actually, he was pretty angry about that.  Edging into fury, really.  It wasn’t like Todoroki was the only one who’d been dealt a bad hand when it came to fathers, but Izuku wasn’t refusing to use his quirk over it, even though his father’s permanent departure had been the inciting incident for his quirk’s first activation.

(His father abandoning them had, actually, given Izuku a small reserve of good luck that took several days to naturally deplete.  It was something Izuku was perversely grateful for, knowing what his quirk might have done to him otherwise.)

But what could he do?

Except, maybe…  He’d used his fire instinctively, in the cavalry battle.  Maybe if someone could pressure him…

Could Izuku do that?  

No.  Probably not.  Not without a lot of luck. 

… this was going to be painful later.  

.

Of course, he couldn’t beat sense into Todoroki unless he actually made it to the second round of battles.  Making it to the second round of battles seemed… unlikely, at the moment.  His quirk couldn’t protect him from his own stupid decisions, after all.

He was walking towards the edge of the ring, not in control of his body, barely in control of his quirk, which he had turned on as much as he could.  

He tripped.  Over his own feet, as it so happened.

Before Shinsou could react, he was back on his feet and attacking.  Shinsou’s story sounded… sad.  Lonely.  But Izuku had lived the same life!  He’d been called bad luck and a vampire ever since he’d first fully explained his quirk!  He wanted to commiserate!  To comfort!  To empathize!

But, right now, it was time to fight, and he threw Shinsou out of the ring.  

.

Unfortunately, getting out of Shinsou’s grip had come at the cost of his remaining luck.  That meant that if he used any for the fight with Todoroki - a fight he was almost certain to lose anyway - he’d be paying for it later.  

But could he really leave this alone?  Being a hero was risky.  Being a hero while using only half your quirk was worse.  

The match started, and Izuku jumped.  He was lucky, of course.  Todoroki had pretty good control of his ice, but there were, naturally, random peaks and valleys in the less-controlled parts, and Izuku happened to fall into a valley.  He also managed to break off an ice spike on the way down.  

Lacking other weapons, he threw it at Todoroki.  

“You know,” said Izuku, managing to hide from ice behind yet more ice, and acquiring a few more projectiles while he was at it, “if you used your fire to melt these, you wouldn’t have to dodge!”

This actually stopped Todoroki dead in his tracks.  “You–”

“I overheard your conversation with Kacchan!”  Izuku dodged again.  “Do you really think you can be a hero using only half a quirk?  When all the rest of us are trying our–”

He was forced to dodge again.  This went on for some time.  Izuku, barely manage to dodge, Todoroki whipping another, more fragile, glacier at him, Izuku throwing ice and words he barely heard himself back at him.

Izuku, though… He was wearing down.  The temperature was getting to him, and Todoroki had winged him a few times.  

“I won’t do it!” declared Todoroki through gritted teeth.  “I won’t use his quirk!  I’ll show him–”

“It’s not his!  It’s yours!  Use your quirk, Todoroki!  Show me your power!”

Through the ice, Izuku saw orange flare from the tips of Todoroki’s fingers.

The thought crossed Izuku’s mind that suddenly heating up this much cold air might not go very well.  For the very first time in his life, Izuku’s survival instinct decided to do its job and he threw himself out of the ring just in time for Cementoss to raise the blast walls to contain Todoroki’s explosion.

“Uh,” said Midnight a minute later.  “Todoroki, wins?”

Izuku was just as surprised as she was that he hadn’t been turned into a fine paste.  Of course, that could still happen.  He had a massive bout of bad luck coming up.  

Still.  Lying here next to two Pro Heroes, he was probably safe.

.

Izuku tripped going down the stairs leaving the ring.  

“How do you break so many bones going down stairs?” asked Recovery Girl, incredulously.  

Izuku grunted.  Broken bones could be healed.  So could frostbite.  

But, for him at least, the sports festival was over.  He just had to hope he’d made a good impression.

.

(Todoroki joined him in the infirmary an hour later.

“Bakugou is extremely violent,” he said, by way of explanation.

“Yeah, he’s kind of…  Yeah.”

“You’re still friends.”

“Uh,” said Izuku.  “Maybe?”

“What’s your phone number?”

Somehow, Izuku wound up adding Todoroki to the class group chat.)

.

“Who sent your recommendation?” asked Uraraka, over lunch.  

“Native!” said Izuku, vibrating with excitement.  His quirk was kind of boring, visually, and hard to understand, so he hadn’t expected to get any offers at all!

“Native?” asked Uraraka, her face dropping.  “Isn’t he kind of, um.  His whole image is a bit…”

“Appropriative?” filled in Iida.  

“That’s a misconception,” said Izuku.  “He actually is native.  His father is Japanese, obviously, but he’s Ainu, and his mother is from an indigenous North American tribe.  They met at some kind of conference for displaced indigenous peoples, I think?  The documentary was really interesting, but it’s been a while…  I think there was later some kind of controversy with his mother, but I don’t really understand American politics…”

“Oh!” said Uraraka.  “I didn’t know that!  I guess I should try to research, before just assuming things.”

“It’s…  It’s a common misconception,” said Izuku, waving his hands.  “A company he’d investigated for illegal quirk experimentation ran a really nasty smear campaign against him, and, uh, his public persona isn’t really great.”  Which was the polite way to say that he got irritated at reporters (and everyone else) really easily.  “The important thing is, you know now.”

“Mhm!  I guess so!  That’s a really good way to put it.”  She leaned forward.  “I really like your hero name!  It’s super cute!”

“Thanks!” said Izuku, brightly.  “I’ve wanted to use it since I was a little kid!”

.

The ride to Hosu was painfully awkward.  Mainly because every attempt Izuku made to try and start a conversation with Iida fell flatter than a pancake.  

Not that he blamed Iida!  He probably had a lot on his mind, after all.

.

“He-hello, sir!” said Izuku, bowing deeply to Native, who had been leaning up against the front desk of his agency, talking to the secretary.  “I’m Clover!  Y-your intern!  Please take care of me!”

“Hey, hey,” said Native, “there’s really no reason to be like that, it’s irritating.  You need to loosen up a little, kid.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Native sighed.  “Okay, anyway, you good here, Satsumi?”

“Yes, I think I have all the information,” said the secretary.  

“Great.  So, I guess I can give you the tour and the intern talk.”

Native’s agency wasn’t anything fancy.  A lot of things in it were worn out.  Old.  But, then, after the smear campaign, it was probably hard for him to get sponsorships.

“So, Clover,” said Native, after he had given him a rundown of the temporary dorms and the main common areas, “why did you decide to intern with me?”

“W-well,” said Izuku, “for a couple reasons.  The first is that you’re the only one who requested me, specifically, as opposed to agencies that just have general agreements with UA, so I figured there was probably a reason for that.”

“Uh huh,” said Native, sounding unimpressed, “what else?”

“Well, you also have a strictly mental quirk.  Not a lot of heroes have that, not the ones on UA’s open internship list.  Ragdoll and Mandalay from the Wild Wild Pussycats are the only other ones, and… I’d be worried about being a liability in a rescue situation.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t think so?  Of course, your record was–”

“Nothing else that might have been in the news?”

“Um.  No?”

Native nodded. “I’m surprised anyone took me up on my offer this year, honestly.”

“Be-because of the smear campaign? I, um, I never believed it.  I remembered your interview when you talked about your parents, so…”

“Ah.  Okay.  That makes sense.  Sorry.  Just had to make sure you weren’t one of those weirdos who try to congratulate me for ‘sticking it’ to an already oppressed group.”  He sighed.  “You’d think we’d have solved at least some of these problems, since we got superpowers, but no, we just came up with even more ways to be awful.”

“O-oh,” said Izuku.  “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Native, waving off the apology.  “So.  Tell me about your quirk.”

.

Native’s quirk, compared to Izuku’s, was simple.  It affected his perception.  Not his senses themselves, but the way his brain processed the data from those senses.  His eyes and ears weren’t any sharper than a normal person’s, but what he could process about what he could see and hear was.  And he could do it fast.  He could glance at a full page of writing for a second, and know everything that was written on it.  

It wasn’t terribly like Izuku’s quirk, and didn’t affect the outside world, like Izuku’s did, but like Izuku’s, the activation and management of the quirk were all in his head.  Which meant that he could advise Izuku on how to better use it.  

Unfortunately, Native seemed more interested in the stockpile aspect of his quirk.

“So,” said Native, “hypothetically, if something bad happened to you that had nothing to do with luck, would that count?  Like, if someone decided to hit you.”

“Um, not really.  Like, whenever someone throws a punch, there’s a small amount of chance involved in it hitting at all, but that’s, um, negligible, as far as I’ve been able to tell.”

“So you couldn’t bank luck by, say, purposefully getting assigned crappy paperwork?”

“Uh,” said Izuku, “no.  Not unless the paperwork was randomly assigned and I was leaning on the negative side of my quirk to get it.”

“Okay.  And, then, what if you traded the paperwork to someone else, afterwards?”

“I think I…  I’m not sure?  If I’d set the trade up before hand, probably, um, it’d just do whatever would get me the bad paperwork?”

“What if you needed the bad paperwork for some reason?”

“Then I’d have to use good luck, otherwise I wouldn’t get it.”

“What if you needed something bad to happen to you for some reason?  Like, you wanted to break your arm or get sick to get out of a school assignment?”

“Oh, I actually tried… something like that a few times.”  Not to avoid school work, but to avoid bullies.  “It only worked once, and I really regretted it.”

“Got really sick, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Izuku.  

“Okay,” said Native.  “I’ve got to go out on patrol soon, but I’ve asked Satsumi to give you the basic operational rundown.  Pro-tip?  It’s always the secretaries who are really running the show.”

“I-I’ll remember that, sir!”

“Yeah, yeah.  Anyway, enjoy the break, because I already have some training ideas for tomorrow.”

.

“So,” said Native as Izuku ran through his costume checklist.  “The thing is, even though our quirks are pretty different, there are still some similarities in– Hey, are you paying attention?”

“Yes, s-sir!”

“Uh huh.  There are some similarities in how we have to fight because of them.  Both of us have to rely heavily on the environment and respond to changes in it quickly.  Me, because that’s the only advantage I have, you, because even if your quirk gives you the best opening possible, you still have to move to take advantage of it.  So.”  He gestured at the crowded room, packed full of various random items.  “That’s what we’re doing.  Simulating a changeable environment for you to keep track of.  You ready?”

“Yes!”

.

“I’m going to take you out on patrol today,” said Native.

“R-really?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t going to.  There’s a limited amount you can learn from sparring and helping Satsumi with the paperwork - The paperwork is really important, though.  If you screw it up enough, it can break you.  Mainly because of insurance problems.  You don’t want insurance problems.  Or Hero Commission problems.  If they decide they don’t like you, they’ll jump on anything they can to get rid of you.”

Izuku made note of this important fact.  

“Anyway, unless I give you permission, or you’re directly attacked, you are not to engage any villains or criminals, got it?  And if I tell you to run, you run.”

“I-I’ve got it!”

“Cool.  So.  Ready to make your debut, Clover?”

“Yes!”

“Great.  Oh, and bring those marbles.  They worked well for you in yesterday’s session.”

.

The first few hours of patrol went more or less the way Izuku expected it to.  There wasn’t a whole lot of crime in Hosu at this time of day.  Native caught an older teenager trying to break into a car, and gave him a warning for a first offense, they were called to a four-year-old’s somewhat awkward and chaotic quirk awakening - which Izuku helped with! - and a welfare check for an older couple who had missed a book club meeting (they were fine, they had just gotten the date wrong).  Otherwise, it was just walking around Hosu, including some really sketchy alleyways, Native pointing out things to keep an eye on and how to spot trouble in specific places.

But, then… things exploded.  

It wasn’t like Izuku was unused to explosions.  He’d gone to school with Kacchan.  But this explosion was bigger, and had a different character than Danny was used to.  It was also, thankfully, further away.  

Still, the middle of a city like this was not a good place for an explosion.  He started forward, towards the source of the sound, but Native caught his arm.  

“Never,” he said, pulling out his phone (a HeroGrade 32!  They weren’t available to the public, yet!), “never run blind into a situation when you can gather info first.”

“But–” 

“There are other heroes with closer routes,” said Native.  “We can be more useful if we know what’s going on first.  Crap.  Looks like a mass villain attack.”  He flipped his phone to face Izuku. A HeroNet video was playing on it.

He caught sight of exposed brain matter and gasped.  “Nomu?”

“You know one of these guys?”

“No,” said Izuku, “but they look just like one of the villains that attacked the USJ!  Maybe they’re relatives?”

“Any weaknesses?”

“No, they were really strong.  All Might had trouble, even.”

“Crap.  Hopefully, these guys don’t have the same kind of quirk.  Come on, now that we know what we’re up against, the faster we get there, the better.”  He started running.  “I want you to work with on-site sidekicks clearing civilians from the area.  You can use your quirk, but if your stockpile runs out, evacuate with the civilians.  If you get cornered, I give you permission to fight, but only if you get cornered.  Otherwise, run, got it?”

“Ye-yes!” said Izuku.  It was easier for him to keep up with Native than he’d thought it would be, but he didn’t quite have the lung capacity to respond with full sentences.

They turned into an alley and– 

Native stopped dead, scanning the area.  

“Uh, Native?” said Izuku.  “Is–?”

Native pulled him to one side as something fell on them from above.  No.  Not something.  Someone.  Someone– Vest, bandaged arms, scarf, swords–

Native, naturally, processed the information much faster than Izuku.  

“Stain!”

Oh. 

Izuku pulled on his quirk instinctively and reached for his belt, grabbing the first thing that came to hand and throwing it at Stain.  The handful of marbles hit the side of Stain’s beaten katana and knocked it aside enough for Native to dodge.  

But Stain had another knife, and it flicked against Native’s stomach, cutting through his suit and drawing blood.  The wound looked shallow, though, so–

Stain licked his knife, and Native stiffened mid-step and started to fall.  Izuku caught him, then pulled him back, out of Stain’s immediate reach.

“I-I can’t move!” said Native, sounding shocked.

“A… sidekick?” said Stain.  

“He’s just-”  Native’s breath caught.  “He’s a student.  An intern.  I’ve only known him for a day.  Don’t–”

“A day is more than long enough for the rot to creep in.  Well, boy, do you stand by this fake, or will you give up his lies?”

“Clover, run!” 

“I-” said Izuku, “I won’t leave you!”  He also wasn’t sure if he’d make it, even if he did run.  Stain was good, as shown by how he’d still managed to stab Native, even though Izuku was using his quirk, and with the way the alley was constructed, they were standing in a corner, the direct path to the street blocked and blinded by buildings.  

“Then you, too, will be culled.”

Izuku jumped back from the lunge, unfortunately sacrificing his phone to deflect the blade.  Hopefully, the text he’d been making behind his back had gone through… he might not be connected to HeroNet, but he did have a network, and he knew at least two of them were in this city.

He hoped this worked.  

Then, faster than could be believed, it did.  Iida came racing around the corner and–

–apparently didn’t notice Izuku and Native fighting for their lives at all, but Izuku was willing to give him a pass, because he was a) there, b) clearly really upset by what happened to his brother, and c) took Stain’s attention off of him and Native.  Whatever.  But he also narrowly missed getting decapitated, and only avoided getting paralyzed by Stain because Izuku had picked up Iida’s helmet and beaned Stain over the back of the head with it.  

“What are you doing here?” demanded Iida.  

This was such a ridiculous question that Izuku didn’t answer it.  He was getting attacked by a serial killer.  That should’ve been obvious.

“Take Native and leave, this is my business.”

“You take Native and leave!” 

Iida could maintain a viable escape speed while carrying Native, unlike Izuku, and then Izuku could also run, no longer having to worry about whether or not he was leaving someone to their death.  Unfortunately, Stain did not wait for Izuku to explain this to Iida.  

What followed could have been a slapstick comedy.  Stain lunged, but put his foot down on a marble, which let Izuku and Iida dodge.  He recovered quickly, however, and swiped at Iida, who he called a fake hero - this was technically correct, as neither Iida nor Izuku had their licenses yet - but the blade was deflected by Iida’s armor, and all the blow accomplished was to knock a piece of Iida’s armor loose.  

(Izuku had to wonder if Iida’s costume manufacturer had skimped on the connective parts of his armor.  Parts of a costume shouldn’t just come off like that, except for capes, for safety reasons.)

But loose metal junk was one of Izuku’s favorite weapons, and when the bracer landed in his hand, he didn’t waste time throwing it at Stain’s face.  Then he pulled out his other favorite weapon.  A telescoping baton.  

He didn’t have it during the USJ, but after the sports festival…  Yeah.  He’d realized he needed something, and Mei had been all too happy to fulfill that need.  Literally too happy.  Powerloader had nixed most of her ideas and given Izuku a standard baton until he could work out potential bugs.  

Anyway.  

He alternated between throwing trash at Stain (the alley had a lot of trash) and trying to smack him with the baton.  Iida, meanwhile, tried to kick his face off.  The only reason they weren’t dead - or paralyzed like Native - was that Stain kept slipping on marbles and getting weapons stuck in the alley walls.  They were not, in any way, winning.  

Then Todoroki arrived like a divine spirit descending from heaven, and froze Stain solid.  

Well.  He didn’t freeze Stain immediately.  There was quite a bit of back and forth, because it turned out that the dodging technique Izuku had lucked into during the sports festival was something Stain could do at will.  And he tried to kill Todoroki too, a few times.  And there was some stabbing involved, but with Todoroki there, they could freeze the blood, and Iida was only paralyzed for a little bit, and all the while everyone was yelling about their personal philosophies, and heroism, and All Might, and–

His point was, after Todoroki showed up, it felt like the fight went really fast.  

But with Stain frozen, Izuku felt like he could relax just a little…

… and lose his grip on his quirk, which was very far in the red.  

Claws closed around his torso, and he was swiftly lifted from the alley.  Swiftly enough that his head cracked on the side of one of the buildings and he lost consciousness.  

.

Later, he learned that the nomu (which was apparently a class of being and not a family or personal name) had carried him around, apparently confused, for fifteen minutes before a flight-capable hero named Gran Torino rescued him.

He was, naturally, brought to the hospital, and, equally naturally, was the most injured out of the four people in that alleyway (not counting Stain, who they had really beaten the crap out of, apparently).  

He was relieved to hear that everyone had lived, and the nomu attack had only resulted in a few serious injuries, due to the strong hero presence in Hosu.  

He was significantly less relieved to hear that the police were thinking about charging him with vigilantism.  

.

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Native, who had evidently overheard the police chief while taking a walk down the hallway.  “Clover had my permission to fight, if he was cornered.  Which he was.  I don’t know about the other two, but legally speaking, my intern is in the clear.” 

Izuku sighed in relief.  He didn’t think he and his mother could afford to go to court. 

“And kid?”

“Y-yes?”

“Stop using your quirk while you’re this beat up.  I know it’s instinctive, but I don’t want you to wind up getting an air embolism or something stupid from the kickback.”

“Oh,” said Izuku.  “Yes, sir.”

.

In preparation for the first term’s final exam, Izuku eased himself back into days where everything was just a little bit awful.  

He tore a hole in his favorite sweater.  He fell off a building during the Rescue Training Race.  Mr. Yagi kept staring at him with that weird expression when he went to volunteer.  He got every question he guessed on wrong on the mock exam.  He let himself get fleeced by Uraraka in small-scale gambling games.  He lost every round of rock-paper-scissors he played.  His mother sneezed and accidentally cut off way too much of his hair while giving him a trim, and Monoma started calling him a sheared sheep.  All Might kept staring at him with that weird expression during heroics lessons.  He lost a lot of in-class fights for silly reasons, like the elastic in his pants giving way, or, in one case, random neutrino interaction with the program controlling a simulation.  

It was good practice for when - not if, when - his quirk decided to screw him over in the middle of a real fight.  

But, maybe, Izuku should have realized that decisions about the final would be made significantly in advance of the final actually happening, and he wouldn’t have kept his quirk going until the last minute.  

Maybe then he wouldn’t have been paired with Kacchan.  Maybe then, they wouldn’t be facing All Might himself.  

Maybe then he wouldn’t be lying on the ground, bleeding, with Kacchan screaming at him to take his ‘stupid bad luck deku self’ and go away.  

In the end, however, Kacchan was the one who stomped away.  Izuku was left to slowly sit up, still feeling stunned.  Part of him couldn’t believe Kacchan still held a grudge over childhood quirk slip ups, especially considering what he had done to Izuku with his quirk.  Part of him… very much could.  

Kacchan was a jerk.  

Although… Izuku probably should have tried to come up with a plan more palatable than ‘run away.’  He’d known that Kacchan would never accept anything less than a perfect victory after the sports festival.

He shook his head, even though that made his ears ring, and pulled a coin out of one of his suit’s pouches.  In theory, this should work.  He had pretty good evidence of this usually working, for less vital things.

He flared his quirk and flipped the coin.  Heads, he’d go with his original plan, and try to escape.  Tails, he’d try to back up Kacchan.    

Heads.  

Well, then.  

.

It turned out that Izuku’s quirk was pretty good for stealth, given a large enough playing field.  

.

Izuku let go of his quirk as soon as he stepped through the gate, pleased to note that he still had some luck left.  Intending to keep it that way, and not spend it trying not to get murdered by Kacchan, he decided to jog back to where the other groups were waiting. 

Judging by the explosions behind him, this was a wise choice.  

He didn’t go back to his usual low grade bad luck until he was home safe, with the knowledge that he would be going to the training camp, and Kacchan wouldn’t be.

.

Except it turned out the students who had failed were going on the trip after all.  Yay.

.

Low grade bad luck was not supposed to include Shigaraki Tomura crashing a shopping trip, and yet.  

At least the ridiculous threat to his life - how had Shigaraki even recognized him?  He’d spent most of the time in the USJ in the maintenance room! - meant that he had a bit of extra luck to lean into, and he was hoping that Mr. Aizawa, or, heck, even All Might had decided this was a good day to shop, too.

But as the conversation wore on, it became obvious that his current quasi-kidnapped state was a direct result of his last kidnapping.  Shigaraki wanted to know “What did you do to my nomu?” and “What did you do to Stain?” and, most importantly, “Why do people pay attention to Stain and not me?” 

Which, in Izuku’s opinion, was a pretty petty thing for a supervillain to worry about, but this supervillain did have a dangerous quirk pointed at Izuku’s throat, so he wasn’t about to say that.  

“W-well,” he said, instead, “Stain is… understandable.  He has goals.  And even if you don’t agree with his goals, they’re pretty clear.  What he wants is… normal.  And the source of his conviction– It’s All Might!  It’s like that for a lot of people.  Even if the way he’s going about fulfilling his goals isn’t something people can accept.  You…  I don’t think anyone understands what you want.  What your, um, ideals are…”

“Ha,” said Shigaraki.  “Ha.”  

Izuku didn’t dare move.  He didn’t dare swallow.  Shigaraki’s middle finger was so close to his throat…

“I get it now,” he said, a horrible smile-like thing on his face.  “It’s all so clear now.  It all makes sense.  It’s so obvious why the hero killer is so irritating.  It’s all because of All Might.”  He laughed again.  “Right?  Right.  That’s the conclusion.  Man.  Of course it was All Might.  It’s always him.  The reason all these idiots can smile– It’s him!  Him, smiling, as if there’s no one he can’t save!”

At this point, Izuku started to tune him out, because it was hard to pay attention to something as trivial as words when you’re actively being strangled.  

And then, right when he was sure he was going to die one way or the other, Uraraka showed up.  

.

“I think I hate that guy,” said Izuku to Uraraka, later.  

“Yeah,” she said.  “Me too.”

.

Well, the training camp was going well.  And by well, Izuku meant he sure was training.  A lot.  

He was also, for some reason, catching a small ball-punching child who had been knocked off a wall by a pervert.  

They really should come up with some method to stop Mineta before he took things too far…  Some of his stunts were getting scary. 

But that was a task for tomorrow!  The task for today was listening to the story of a horrible family tragedy and then passing out.  

But then it turned out that the task for tomorrow was more training, and then–

And then the Test of Courage was crashed by a bunch of villains.  

.

The forest was filled with toxic gasses and fire, and there was a grade schooler somewhere on the mountain, but this was fine!  Totally fine!  Izuku had this handled!  And there were actual adults, trained heroes, who were not paralyzed, here, so, really, this was more like the USJ than the fight with Stain!

… Shockingly, this observation didn’t make him feel better.  

Finding Kouta did make him feel better.  

Encountering Muscular seconds later didn’t.  

Nor did discovering that the villains planned to kidnap Kacchan and Tokoyami.  At least Kacchan was safe back with the other people who’d failed the test.  Tokoyami, not so much.  

He had mixed feelings about the results of throwing the nearest stick at Muscular.  He’d prefer that he not be known as the hero who habitually put out people’s eyes, but if he complained about it, that would mean he survived to complain about it.

He took the opportunity to run.  

.

Izuku would very much like to know why Kacchan was out here and not safely back in the buildings with Vlad King and Mr. Aizawa.  

.

Why was Moonfish here?  Didn't Shigaraki know the reason Moonfish got caught was because he tried to eat his accomplice?

.

There was a shape-shifter involved.  This explained nothing.  

.

Why didn't this guy become a stage magician or something?

.

Izuku managed to catch the right orb and break Kacchan free, but even the best luck in the world couldn't save you from stupidity.  Stupidity in this case being Kacchan immediately shoving Izuku away and getting caught by the villains again. 

So.

Kacchan got kidnapped. 

The villains left.

A tree fell on Izuku.

He was, of course, sent to the hospital.

.

In the hospital, he wondered if Kacchan’s last words to him before he was hauled into that portal were right.  If he was just bad luck.  If he should just stay away.  

If Kacchan's shove had kept *Izuku* from being taken.  

.

They were on a rescue mission, and none of that mattered.  They were going to Kamino Ward.

.

They were hiding behind a wall about a meter high.  It had been much taller a second ago.  

Izuku's quirk was screaming at him.  It had never done that before.  

They could hear All Might and the villain talking, and it was terrible, terrible what he'd done to Ragdoll, but… it filled in so many gaps.  It explained the nomu.  It explained Shigaraki’s hatred of All Might.  It explained why this villain was so powerful.

But.

None of that mattered right now.  What mattered was saving Kacchan. 

.

They were soaring high above the battlefield, and Kirishima held out his hand - the chances were one in a million or less, but– 

Kacchan was with them, and they were running.  

They made it out, made it away, and Izuku kept a tight grip on his quirk, because he wouldn't, couldn't, let any bad luck happen now.  Not when it could spill over onto that battle.  

Then he saw the screen.

Izuku looked at All for One, standing in the ruins of Kamino Ward, standing above All Might, Mr. Yagi, who struggled to stand, to make one more attack, protect one more person, and he knew–

All for One was a person with a lifetime’s worth of good luck.  

He was practically made of luck.  From his quirk, which had to be the best quirk Izuku had ever heard of - the ability to take and give quirks?  Really?  That was a thing? - to having found the right quirks to live for centuries, to surviving that ‘last’ fight with All Might that he’d mentioned, to flying under the hero world’s radar for so long.  He’d won the lottery of life.  

If Izuku ever got luck like that, it’d kill him.

He slowed, stopping behind his classmates and–

And he turned.

And he ran. 

He ran, and cranked his quirk up as high as it would go.  Made himself as lucky as he possibly could.  The luck, not having anywhere else to go, spilled out, touching everyone around him with its glow.  

The small cluster of cancer cells in a man he passed spontaneously died.  

A woman fumbled her phone and sent a text message that would one day radically change her life for the better.

Hospitals nearby recorded a practically unheard of rash of Lazarus Syndrome cases.  

Rubble from the battlefield shifted just enough that a family of four were able to crawl out of the ruins of their living room.

Uraraka's father won the lottery- a fact he wouldn't notice for another week, too worried about his daughter to check his prize.  

Damage in Iida Tensei's spine inexplicably reversed itself.  It was only by a small amount, but even if he'd still never walk, he'd be able to move and feel his legs.

None of the attacks All for One launched hit his target.  Not a single one.

Izuku was a shooting star.  A brilliant light, burning into nothing.  Izuku had never before accumulated so much debt on his quirk.  One way or another, he knew he never would again.  

He ran across fields of rubble that should have sent him sprawling.  He dodged stray attacks from a combatant who might not even register his presence.  He got closer and closer, impossibility unscathed, until he slid between Mr. Yagi and All for One just as Mr. Yagi was caught under the crushed walls of a building.

He bowed, the crown of his head touching broken concrete.  "Please!  Please don't kill him!  I- I- Take my quirk, do anything you want to me, but please don't kill him."

"No!  Young Midoriya!  Get out of here!"

"And why should I take your quirk?" asked All for One, sounding amused.  

"Because- Because my quirk is luck.  I just got across this battlefield, unscathed.  If you take my quirk, you'll never have to worry about- about the kinds of injuries you have again." That was a bit of a guess, but if he had to risk things on a guess, it would be now, with his quirk blazing inside him.  "No one would get lucky enough to even touch you.  Please.  Take it."

Because All for One's quirk had to work one of two ways.  Either it took a quirk as it had been when it first manifested, or it took it as it currently was.  

Izuku's quirk had taken into account his prior luck when it first manifested, and he was building up a massive debt, now.  His quirk was the perfect poison pill.  He just needed All for One to take it.  

"Well," said All for One.  "I don't know about sparing All Might, but I could never refuse a quirk offered up so nicely."

Izuku felt All for One's hand on his head.

What followed was agony, and after that, an aching, hollowness, and the sound of someone crying.  

Was… was Mr. Yagi crying over him?  That was silly.  He wasn't dead, and his plan was going great.  

"Now," said All for One, "All Might-"

A horrid orange light and a deafening crack filled the air, and when Izuku could see again, the top half of All for One's body was gone, and there was a smoking crater a few meters behind the legs.  Everything smelled faintly burnt.

"What," croaked All Might.

"Oh," said Izuku, faintly.  "I always worried something like that would happen to me."

He promptly passed out.  

.

Izuku stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room.  This would be the last time he could blame getting hurt on his quirk.  His quirk, which was well and truly gone, now, along with Ragdoll’s and countless others.  Not that he could’ve gotten it back from All for One if his plan hadn’t worked but…

He was quirkless now.  

Kacchan had always been a jerk, and there were more than a few people in his class that were jerks along with him, really believing that Izuku was giving them bad luck every time they failed a test.  But he’d had a few casual friends in middle school despite that, and except for the teachers who thought he’d been falsifying his quirk, they usually stopped Kacchan before he went too far.  

But he knew how they all talked about quirkless people.  He knew the statistics.  He… hadn’t really been thinking of the consequences when he came up with the plan.  Not that he regretted it!  He didn’t.  But he knew it would be hard to be a hero without a quirk.  

Or would it?  Would living like this be like his quirk was always in neutral?  Or would it be something entirely different?  It already felt like something different.  It felt… weird.  Not being aware of how his luck was going.  Like being blind.  And he knew his luck was just random, now.  Knew that bad luck wouldn’t mean good luck to follow, and good luck didn’t mean bad luck to follow but…  Even thinking that felt alien to him.  

He could have good luck forever.  He could have bad luck forever.  That was statistically unlikely, of course.  Either way, he had no control over it.

“Oh, Izuku!”

“H-hi, Mom,” he said, and let his mother fuss over him.  He wasn’t up for much conversation at the moment, unfortunately.  

Behind her, Mr. Yagi, walked in and quietly shut the door.  

“Um,” said Izuku, “a-am I in trouble?  I mean, I know, I know that I technically killed someone with my quirk, but, uh.  I did do that.  Oh my gosh.  Oh my gosh, you’re here to arrest me, I–”

“Nonsense, Young Izuku!  If anyone tries to charge you for that man accidentally killing himself with his own quirk, I will simply eat them.”

“And that’s if they get through me, first,” said his mother, pleasantly.  

“Oh,” said Izuku.  “So, why…?”

“Two reasons,” said Mr. Yagi.  “First, I wanted to thank you.  I’ve spent my entire career trying to get rid of that man.”

Izuku nodded.  ‘Get rid of’ was pretty ambiguous, here, but Izuku was the last person who could blame him for trying to kill the guy.  

“The other thing I wanted to talk to you about…”  Here, Mr. Yagi got that look on his face.  “I want to talk to you about a quirk called One for All.”