#yandere hitoshi shinso x reader

[yanderenightmare]

i love your hybrid au sm! the way you characterise each animal to suit not only it’s species, but the characters itself is so creative and nothing short of genius! so it got me thinking, how would you imagine the bnha characters as mythical creatures and monsters ??? ( eg. vampires, wendigos, harpies, werewolves ) etc.

Katsuki, Tomura, Hawks, Deku, Shoto, Dabi

TW: implied noncon, yandere, the supernatural?

gn reader

Shigaraki Tomura Ghost

You’ve moved into his old room, and though you furnish it a bit differently than he did when he was still alive, you’ve placed the bed in the exact same spot. It’s been all dust and dead moths up until now, it almost feels like he’s alive again as he sleeps next to your warm body.

It’s only small things in the beginning. Underwear that goes missing, unexplainable handprints on the foggy shower doors, your duvet on the floor even though you’ve never been one to kick it off in your sleep.

You’ve never been one to believe in the paranormal either, but something convinces you to search up the history of the house. You find out a boy had murdered his entire family here—parents, grandparents, his sister—and that the boy himself was never found.

Obviously, you shut your laptop with a bang and try and will it away from your mind. It happened years and years ago—whoever that boy was, he was long since dead. But the more it starts sinking in that you’re not alone, the more your belief feeds him—makes him feel real again, as though you’re slowly bringing him back to life.

Sometimes, you spot him in the mirror of your vanity, but when you twist around, there’s no one there. But you feel him—the gust of cold breath giving you goosebumps, the weight of hands and a chest pressing against yours at night, and the brush of coarse fingertips touching you in places—places that have you moaning his dead name.

Bakugou Katsuki Demonic spirit

He enjoys large houses—preferably something with a bit of history. But every now and again, some moronic humans decide it’s time to wreck the old and build something new—which means he’s often on the move.

He doesn’t mind living alone in his new house until you move in. He’s a little mad at you at first—he thinks you’re one of those wreckers, what with your renovations and whatnot—but then he understands that you’re preserving, not destroying. Apparently, the Gothic manor is your ancestral home built by one of your great-grandparents seven generations back in the 18th century—seems you were the only descendant who felt it was worthwhile to keep. 

He wouldn’t normally stay when someone else moved in—he’d often use his demonic means and scare them on their way. But with you, he settles for dwelling in the shadows, in the many dark rooms you haven’t found a use for yet. But when night comes, and you turn off the lights and go to bed, he can't help but end up in your room—watching you sleep, oh-so-peacefully and blissfully unaware of his presence. But he won’t do anything to you even though he could, even though you make it so easy—he’s grateful to you, his little housemate.

Your bedroom becomes awfully hot at night—you can’t explain it. Nor can you explain why the wind howling through the house sounds more like the groaning breaths of a beast. All you know is that your bed feels heavier than it should if you were the only one in it—and that you don’t dare twist around to see what it is sleeping next to you because whatever it might be, you don’t think it’s human.

You know it isn’t human. It’s too big to be, and its hands are too warm and too rough—and its claws too sharp where they rake into your skin and tuck you close to a chest that feels as though engulfs you. You don’t think it has a heart, only a stomach—and it sounds hungry.

You read up on sleep paralysis demons, and it brings you peace of mind, but only until night comes and you go to bed in wait. It’s the first time he talks to you. His laugh is like rusted clockwork, and his voice is like raked coals—hot and scratchy against your ear as he tells you how your human ways of rationalizing the things you don’t understand are cute and amusing.

Keigo Takami - Hawks Guardian Angel

Being a guardian angel has always been a fun hobby of his ever since the creation—he’s found it to be a nice break from all the other angelic duties he has bearing down his wings. Of course, it’s always sad when your human dies, but luckily, there’s always another one not far behind to steal your halo all over again.

You’re his most recent. He watches over you any minute he can spare, chuckling over all your silly human antics. And though he’s had plenty of humans before you in the long history of man and God, he can’t help but confess you’re his favorite so far. You’re just so cute with your big, adorable eyes and pretty smile.

He begins taking greater pride in his responsibility of being your guardian. He used to see it as but a menial little task he could take to when feeling up for a laugh, but something about you makes him want to watch over you every single second of every day.

And so he does—he has the feathers to spare, especially for something so important. But soon, simply watching over you doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

He knows it’s wrong—so very wrong—so much so he’s afraid he’ll be cast out if anyone were to find out. It’s not right for angels to feel amorous for humans—most would call it deviant and demonic. But he can’t help himself—watching you in your vulnerable state while you undress, bathe, and sleep.

Still, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe he’ll come to visit you one of these days.

Midoriya Izuku - Deku Hybrid between fae and troll

He protects the forest and nurses all sick and wounded animals back to health, writing down the condition of trees and brushes in his notebook as he wanders for hours until he falls asleep in a moss bed beneath the stars. And though he knows his responsibility is purely to the forest, he can’t help but feel inclined to keep an eye on the little human who lives just beyond it. You’re just so cute with the way you walk the forest and sing songs you think no one hears—wearing your human clothing and living in your human abode behind walls and a door. He just finds it absolutely fascinating. 

Sometimes, you feel like there’s something following you when you walk about the forest next to your house. You’ll turn around to see a cluster of rocks and greenery you could have sworn weren’t there when you walked by—you look away before allowing yourself to think the pile looks an awfully lot similar to a larger human’s huddled form. But sometimes you hear it—the sound of stone scraping methodically, as though walking. You don’t humor the thought until you start finding his footprints outside your house, on the path to the forest—feet thrice the size of your own and sunken as though made by something very heavy.

Your legs go out from beneath you once you first see him—not like those times you’d turned around only for him to pretend to be part of the earth—this time, he’s pretending to be more like you, and it only makes it all that much worse. He’s bigger than a bear, grey-skinned with flecks that remind you of freckles and hair like fresh moss sprouts. His eyes are as green as the fox-fire fungi when night falls—glowing with nocturnal light. When you try to run, he follows suit, making the ground shake so bad it knocks you over. 

He carries you into the mountain where he lives and keeps you there from then on. After all, the part of him that’s fae has considered you his pet from the moment you took a bite of your first forest fruit. It was his gift to you whether you knew it or not, and now you’ll belong to him forever.

Todoroki Shoto Vampire

It’s an awfully boring world. Not much to do when you feel you’ve done it all twice over. The taste of blood has become stale no matter how many different types he drowns himself in at night. Sometimes, he humors the thought of setting his manor ablaze if only to watch the fire roar until the sun rears the top of the roof and finally puts him to eternal rest. But he’s been thinking about it for two or more centuries already, and he’s beginning to doubt his nerve.

Dead things can’t make vows, so he must go on as he decided to when he was still alive—that’s the curse—only another person can break it.

You seem doable enough when you stride into his manor with your little sharpened sticks and silver daggers. It’s been a while since a hunter has graced his presence. The scent of holy water makes him lick his fangs, and the nearly irresistible urge to drink you dry almost has him pouncing on you—but he knows it would be but a fleeting high unworth it in the end when he’d have to live another millennium without the warmth of the sun or another soul.

He drops down before you with grace. You have the tip of your silver dagger pointed up under his chin in the same second but get stunted by his pale porcelain face, showing no signs of aggression and rather riddled with a bleak sort of melancholy you’re not used to seeing on the godless creatures.

He simply stands there, straight-spined and high-headed, with his hands folded behind his back as though showing you respect—and then, unprompted and to your great surprise, asks if you would please make it quick and put him out of his misery.

Todoroki Touya - Dabi Hyrbid between incubi and vampire

He preys in nightclubs on those who have that mischievous glint in their eyes in dire hope their lust can match his. Every day, it’s a dozen new—he can never seem to find the right one—always starving and never sated no matter how much he gorges himself, always thirsting, always dying for more. 

Until you.

You’re but a dainty wallflower who doesn’t want to be there, but you have this scent about you—garden-fresh, like something he’s never smelled before, and his tongue yearns for a taste. He knows what it is once he gets closer to you—the opposite of sin of all things, it’s innocence, and oh, how he craves to devour it whole.

His silver tongue has had so much practice that using it on your gullible ears makes him all but drool, asking you if you’d like some fresh air. You nod your head, big eyes looking at him as though he were some sort of saint for offering. He laps it up—it’s all he can do to pace himself. But when he has you alone, it’s all over for you.

He’s going to corrupt every last piece of you until that once peachy keen taste of innocence has become an ever sweeter taste of syrupy sin. He’s going to make you exactly like him—and your tall fall from grace will leave you blasphemous and beautiful.

♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[lets-get-kraken-boys]

Yandere Class 1-A X Reader — { PART 2 }: We’ve Got Company~

(Description: Titles are hard, okay? Please don’t shame me for how cheesy it is because I know it's corny LOL. But I make up for it with decent writing! I POPPED OFF with some of these parts.

We all know this by now, but it’s safe to say (Y/N) is too trusting of EVERYONE. The amount of people I keep making them blindly and wholly give their faith to is…concerning. I know you guys probably want them to fight back more, but it’s hard when I haven’t labeled them with a specified Quirk. I wanted to leave it up to you guys to give them the attributes they have in your minds without spoon-feeding you every single choice (Y/N) makes. Sooooo, it suffers a little bit with the repetitiveness of this constant back and forth getting pulled every which way. It’s also difficult when there are so many characters to cover.

I am not complaining about it though! I am extremely proud of this story and am very happy with the outcome. I just hope you guys love it as much as I do. Plusss, it’s kinda nice to imagine being a princess stolen away at every opportunity by handsome/gorgeous suitors teehee!)

Fanfiction Lingo

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

(N/N) - Nickname

~

“Normal speech.”

‘Inner thoughts.’

~

Original Concept - [Mommabean’s OG Story] → Here

Part I - [My first addition] → Here

Part II → You’re here!

~

Reader Gender: Gender Neutral (They/Them)

Style of Story: Sequel Oneshot // This story is a continuation of Momma’s Yandere Class 1-A Purge short story. I have written a previous part to this, so please check it out to understand what is happening!; Yandere Purge! If you don’t know what that is, go take a look at @yanderemommabean’s original works of it on her page, all is explained there; Many of MHA’s adults are included here, but I don’t want to spoil who exactly is in the story, so that is all you get so far~!

Word Count: 24K

WARNING(s): Swearing; physical fighting and threats (threats aren’t made at (Y/N), nor are they hurt beyond bruising); there is a brief mention of rape and sexual assault—it is not gone into heavily or in detail, but you need to know it is there; mental and emotional manipulation to the reader; bending of MHA’s storyline and the events currently happening (mainly regarding the setting, timeline, and people’s aliveness LMAO) to fit (Y/N) into the story but bear with me; some unrealistic interactions are going to happen in this fic because to get everyone together in a setting like this is near impossible; All of Class 1-A’s students are aged up to third years & everyone is 18 or older // I AM WRITING THEM AS IF THEY ARE IN CLASS 3-A NOW FYI!

[PLEASE NOTE: I DO NOT SUPPORT YANDERE TENDENCIES IN REAL LIFE!!! Do not confuse my writing this subject as encouraging it, there is a difference between reading/writing yandere stories V.S real-life situations. Please, if someone in your life is behaving like a character(s) in this story (i.e. obsessive, possessive, controlling, abusive, psychotic, sociopathic, LIKE A WACKADOO, etc.) get immediate help! That behavior in the real world is not romantic, sweet, or NORMAL! Stay aware, stay safe.]

~

Unable to leave without one final gloat, Shinsou turns back to smirk at the students, “All of you were wrong earlier, by the way. It’s me, dumbasses.”

Suddenly, a cocky voice chuckles from behind the mind-controlling boy, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, kid~...”

As reluctant as Shinsou is to say this, a tiny shiver runs down his back. Coming from the busted-up entrance of the gymnasium, Aizawa’s voice rings out like a bell. Your current threat swivels around to face the intruder. Even though his recognizable voice is a dead giveaway, seeing him actually standing there in the rubble draws a sigh of relief out of you. You don’t know whether to cry, smile, or scream for his help; either way, it’s just a nice change of pace to see his usual disheveled appearance and relaxed stature. At least something has remained consistent on this hellish evening.

Though, something sensible clicks in your mind. Thinking back on all the strong-willed friends you lost in the fight against this disease, you realize there’s a strong chance that even your own teacher has fallen victim to its siren call. As much as you’d like to go running into his comforting embrace and wail about how horribly your classmates have been treating you the past few hours, you bite your tongue and stay complacent in Hitoshi’s arms. Not like you could voice many of your concerns with the makeshift gag still sat across your mouth.

���Damn,” Shinsou mutters to himself before perking up to meet his instructor's eye with a devious glint in his eye, “Mr. Aizawa. Good to see—,” Before the boy could finish his greeting, the stoic hero held up his hand, his palm facing Shinsou.

“Save the pleasantries. You’d think after all these years of one-on-one training you’d realize I can read you like an open book. Your expressions continue to give your intentions away too easily. So cut the crap.” Shinsou's false smile drops quicker than it appeared. Aizawa leisurely waltzes into the room, closing in on the both of you.

Aizawa continues his analysis with a sigh, “And I wouldn’t try that little gimmick with me. I’m not like my students over there,” he vaguely points behind the two of you to the group.

“I’m your mentor. All the tricks you have up your sleeve are hardly even interesting choices to me anymore. I should know, I taught them all to you, after all.” He chuckled to himself.

“Did you come here just to nag my ear off about how you’re so much better than me, or because you have something actually important to say? ‘Cause, if it's the former, I can’t stay and chat. I’ve got some pretty precious cargo in my hands at the moment.” Shinsou brags, hoisting you further up into his arms, forcing a garbled complaint from you.

“Watch your tone, brat.” Aizawa glares at the snarky comeback his student possessed. Hm. So, Hitoshi thinks he’s hot shit because he won against a handful of decently strong opponents? Well, that’s just fine. He’s used to putting cocky bastards in their place.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal of sorts. We can either speak about it rationally, or,” he shines a leering grin, “I can use my quirk on you, and you can say goodbye to the hold you have over your classmates right now. How do you think you’d fare against 19 pissed-off pro heroes?” This time, you can actually feel Shinsou shutter at the sinister tone your teacher leans into. His reaction makes sense. The idea of irrational, infected, superhuman, edgy teens hunting you down fighting isn’t a pleasant one. Not just one of them either, a whole damn fleet of them. You’d be shaking in your boots too.

“Since I’m nice, I’ll let you decide,” Aizawa has a bored look on his face again as he runs a hand through the inky mop of hair atop his head. A few seconds lurch by before Shinsou caves.

“Fine, old-timer. I’ll hear you out.” Shinsou reluctantly agrees. He knows he could take on a few of them at once in combat, but as soon as the heavy hitters join the fight—it’ll be over. He’d much rather join forces with his instructor than be betrayed by the greedy moochers residing in his class. Shinsou knows that if some of them had the chance, they’d steal you with no hesitation or regret. He’ll just have to sit and see what the idea Aizawa wants to propose is.

The two of them walk towards each other. A meeting held face-to-face in the middle of the gymnasium.

“I should honestly reprimand you guys for how shittily you’ve treated (L/N) this evening. It’s absurd how ragged you’ve been running them. Absolutely unacceptable. Maybe I should even expel the lot of you after the Purge ends.” Wait, Aizawa could see you too? What, is your peril being broadcasted on live television for the world to see or something?!

“Hey, don’t lump me with those barbarians,” Shinsou pulled back in a look of grievance, “I waited until everything was calm to strike. They were the ones who made (Y/N) run around like a headless chicken.” He tossed his head back to the hypnotized horde.

“Hm. We’ll discuss it as a class later.” Aizawa coughs into his fist.

“Fine. Now, what’s this deal you’ve thought up?” Shinsou prompts the conversation.

“Right. It’s about—,” Aizawa is interrupted by his cautious student.

“(Y/N). Am I right?” Shinsou jumps to the conclusion rather abruptly.

Aizawa glares, “Don’t interrupt someone while they’re talking, Shinsou. It’s rude.”

“But you did that to me not ev—,”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Aizawa purposefully cuts him off, “And yes. It’s about them.”

“Hmph,” Shinsou narrows his eyes at the mention of you, “what do you want with them?”

“Not quite the right question. Change that to more like what can we do for them,” Aizawa twists the words to better fit his narrative.

Intrigued, Hitoshi takes the bait, “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I don’t want to outright take them from you,” he shifts his weight to the other foot, “I want to make a deal to share them with you.”

Shouta continues, “Aoyama and his group had a good idea teaming up with Izuku’s crew. Working together, especially when the stronger piers can aid the weaker links, is a much more productive way of going about things. There’s safety in numbers.” Your body freezes up at his words. You connect the dots that he heard, or possibly even saw that whole ordeal. How? Where was he viewing from? Did he watch on a security camera? It’s a likely theory, the school is littered with them. You thought Denki killed the power earlier with his quirk. Or, with a more chilling idea, was he actually there? Physically in the vicinity? How was he nearby, could hear and see the whole event, and you didn’t notice him? Why didn’t he help you? Or, at least, intervene? Your mind is muddled with questions, but the two press on with their conversation.

“Sharing, huh? Thought you liked working alone.” Shinsou prodded, skeptical of the plan.

“Some missions call for an extra set of hands.” Aizawa cooly replied.

“I’m not sure. Not too big on the idea of letting go of them.” Shinsou pulled your bundled-up form closer to his chest. It’s like he’s a little kid—red in the face because of frustration, fighting to keep his stuffie all to himself as an adult asks him to share it with the other kids.

“I’m not asking you to fully let go of them, kid. Just enough so I can take care of them too. They’re a bit of a handful, as I’m sure you’ve no doubt figured out by now,” you whip your head to scowl at him and heatedly shout muffled curses at him, “Heh. My bad, kitten, but it’s true. The trouble your presence kicks up is a lot to handle, even for a pro.” You feel your face heat up in embarrassment at his words. Not that it wasn’t obvious before, but it’s safe to say he is infected as well.

“Plus, what will you do when you can’t control the rest of the students? You and I both know that your quirk doesn’t last forever, and your control is slowly dwindling away, even as we speak. I could help you fend them off, if it comes to it.” Shouta observed. He has a natural way of being extremely persuasive, doesn’t he?

Shinsou isn’t exactly thrilled to give you up, he’d much rather stake his claim on you by himself. His company should be more than enough to fill your time! He doesn’t want time with you to be shared with others he doesn’t approve of. Though…Aizawa isn’t exactly untrustworthy. Hitoshi definitely trusts him more than someone as hazardous as Bakugo, or as miserable to be around as Monoma. He’s a great teacher, even though he’s kind of a hardass. Someone he looks up to. Maybe they could give it a shot? After all, if it doesn’t work out, there’s still plenty of Purge time left for him to find somewhere else to hide and drag you off to when Aizawa isn’t looking.

“Okay. We’ll give your idea a go.” Shinsou begrudgingly complied.

“Good choice, kid.” Aizawa’s lips twitch upward into a minuscule grin. Yet again, your own fate is taken away from you as the two of them close in, grasp hands, and shake to signify the agreement.

“Ooohhh~! What a touching truce, cuties~,” a sugary-sweet voice curls around the boys’ conversation like a hazy morning fog.

“Huh—!” Shinsou isn’t fast enough to react to the intruder as he feels all his senses numb. A dreadfully sweet smell, the same kind of sugary tang that was laced throughout the woman’s voice, invades his nose. It should be disgusting, it should make him sick to his stomach, but the candied scent is nothing short of divine. It’s like nothing he's ever smelled before. It honestly makes him want to inhale more. Which is an action he subconsciously commits, sealing his fate. Shinsou’s legs grow wobbly as he starts to lose feeling all over his body. As unpleasant as he wants it to feel, as he begs it to feel, all he can recognize is a cozy warmth clouding his better judgment. Through the mental and physical struggle, he remembers you’re still sitting prettily in his swiftly weakening arms. He panics, afraid he’s going to, or that he has already dropped you. He glances down.

Well…you used to be there. You’re not anymore.

Shinsou groans, crashing to his knees. He scans the surrounding floor, looking for any trace of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Good news is he didn’t drop you like an idiot. Bad news is someone else has their disgusting hands all over you. That thought makes him want to pick off his own flesh cell by cell, but there’s nothing he can do except lay on the ground and reluctantly drift in and out of consciousness.

“Too bad you’re not as lovely as our sweetheart here. Otherwise, you’d be my plaything too~,” the woman giggles, “But, oh well. Pleasant dream, honey~,” she coos at the purple-haired boy. You’re beyond floored at how quickly Shinsou was subdued, considering the quick work he made of the other students. Curious as ever, you shot your head back and forth to identify who stole the show this time.

The owner of the saccharine voice turned out to be none other than Midnight, your art history and overly-sexual pro hero mentor. She giggles to herself, watching her prey twitch and squirm in retaliation against her quirk on the floor, “While struggling normally is my favorite part of the foreplay, I wouldn’t advise it this time, dear~. Somnambulist isn’t easy to win against. It’s a much more potent sleep agent than your little quirk could ever dream of being.”

“Love that energy, Midnight! Smooth work,” a boisterous voice slices through your eardrums. You cringe at the volume, recognizing that borderline shriek. The person who is now capturing your body is Present Mic! What the hell are all three of your teachers doing here?! Shouldn’t they be like normal people and hide from the Purge?

As if reading your mind, Aizawa coughs to grab his coworkers’ attention, “That was completely unnecessary of you two. A little excessive too. I told you both I could handle the situation on my own. What’re you doing here?”

“Jeez! So cold!” Mic’s voice danced up and down in pitch, “Don’t be so frosty with us, Eraser! We just wanted to help!”

“Yes,” Midnight purred, the click click of her skyscraper-length stilettos stabbing the shellacked ground echoed across the rubble-covered floor, “you think us so shallow! You act as if we thought you couldn’t take care of this, dear. All we believed was it’s nice to have some support on the field, yes~?”

Aizawa, always as sharp as a knife, caught onto their plan effortlessly, “You two just couldn’t wait to get your grubby hands on them, could you?” The two opposing teachers choked on the air in their lungs as he saw through their lies. They fumbled the next few words that streamed out of their mouths, trying desperately through the stutters to justify their cause and deter his wit.

“I see. Hmm…whatever. Either way, you two never fail to overdo it,” Aizawa grumbles to himself, his chin sinking further into the comfort of his scarf, “I guess I’ll need some assistance dealing with the rest of my students over there. They won’t remain hypnotized for much longer now that Shinsou’s down—I’d rather not have to start a physical fight when there’s no need.”

“Oooh~,” Midnight purred, slinking over to the slowly reawakening crowd, “leave this to me, loves~!” The woman proceeded to unleash another plum of her drunkening quirk right as the class snapped out of their haze. You watched as they fell one by one to the floor in sudden exhaustion. Even the strong-willed one couldn’t escape the fate of her noxious gas, dropping limply to the floor in a dreamless slumber.

“Aww, they’re so sweet when they’re not getting in our way.” Mic snickered.

“Mic. Watch it,” Aizawa’s laid-back indifference swiftly shifted into his scary steely gaze as he warned his rambunctious coworker to stop his prattling.

“Whaaaat~??? You gotta admit, your hooligans sure made our night a lot harder!” Hizashi pouted in frustration.

‘When am I gonna catch a break from these…these…wait. What…the…,’ your thoughts slowly lose their path in your head, your mind-numbing and slipping away from coherent ideas. Your limbs feel like the thickest cement in the world when you try to move them. It’s too tough, too much work—and sleeping sounds like a fantastic idea. You’re just so tired. You start to heave for oxygen as if your lungs can never get enough air inside of them. You’re trying so hard to stay awake because you know in the back of your brain as delicious as stopping your fighting to rest sounds, something doesn’t feel right. You can’t remember why. Eventually, it becomes too difficult to keep your head up on your own, so you rest it against Mic’s open shoulder.

Hizashi immediately stops bickering against the stoic man in front of him as he feels your head plop onto his shoulder. Now that his attention is drawn back to you, he realizes you weren’t squirming around as much as he’d expected you to. He knows even past the lingering virus flooding his veins you wouldn’t give in to their advances so easily—as nice as that would have been—so he devotes all his attention to your slumped frame.

“Hey, you alright, doll?” he cranes his head down to catch your unfocused eyes. He jostles the shoulder you were resting on a bit, trying to reel you back from wherever your mind had floated off to, and that seemed to help a little. You tried to talk, but the gag prevented any words from coming out. Catching the barrier, he beckoned his partner in crime over with a quick tilt of his head and a quiet, “Help me get this thing off their mouth, Shouta.”

Without hesitation, your concerned homeroom teacher stepped over and peeled off the tape as gently as he could. Your mouth now freed, you let out an unconscious whine of relief, showing a small bit of happiness at having some bit of freedom back.

“What did you say, sweets?” Mic pressed yet again.

“Mmhn…I…uhm…mmm…nnh,” you mindlessly babbled in a soft voice.

“Come on, (Y/N). How do you feel right now?” Aizawa coaxed, his worry over you hiking higher at your unresponsiveness.

“Hmmm…just…tired…I think…mnnn,” Your eyes couldn’t stay open. They opted to flutter close every time no matter how much Mic shimmed around in an attempt to keep you conscious.

“Tired. Hizashi—Midnight’s quirk.” Aizawa said as he caught Hizashi’s fear-filled gaze. Both of their anxiety floated back down at the deduction. You must’ve breathed in too much of the secondhand smoke of the pro hero’s quirk. After all, it is quite potent against those who haven’t experienced it much before. Mic’s jostling changed into more of a rocking motion, trying to lull you further into that blissful rest.

“Ohhhh. Honeycakes! That’s okay—it’s perfectly fine if you need some rest. It’s been a tough day for our snuggle bunny,” he uttered, affectionately nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

“I heard you say my name, Eraser. What’s…oh!” Midnight stopped her sentence when her eyes fell on you. Then, all she could do was squeal at the sight of your sleepy state. She shoved Aizawa out of the way, bent down to your level, and squeezed herself as close to you as she could. She was giggling and chirping in delight at how “adorable” and “absolutely, irresistibly, undeniably cute” you were.

“Awwwwhn~~~!!!” her voice curled up in pitch, her fingers smoothing your loose hairs behind your ear and stroking down your warm cheek, “You are just the sweetest lil’ thing~!! Mommy’s precious angel~. What’s happened, Zashi?” Midnight tilted her gaze up to the blond for an explanation.

He grinned, “Just breathed too much of your quirk in, s’all.”

Midnight loftily snickered, “I see. Glad we were here to take care of them!” In all honesty, she’s beyond pleased that out of any one of her coworkers, her quirk affected you the most. In a way, she saw that as she had the most influence on you—or, in other words, the most power over you. In her eyes, she saw it as you giving yourself to her. Willingly and unafraid. Midnight’s heart is cartwheeling and running laps because she sees this as you caring about her so much that you’d serve her in such a magnificent way. She could eat you up and still be searching for seconds. You’re just perfect for her in every way, shape, and form. Aizawa’s nagging drags her out of her less than innocent desires over you filling her head.

“You need to be more careful about how much of your quirk you release in the future, Midnight.” Aizawa scolds, but scorn is practically nonexistent in his voice. It’s hard to be angry at the effects you’ve been put under when the outcome makes you look so helplessly cute. He’d never admit it, but he’s envious of her quirk, when it can turn you so easily into this version of yourself. The dilated, doe-eyed look your eyes hold as they drift up to see him makes the words die a little in his throat. Perhaps the lecture he was going to give her can wait a little.

“Ahh, I will, Eraserhead. But first, we should head off for that safe spot we arranged with the others.” Midnight commented towards the men while still keening over your dopey state.

“W…Wait,” you grumbled out in a meek voice, “noo…no. I d-don’t…,” your words fell off into babbling mumbles again. It was torture to try and evade her quirk’s effects like this, but you were steadfast in wanting to fight. To flee their unwanted embrace and be alone. But all they did was coo at your brave efforts. Oh, they knew just the perfect things to say to make you feel like you were a mere baby to them. How inadvertently insulting.

“Ssh shh shh~. Awh, I know, honey~. You just feel so tired~,” Midnight sang in a baby-talk tone of voice, brushing the top of your head with the palm of her hand. It was weird, you couldn’t figure out if she saw you as her child or prey. Maybe both. That scares you. Maybe you don’t want to find out any more.

“Don’t worry, sweetie! We’ve got you,” though less scary than the woman currently pinning you, Mic’s mischievous lilt of tone didn’t skate by your observative nature. His eyes seem…darker than when you’d looked at them during one of his happy-go-lucky lectures. Like he was hiding the truth of his words behind a cobweb-like veil of deceit. In fact, Mic was resembling a conniving spider—which made you the ditzy butterfly falling for his web of a trap.

Lethargic and thoroughly worn out from both her quirk and all the running you’ve done, you finally give up. Your body feels warm and tingly, making sleep all the easier to give in to. As darkness flooded your vision and your consciousness finally dove away, Aizawa’s voice filled your ears, “See you soon, (Y/N).”

~ Timeskip ~

Sick. That’s all you felt as the darkness that consumed your thoughts and vision slowly faded. Sick to your stomach. Aching all over. You felt like you were a flimsy shirt thrown into a clothes dryer and left to spin over and over again for three cycles too long.

You tilted your head a bit and promptly groaned at the wave of nausea that swamped your brain. Such a subtle movement caused your whole world to crash sideways into an abysmal painscape. It was like you were zipping around on the shittiest, most rickety roller coaster you’d ever rode. You wanted nothing more than to get off.

All this to say—ow. What the fuck, brain? Why do you hurt me so? That’s all your mind could conjure up at the moment—insults to your own organs—because it hurts too much to think rationally. That was one hell of a shitty rest. It has to be one of the top five worst naps you’ve ever taken. You’ll have to whine about it to Denki after class today, maybe you’ll get some sympathy candy for your brave efforts. Denki…why does it feel like something important happened that he was a part of? Hmm…you can’t put your finger on it right now. Everything’s too drowsy at the moment for logic to be considered. Your eyes are still begrudgingly shut as you twist your torso around, trying to get comfortable again.

That’s the moment you started to become more aware of the outside world around you. Noises of chatter hung in the air like a nagging mosquito. The more you paid attention to the continuous sounds, the more irritating they became. Who was talking so damn much, and why were they making it your problem? Couldn’t they see you were a sick person in need of some goddamn peace and quiet? But, that’s just Class 3-A life, you suppose. None of them ever know when to shut the fuck up. Well, this time, they’d learn! They’d get a piece of your “hungover” mind.

“Oi…,” you grunted out, a snarl vehemently leaking into your tone, “Can’t you guys pipe down?! I’m sorta in the middle of trying to sleep off a nasty headache.”

Maybe your words stung the culprits a bit too much as you heard the room slow to a deathlike silence. No blistering insults were flung back at you from the resident hellhound of Class 3-A Bakugou, no chortles from the jokesters of the bunch, no profuse apologies from the worrywarts—nothing. Just…silence. I mean, you guess that’s the result you wanted; but the tense atmosphere you created is rapidly making you regret your flippant decision.

The encroaching fear made your mind real back to the very moment you woke up. You began rational plotting out the questions that swarmed your mind like hornets to their nest. Wait, where were you again? What time is it? Why do you feel so ill? Why can’t your brain remember what the date is? Something really important was happening before you passed out related to time…passed out. Hold on—that’s right, you passed out!

What the fuck.

You passed out due to what—no…due to who?

Unease finally getting the better of you, you peeped up again, but presenting a much meeker tone this time, “U-Um…guys? Look, I’m…God, I’m sorry for lashing out. I just—my head hurts like hell, I’m sore all over my everywhere, and I don’t know what’s—haannhh…ow, ow, ouch.” As you spewed out the poorly constructed apology, you steadily sat up from whatever hard surface you’d been resting on. The stiff rest stop made you all that more unnerved; it sort of felt like you were on a metal autopsy table. Cold and jarring. As if you were a poor little frog being dissected for all the insatiably curious students to see. It made you want to be swallowed whole by the floor just to escape the distress of the situation. God damnit, why is it still so hard to open your eyes?! They felt like the heaviest slab of lead welded over your eyelids. You forced them open.

Overlooking the blurriness of your vision, you could immediately tell by the general shape of the people standing in front of you that you weren’t in the presence of your beloved classmates like you thought you were.

There were multiple people in the darkened room, all with varying heights and sizes. There weren’t twenty people like how many there are in your class; their numbers were closer to ten or so. Plus, the colors of their outfits didn’t match with your friends’ hero suits you’d come to be extremely familiar with. However, you did recognize the colors and remembered who they belonged to. The answer chilled you to the bone.

You didn’t speak up again in the presence of most, if not all of, your mentors. Yes, your mentors. The adults you interacted with practically every day; who taught you every tactic you knew, who helped you to become a capable hero in the pro world. In fact, you didn’t just not talk, you slumped into yourself a bit. You were afraid. Scratch that—you were beyond afraid. You’d seen, and fought, firsthand against their wrath before. You’ve watched their fights broadcasted on the television, through shaky personally caught videos on the Internet posted by petrified civilians. You’ve worked alongside a few of them through missions and treacherous situations. Hell, you actually battle against one for the right to earn your hero license! That was a tough day, but you’d made it by the skin of your teeth—more than likely only winning because of the unimaginably heavy weights that shackled them as handicaps. In short, they were barbaric beasts on the field. Now…you’re face-to-face with their rage.

Let’s all send a brief prayer for yourself. Maybe your death will be swift and your afterlife pleasant if you beg hard enough.

“My, my, my~,” a sultry voice sang in your right ear, making you shriek at the intrusion of your personal bubble, “such a naughty-mouthed little pet~! Tell me, what brute taught you to speak to your superiors in such a disrespectful way?” It was Midnight again. She was always one to breach your boundaries, whether you wanted her to or not.

She cupped your jaw with one of her hands, pinching and squeezing your gooey cheeks with the other for her pleasure, “Ooooh, precious! How’s your whittle head~?” she cooed while smushing. She wiped away a small bit of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth, making you feel that much more like a ditzy baby. The way she played with you really did remind you of a child messing around with a delicious treat of springy mochi. Perhaps that was what you were to the ravenous woman, a delicacy to be devoured whole. You shivered in fear again.

Another person from across the room let out a high-pitched whistle, one that indicated astonishment or feeling impressed, “Wow! Brat’s got some spunk to ‘em! Good to know they haven’t switched up since we last spoke.” You weren’t as familiar with that voice as you were with your homeroom teachers, but it did strike a chord in your memory. Their youthful cheer didn’t resemble the dread-filled boredom Aizawa’s held, but they didn’t sound crude enough to be another student. Your vision clearing further was the only thing that gave their mystery identity away. It was Power Loader! It feels like forever since the two of you even acknowledged one another. Either way, he’s here now and fully decked out in his hero gear. The heavy equipment gave you a unique foreboding feeling that his abilities weren’t just all that meets the eye.

“Midnight, step aside, please.” A mellow voice takes control of the conversation. Midnight looks over her shoulder in disdain, as if the very notion of her being politely asked to leave your side is the most disrespectful thing someone could have asked her to do, but it seems that whoever popped the question meant real business. She stepped aside with a huff of frustration, mumbling under her breath curses, and something along the lines of ‘the gall’.

Once she moved, the requester hopped onto the table where you sat. They pushed into your personal space as well. You opted to lean back as much as the encroacher would allow you. From the astronaut-resembling helmet that donned their head and the puffy jacket they wore, you came to the obvious conclusion that this was 13, another member of the faculty here at UA.

She moved your head—left to right, up and down, and in a full circle. She checked all around the front of your body, and basically anywhere that you allowed her to get close to. 13 looked back deeply into your eyes before twisting back to face the bunch, “They don’t appear to be physically hurt on the outside. No scrapes, cuts, sprains, or anything broken. All that I could really deduct was their dilated pupils, meaning the effects of Somnambulist are still present,” 13 whirled forward to you, “Feeling at all hazy, woozy, or tired, (Y/N)?”

You simply stared back at the expressionless black mask 13 wore. You didn’t know what to say—half because you were uncomfortable at how close she was, and half because you were still bracing yourself to get your ass beat by the less merciful of the teachers. Your mind is drawing to blanks as you’re frozen with your jaw left hanging open.

“(Y/N)?” 13 snaps her fingers in front of your face, semi-dragging you out of your tizzy, “Hello? How are you feeling, dear?”

Ignoring the uncalled-for nickname, you wobbled your head about to snap out of whatever stupor you were stuck in, “Aaaah…um…good. I think. Still…vision’s still a bit blurry, head’s kinda fuzzy, but it’s okay. I can’t really feel my legs yet, I guess.” You tried kicking your feet back and forth, and while you could see them sway, you didn’t feel the sensation of your tendons pulling the limbs.

“Alright, that’s okay.” 13 dismounts the desk to face the crowd, “They’ll be fine. Just give their system time to recover from the grogginess. Next time, Midnight, go easier with how much of your toxins you release! They could’ve gotten severely hurt if they inhaled too much.” 13 scolds the tall woman.

Midnight scoffs, “Ugh! Why, I would never intentionally hurt my love bug like that! I swear, you act like I haven’t been controlling my quirk for my whole life!”

“Midnight, we have to set an example for our students, and lying isn’t how we do that. You should acknowledge you do go overboard sometimes,” craggy words tumbled through Midnight’s attempt to save her ass. Off to her side is the stony fortress of a hero, Cementoss, the one who spoke against her. While he is a man (or is he a rock? You’re not too sure even after all these years being a student under him) of few words, he does have the occasional snarky comeback in his vocabulary when he isn’t prattling off haikus and other unheard of analogies for life’s troubles you haven’t heard before. You’re pretty sure that half of what he says is made up on the spot, and you’ve occasionally tested how far you could push his knowledge before by asking him tough questions like “What is the meaning of life?” or “How did the universe come into being?”.

Before Midnight could pulverize the stone man into pebbles, the final guest you could see hanging in the back of the room piped up, “Can we please stop fumbling around like nimrods and get back to the matter at hand?” Inky, sludgy, and methodical in his dialect, it was no shock that its owner was the shadowy hero known to you as Ectoplasm. You’d interacted with him even less than the others, but you weren’t oblivious to his strength. You’d seen the fight between Tsu and Tokoyami against this predator, and you are happy to admit that he wasn’t your enemy on the field that day.

After briefly scanning the room once more, it seemed that everyone who was there had spoken up. Well, except for Aizawa and Present Mic, they seemed to be having a private conversation with themselves. Glances they threw in your direction, no matter how embarrassingly obvious Mic was being or the tenuousness of Aizawa’s, made it hard to ignore their scalding stares. It was borderline disturbing to see Mic so stationary. You wished he’d stop freaking you out and start yelling in your face like he always does. At least that would be one thing that hadn’t changed with the Purge.

“Precisely. Where were we? Please remind us, Ectoplasm.” Cementoss, equally over the distractions going on, encouraged the conversation forward.

“We were talking about our options. What to do for the rest of the Purge. How to proceed with the plan.” he spoke as if it was the most obvious thing that could have been explained. Plan? What plan was he talking about?

“‘Listen, we’ve gone ‘round and ‘round with these ideas for over an hour now,” HUH?!?! EXCUSE YOU, BUT WHAT DID HE SAY?! There was no time to stop their conversation to ask if Power Loader was or wasn’t exaggerating the time that had passed as he pushed on, “Why can’t we just go? I’m starting to get claustrophobic in this room.”

“What, and storm out here with no strategy? Yeah, that’s the best idea we’ve heard tonight.” Aizawa finally tossed his opinion into the ring and—surprise, surprise—it’s another gripe.

“We do have a plan—and a solid one at that! I just said it’s all we’ve been discussing ever since we stepped foot into this bloody room!” Power accused.

“No,” 13 cut in, “the plan you’re talking about is the one we’ve fine-tuned to get out of the school. What Eraser’s referring to is what we’re going to do once we leave the school grounds.” She stepped over to you while giving her speech and wipes your face down with a damp, cool towel. You’re not sure where she dispensed it from, but you supposed that since she specializes in search and rescue missions, she’s bound to have supplies of the like to help in stressful situations built into her hero suit.

“Easy! We run and gun our way out until we find a safe spot! A simply perfect plan. Okay? Let’s go.” Power said with finality.

“For being a seasoned pro, you’re much too antsy. You’re rushing this operation. If you keep sprinting through the important discussions, there will be major consequences.” Cementoss threatened. Power scoffed at the man’s slightly pretentious behavior.

“Think about it,” 13 tried to reason, “There are hundreds of pro heroes out there. Half infected, half not—give or take a handful. For however many pros around out there, there are at least six times as many civilians out there who are either running for their freedom or others who are trying to take that from their darlings. It is too risky to bring them out into a world like that.” Them? Hold on, do they mean you?! No way in hell are you being taken out into the shit storm that the big city has become! You’ve seen how the Purge demolishes the city in years prior. You saw what the news predicted it would be like tonight. Chaos. Pure chaos filled with dangerous, virus-infected people and villains simply trashing the place because they are able. You came into the school to seek shelter in one of the safe rooms to avoid the city, and they want to bring you into it? They can’t do this to you! Have they completely lost it?

Well, you knew that much, but still!

“He’s right, though,” Present Mic finally spoke up from his unusual voicelessness, “We can’t stay here all night waiting for some miracle to spring up. We’ve gotta take some action.” His shoulders buckled inward to show his agitation.

“And no one is saying that we will stay, Mic.” Cement’s sensible attitude never fails to shine through the stress of a tough discussion.

“But you are saying that. You know it…because you’re afraid. We all are afraid.” Mic grabbed everyone's attention because of how softly his words came out.

“I mean, we all know who exactly is out there,” Mic somberly stood and walked over to your side. You wanted to shimmy away from how close he got, but you chose to sit still to hear what else he had to say, “It’s not an if or maybe situation—he is looking for them. Maybe staying in the school has some perks. At least here he can’t get to them without breaking down a few thick walls.” At Mic’s dreadful outlook, everyone’s prepared responses fell into stifling silence. Who is he talking about? Why do you feel a shiver scaling up your spine at the faceless adversary? All this anticipation is going to make you go insane for real this time.

“It’s true. But UA isn’t safe either. We’re not alone and we aren’t the only ones in this building who’re interested in them. Those confounding kids of yours are still around, Aizawa.” Ectoplasm countered. Finally finding the place in the conversation where you can speak, you took your chance.

“Are you talking about the rest of my class?” you breathed out. The teachers spun their heads to give you their full attention. It creeped you out—their devotion to hearing you speak as if it was gospel—but you guess this virus is handy when you need to grab the attention of a bustling room.

“Glad you can still find your voice, sweets.” Mic praised you with a gentle pat on the top of your head. A total switch up from his gloomy personality just prior.

“And, yes, we are.” Ectoplasm sighed, sending one of his clones to your side. The clone didn’t do much except lay their hand on your head and brush your hair back, “They've proven to be quite…driven in their resolve to keep you by their sides.”

“Meaning they’re being a real pain in our—,” Mic’s interrupted by Aizawa’s scarf strangling the bottom half of his face to cease the loud man’s babbling.

“Hmmn, you guys take everything so personally,” Midnight bemoaned, propping her spike-heeled shoes against the side of one of the many desks around, “the children are just playing together, ‘is all! In fact, they’re making this night much more fun for me hehe~.” You cringed, and the only word running through your mind was ‘creepy.’

“Yes. Be kind, Mic. They haven’t been a bother for some time now.” Cementoss spoke with a grateful tone of voice.

“Well, it’s no wonder they haven’t been.” Power Loader huffed while resting his body back onto a nearby table.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You shifted up further to give the conversation your full attention. Once you were up, a slight tightness on your wrists captured your distracted brain. You glanced down and saw binding on your wrists. They were bound with tape. Tape…oh! That’s right! You were taped up by Sero before this shit show happened! You scanned your body up and down and didn’t see any of his tape around anything but your hands. It’s gone from your mouth too since you can speak to the teachers. You guess you’re thankful that they at least gave you the freedom to wiggle your legs around. Nonetheless, you’re still unforgivable-level mad at them for being dicks and holding you hostage.

“He means that ever since Shinsou caught them under his hypnosis, and Midnight leaked her Somnambulist to put them under, they’ve been sound asleep in the gymnasium.” Ectoplasm’s words curl up like a snake wrapping around its helpless prey. You feel less comforted by Ecto’s clone lovingly stroking your head now. That means no one else has been looking for you ever since Aizawa, Mic, and Midnight took you. Goody gumdrops.

“Yea’,” a new, twangy voice plucks into the conversation, “and it seems they ain’t rearin’ up again for some time.” It echoed from the entrance of the room a few feet ahead of your spot by the windows, so you craned your neck to the side to see past the teachers blocking the way.

His foreign accent was a big hint, but if there was any confusion as to who exactly was speaking, his masked appearance confirmed his identity. Snipe was perched against the door frame, slacked back against the wooden frame, and bending his knee to rest one of his spurred cowboy boots on the frame as well. Since when did he get there? You don’t recall seeing him when you scanned the room earlier. What was even more surprising was that on the other side of the doorframe rested Vlad King, Class 3-B’s homeroom teacher. You watched him side-eye his coworkers and, opposite to the rest, he stayed silent. Quiet, analytical. You haven’t interacted with him as much as you have with the others since he’s not one of your main teachers, but you’re certain from the way he and Aizawa have this sort of one-sided rivalry going on between them that he’s not one to be taken lightly.

“Hey, hey, hey,” barked Present Mic, “what are you two doing in here? You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

“We decided to come in when we heard you lot yappin’. Wanted to see if our blossom was alright.” Okay, these corny nicknames were getting to be a little much—and it was becoming hard to not laugh at them when Snipe’s Western country-ass voice tried to say it so seriously.

“Yeah, right. You just wanted to see them.” Power Loader grumbled on his lonesome. Jealous much?

“Great, the peanut gallery’s all here.” you chuckled to yourself. Honestly, it was a smartass remark that was only meant for your ears to hear, but you should’ve known better than to mutter in the presence of such high-profile, analytical, pro heroes.

“Watch your tone, (L/N). I’ve taught you better than to speak to your superiors like that.” Aizawa’s steely gaze came to life, an intimidating red glow directly pointed your way. His mop of bushy, black hair billowing up to dangle in midair. It drifted about like a bed of kelp swaying with the brush of the ocean’s currents. All the built-up energy you didn’t realize was coursing through your veins came to a staggering halt, The strength permeating your limbs immediately drained. You’ve been under the influence of Aizawa’s quirk before when you were caught in the mix of his frustrations at the pranksters of your class, so this wasn’t an unexplored feeling, but it was still jarring to be stripped of all your powers you so flippantly take for granted.

As you looked around, you realized your statement was wrong—not all of the teachers were there. Not apologizing for telling the truth, you continued your comments as though Aizawa had never threatened you, “Ixnay that—not everyone's here. Where’s the rest of them?” Aizawa sighed and released you from the hold of his power when he realized you were simply ignoring his wrath. Honestly? He tips his hat to you for the response. Avoiding confrontation is sometimes the best course of action.

“Huh? Oh! Ha ha, you’re so clever! We brought it up briefly to the other staff members but—,” Power Loader had begun, but he was soon interrupted.

“They either had no interest or were busy with other plans for the Purge.” Vlad finally spoke up from his dark corner. Right, you remember why you don’t speak to him all that often. He scared the living shit out of you. At least you can have a somewhat decent conversation with Aizawa. With Vlad King, it’s always cold-shoulders and overdramatic frustration to simple questions you ask him. Those brief few words reeked such deadly poison, as if saying that anyone could ignore you was a crime against humanity. His facial expression showed his irritation, a frown stretching down his worn features and a frustrated crinkle cut between his eyebrows.

“Thanks. I was in the middle of getting to that.” Power snarked at the behemoth hero.

“We asked All Might if he wanted to come along with us,” 13 chirped, “but he declined as well. We don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s around.”

“Yeah! Not to mention how he responded! Something like,” Mic made his voice stretch lower into his register with a profound, macho gusto, and a large smile—an All Might smile—grew on his lips, ""HA HA! I appreciate the offer, friends, but I will be alright on my own! Good luck to you! I am off!”, and ran off to who knows where. Weird!”

“You guys never let me say the important parts of the stories.” Power scowled to himself.

“Gotcha,” you acknowledged the length of explanation, “So…what happens now?” you prodded.

“Now,” Midnight coos at a distance that is yet again too close for comfort, “we get to have fun with you~.”

“WHAT?! I’m not some class pet. Find a guinea pig somewhere else!” you wriggled away from the dastardly woman.

“Endearing how much control you think you have over the situation,” Aizawa smirked. You hated his comfort in the idea of a fictional complacency, one that was only caused by your own fear of speaking against them, “Stop playing naive, (L/N).”

In an effort to distract yourself from his stare, you pressed, “What’s the big plan after all this then?”

“After what, dearest?” Midnight mused. She reached a hand to your hair and softly massaged your shoulders. Quite done with the games they played, you shook her lingering touches off.

“After the Purge is over. What do you plan to do with me?” You wanted to add a sassy ‘obviously’ somewhere in that question, but you held your tongue for now. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Sweetie~, we plan to have you as ours!” Midnight purred, circling around you like a beast going in for the kill. You rolled your eyes—how vexing can this woman be?

“Wow! That’s so funny, I forgot to laugh.” You threw out a half-assed pity laugh for the pro. You looked at the other pros for some kind of confirmation that Midnight was just being her usual lofty self, but when no comforting gaze reached your eyes, you felt your grin crumble.

“Eh…heh. Alright, that’s how we’re playing this. All the unfunny jokes aside—Hell freaking NO am I letting you lot take me anywhere. I’m not going willingly! I kick, I scream, and I do bite. I’m feral, bitc—,” You managed to squirm hard enough that you actually broke away from whoever was holding you the tightest in the ball of limbs. You slid off the glossy table and slunk back a few feet. It was just spacious enough for you to finally get a deep breath in from the overwhelming physical affection but you were nowhere near a safe distance from the psychos of UA.

“Willingly isn’t an issue. Plenty of us have quirks that can make you submit easily. Resistance will only produce failure for you. I don’t want to be forced to hurt your miniscule feelings.” Vlad gruffed out. He truly reminded you of an English bulldog—grumpy and hard-headed to the extreme.

“Oh, be sweeter, Vlad! Don’t scare the poor thing before we’ve had our fun.” 13 tried to reason with the ice-cold man.

“I am being sweet.” Vlad defended.

“No, you’re being a wet blanket,” Mic advised with a casual whistle.

“Shut up.” The white-haired man huffed out a pointed wind of air. With tusks as sharp as nails protruding out of his mouth, harsh huffs of breath that escaped his nose, and rising anger visibly seeping from his form, it made the image of him in your mind morph from cute, grumpy bulldog to a ravenous warthog.

“No, you shut up!” Power Loader lept on the chance to start bickering with Vlad King as he was still irritated at him for stealing his thunder.

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty. Now, can we please get back to the much more pleasant person of interest?” Midnight tried to get the boys to back off, but her joke only made them that much more infuriated.

“Who’re you calling pretty?!” Vlad whipped his head over to the purple-haired sex fiend.

“Fix your words, Midnight, or I’ll give you something to be sorry for.” Vlad reared in, sneering at the woman something fierce.

“Here we go,” Aizawa muttered while shrinking further into his tall scarf tower.

“Nice one, Nemuri.” Hizashi bumped her with his elbow.

“I apologize…for you being a whiny BITCH!” You could practically see the overexaggerated sweat drop slip down the rest of the teachers’ heads as the beast of a man went off the rails from Midnight’s claim. He started stomping around, bellowing and nearly tossed a table across the room. You stood there and just…watched the man go from a professional, stoic, respectable instructor to a crybaby throwing the most dangerous tantrum known to mankind.

Guess he didn’t appreciate being called pretty.

Would he have preferred gorgeous?

That joke, while absolutely hilarious and should have been told for at least someone to hear its magnificence, you held in your throat so you didn’t get bitch slapped by a heavy office chair and receive a one-way ticket, all-expense-paid trip to God’s doorstep. You used the teacher’s being distracted with trying to calm the raging boarman down as an opportunity to scan for available exits. They were currently blocking the only door in or out, so that way out was an absolute no-go. You looked behind you and saw another door, but it didn’t look like it would provide a fruitful escape. By process of elimination, it would most likely be another closet that had no exit—and you DID NOT want to be stuck in one of those again. It was a miracle that the one earlier tonight had one! You do not want to try your luck again with much more threatening opponents in your way.

Inspecting further, there didn’t appear to be any other doors around to scamper out of. The last option you had was the large pane windows facing the outside, normally providing you with quite a beautiful bird’s eye view of the city. While it was an escape route, the task of escaping after exiting would be less than ideal. You were currently at least six storeys off of the ground, and you couldn’t guarantee that your quirk would save you from that high of a drop. Plus, the roof was still at least a few floors upwards, so you couldn’t hang out of the window and easily grab a railing. Not that you’d be sneaky enough to do that without alerting the bickering party of adults in front of you. You weren’t sure where else you could turn to avoid a serious temper tantrum.

Shatter.

A window to the side of where you were standing abruptly splintered away. A rush of the chilled night air flooded the room with one thorough sweep. The infiltration was not caused by the window simply breaking due to a strong gust of wind or a tree branch breaking the surface. No—it turned out to be a rather unwelcome intruder.

“Heyo~,” a certain bombshell blond’s lilting tone filled the thick tension in the boardroom. Your eyes zeroed in on the hero’s iconic ruby-red wings and instantly knew who it was. Hawks! You’d seen him in the field before from a distance, even captured his attention for long enough to have a brief conversation. A certain twist in your chest wrung out the breath filling your lungs when you thought about his suave nature that day.

You were there with your three main boys the day you’d met Hawks. You had just started working at Endeavor’s agency because of the generous offer provided to you by Todoroki during the Holiday party. It was certainly kind of him to extend his hand to you, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You tackled him in a hug, and you watched obliviously how he nearly short-circuited at the affection. Though the day you all met up to head off, Bakugou had been acting a little salty around Shoto that afternoon after discovering that he had reached out to you too to join them, but you figured it was just usual Bakugou. Always waking up on the angry side of the bed. Izuku didn’t have the heart to tell you it’s because none of them wanted to make fools of themselves in front of you. Him especially. You are quite oblivious to the “more-than-just-friends” affection they had for you, but Deku was happy keeping it that way. After a bit, the four of you had settled in together and met Shoto’s father.

No thanks to Bakugou’s “stellar” introduction with the pro, Endeavor had put his foot down to deny taking on other interns, other than his own son. Thankfully, hero work is never finished, as a villain attacked then and there. All of you sprung into action despite Endeavor’s denial, and that is when you saw it. Or, rather, him. Red spears descending from the sky like Valkyries swooping in to protect the weak. You saw soon enough that these weren’t spears, they were feathers. The winged hero, Hawks, aided Endeavor in taking down the crazed terrorizer effortlessly. No hesitancy or mercy. Not so much as a bead of sweat lining his forehead either. After recuperating, you and Izuku practically tackled the man in an effort to meet him.

In the staggeringly casual meeting, he was pleased to say he already knew about you from your close friend, Tokoyami. However, he pretty much overlooked the green-haired puffball as he stuck you down with his unnerving amber pools. Hawks suavely shared that he was especially excited to meet you specifically. We’re these most likely only sugar-coated words to get your heart racing for the notorious playboy? Rationally, absolutely. His ego knew no bounds—he’d do anything to get the fans swooning for his flippant affections. Yet, you fell for it nonetheless. You hopelessly played the perfect giddy fan as you devoured all his teasing remarks, his infatuation with your quirk, and his cocky winks. A peck of his lips strategically gifted to the back of your hand was given to no doubt solidify a good relationship, but you nearly passed out. You gushed at the attention before, and you probably would again. You were no different from any faces in his crowd of fans that he interacted with. Or so you thought.

He soon took off after meeting with Bakugou and Shoto briefly. You’d geeked out about the interaction afterwards to the boys. An blatant envy to Hawks’ ease at impressing the masses, you as well now included, made them stumble at their advances. Izuku buried his own jealousy at the hero by directing your attention back to what the rest of the day had planned, and it distracted him from the negative feelings too, thankfully. Shoto had crossed his arms and stood as a silent watcher to walk alongside you. You did catch that he was standing rather close to you. Bakugou only spat insult after insult about the bird brain and the hot-headed waste of a father, hoping that tarnishing the memory of Hawks in your mind would get your mind off of that loser and onto him. He soon cooled off, and became a bodyguard beside you, like Shoto, mumbling to himself about how “pointless” it was to chat with the likes of that douche.

You knew that this meeting was no accident. Hopefully, the hero is here to save you from this awful nightmare. Though, he didn’t show up alone.

“Hawks,” Snipe grumbled a rugged greeting, quite obviously ticked off that the snarky bastard was ruining their sanctuary, “what’re you doin’ here?”

“Oh, not here for any particular reason. Flyin’ around, stopping to smell the roses…,” he lolled his head to look right at you, a devilish smirk lining his strikingly handsome face.

“Inspecting suspicious activity in the area.” A velvety smooth voice strikes up from behind you. You jump and whip your head to the side to see the culprit. Laying a gentle, yet comforting, grip on your shoulder was the famous Rabbit Hero: Mirko. You hadn’t really gotten a chance yet to interact with her in your journey as an aspiring hero. You’d heard about her competitive nature through various interviews you’d seen her in. You’d never felt more like prey than now, underneath her sight. Nonetheless, she was even more stunning than the media could convey. Her white locks draped along your shoulder as she peered down over you, the faint scent of lavender and earthy rubble wafting into your senses. Rumi’s piercing blood-tinged irises looked down upon you with a satisfactory expression. The lingering glint of fire locked within her gaze guided you to understand that whatever was driving her on this mission to confront your captors was far from fizzling out.

You’d heard some about personal interactions with her from Bakugou and Midoriya when they worked with her in the field. Deciphering Bakugou’s turn of phrase you’ve come to be fluent in after all these years, you gauged that she wasn’t too bad of a coworker. He’d said she was strong and that she had a kick that was no joke. When Bakugou remembered something about the people he fought alongside, you knew they left some impression on him—good or bad. He did make a point to reiterate that she only “gets in his way”, but he regards everyone that way, so it’s not a huge concern. Midoriya mostly info-dumped about her quirk and every fighting tactic he’d thought up to either aid her or counter her, but you didn’t mind his ramblings. Animal-based quirks like hers were always intriguing to learn about, and you’d appreciated him taking the time to tell you all the information he’d drug out of the woman. They both agreed (shockingly) they would like to work with her again.

You asked some of the girls of 3-A what they thought of Mirko before, and were surprised when they all nearly trampled you in their freak-out fangirling over the woman. Hagakure gushed over how much she loved what Mirko was doing for the community of women in the pro hero society. She adored how Mirko showed the world that women weren’t just damsels in distress; that the power and strength they hold mentally and physically is one to behold. Mina giddily hugged your arm as she declared the hero gave her confidence to not hide any of her more eccentric or “out-of-the-norm”, as she put it, features. Momo allowed herself to become vulnerable as she shared how Mirko taught her how if others don’t have confidence in your abilities you have to be your own advocate. Perfectionism was rampant in the poor girl, and she had such high expectations for herself. Seeing Momo learning to be more gentle with herself was comforting.

 Jiro and Uraraka explained all the ways she really was a fantastic figure for women, not simply aspiring heroes, to look up to. Strong, snarky, never afraid to throw a quick insult or punch to any ignorant when she needed to. Mirko was not known to be a passive presence; she made sure you know exactly what her opinion on any matter is when she gets in your face to tell you it. Since she wasn’t attached to an agency, most would think she’d be an outcast, but they’d be wrong. The girls told you how she was a lone wolf type, that she’d rather handle everything her own way. You admired her for that. Mirko’s belief of not fitting in with the crowd to instead be at the front lines of encouraging others to break the mold society says you should fit is one to be coveted.

“How’s it going, (Y/N)?” Mirko warmly asked you. You froze when you heard your name fall from her lips. How did she know you? You’d never met face-to-face before in your life! She’s even prettier than the photos snapped by her paparazzi could try to convey.

“Are these guys giving you any trouble~?” Hawks ruffled your hair as he sprouted up next to you like a daisy in a sunny meadow. You felt your face heat up at their actions, not getting used to the unwavering attention of such prestigious members of the Hero Agencies. Also, they’re two of the most gorgeous people in all of Japan. Even a sparse glance in someone’s direction would be enough to make anyone crumple to their knees—nevermind that they’re actually addressing you. You were having a hard time standing up on your own, knees wobbly and jittery, your eyes bouncing back and forth between the two in a fumbling manner. All you could think about was not making a total fool of yourself in front of your heroes. That’s about when you realized you hadn’t responded to them, leaving everyone listening with bated breath at your silence.

You wanted to slap yourself for the silly star-struck reaction, “Oh! I–um…,”

“They’re fine, thank you very much.” Surprisingly, Cementoss’ usual composed tone took a frozen turn. Guess he didn’t appreciate the two of them being here. In fact, it looked to be that most of the teachers in that room didn’t care much for the pros being present, all of them having a crinkled up forehead and scowles dotting their lips. That, or the frustration is from the broken window. Whoops.

“They’d feel more fine if you’d back off.” Vlad King, who had finally calmed down, cautioned the duo. Though he’d cooled off his ramage, you could see the irritated vein popping out underneath his skin, so another outburst was sure to loop back around. Whether it was expressed in a hunched posture, snippy tone, or the expression on their faces; the teachers all agreed on one thing. These two were trouble and had to be escorted away from their darling now.

“Yeesh! What a tough crowd, Mirko!” Hawks overdramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. He leaned his body backwards, grasping his other hand over his chest where his heart lies, and wailed out in a helpless maiden-like tone. Oh, yeah. You forgot that he’s such a drama queen. It’s silly, but also somewhat charming, in a way.

“Ha! Seems so, Hawks. Hey, chill out, we’re only here to play babysitter, old timer.” Mirko snickered to herself. Hawks joined in her light-hearted teasing with a bright chortle of his own. His laugh formed from a cluster of tiny clicks rattling through his teeth.

“...What was that, little lady?” Vlad’s temper was never one to back down as he cracked his knuckles. You felt Mirko’s hand clasp tighter around your shoulder at Vlad’s choice of words. You could tell she wanted to go off on him and rip him to shreds both verbally and physically, but held her tongue. Now was not the time to start a war.

“Eh, don’t take it so personally, King! She was just pointing out the obvious~,” Hawks egged the man on. Seems to be Hawks didn’t agree with the “no war” idea. You were beginning to get a bit nervous with the pros’ language. You didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the boar man’s tantrum, as previously mentioned, so why were they purposefully lighting his fuse?! At least move you out of the way first before digging their own grave! Though, you might get pushed into it with them when you can’t dodge their crossfire.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 13 sneered at the shade.

“You’re all…wise from all your experiences,” words posing as carefully chosen by Hawks no doubt fired up the two more.

“But (Y/N) needs protection from a fresher-faced cast. If you catch our drift~,” Mirko finished for her quick-witted partner.

“That is why you’re all gathered, right? For the Purge?” Hawks anything but innocently asked the group. Those who weren’t lost in their own rage showed a glimpse of hesitation in the answer. Hawks, willing to take a mile from the inch they gave him, ran with their slip-up.

“So, it is true. Judging by the switch in your behaviors, and from that out of the ordinary hue in your irises, seems to me like this lot caught the illness. Probably from those students bulldozing through the school. Can you believe it, Mirko?” Hawks swiftly closed the little distance between you two by slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“I can. They’ve been in such close proximity, it’s no wonder they caught it. I’m just disappointed. They’re supposed to protect people like our lovely (Y/N) here from these incidents. Instead, they’re fueling the catastrophe Hmm. You must’ve been so scared running away from these shit excuses for teachers.” Mirko brought her hand to your cheeks and pinched them together to make your lips pout outward.

“Hey! You know that’s bull—,” Power Loader barked as he leaned across a nearby table.

“What were you sickos planning to do with them, huh? Make them your slave after this night,” Hawks unapologetically interrupted the man, a silence washing over the room at the question being sprung, “Force them to be at your beck and call for everything? Splay their body out to satisfy your needs whenever and wherever you wanted? Disgusting.” Hawks veered his body in front of yours to shield it with one of his huge red wings. The more he talked about what your captors would do to you after the Purge, the more fear reeved up to course through your veins. While thinking about the possibilities of what would happen after the Purge if you were caught, Hawks’ accusations had crossed your mind, but you tried to ignore them earlier. They wouldn't…they’d respect your wishes even if you…belonged to them after all this! They—not your friends, nor your teachers—wouldn’t do those horrible things to you.

And yet, based on everything that’s happened thus far…

You’re not sure anymore.

You shrunk into Mirko’s side deeper, wishing to disappear from the conversation of your fate entirely. You felt her wrap an arm around your waist, and you felt safer with the basically strangers than you had all night long with your long-time partners. You wanted to cry from the relief of finally having somewhere safe to turn. You held the tears back to see where their confrontations would lead.

You felt Mirko lead your stiff body with fleeting strides. She was obviously trying to give you an out, so you went willingly. Just let them do as they please. Anything to get out of this suffocating mess. Hawks caught on to her.

“How dare you try to make those foolish claims against us,” Aizawa began, rage climbing high in his heart. He reached for his infamous scarf and pulled the end piece out, preparing for his attack. Screw playing nice. Screw relying on others. Fuck letting these idiots walk all over him. The nerve of this flashy waste of space dictating him to be the kind of monster that would take advantage of you. You’d been in his life for so long now that he hardly even tries to remember the times without you and his other students. So many tough challenges your class has faced, and yet, each hurdle was leapt over with no hesitation. Your entire class had brought him such joy over the years through the sorrow. His kids. However, you and Shinsou undoubtedly claimed the prize to share the number one spot on his favorites list. You’d been so attentive and caring over him when he’d left you to flounder for air. Late nights powering through boring essays, countless assignments completed only an hour before they were due, the weekend study sessions that almost always turned into game nights or gossiping over snacks that he’d seen you participate in with your other friends. You work so tirelessly to be a good student and attentive friend. That effort wasn’t unnoticed by his watchful eye.

There were many more less impactful moments shared that, dare he say, mean even more to him than the death-defying acts you’d survived together. Chats over the positive current life events with him drinking his standard cup of muddy brown coffee and you casually sipping your own beverage. Walks around campus with him, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Ojiro, and you. The sky gleaming a dazzling aqua blue with the sun sparkling overhead, but not in an overwhelming glare. Puffy clouds dancing in the air. A pleasant, flowery breeze twirling past you. One late night in the common room when he was making his last round to make sure everyone was securely in their dorms, he found you sitting on the couch brushing off the aggressive tears slipping down your cheeks.

When he’d made his presence known that night, you’d shot up like a fired bullet off the comfy sofa, scrubbing your puffy eyes in an attempt at covering up the residual cry session. You’d greeted him warmly with a laughing cough to hide your choked up throat, but he shut down your plan of concealment by hinting that he’d already seen your sadness flowing. That night he sat beside you and talked. Talked about what you were upset about, talked through your doubts, fears, and resentment over how you didn’t know what you were going to do now. Gave you a sorrow-filled look when you broke down into a fit of violent sobs again. He even sat with you in a lingering, but reassuring, silence after your sobs faded.

Only then did Aizawa release a sliver of his own castle walls to give you a hug holding as much love as he could spare from his withered and beaten heart. He told you many ways how your class had changed him to be a better man. How you inspired him to keep pushing himself to look ahead to what beauty the future could hold. Aizawa promised you that night that no one was going to abandon you like you’d feared. He promised to always be there for you whenever you needed his support. All he needed was for you to reach out, and he’d claw up any bit of strength he had left to come rescue you like the hero he promised Oboro and Hizashi he would become. Today was no different from back then.

These fakes weren’t going to tarnish his cherished memory of that night with you. That night, when you’d smiled back up at him with a wobbly grin and soggy eyes, now glistening with hope from his words, you should have known he wouldn’t let some nobodies crush your heart. These wretches didn’t stand a chance.

Power Loader cut Aizawa off to continue, “We would never. Stop trying to scare them like that!”

13, back to her reasonable self, even tried coaxing you, “(Y/N), they are lying. We would never betray you. Now, if you’d please come back here—,”

Feeling bolder with allies at your side, you forced your lips to move to stop their rambling lies, “Why should I believe a single word that comes out of any of your mouths?!” The room fell into stillness. It was as if the whole world had shut itself up to give you the stage to speak your mind.

Fed up and running off of pure adrenaline, you continued, “None of you have asked for my opinion on anything that has happened tonight. You don’t care what I have to say; all you give a shit about is doing whatever the fuck you want to me. You didn’t tell me what you were planning. You spied on me, you kidnapped me, and kept me stuck in this hell as your little hostage all night!

“Even if you did care about me, it was only to find out what you could gain from me for your selfish desires.” You downcasted your eyes at their knife-like glares.

Tears welled up and this time you couldn’t stop them from dragging down your tired face. You took a shaky breath to fill your deflated lungs, “I…I understand this virus has…changed you. I understand whatever you’re going through isn’t easy to fight against. But I don’t know. I don’t know what is happening to any of you. I don’t know what you’re thinking of doing. I just…can’t know. I’m too scared to even try to begin searching for the answer. My classmates have become the same as you—completely changed from who they are. They’ve been hunting me down. And now this thing has taken my teachers too?” Your lips wobbled at the realization of your loss.

“Ha…it’s like one sick joke the world is playing against me,” an exasperated laugh bled from your vocal chords, “I don’t know how it’s making you feel, but I know what it is making you do to me. You’re scaring me. I don’t feel safe. Around any of you. It isn’t crazy to consider you’d force me to do…other things too.”

You caught Aizawa’s eyes when you looked up. You turned away to save yourself from the heartbreak of his torn expression.

You curled into Hawks’ back, shrouding your emotional husk of a body in his fluffy feathers. You allowed the last few dying words left in your quaking heart to wheeze out, “Please. Leave me alone. Please.” Whether your teachers were mad at you for speaking against them, or if they wanted to get on their knees and beg for your forgiveness, you had no clue. All you know is that Hawks whips around, gathers your trembling form in his arms, and takes a couple of steps back from Mirko.

“Hang on tight.” He gently whispers to you. Unconsciously, you obeyed, and securely held onto the fizzy collar of his iconic jacket.

“We’ll be watching over them for the rest of the Purge.” That cold, nonchalant jab to the teachers was the last fleeting acknowledgment Mirko threw at them. Hawks spread his wings.

“Next time, before you go destroying the mental and emotional well-being of your students, get a grip on reality.” The finality of Hawks’ tone was filled with all the venom that he felt you lovingly held back. Your kindness is not what this lot deserves. With that, he flapped his humongous wings a few times to kickstart his ascension and took off with you pressed tightly against him. He soared up and out of the broken window, making sure to cover you properly so you didn’t get sliced or stabbed by any broken glass. You watched Mirko clamber out of the rickety window from over his shoulder, land on the edge of the concrete window sill, and use her legs to jump as high into the air as she could.

You watched in awe as she practically flew up several storeys, confidently grasp the edge of the railing atop the roof, and gently sling herself onto the roof without so much as a hiccup. Judging by the trajectory of where Hawks was flying, he too was aiming for the roof. Not like you cared at this point. As long as you were away from them, you’d be fine to go anywhere they took you.

“We at Air Hawks thank you for flying with us on this gorgeous evening, esteemed passenger. We have now reached our destination, the rooftop of the illustrious UA High. The weather outside is clear skies at a balmy 75°, so you may see a stunning view of the city tonight. Please take care and follow your charming, ever good-looking pilot as he will guide you towards the exit.” Hawks cracked a light joke to try and pull you out of the dark headspace you were currently dwelling inside. You spared him a half-hearted giggle for his attempt, allowing him to release the hold his hands had on the backs of your knees. You plopped your feet down softly to the ground just as Mirko had made it over.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Mirko held out her hands, her gaze trained on Sero’s tape that was still wound snugly around your wrists. Wow. You’d entirely forgotten they were still there. You lifted your wrists to the admirable woman and merely watched as she took your already reddening wrists into hers.

“Honestly. What barbarians. To leave you bound like this? Complete bullshit.” Mirko muttered insult after insult under her breath as she wasted no time in destroying the binding. She took your wrists up to her mouth and carefully chomped down using her steely, rabbit-esque front teeth on the strips to make a sizable cut through them. She gently pulled your wrists apart and the tape effortlessly split. Free, at last.

Using your fingers, you tore away the remaining severed strips with a wince, and threw them to the ground. Battered and bruised, you saw that your wrists were nearing raw from how much struggling against the tape’s adhesive you’d done. You gave a quick massage to stimulate blood flow back into your numbing fingertips.

“There! Feel any better?” Mirko prodded.

“Much. Thank you for getting me out of there. I seriously couldn’t have asked for a cooler getaway than two of the top pro heroes in Japan being my saviors.” you tossed a light joke in along with the gratitude. You yanked the two pros into your chest with a tight hug to further show your thanks, taking a deep breath against their chests. They were rigid at first, but they both allowed themselves. However, while being this close, they couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell drifting off of your clothing. There was little the pros could do to avoid the intoxicating aroma, but before they could delve further into what it was, they heard a tiny sniffle sound from your buried head.

With an alertness to you that he hadn’t felt before, Hawks pulled you away from his chest with a concerned look on his face. “Hey, what’s up, baby bird?” Hawks were much more determined than he had been all night to get you to open up about what was going on in your brain.

Not looking up from the ground to respond, he placed his fingertips underneath your chin and tilted your bent head up. You had a thread of silvery tears lining your lower lash line and a wobbly lip that made both Mirko and Hawks’ aggravation boil their blood.

“Hon, tell us what’s wrong.” Mirko commanded. She could barely contain the loathing that spiderwebbed throughout her heart. When she gets her hands on those measly heroes who mistreated you, she is going to make them wish they’d never bothered you with their worthless existence ever again. Lousy maggots. Just as Mirko’s mind was going to float off the deep end into disturbing plans of vile and ruthless methods of punishment, she caught herself.

Woah. That’s new. That was aggressive.

No, the aggressiveness was not new. She’d always had a bit of spark to her. Her wild thoughts are what made her such a great hero; that’s how Mirko became widely recognized for her prowess. It was who she was having the ruthless feelings against that surprised her. She’s worked with those pros, her coworkers and friends, for years. She barely knows you at all. Yet, she’s planning every possible way she could make the insolent, ignorant gang pay for their mistreatment.

Although, why should that fact matter? Why shouldn’t they pay? Sure, they’re her friends, but they abused an innocent. They forcefully used their quirks and position of power over you to make you suffer! It’s despicable. It’s dishonorable. They should face the punishment of the law. But…that isn’t enough. Her rationality slips, drifting further away the longer she feels you warm her. It fuels a fire within her, and that fire sets the marrow lining her bones a light. She doesn’t want to toss the aggressors off to the police like a spineless coward. You deserve better than that. You deserve more. You deserve justice. She is justice. Technically, she is the law. She will make them pay. Yes, that’s a wonderful idea!

God, she hasn’t felt this warmth in a long time. Too long. You’re wonderful.

Hawks isn’t faring any better. He’s wild-eyed—his mind deep sketching out the framework of delusional fantasies of him taking you on as his trainee, showing you all the tips and tricks he’s learned in the harsh world of hero life, and quite literally taking you under his wing. Maybe you two become more after you get closer. Keigo isn’t unfamiliar with the desire of wanting companionship in his life. He often finds himself daydreaming of a partner by his side, on and off the field of battle. Never a specific person, just a faceless, nameless being, fluttering through his desires. Smiling, laughing, enjoying each other's time together. Cute stuff. Hawks yearns for that small sliver of normalcy. Keigo wants to feel human—to feel whole again after everything he’s been stripped of in his miserable existence.

With you, even though your interactions have been brief and you’ve endured some light flirting of his that is barely considerably mentionable, you’ve brought him nothing but a comforting and loving feeling. He feels indebted to you for simply being you. Not lying to him, or trying to pretend to be someone you’re not. He’s constantly surrounded by deceptive and cruel human nature. He truly couldn’t tell you how many thousands of googly-eyed newbies have introduced themselves to him, praying for even a small flicker of his fame to rub off on them. Hoping to use him to spring them up into the actually noticeable charts. It’s so easy to read them too. They’re open, flimsy magazines. Bright, colorful, eye-catching, and full of back-stabbing and strategically fabricated lies. Spread wide and pleading for him to flip through their pages. They always hiss lies through their teeth, grinning and bearing the once-in-a-lifetime interaction. But no matter how much sucking up they commit to or how well they try to veil the truth of their intentions behind sugared words, he never fails to see through them.

Guess the training he went through as a child was good for something. If you don’t open up to people, you can never get hurt. Sure, that tactic has worked wonders…up until meeting you.

But he’s just so tired. He just wants to lower the railing and find something worth all the fight he puts up.

You might be his outlet.

“It’s…it’s just been a long night. I’m sorry—,” you tried to cover your face with your forearm, desperate to conceal the embarrassing honest showing on your face. Mirko gently removed your shield with a comforting smile.

“Oh no, hon, it’s fine—,”

“Never ever apologize for your feelings—,” both pros stumbled over each other’s words. When they realized they were getting anywhere by interrupting the other, they shared a look. After a small nod shared, they wrapped their arms around you again.

“You’re okay,” they both said at the same time, cradling you against them once again. You snuggled deeper, taking that chance to breathe deep and avoid spiraling into a panic attack.

While your arms were around the two, you accidentally brushed against Hawks’ wings. That is when you noticed his wings had puffed up in size, similar to how any bird does when they want to appear bigger to a threat they face. He had been very tense at the beginning of the hug, so maybe he was only nervous, so you chose to not question it. Plus, you’d just let a room full of deadly pro heroes! Yeah, it’s alright. However, the light thudding taps of Rumi’s foot against the concrete roof was something you couldn’t explain. Is it normal for hybrid rabbits to emulate this characteristic from their bunny counterparts? You’re not too sure.

You tried to pull away, but their tight grips didn’t let you. Oh. Well, maybe they’re both in desperate need of a hug. You’re very familiar with your classmates coming to you for hugs during their rougher days. They always said you had the best hugs, and you take great pride in that fact. Come to think of it, maybe you should ask them all about their mental health more often, just so no one spirals off the deep end and punches another classmate (thank you for that, Bakugo).

OH! Your friends! Maybe Hawks and Mirko can help them! Yes, that’s a great plan.

Peeling further back, you tilted your head up to look them in their eyes. You let out an airy chuckle, “As much as I enjoy the hug, I need some more of your help.”

They instantly lightened their steely grips. Not too much to let you slip away. Mirko held a smug look, as if knowing you’d come crawling back to her for her aid. SHe’s the only one who can provide for you properly, afterall. Don’t worry, let her handle everything for her darling. No task is too big for her. Hawks resembled that of a grinning puppy, excited and warm. Eager to perform any task for praise and treats. Yes! Anything you want, darling, they can provide! What do you need?

They didn’t supply you with a verbal answer, but the looks they carried spoke loud enough, so you continued, “My classmates. I don’t know what happened to my friends, but they’ve got the same thing the teachers do. I think everyone’s infected. I have to help them, but I don’t think I can do it alone.”

As soon as they heard you utter the word “friends”, their bliss was shot and struck the ground like a wounded songbird. Their brains shut off to stop the nonsense you were suggesting. Friends? You need people other than them?! And what’s worse, is you want them to help those idiots?! Last they checked, they were public enemy number one for making you run yourself ragged up and down those endless halls! No, that can’t be right. Those fools don’t deserve their help. Not for what they made you go through.

“No.” Rumi snapped with a frigid simper.

The rest of the sentence you were sputtering falters. You gaze up at the rabbit hero, “...What?”

With a second look-over, Mirko appears a lot scarier than she did only minutes beforehand. Have her eyes always been this clouded? Her unrelenting gaze exudes a darker inkling than when you’d faced her way. Rumi’s eyes stuck on you like gum bonded to the bottom of your shoe.

No. This wouldn’t happen again. They said they’d be better than this—better than them.

Hawks obnoxiously cleared his throat to brush the eerie vibe away from the floundering conversation, “Ehh…haha! What Rumi means is not right now. It’s too dangerous to go searching for your friends now. Finding help for them after the Purge settles down is the safest strategy.” Hawks smoothly saved Mirko’s ass with the perfect excuse, served up on a shining silver platter. You didn’t appreciate how obviously strained Hawks’ tone became at “friends”.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe. Preferably away from this shithole.” She mumbled the last portion, keeping the snark to her own chest, but her contempt for the institution was blatant. Mirko’s eyes were laced with flaming venom as she fleetingly paid attention to the concrete walls. A sneer broke out on her lips, as if just the idea of standing on top of the building was a sin itself.

“Ah… okay.” You tried to leave the hug again. They persisted.

“Mirko—,” Hawks’ voice twisted into a demanding tone. His blown out, puppy-like pupils cinched into vicious slits, staring down the woman.

“Hawks, I don’t want to hear it. Back off.” Mirko gnashed back at the blond. The two began an all out war against each other, both tugging against the other’s advances. A tug to the left, a drag to the right, both parties were unrelenting. Neither wanted to allow the victory of having you in their arms.

“You’re holding them too tightly!” Keigo whined.

“Well, you’re not holding them tight enough.” Mirko argued back. You’ve seen this before. It reminded you of two children fighting over who got to play with which toy, always bickering how the other was “doing it wrong”. It reminded you of Ochaco fighting the guys. It reminded you of Denki and Mina struggling over who got to hold you. Childish squabbles.

Liars, the lot of them. They didn’t want to help you. If they did before, not anymore. They’re infected, there’s no other answer for their behavior.

“Keigo, just stop it! You and I both know that you can’t protect them.” Mirko snarked. That caught the bird’s attention judging by the way his eyes dug into her, all emotion scrapped from his expression. A grim look stole the spot, one that told of violence and mayhem running rampant in behind his eyes. An expression usually reserved for the villains he so often made easy prey of. This is awful.

“And what is that supposed to mean, rabbit?” Hawks’ eyes looked wilder than before.

“I think you and I both know what I meant.” She snarked back, ruffling his feather figuratively and quite literally.

“Be honest with yourself. When was the last time you were able to save something that you actually cared about?” Mirko hatched a devilish plan. She took the chance of his loss of temper to clutch you against her. She took a couple spacious leaps back, creating a sizable distance between her friend turned enemy. Hawks plucked two giant feathers from his wingspan that sharped out into duo blades resembling two scimitars.

“I’m done being—,” just before Hawks could spiral off the deep end into whatever hell he had planned to put Mirko through, a disturbance crashed the party.

“Enough, you two.” A formidable voice shook from the shadows. Those few words are all it takes for the two beside you to back off from tearing out each other’s throats. Whoever it was had the ability to command total control of a room in an instant. You couldn’t see them, but you knew the voice came from the other side of the stairwell exit.

“Great,” Mirko scoffs, tilting her head to look the other way with a cross of her arms. You couldn’t tell if it was from irritation or the shame from being caught. Judging by her scowl, it’s probably the latter.

“Endeavor…how long have—,” Hawks sputtered out. You swivel your head to the gap at the birdman. No fucking way it’s the number one hero. He’s gotta be wrong. The number one pro hero showing up to participate in the Purge is unheard of. Guess you’d be wrong. Though, you suppose that even the number one gets a pass during today. It’s just jarring since All Might had not once in all his years of being the symbol of peace even be seen during the Purge hours. He probably just didn’t want to be caught up in a scandal with the news or social media if he were to ever be discovered converting to be a player of the Purge’s game.

Sure enough though, the one who rounds the corner is in fact Endeavor. He shut Hawks up with a simple raise of his palm and an unforgiving glare. The once cheery hawk tucks into himself and shields his frustration away from the number one.

The first thing that shows you the reality of the situation is his overwhelming stature. You severely underestimated the way this man takes up a room. Seeing him in TV interviews on the news and fighting against villains is one thing, but it is a completely different beast to be face-to-face with him stalking towards you. It made sense why he was deemed the top—with such a suffocating aura, it was hard to believe that any villain even tried to oppose the behemoth. You should know, you’ve met him before.

During your training with him alongside the boys, it had been quite the feat. You’d mostly done in-field training with the boys, but the one time you did have one-on-one training with the pro was unnerving, to say the least. Endeavor had watched your every move, his eyes never straying too far from where you’d displayed the extent of your Quirk’s usefulness. You knew you were as capable, even more so since you could control your emotions, as Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki. Let’s face it, all three of them had a tendency to act out far too irrationally due to their urges and feelings, and they weren’t shy about expressing it. Although, your self control put you in a favorable light with Endeavor, so it wasn’t strange that he gave more of his attention to you.

Instead of bickering and combating everything the pro said with a harsh glower like Katsuki had, you listened intently and gave Endeavor undivided attention. Instead of ignoring the man who actively tried to give pointers and choosing to walk faster ahead of the group like Shoto had, you hung back and asked questions about what Shoto had done wrong in his approach and how to improve his strategy. You became more agile, better aware of your surroundings, and able to predict some of the moves villains would try to throw at you. You understood that the opportunity that Shoto had given to you all with training under his father for the work-study was not something to be taken lightly. Was the man a little too much of a hardass for your taste? Yes. But he was not a pushover. He had valuable lessons to teach you all from experiences he’s faced during his years in the field. If you wanted to actually place in the hero charts one day, you knew you’d have to get past your own opinions on the man and try to cooperate.

If someone asked your opinion of Endeavor, they’d understand he’s not your favorite hero to grace the charts. You’d believed him to be startlingly cold for the fiery nature of his quirk. It was easy to say you’d originally thought him to be nothing but an ass with too hot of a head on his shoulders, and while that was still the truth more often than not, he had his moments of clarity. The media did have a knack for stringing up the moments of his ill temper caught on film and making them the headline of every social media platform. What you had learned during your trainings held at the crack of dawn was that he was extremely precise. There was never a lack of communication or any doubt held within his words whenever he instructed you. Swing a right hook into the dummy’s torso. Sweep your leg to the left to knock the opponent over. He was straight to the point and earnest in the compliments regarding your physical improvements.

He’d even let you spar against him one day. Endeavor had taken the four of you and one of his many sidekicks, Burnin, to the rooftop during one of the few freetimes you’d actually had. He asked you to step across from him and get into your fighting position. He instructed no quirks be used, that it be purely a hand-to-hand combat session that balanced skill and strength together. With Burnin as the referee, you’d begun. He thankfully didn’t go easy on you as he views not giving his all into any task as a “halfass lazy excuse”, so you’d fight with your entire being against Endeavor. He educated the four of you through commentating on all of the things you did wrong; how you’d left yourself open to a couple of jabs from him, turned your back to him often enough that he’d seized an opportunity to lunge and knock you over, and such. Though you were outmatched in a number of categories, you soon understood why he was putting you to this impossible challenge. Enji wanted you to get creative with your tactics to take down your foe. You needed to outwit his strength.

With the newfound spark of inspiration, you struck. You made a move imitating that of one you’d tried against him earlier. A simple left hook. He knew he could easily deflect the punch, so he took the bait. You’d noticed before that he was much more sturdy with his right side, which left room for error on his left, so you took the chance. You sidestepped into his peripheral and closed in behind him. You kicked in the back of his right knee, forcing him to stumble to the ground. You knew you couldn’t tackle the man over from this position, nor could you keep him pinned there due to how much force you had to use to kick his knee alone, so you went with the quickest option. You needed to hit a weak point, but since his body was covered in mostly muscle, you only had a few options. Since kicking him in the groin seemed like too cruel for a simple sparring session, the spots above his neck would have to do. You jumped up onto his back, shimmied up enough to hang onto his shoulder, and threw a hard punch right into his throat.

You left him choking on his air and wheezing. He grasped at his neck, steadying himself on his other arm. Leaving him no hands to defend against your assault. You then shoved your hands into his hair, pulled on the strands tightly, and swung your body forward over the man’s shoulder. You let gravity handle the rest. Your body weight pulled his unstable torso forward and he hit the ground with a hefty SMACK! You bent your knees to land sturdily on the ground with minimal impact to your footing and let his face take the brunt of the fall. You then placed your knee hard on the middle of his shoulder blades to pin him and Burnin deemed the match completed with an impressed grin lilting on her face. Admittedly, for the rest of that day, you gloated the pride you felt at taking down the mountain of a man a little too obviously.

You knew that day he most likely wanted to make an example out of you when he presumed you wouldn’t win the fight, but you’d made sure he understood not to fuck around with you or your generosity again.

Zooming back to the present, you caught his eyes goring a hole right through you. Brilliant aqua blue irises stuck out like a sore thumb against his smoldering flames. No matter how much Shoto tried to deny the fact, he truly was Endeavor’s child. That striking blue color kept locked down within the Endeavor lineage and fiery red hair that draped over half of his head was unmistakable. Features that, however much wasted on the shitty attitude the man possessed, would make many and most fall head-over-heels for their stunning effect. Though, in your opinion, Shoto wore the beauty better.

Enji’s gaze was harsh towards you, but it was kind compared to the one he shot at Mirko’s arm wrapped around you. Perceptive, the woman held you closer, as if trying to defy his silent demand of releasing you. She was dead set on not going down without a fight. Before she could hope for one to begin, Hawks laid a hand on her shoulder as a soft hint to not involve you in Endeavor’s unrivaled wrath. Mirko knew he was right. Dammit it all. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she relented, back off of you. She left you to fend for yourself against the beast, cast you aside to the big bad wolf who wouldn’t spare you. It reminded you of the tale of Odysseus facing off with Polyphemus—only you were unarmed and lacking a foolproof plan of escape and this giant won’t allow arrogance to be his downfall yet again like the monster from the epic had.

Finally, Endeavor was right in front of you. If you had any bravery left from the night, it vanished wholly with him staring you down. Endeavor hardly even spared a tilt of his head to gaze down upon you, opting to stare through a half-lidded examination. The only indication that he was human and not some freaky Terminator cyborg from the future coming to hunt you down was the ever-present scowl he’s so fond of sharing.

Without ever taking his sight off of you, he glowered dryly to an unidentified listener, “Why are they scratched up?” You see now the question is not for you, rather it's dedicated to the duo in charge of you. You peered down to see what he was referring to, only now understanding what he meant from the bruises beginning to bloom along your wrists and the miniscule scratches littering your forearms and neckline. None of them were deep enough to lance more than a couple drops of blood, but they were still oozing fresh from the night’s escapades.

“That wasn’t from us! The students were dragging them back-and-forth between the halls before the teachers got a hold of them. You know how rough kids are with their toys.” Hawks quickly presented to the man. Smooth as ever. He strolled over to Endeavor to lean his elbow against the man’s bulky side, as if casually resting against an alleyway’s grimy brick wall. Although, with how stocky the pro was, you’re sure the feeling was probably akin. You watched Endeavor roll his eyes at the blond.

“I’m sure hurling them through a window had nothing to do with the scratches.” Endeavor’s sarcasm hung heavy in the air like too much icing on a dry piece of cake. It was obvious that his comedic side hadn’t been brushed up on in awhile. He took the chance to use an unexpected gentleness to grasp your forearm and hold up the damaged skin to the duo as all the evidence he needed. You, not taking too kindly to being an item for presentation, pulled your arm away from him and held it close. Endeavor shot you a look of disappointment, but held in the trembling Armageddon he had planned. Hawks gave a weak chuckle, no doubt scrounging for a way to veer the conversation off them scaling the side of a building with you.

Endeavor decided to spare you for now, choosing to cross his arms and acknowledge only Hawks, “What’s their status? Who in the school is infected? How many are after them?”

You were starting to get sick of him completely ignoring the fact that you had your own voice to speak for your own wellbeing. “You know I can speak for myself, right? Or have you forgotten that since we last hung out.” Hawks shot you a look that yelled “shut up” like a parent two seconds away from scolding their child who is screaming in public. You didn’t cower. You pressed on to challenge Endeavor’s authority.

“I’m aware. But I understand if I speak to you, you’ll probably end up whining like a child to me. Wasting my time.” Endeavor threw no more than a half-hearted stern crinkle of his brows, and you pretty much could no longer hold back the bubbling anger swelling up in your chest.

“Excuse me! It’s not ‘whining’, it’s called ‘being a sane person with reasonable concerns’. Also, no shit I would complain! Your little underlings were literally just fighting over who was going to kidnap me! That is a perfect reason to yell.” You waltzed your way in front of him to be a human barrier to get in the way of his sight being fixated on Hawks. You will make yourself heard against this bully. Screw it if he trained you, you don’t just ignore someone you’re actively talking about when they are right in front of you! It’s incredibly rude.

“I don’t have time for this,” Endeavor rubbed temples with one hand. You wanted to rip his head off and shout from the rooftops into his eardrums. Maybe that would get your point through his thick skull.

“Wow. First of all, fuck you,” That certainly caught his attention. His head snapped to look down at your defiance. His eyes bore that same look he’d struck Mirko’s arm with before. Boiling hysteria and bitterness. Even though you physically felt the warmth of his internal temperature rise, and you recognized the panic Hawks held in his gob-smacked expression, you couldn’t stop your big mouth from prattling on. Shoto probably would have laughed his ass off at your opposition to his father. That small support in the back of your mind made your confidence soar.

“Second of all, you can’t seriously think that I am going to be chill with anything you wei—,” you couldn’t finish your sentence before you were all of the sudden no longer touching the roof. The collar of your shirt had been snatched by Endeavor’s strong hand with no warning and hoisted high. You were now dangling limply a few feet off the ground. Keigo was squawking figuratively and literally, yanking on Endeavor’s arm to lower the leverage he held your body at. Rumi took a turn for the worst. Threats cranked out of her mouth as she reared up to kick him as hard as she could square in an area where the sun didn't shine. Maybe give him a taste of his own brutality. With an unyielding and unforgiving hold, he lifted you even higher with no strenuous effort. You yelped, swinging and writhing around to try escaping the brute strength of your foe. He brought you in close to look at you eye-to-eye, making sure your darting gaze has nowhere to turn to other than locking in to meet his own icy pair.

“You will not speak to me like that again. Your attitude might be cute to the rest of these weak links, but I won’t let it go without correction. You show me respect, or we will both have to go through a punishment for you that neither of us will enjoy. This is your first and final warning.” Every word was uttered with nothing but truth. No twist of a joke in his tone, no shift in expression, nothing. Only a foreboding aura and the gravely tone that demanded full cooperation.

Every snappy response died on your tongue. You wanted to fight back, to sass all of them more, to tell him exactly what you thought of him to his stupid, scary face—but nothing came. You felt tears line your waterline, and you couldn’t despise them more. Crying when faced with any kind of opposition…what kind of hero does that make you? You couldn’t explain why your mind drifted to Midoriya in this moment when all hope was lost.

You suppose it’s because you recall a day when the boy had tried to deny his waterworks and his friends carried his tears with grace and love. Deku had been sent off to his work-study with the man he’d called ‘Sir Nighteye’. You didn’t know much about the man, in all honesty, but you did know that one of the strongest students at UA had been training underneath him for some time. The sweet boy named Mirio who had come to meet your class and then single handedly swept you all in a twenty-to-one match. He was quite impressive, so the fact that Midoriya had been taken on to work alongside him was quite the honor!

However, Midoriya came back rather…startled, to say the least. He hardly participated in conversations held around him, didn’t speak up during the lectures, and could barely choke down the food placed in front of him either. His eyes were clouded, a scrunched up twist pulled on his eyebrows like he was stuck in a maze of his own thoughts. He looked far into the distance yet couldn’t process what was in front of him. It was scary. Where did the boy always eager to learn and help everyone drift off to? You wanted him back.

The situation came to a head one day at lunch when you were sitting across from the green-haired boy, Iida, and Shoto. You’d all tucked into your meals when you noticed Midoriya had no intention of even attempting to stomach the spread. Shoto had shockingly tried to crack a very dry joke, and that seemed to wake the distant boy. After brushing off all of your concerns for the nth time, Iida finally challenged Deku’s false reassurance. He’d offered an ear to listen to the boy’s troubles. A simple gesture, most would assume, but it hit the boy hard. Midoriya had tried to keep it in, but the boy just couldn’t hold back his emotions—a fact of which you admired to this day. He tried to claim that heroes don’t cry while he actively swiped away the drips trailing from his evergreen eyes, but you watched as Iida and Shoto shut down that statement quickly. It’s such an easy thing to say but a hard skill to execute. Of course heroes cry! Anyone who doesn’t when facing the nightmarish terrors that they do on a daily basis is lying or too stone cold to be considered human.

You watched as the boys bonded over the spilt emotions and a grin overtook your face the entire rest of the day. No one at that table knew what Deku was going through with poor Eri and the vile Overhaul situation. You hadn’t a clue the true reason Iida had extended his hand to the shaken boy that day. But it didn’t matter. Izuku let his tears and strength glow bright that day. Tears are a symbol of actually giving a shit in this world. Tears you shed are the wordless tale you share with the world. Speaking a thousand words in all different orders. A labyrinth that can be solved or failed, depending on how your own soul understands the riddle. You’re still scouring that maze to comprehend your own salty snivels.

“Understood?” The three heroes stilled, waiting for your response. Wordlessly, you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling, looking away from the man to not give the satisfaction of his actions actually scaring you, and nodded. He gave a satisfied grunt of contempt and lowered you back down to the cement. Hawks flitted over to your side, checking you over. Mirko didn’t exactly come running to you but she did make a point of standing in between Endeavor and you.

“You’ll see why we must do this soon, (Y/N). This life is just too risky for someone like you,” he looked like he wanted to say more to you, but held his tongue. You wished he’d just crawl back to whatever shithole he climbed out of and fester there for the atrocious attempt at playing the “comforting” father role.

He meant it, you know. Enji sees you choose to not look beyond his past. Much like his sons. Not that he can blame any of you. But, for some reason, the abandonment of trust hurt more from you than it did Shoto.

Enji could tell you how many sidekicks he’s experienced come and go throughout his career. Does he remember the plebeians' names? No. Why should he? They left, so that must mean they didn’t meet his standards. No big deal, another will take their place eventually. It’s not his job to care about them or to remember them. However, he does remember you quite well. Truthfully, much to your surprise, before even your work-study together.

The first time he’d even sparred you a passing glance was during the Sports Festival in your first year. Truthfully, he didn’t give a single damn about any students in the arena other than his son. Enji really only went to see if Shoto would finally stop this little rebellion of his by only using that wretched ice his doe-eyed wife blessed their son with. He wanted to see Shoto crack under the pressure and give in—finally admit that the fire portion of his power was the stronger, more reliable half. He managed in his obsession to give some half-assed attention to the other one-on-one duels.

One of the fights he watched over was you against the ditzy girl from the Support Department, Mei something. Initially, he was going to walk away at such an uninteresting sounding fight, but he chose to linger. He saw you willingly agree to Mei flaunting her inventions to prospective buyers by using you as the demonstration device. You’d effortlessly almost danced around her gadgets’ tactics; playing the part of challenging foe, but never let her pin you in a dicey position. You’d ended the fight by running her off the boundary line before time ran out, and both of you shared a hug as you parted ways—both satisfied with you being the victor moving forward in the chain of fights and her having interested eyes witnessing her skill. Normally, a blatant show of mutual benefit would have him running for the hills. That wasn’t a fight, neither of you put any effort into crushing your opponent to a pulp, which is what a real show of power was to his image of winning. Yet, he stayed. Not to watch anything that pink girl offered, only examining you bounce around with both your own strength and the might of your quirk. He wanted you to slip up. He wanted you to make a mistake so he could justify ditching the patetic battle, but you never did. You stayed light on your feet and still struck at your opponent a few times to show examples of the defense her “babies” could provide to heroes.

Intriguing, is all he thought. He then stood and sauntered off until the second round.

The second round he watched Shoto, not as easily as he had hoped, defeat Midoriya. While he was filled with both gratification at Shoto caving into his carnal fire and enragement at that Izuku pest for giving his son the unwavering support to defy his hold over his son, he hardly realized your next battle had begun. It was against the vine girl from the Class B—first losers, rather, to him—Ibara. Unlike Mei’s challenge, you basically wiped the floor with the poor girl. You shot around the court, darting like a bat through an inky full-mooned sky, making sure to not give Ibara a chance to get the one up on you. You hardly let her breathe during the showdown, striking at her again and again from all angles. She was safe nowhere, even when hidden behind the viney defensive walls sprouting from her hair. You’d ended it neat and clean with a swift shot of your quirk, landing her out of the arena. Triumphant, you’d moved up again, but you still remained humble while helping Ibara off of the ground with a bright smile and gifted her a sincere handshake. You’d no doubt made a spectacle of yourself to the crowd and everyone watching at home, the loud cheer of encouragement erupting across the venue said just as much. Enji even hashed out a couple of light claps for your impressive display.

Your last battle was the nail in the coffin for Endeavor. You were finally fighting against his son. Of course, he was obviously rooting for Shoto to crush you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to a nail-biting fight. He got just that. You two dove for each other—ice flung around the court in jagged peaks with you racing around the boy and firing off precisely aimed jabs of your own quirk. Blustering rushes of glacial wind flushed across the landscape. You two waltzed around in a deadly dance of effort and skill. You’d make sure Shoto knew that you weren’t to be cast aside like overlooked trash. You had grit, a will to make a name for yourself in the competitive world of heroes. You managed to last around two minutes in the ring together, which is phenomenal, considering his other battles didn’t last more than a handful of seconds. In the end, Shoto had been the victor when he caught you off guard by using his ice on the floor. He swiftly created a haphazard ice rink and slid you out of bounds. You were too exhausted from abusing your quirk so much that afternoon against your other opponents that you couldn’t stop your body from spinning out. Enji didn’t miss the way Shoto practically dashed over to your side, helped you stand up, and offered his arm for you to hold as you shakily shuffled off the slick floor to a safer spot.

Though you lost, he hadn’t forgotten how you gave his son a run for his money. You were very capable. Which is why he didn’t hesitate allowing you to become a work-study of his under the guise of helping you and your other friends out. This plan he has is not only for the benefit of his own gains, but for Shoto’s as well. He knows his son cares for you, but he has to help you see that after all of the Purge nonsense. You two would be perfect together—the perfect marriage of quirks. Of course, he tells himself that he’s not in this for the sole reason of having another powerful quirk added to his ranks. But it certainly helps him like you more.

You kept your eyes lowered, the lingering sting of defeat simmering behind your eyes and in your heart. You wanted to have an unwavering confidence like some of your classmates. You would never say this to Bakugou, but you truly did admire his “never back down” style. You had seen countless times how he barked in the faces of higher-ups, challenging their morals, their reasons for becoming heroes, and plans. It was as if he never agreed with anything they presented. The blond always had to shove his opinion into every decision made. You wanted to stare Endeavor straight in the eye as you stomped on his foot and make him see what you really thought of all their bullshit. But you couldn’t. You didn’t have it in you to ignore his authority. Guess that’s why you’re still stuck up here on this stupid roof with people you don’t want to be around, huh?

Hawks brushed back your hair, trying to examine your face for distress or injury, but all he could see was you not meeting his gaze. He wants to tell you he knows firsthand how hard this decision is—hell, even he has doubts relying on Endeavor and Mirko. He wants to say he’d be able to make this escape on his own with you. Hide you away alone so no one else has any clue where you are. That sounds like paradise to him. Alas, with so many high profiles after you now, there isn’t a chance of him making it out with his head. If he broke the agreement he resentfully made with the two, then others would certainly turn against him.

Later. He’ll strike later. Don’t you see? That’s why he’s playing the perfect little stepping stool. No one deserves you but him—not even his idol. His hero. He’ll make sure you know that too by the end of this night. Only a little longer of bearing the pretending and game of dress up, then he’ll slip away with you in tow.

“Hawks.” You heard Endeavor call out for the winged man. Daddy’s calling.

Hawks tilted your chin up so you were forced to look into his amber glow, and offered a caring smile. He hoped you could see the promise behind his eyes. The disgust masked behind a beaming smile was perfected for meeting delusional strangers and other worthless heroes. He gave Endeavor that smile, but not to you. You hoped the scowl you shot ripped his lungs out and left them rotting in a pile of maggot-riddled filth. How dare he give you such a carefree look after telling you he was going to steal away your entire life.

After Hawks walked over to converse with Endeavor, Mirko closed in. Not much was said between you two, but she did bump her hip against yours to knock you out of your own head. You turned to give her an offensive side eye, but she only fronted an unbothered look. You went to ignore her again, turning to face towards the men. However, you didn’t get far as she decided to make her personal mission to annoy you. You felt a gentle poke into your side, ticklish and fleeting. You jumped, falling for the trap and glaring at her again. This time, she had a mild grin on her face. It was obvious your displeasure fueled her joy.

“You’re cute when you’re trying to look mad,” she snorted, leaning back on her heels. She couldn’t stop looking at you, and you saw her stare through your peripheral.

You scoffed, “Trying?” You faced forward to deny her yearning for your gaze.

“Of course. I’ve seen mad before, and you’re not at that level. You’re just…peeved. Disgruntled. Ew, no, that word is too ugly to describe you.” Mirko shook her head and stuck her tongue out at the mention of the synonym. You took a deep breath and settled in to focus on the men discussing back and forth.

She circled you like a shark lunging on for her prey, but you simply turned your head the opposite direction of where she was to avoid the confrontation.

“Where you going, grumpy~?” Mirko easily caught on to your aversion. You noticed how her grin truly did resemble something shark-like. The thought crossed your mind if she was really half-bunny, or actually some predator in disguise masking the innocence of a rabbit. A wolf in sheep’s clothing

“I’m actually very interested in that bird over there. Would you look at that, it’s pretty far away.” You apathetically mused at the distant dot in the sky. You brushed her prodding away to daze off into the horizon, Mirko’s words slowly being tossed into the heaping bin of memories you wouldn’t document in your brain. Gazing across the landscape of the dark treeline surrounding UA and the few standing buildings nearby, your eyes scanning the moonlit metal of the nearby rooftops. But something else glistening on the roof caught your eye too. Something moving.

You watched it shift and reflect the moon’s rays from across the neighboring rooftop. You squinted, trying to catch exactly what was skulking around in the dark, but it strayed just beyond your sight. Whatever it was, it wanted to stay hidden.

“Absolutely not.” Endeavor’s thunderous voice startled you from your scouting. Hawks turned his head to see if you had noticed the man’s tantrum—no shit you’d notice that barbaric yell from the brute—and, in seeing your alarm, sighed. He scooted closer to the mammoth of a man, turning his back to you. You strained your ears to hear the mumbling.

“You don’t have to tell me it’s not ideal—I know that—but what other choice do you think we have?” Was all you could hear before Hawks’ voice became too faint to make out comprehensible words.

You then remembered your little “friend” in the shadows. You shot your head back to its previous position to confront the adversary. Nothing. You searched and searched the silent building, but nothing. You wanted to tell yourself that it was just your mind playing tricks in the dark, but on tonight of all nights, you knew better than to downplay your concern.

Finally acknowledging Mirko, you questioned her, “Do you see anything on that roof over there?”

She gave you an unimpressed deadpan, “Seriously? You're trying the ‘oh my gosh, what’s that over there!’ trick?”

“Wha—no!” You looked offended, but you felt a cold sweat on the side of your forehead. Inside, you knew you’d probably have tried that trick sooner rather than later, and you've got to hand it to her. She knows you well.

Before you could try to explain your reasoning, a raging flame shot to strike Hawks and Endeavor.

Miraculously, Hawks’ reflexes were quick enough to shove Endeavor and himself out of the way of the surprise attack before someone was set ablaze. The smell of burning hair permeated the area although, and you looked over to catch a glimpse of a portion of Hawks’ right wing being singed into charred black wisps. Mirko reacted nearly faster than Hawks did, grabbing your waist and maneuvering you back from the fire. It was you and Mirko parted from Hawks and Endeavor far on the opposite side of the roof.

“What the hell?” Mirko grit her teeth at the attack. Psychos getting in the way of her time with you, what a joke. Such a waste of time. She just wants to run off and find somewhere to keep you for the rest of the Purge, yet these shitty obstacles just can’t seem to get enough of you. She was going to rip them limb from limb for taking her attention off of you.

You stood with no complaint in her arms, not minding her taking the lead of your protection. You still couldn’t see who caused the disruption, but you would soon wonder no longer.

“You’re slow today, Endeavor. What? Off your game or something?” A seedy voice echoed across the way. Male, deep, commanding. You watched as the foe came to stand at the edge of the railing. Your eyes dilated at the sight. Your breath caught in your throat. You’d only cared to remember this man as the one who, with the rest of his party, ruined your training camp over the summer and kidnapped your classmate, Bakugou.

You’re shot into the past as you recount that horrible night. It had been such a great start to the day. You’d been working hard with all of your friends, aiming to better improve the longevity and resilience of all your quirks. You’d nearly tuckered yourselves out when the hero Pixie-Bob said you all had one more challenge to face before bed. The Test of Courage. It began as traditionally as any silly game teenagers played in the dark did. Then it all came crashing down at the faint, then quickly overwhelming, scent of smoke. You remember being there in that midnight-black forest, you remembered how excited you’d been at the started of that stupid game you’d agreed to play, you remember the fire that infested the trees and burnt the pretty flowers and bushes to wisps of charcoal ash, you remembered the terror and fear of being lost in said woods before Deku found you wandering alone. You remember locking eyes with the man who stoked the fires. A spearing turquoise. You’d seen a blue so vibrant like that only once before. You’d found that hypnotic color in Shoto’s left eye. Though, Shoto was a much kinder soul than the monster these captivating eyes were attached to.

In the present, you’re wrung back into that same terror as you watched his black leather trench coat gently sway in the breeze, a glinting bicep catching your eye. The metal cuffs shone from the full light of the moon along with the many staples running up and down the sleeves. He was too far away to discern an exact facial expression, but you could blatantly see the large patch of marred, burned flesh dominating the lower half of his face. The leathery substance was roughly connected to what remained of his skin untouched by flame, stitched up with bloody staples. The way it was sutured made his face forever appear as if strung upwards to mimic a sickening Cheshire grin. You wanted to say he was only generally looking around the roof, but you knew better. The villain was practically drilling daggers into you with how much he was staring. No, you couldn’t just say he was any old random villain; you knew his name. Dabi.

More bodies moved out from behind him to occupy the opposing roof. All you heard from them was laughter and unflattering comments nagged at the pro heroes.

“Wow, they’re even cuter this close~! Much better than in the crappy photos you guys took, Shiggy~,” A much higher pitched voice exhaled in an almost loving sigh. Their blonde hair was cinched up in two tangled space buns, but the mess was an intentional look. The loose strands were slicked into spikes. Cutesy and feminine, a happy aura surrounded her, but you knew better. She draped herself over the railing as if in her own ditzy world. You would have believed it was a fainting couch with how dramatically she had laid over the scenery. Much like Dabi, the girl couldn’t take her gaze off of you, but she made her presence known.

“Hiiii, (N/N)~~! Are the big, scary pro heroes getting in the way again? Don’t worry, cutie! I’ll take care of ‘em, hehe~!” Himiko Toga, you believe that’s what Aizawa said her name was, called out to you like she was the Romeo to your Juilet. You’re sure she believed that too. You’d heard Ochaco talk about her to you guys after the training camp. She told you about how the girl tackled Tsuyu and used these specialized needles to draw out blood from her victims. Uraraka experienced the threat head on as the girl had jammed one of her needles straight into her thigh with little apprehension.

Uraraka told you how obsessed the girl was with blood, a crazed look in her eye when the red substance came about. She said she loved her, loved her so much that she wanted to turn into her! Deku even chimed in and said the girl shouted to him delusional fantasies of wanting him to be her boyfriend. At the time, all you could do was shiver and brush off the fear the conversation brought by claiming she was “just another crazed lunatic”. Well, now that the girl is staring you down with her own redden irises, you felt your tongue shrivel up in your throat.

“Bloodied and carved up is the only way any of these nobody pro heroes could ever look cute. Though, the one daring to hold onto my darling definitely won’t be leaving here alive.” She sneered, completely flipping her personality into one of seething hate and disgust when she gazed upon Mirko. Toga’s rage could be felt from a mile away, and you felt Mirko hold onto you tighter.

“Toga, knock it off,” the green lizard man with the draping red scarf hollered at her, “we’ve got a job to do.” Though it was hard to see, you noticed the way his eyes would drift to you and quickly look away. Like he was nervous. Shy? The large clump of weapons taped and glued together as his arsenal seemed deadly but ineffective all in one. However, he moved rather quickly on his feet despite the added weight.

“Wow, such a beauty! Ugh, what an attention-seeker!” The same voice shouted two opposing sentences from across the way. You looked over and saw a man wearing a black and gray spandex suit, clutching the railing while waving his arm around. After yelling, it looked like one of his arms had a mind of its own as it grabbed his neck. It appeared to be he was trying to strangle himself with one hand, while the other hand sprung into action to stop the strangling. It was an odd battle of each arm trying to wrestle each other, as his head kept whipping back and forth shouting insults at…himself? You’re not entirely sure what’s going on there, but you hope he won’t start to try injuring himself with weapons next.

“Hmm, I agree with your first sentence, Twice. Do try to not scare our guest away so soon.” A regal tone stood out through the other members’ silliness. You wonder how much backup did these guys bring as a tall figure in a creamsicle colored jacket walked to the edge of the railing. His height was enhanced with a dark brown top hat he donned and the fancy cane held at his side. The most notable feature of his was the mask he hid behind. Marble man. You couldn’t remember his name, but you certainly remembered the way he trapped Tokoyami and Bakugou when he tried to run away with them in his grasp. You felt bubbling heat rise in your chest. Betrayal and resentment all wrapped into one swirl of hurt leaving a suffocating dead weight on your chest.

“Dabi, keep your shit under control or go back to the base. Get your asses moving. We’re here to take and leave, so don’t fuck this up for me.” An unseen voice was heard from further back on the roof. However, whoever it was got the lot of them hurrying off. Groaned complaints and witty remarks were heard, mostly from the black-haired male, but they soon fizzled out. You kept looking for where they were going, but soon you couldn’t see anyone anymore. It was silent yet again.

“Sorry, darling, but we don’t have time to stay and find out what happens next.” That is all Mirko said to you before she bent down to pull you up into her arms. Though, she didn’t move that far.

“MIRKO, BEHIND!” You heard Endeavor yell out to the woman in concern. You heard it before you saw it. A goopy, unnatural, burbling sound came from behind your form. You didn’t have a chance to turn around before a platform leather boot kicked Mirko’s crouched body away with little effort. She skidded across the cement, nearly all the way back to where Hawks and Endeavor were standing. You wanted to call out for her, ask if she was okay. As much as you’d felt unapologetic rage for how they’d decided to take your life away from you, you still cared about them. You probably gave them too much of your heart, but they’re still your mentors. The people you've looked up to for years in your training to become a hero. Right now, you didn’t want to be alone, as much as you’d begged for it in your mind tonight. Not with the threat of the League of Villains being what you’d have to face on your own.

You heard a sinister giggle from over your shoulder, and felt a calloused hand grasp your shoulder. Without warning, the memories you’d vaulted away with lock and key of the horrible training camp incident came flooding back with greater force than before.

That night, Izuku had found you. Tears dripped down your face as you hacked up a lung from the smoke in the air. If he’d found you any later, you’d probably have been passed out from the lack of oxygen. You ran alongside him, trying to find your way back to the rest of the class, toward any sign of a familiar face. After fleeing, you’d soon found the little boy who originally came with the Wild Wild Pussycats, Kota, with a villain in tow. Deku fought against the mammoth of a man who went by Muscular while you protected Kota from the falling rubble and terrain. After nearly getting thrown a million miles away, Izuku finally got the upperhand on the man, and knocked out the behemoth villain. You fled into the forest again, and after dropping Kota off with Mr. Aizawa and fending off Spinner to save Mandalay, you soon find Shoji and Tokoyami. However, Tokoyami could have been in better shape, as he was now overtaken by Dark Shadow’s power. Shoji explained that he and Tokoyami were attacked by a villain named Moonfish, which resulted in Tokoyami trying to use Dark Shadow to protect them, but Dark Shadow’s desire to take the reins was too great. Dark Shadow was destroying the forest in their rage, but Izuku was quick on his feet to think of using Dark Shadow to your advantage to help protect Bakugou from the villains as well.

You three lead Dark Shadow through the woods, and end up running into Bakugou and Todoroki who are facing off against the villain who tried to attack Shoji and Tokoyami before. Dark Shadow descended and made easy work of clobbering Moonfish, and the boys used their fiery quirks to release Tokoyami from Dark Shadow’s control. All of you hurried off in the direction of the facility, running into Tsuyu and Ochaco who’d been fighting off Himiko before she fled, and your large group prepared to get back safely as “Bakugou Protection Squad”. You didn’t get far as you finally noticed that Bakugou and Tokoyami were missing. The marble guy revealed himself and the League’s plan to take the boys hostage. He flew off, but the girls helped you, Shoto, Shoji, and Izuku fly to catch up to the villain.

You tackled Compress out of the sky, and fended off Twice alongside Shoto when the League fought against you. As you tried to run off as Shoji had yelled for you and Shoto to do, the warp user, Kurogiri, had stopped your escape. When Compress had shown the marbles of your friends being trapped, you saw red. You couldn’t let them be taken, you just couldn’t. It was the miracle that Aoyama’s precise shot of his Naval Laser to Compress’ face that gave you the chance you needed to save the boys.

Shoji had successfully nabbed Tokoyami’s marble, and now it was up to Shoto and you grab Bakugou’s. You were so close, just inches away, before he was ripped from you again. It was the scarred hands of the fire user that flooded your vision. You fell to the ground, empty-handed and desperately looking up at the man searching for any weakness in his grasp to steal the tiny blue-tinted glass ball from him. But it was too late.

It was an extra bit of torture—one that Dabi made sure you guys knew was on purpose—to release Bakugou from the marble so he could watch your failure. You saw the fear swimming in his red irises as he looked at you, the stiffness in his stance, the slight shake of his hands. He looked so…helpless. You’d never seen the boy in such a state of despair before. It was haunting. You stood on shaky fawn-like legs, ready to tear that villain apart with your bare hands, no Quirk needed. You wanted to make him pay for the suffering he put not only your class, but what he put everyone at the camp through tonight. But you were stopped with a gentle embrace.

Shoto had looped his arms around your midsection in a cage. You twisted back to yell at him to let you go, to let you save your friend, but his gaze gave his answer to your plea. He knew you couldn’t win. One eye filled with a harsh, cold steel of an unforgiving bind and the other swimming with a depth that rivaled even the ocean’s own fullness, you knew he wouldn’t let you go. You thrashed and screamed against Shoto, not believing you wouldn’t come out victorious in this suicide mission. You unconsciously looked at Bakugou for aid, and it was a cruel reminder that he could save you no more. Both of you being held against your will, both of you screaming for help—one screaming bloody murder, one silent as a moonless night. The savior trying to go where the victim was being taken, but the victim commanding them to stay behind.

You’ll never forget the emptiness after Bakugou was fully snatched through the portal. You’ll never forget collapsing to the dirt beside Deku, Shoto’s arm still chained tightly around your middle, and wailing your heart out.

You’ll never forgive the satisfied gleam in that evil man’s eye. Never.

Except it wasn’t Dabi’s hand this time. You looked at the pale flesh, graying and roughed from years of neglect and self hate. The fingernails were chipped and appeared to be chewed with anxiety-ridden coping. Beneath the nails looked like they’d been clawing at a cement wall, dried blood caked underneath the unmanicured bits. The twitching pinky finger dangling frivolously above the target of your shoulder made your blood run cold.

“Miss me?” Tomura Shigaraki mumbled into your ear with a snarl. You’re sure you were shaking, but you couldn’t feel anything other than the stuttery breaths you took in and out. You could only focus on the lone finger judging the worth of your entire life. One movement too erratic and you’re nothing more than a pile of ash sitting in his rotten hands. You saw Endeavor’s mouth moving, he was definitely addressing the villain, but neither of you were paying attention to the fuming man.

“Staying to chat would be fun, but I think I’ll let them do the talking for me. I would rather spend my breath talking to (Y/N) than you losers.” Shigaraki rolled his eyes. He guided you to step aside, and you reluctantly shifted. A sloshing sounded as Kurogiri’s portal grew to be much larger. Once the portal stretched high enough, a figure swished through. They shouldn’t be here. How can they get onto UA’s premises? Doesn’t this place have some kind of security measure to protect the kids, damnit?!

As if he could read your mind, he chuckled to himself, “So nice that UA’s defenses are down for the Purge. So much easier to ransack this place when I can toss a couple of these guys onto the front lawn. Makes this boss fight a clean sweep.” Out from the portal stepped a massive monster you’d come to know as one of Shigaraki’s playthings, a Nomu.

You’d seen a couple before, namely at the USJ when All Might defeated the beast nearly single-handedly and during the time you saved Bakugou from the League and All for One, but you had never been so close that you could reach out and touch it. As it lumbered past you, you could almost taste the horrifying aura it carried. The violence just itching to break out of its skin. Its body was barely keeping the violence it desires at bay. It was easy to tell how badly the creature wanted to claw the heroes to shreds, the short gasp-like breaths it took, and the stomach-turning visual of its exposed brain and nerve endings. Its unblinking eyes held no emotion. No malice, no joy. Nothing. You’d think it was an impressively realistic Halloween animatronic if it hadn’t just shambled past you.

Then, as if this situation couldn’t get any better, a second one appeared from beyond the portal. A carbon-copy of the first, just as horrifying, just as deadly. Then a third. Three of those monstrosities stood in front of you like an impenetrable wall. The barrier of such an evil force left you feeling light headed. This can’t be happening.

“Have fun, heroes! Don’t come looking for them, unless you’re looking to free up some space on the Hero Billboard Chart. Would be a shame if some of Japan’s finest didn’t make it through the Purge, huh?” Shigaraki called out to them with a scratchy cackle. You watched the three pros prep their Quirks and bodies for the fight to come, you then heard banging from the doors of the rooftop. The doors must have been locked as you heard a hell of a ruckus behind it. Though it was a multitude of voices, deep and high pitched, and lots of them. You wondered who it could be. Your teachers? Had they chased after the pros and were intent on winning you back? Or could it be…

Oh no.

Wait. They shouldn't come up here. Please. Not with these things here, not now. The Nomus had no remorse, no moral compass. They’d kill your classmates right where they stood.

“No…wait, my friends are still here. Please—,” this was the only sliver of argument that you posed against Shigaraki, with a shaking lip and a strip of silver tears lining your lower lash line. He revealed in your fear to oppose him.

“Really? Hmm. Perfect.” Shigaraki smiled a repulsive grin at you, his wrinkled red and slightly pink eyes filled with more bloodlust than you’ve known before. He began pulling you back by the shoulder, but you chose to fight. Yanking yourself forward before a different set of hands gripped your arms, your other shoulder, and your waist. You wrung your body left and right, and you felt closer to Bakugou than you ever have before. Trapped and alone, with no foreseeable aid.

Doors banged and the yelling grew louder.

Slimy drool dripped from the blood-thirst Nomus’ mouths onto the cement floor. Frothed mouths itching to latch onto body parts and tear them off.

Hawks, Mirko, and Endeavor had looks of pure panic as they could only watch you getting dragged away. Not because of the threat of the Nomus, but because they were losing you yet again.

Your screams for mercy were only acknowledged by a calloused grasp, minus the pinky, clamping over your mouth.

And just like that, you were gone.

~ To Be Continued… ~

Far away from the light of the outside world, a dark figure resided in the shadows. A large television took up nearly the entire landscape of their wall, illuminating their body with its harsh glow. A smirk lined their lips, entertained with the events unfolding on that fateful rooftop. Multiple cameras showed all angles of the fight, of their disobedience, of their foolishness.

Not you! Heavens no, not you! Never you. You were perfect, always. Always the perfect little damsel in distress. Always the most entertaining morsel. Delicate and bold at the same time. A real palette cleanser from all the other despicable acts they’ve seen before. They’ve had a lifetime and then some to experience the tiresome, dreadfully boring reality they’ve come to unwilling terms with. However, you certainly add a wonderful zing of sweetness and spice to the otherwise flavorless mush they’ve known life to taste like. They want more.

They watched the despair fill your mind, how distraught you became over the mess they’d created. They saw your beautiful eyes, so teary and wide. So much innocence and hope for this crumbling world held inside them.

They stood, brushing off the dust from their clothes, and walked towards the door that caged them inside. Oh, how wonderful it will be to meet you again. Properly, this time.

<3 — Tag List — <3

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[the-faceless-bride]

Chapter one: Childhood

you came from an ok family, you’re parents had you young and struggled to keep you off the streets but they managed; and after sleepless nights and lots of hard work they had finally been able to move to Japan, a nice small house in a nice little neighborhood. 

You were excited, new home, new people, a new school! All the new friends you could make! It excited to no end. You were practically vibrating in the back of your parent’s small car, hands and face pressed to the window, smearing the glass as you waved to anyone who looked in your direction as you passed by. Including a bright faced green haired boy and a rowdy blonde who was excitedly punching the air while talking. 

When you finally arrived you excitedly grabbed as many of bags your little arms could carry before rushing into your new room and getting started on putting everything you could away.

—

after putting a few of your things away, you heard your parents call out for you. “[Name!] Our Neighbors are here to say hi! They have a few new friends for you!” 

you run as fast as your little legs could take you to the kitchen, and there you find two women with their son. You assume he’s about your age he though he is a bit bigger than you and other boys your age; he had dark hair that reached past his ears, bright red eyes, and a big sharp smile. “Hi! I’m Kirishima Ejiro!!” He excitedly yell to you not giving you a chance to speak before he threw himself onto you in a tight hug making you wheeze. 

“Ejiro, let her breathe.” One of the women said placing a hand on his shoulder making him step back his smile never leaving, you smiled back. 

Your friendship grew stronger and stronger, until the day he got his quirk. He didn’t like his quirk; it wasn’t cool, it wasn’t strong, it just wasn’t a ‘hero’s quirk’ and it broke his little heart; you tried to cheer him up the best you could about how you hadn’t even gotten yours yet but once you did no matter how uncool or flashy it was you’d still be his best friend and you would both become hero’s some day. But as time past and your quirk never came and Ejiro’s insecurities grew, days became darker and darker. 

Ejiro barely smiled anymore, his insecurities and jealousy grew and you were slowly being forgotten to the world. Quirkless. 

A nobody, that’s what you were to the world now. Even your parents started to treat you oddly; a Quirkless kid, the one thing a parent never wanted to have. But you tried not to let it get to you, you had a job to do. Being a hero, maybe not to the world… but you would be one to Ejiro. You listened to his pains and woes, where there when he fell and always lifted him back on his feet, you were “so manly” as Ejiro put it and he was going to be too. 

The two of you had each other, until you didn’t. As you entered middle school things changed, Ejiro and his Family were moving. His mothers had to move for work, and you had no idea if or when you would see him again. In all of your 11 years of living you’d never been so sad, letting him go. Saying goodbye;  frowning as one of his moms call to him to “get in the car.” Your best friend in the whole world was leaving, his sad eyes bore into you as his frown sinks even lower… you can’t remember the last time he smiled as bright as the day you two first met, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

And the days only grew darker. As you entered middle school the bullying became relentless… the words Quirkless was all you ever heard anymore. Worthless, Quirkless, loser. That seemed to be what everyone knew you as and when your parents split you had hit your lowest. 

Now living with your dad, he wasn’t really around. You’d learned how to live on your own, how to make pasta, how to pay rent, you learn the world doesn’t owe you anything. And you began to hate. No longer were you a happy little kid. You were tired, you were restless, and you longed for the light again. But without anyone you’d found it hard to do anything other than hate.

until you met someone like you, a green hair boy with doe eyes and a big heart. 

[melancholymegumi]

Shinsou , trying to bribe his little sister to not tell daddy!shota that he went out with Kaminari to go to a party. You , being the brat you are refused and blackmailed Shinsou with that piece of information , only to fail and end up with an ass full of cum that's plugged with the prettiest butt plug he bought <3

[disaster-writer]

Epiphany

Pairing: Shinsou Hitsohi x Reader

Summary: Shinsou wasn’t as good as he thought he was

Word Count: 604

Warning: Smut, noncon, brainwashing

Minors DNI

Shinsou Hitoshi was a good man. He was a hero.

He spent his entire life fighting tooth and nail to prove just how worthy he was of that title. 

He ignored everyone who told him he had a villain’s quirk and he didn’t give up when he was put into general studies, being the only one in his year to manage to successfully transfer into the hero course.

He had teachers and friends that recognized him as a good person— even the media praised him for his efforts and successes. 

He had been such an intrinsic part in aiding the war that took place back in high school and yet—

You still didn’t trust him.

Shinsou Hitoshi has only ever wanted two things in life. To become a hero and for you to finally notice him.

He’s confessed to you so many times throughout the years it was downright pathetic. He should move on, he knew he should have a long time ago. But you were just so sweet and soft, the opposite of what he had to deal with on a daily basis. And with your families being friends, he never got enough of a reprieve from your presence to even attempt to move on.

And now you had a boyfriend.

He wasn’t a hero but still, Shinsou could tell he was a good man that looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky.

It was still a new enough relationship when you brought him to the party his parents held that he could imagine it not lasting very long— so many things could happen between now and the next time he saw you.

But then your sister was getting married two months later and you were still together.

Shinsou wondered if all heroes had breaking points. It was hard to imagine with all the noble acts he’s heard his favorite heroes do that any of them could do anything so vile that would make them fall from their pedestal.

Could a hero still be called a hero after committing a crime? Would all of his heroic acts cancel out the one terrible thing he ever did?

He didn’t know. He wasn’t much for deep philosophical questions.

But he did know how good your pussy felt, clenching and dripping for him.

He tried to push down the guilt that flooded his heart at the glassed over look in your eyes, and instead buried his face into your chest and deciding to live in the moment as he helped you ride his cock.

Both your families were downstairs— your boyfriend was downstairs, and probably looking for you.

Shinsou hadn’t realized he started crying. Silent tears fell from his eyes and landed against your chest.

”I’m sorry,” he sobbed with a moan, his hands gripping your hips and bouncing you on top of him, “I’m so sorry, Princess.”

He gazed back up at you, staring at your white and glossed over eyes, wondering what was going on inside that head of yours.

He felt his balls tighten and found himself cumming inside of you with a loud and unrestrained moan.

The post orgasm clarity hit him like a truck as the tears fell more rapidly as he stared at what he had done.

Silent tears slipped down your cheeks, your nipples were raw from his mouth, and his cum coated the base of his cock where the two of you were still joined.

He wrapped his arms around you, crying against your chest once more.

”I’m sorry.”

With a sickening realization, Shinsou knew he wasn’t the hero he thought he was.

[reareaotaku]

Yandere! Hitoshi Shinsou Headcanons

Happy Late Christmas YALLL!!!

Freak! Freak!!! FREAK!

He's not great with you. He can't seem to find the right words to say

You are so out of his league, and it infuriates him. He's against the whole hierarchy, so for him to have a crush on someone above him in said period is infuriating

You think he's rather strange, but kind of cute. He's got the whole mysterious vibe going and you're really attracted to that

You try and talk to him, but he always seems annoyed by your presence

You eventually are able to ask him if he wants to train together, after practically cornering him, and he surprisingly agrees

He was pretty excited when you asked. He couldn't believe you talked to him first. He always thought he was going to have to say something to you first

He does not go easy on you. At all

It's mainly because he wants to impress you, but he also wants you to know he's stronger and you can't fight him

You begin to really like Shinsou, but are too scared to confess

You'd rather just be friends... And bury those feelings deep down

Little do you know, he's doing the same thing

His feelings are much more intense though- Not to mention the extreme jealous

God, he hated when you talked to anyone but him

He knew controlling you would be bad, but sometimes the thought enters his mind.... And so, what?

You were out of control. You needed someone to discipline you- Put you in your place.

And he was just that someone

[kiraley]

Hitoshi Shinsou x Yandere!Reader

Description: Shinsou doesn’t like your obsessive coddling. Or maybe he does.

Trigger Warnings - Infantilization. Pet play. Yandere and tsundere themes. Kidnapping. Brief brainwashing. Mentions of bullying, insecurity, and being restrained. Stockholm syndrome. This is meant to be a lighthearted one-shot, however, so nothing too serious is shown! No NSFW content. Age of Characters - 18+. Gender Identity of (Y/n) - Unspecified. 

***

“Stay still for me, Kitty Cat!”

“No.”

“But these cat ears are the cutest! You’d look so cute if you just stayed still and let me put them on you.”

“Don’t care.”

“Don’t be like that. Who’s my good little kitty cat?”

“Stop this.”

“You are! Yes, you are~!”

“I said stop.”

Shinsou’s deep voice severed through your affectionate babbles. He dismissed you in any way he could. Though, he couldn’t do much to begin with. Not with you straddled to the lap of the taller male, forcing him to be pampered like a helpless little kitten. He shifted in discomfort against the restraints securing him to a chair. Funnily enough, the restraints in question were of his own capture weapon. He was almost impressed at your ability to one-up him, had he not been pissed at being abducted. He’s long since abandoned the struggle to escape his binding, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally retracting from you, or uttering a grievance in protest. He didn’t appreciate you stepping over his pride with your affectionate overindulgence. He found it to be quite flustering.

“Why would I stop now? We’re just getting to the good part!”

After placing a cat ear headband onto his scalp, you continued to accessorize your darling. Hitoshi’s gaze lingered past your own as he stared off into the distance with a deadpan expression. Your fingers brushed against the nape of his neck as you worked to clasp a black choker around his neck suited with a small bell. He shivered against the feeling of your fingers on his skin. Finally, you dismounted his lap and stepped back to view your progress. Hitoshi donned a black, white, and purple themed cat boy maid outfit, with matching cat ears, gloves, thigh-high stockings, and a tail. Minor cosmetic application complimented his look as you adorned his face with emo-esq eyeliner- accentuating his sleep-deprived eyes, and a touch of dark lipstick. And of course a painted on nose and whiskers!

You couldn’t help but swoon even more. He was just too cute! Though the outfit was missing something- a final touch! BUT WHAT???

In contrast, Hitoshi grunted in dissatisfaction. He couldn’t have been more humiliated.

“We're just about done with your outfit! It's coming along so nicely.”

“Oh, goody.”

Your outstretched smile was greeted by his unimpressed muse. You giggled at his reaction and toyed with the bell attached to his necklace.

“This choker really adds to the edge of your personality. Wouldn’t you say?”

“I'm not answering that.”

“You just did, Kitty Cat!”

“Stop calling me that.”

“I'll consider it if you behave like a good kitty for me~,”

“That's an oxymoron.”

“Aw, shucks. I guess you're right! Might as well call you Kitty Cat, anyway.”

Much to his dismay, his impassive commentary was dodged left and right, rendered ineffective against your blinding adoration. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, enclasping him partially, and snuggled into the side of his face. He huffed out and tried to turn his head away from yours as you rubbed against him like a clingy feline in demand of scritchies. For someone who refers to him as a kitty cat, you sure acted more like a cat than he did.

“This is highly unorthodox.”

“"Unorthodox"? Please! Is it so wrong to be hopelessly in-love with you?” you purred in admiration.

“If that’s what you’d call being a delusional stalker.” 

A quirk of agitation flexed a muscle on his forehead as you laughed off his insult.

“Being feisty, are we? I do love it when you bare your teeth at me, Kitty Cat,” you lulled into his ear. “Be a good little kitten and “meow” for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not entertaining your insanity.”

“You should. It’s far too much fun.”

“Have mercy on me, (Y/n). I’m not a pet.” he retorted, sardonically.

“That’s not my name, silly.” you countered in a sickeningly sweet tone. 

Through gritted teeth, Hitoshi spoke with much reluctance.

“Oh, sweet darling of mine,” he corrected himself with the most apathetic voice, “please, do have mercy on me. I think we’ve both had our fair share of coddling tonight.”

“But, Kitty Cat! It would be the opposite of mercy if I deprived you of my affection!” you objected lightly, “And you’re just the cutest thing ever! I couldn’t stop showering you in love, even if I wanted to. Not that I would ever want to. Or even could.” 

“How considerate of you.” he mumbled sarcastically. He tried to ignore the warmth in his cheeks by looking away. Maybe he was just feeling restless.

“Look, I'm getting tired. Can I just go to bed?”

“You mean, can WE go to bed~?”

“Can. We. Please. Go. To. Bed.” he seethed through a gritted smile.

“But I'm so close to completing your outfit! And I had so many fun activities planned! And you just wanna sleep?!”

“Obviously.”

You sighed out.

“Well, I don't want you to be tired. My kitty needs his beauty sleep, after all. So I guess I'll wrap this up.”

“Good.” he said sternly.

“Right after I finish your look and take some pictures!”

“ . . . ”

“I'd knew you'd agree!”

“I was feeling the exact opposite.”

“Now,” you cleared your throat as you reached for something in your back pocket, “let’s finish your look, shall we? This bow-tie is just the thing.”

“Please, don’t.” he countered blandly as he attempted to wriggle away. His disobedience caused you to grin.

“I’ll loosen your binds if you promise to behave like a good kitten.”

He stopped moving and his eyes noticeably lit up at the prospect. Was he about to sacrifice what little pride he had left just to appease your mania? Well, not like he had much pride to begin with after everything you’ve subjected him to in terms of your mollycoddling. He considered your proposal as a possible way to break free to the outside world once again. Without being tied-up, he’d have a much easier time to plan his escape. And inevitably fail. 

His compliance lacked verbalization as he nodded silently in agreement.

“Use your words, Kitty.”

He paused to glare at you. You were getting under his skin, and he knew that you knew that. He could tell from your ever-growing smirk and how your words tinged with such innocent condescension. There was nothing more enjoyable to you than teasing your darling to death.

“I promise.” 

“You promise to~?” you drawled with a loving coo, leaning in for added effect.

He heaved another sigh and rolled his eyes.

“I promise to behave.”

You hummed a smooth chuckle and patted his head as a reward for his obedience. He cringed as you did so.

“Good boy.”

You parted from his lap to unravel the binding cloth around his torso and limbs. The white fabric fell to the floor in a muted thump as his arms and hands gained freedom. You stepped back and watched him stretch out his weary limbs and rub his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at his ever-persistent state of sleepiness. He reminded you too much of a cat, even down to the smallest of details. You knew the cat costume was a great idea! And of course it had to be maid-themed. Not for any particular reason. But the emo aspect of his outfit spoke for itself. It fit his personality!

His eyes slowly drifted to meet yours. A subtle look of calculation crossed his visage. A look that, perhaps, you'd fail to pick up on in your current state of swooning.

“Will you ever get tired of the kitten play?” he asked strategically.

“I could never!!”

Bingo.

He smirked to himself. The words slipped past your lips seemingly without thought. With his body unrestrained, and your blissful ignorance causing you to respond, the opportunity to escape presented itself. He was about to activate his quirk when he stopped to ponder his plan. Maybe he'll keep you under a state of immobilization. But how long would the effects of his quirk last until he found a means to escape? You’ve broken the immobilization tactic before as he was mid-escape; the process would likely repeat if he tried it again. Or he could brainwash you into going to sleep. Or brainwash you into entering a comatose state.

No- he's tried that, too. The moment he ordered you to slip into unconsciousness, your conscious mind awakened immediately to subdue him. It both impressed him and terrified him, to say the least. You may not be the first to break from his hypnosis, but you remain the only person to actively break from his hypnosis. It's as if the grip of his quirk is completely useless against you. Or at least, his quirk is rendered useless if it were to come in the way of you and your beloved.

If he can't subdue you in that regard, maybe he could brainwash you to unlock a door or window leading to the outside world. Then he could run away into the night with his newly found freedom. Or maybe he could restrain you with his capture weapon, and then summon the police and/or pro-hero's to deal with your crazy ass. He needed to find a way to brainwash you that wouldn't involve you snapping out of his hypnosis, consequently leading to a time-out for his misbehavior. Sometimes he'd be forced to wear a hat of shame as part of his punishment for acting out, but we don't talk about that.

. . .  

“Earth to 'Toshi~,”

Just like that, he was snapped from his daze.

“''Toshi"? That's your new nickname for me?” he answered sarcastically.

“I figured that would get your attention.”

He shot you a stoical expression.

“I honestly can't believe how uncool you are.”

“Le gasp!! I am OFFENDED!” you overemphasized as you clamped a hand over your heart, before a smile flickered on your lips. “Anyway, where were we?”

“Doing anything but this.”

“Heh! You're funny!”

Hitoshi grunted. For once, he decided to ignore his thoughts. He'll think of an escape plan later, he rationalized as he thinned his lips, tasting the faint flavor of the lipstick. His gloved fingers started smoothening over his wrists and forearms. They were kind of sore from being restrained. You replaced his fingers with your own as you massaged the tender areas. You hummed as you did so- a contended look etched on your face. His hardened gaze softened ever so lightly at your delicate ministrations. There was such a slight, but tender look in his eye as he inspected your countenance, as if the tranquility of your aura was affecting him, as well. The way your fingers moved with such gentle precision . . . Taking care of him with such doting consideration . . . As you always did . . .

“Better?” you questioned, snapping him away from another daze.

“Yeah,” he replied softly, “thanks.”

His absentminded politeness caused you to let out a surprised gasp.

“Look at you using proper manners! I didn't even have to remind you. I’m so proud of you, Kitty Cat.”

Your hand found its way to his head as you rewarded him with the head pats of a lifetime. Your fingers interweaved with his already messy locks, rustling his hair back and forth, and the tips of your nails gently grazed his scalp. You even caressed his cat ears, feigning them to be real ears.

“Such a good kitty cat, aren’t you? Aren’t youuuu? Who's my precious baby boy?”

His contentment dispersed, replaced by bashfulness. A stuttered noise emitted from his throat as he found himself at a loss for words. To add insult to injury, you started leaving smoochies all over his face. The added peppering of kisses proved too much for him to handle and he crumbled under the weight of your love.

“Ngh, hey--! Stop that!”

A deep shade of crimson tinctured his fair face. With your affection making him feel more flustered than usual, his brows furrowed and he tried to shoo you away. You denied his efforts to do so- instead, you giggled at his mortification.

“Awe, is my kitty feeling embarrassed? Do you enjoy your head pats and kisses? Don't be shy, now. You can tell me.”

He refuted your observation with subtle indignance, huffing to himself. 

“N--no, I don't, you idiot. Don’t get the wrong idea.” 

“Noooo, I would never.” you teased, sitting back down onto the comfort of his lap, “It's not like your face is beet red or anything.”

He cleared his throat sharply. The uncomfortably hot sensation in his cheeks couldn't be disputed. You were an expert in making him feel flustered, after all. It's not like there was a part of him that subconsciously enjoyed this.

“I'm only red because you're irritating me.”

“Sureeeeee. Definitely not from blushing!”

“Would you shut up already?” he mumbled, cursing at himself internally for blushing.

“Easy, tiger! No need to bring your claws out! Let’s just finish up your outfit, shall we?”

Begrudgingly, he sat there in silence as you finalized his look. You fastened a frilly purple bow tie around his neck to seal the deal, humming innocently to yourself. The reserved man detested this more than anything. The man just wanted his sleep. Or in the very least, to get away from your babying. His pride and heart couldn't take much more of this.

An adjustment here- a tightening there, and . . . VOILA! You bounced to your feet to admire your magnum opus. At last, the emo cat boy arc has been achieved, and you couldn’t have been happier. The same could not be said for your purple-haired pet. You doubled-over, placing your hands on your knees as you positioned yourself to be at eye-level with Hitoshi.

“Do you feel bonita?” 

. . . 

“Do you, or do you not feel bonita?” you asked again- this time, with much more conviction.

He sighed out the last remaining semblance of dignity.

“I feel bonita.”

“Wonderful! Because you look bonita,”

You grabbed his face and planted a prolonged smooch on his forehead. A noise of disgruntlement warbled from his squished cheeks as you rested your forehead against his.

“You are very precious to me.”

“I can't say the same.”

“Come on, now,” you started, softly, “it’s not so bad, is it? Being here with me? We're in-love, and we're meant to be together. Forever. You know this just as much as I do.” 

Shinsou's stare hardened as he glared daggers at you. An expression that read "are you kidding me?"

“This is what you would call a power imbalance. Or perhaps a "toxic relationship." No- "unrequited love" works better. What we have is not even a relationship to begin with. I never agreed to be your partner.”

“Silly little kitten,” you murmured with a hint of slyness in your tone, “if you were against me as much as you say, you would’ve used your quirk to free yourself ages ago.”

Suddenly, his fierce composure wavered. His gaze inadvertently softened as his eyes expanded in realization.

“I–I have tried. Numerous times.” he stumbled over his words, foiling his attempt to sound serious.

“No, no, no,” you booped his nose in three intervals, feigning offence, “don’t lie like that. It's not fair to the both of us. You can’t sit there and tell me you were actually trying to escape those previous times.”

Hitoshi gave you an incredulous look. Your accusations had him flummoxed to a degree he couldn't quite explain. He was against this situation, wasn't he? Of course he would be. There's no way he actually enjoyed your company.

. . .

Maybe you had a point, after all.

No. He shook his head.

There's just no way.

Maybe just a little bit.

Hitoshi scoffed, his eye failing to meet yours as he dismissed your words, “What makes you think I wasn't trying, (Y/n)? You literally kidnapped me. You force me to be your "kitty cat" everyday. So of course I've tried to escape.”

“Hitoshi, darling,” you started and pulled away to meet his uncertain gaze, “"Tried" is exactly the point. You don't try to escape with that much effort anymore. I'll admit, at first when I brought you here, you gave it your all trying to escape my love. Trying to deny your love for me. You almost got away from me at one point, too, y'know. Almost,”

You pinched his cheek lovingly before continuing.

“But it didn't take long for your self-proclaimed "declaration of war" to run its course. You aren't resisting nearly as much anymore. Your attempts to "fight back" are amusing at best, lackluster at worst. And let's be real; you're the type to put up a fight to ensure you won't let anything get in your way. It doesn't matter the cost. You and I both know just how capable you are. How strong and dedicated you are when it comes to your goals. You aren’t weak. Not by any means. If you wanted to leave, you would’ve done so long ago. Especially with how powerful your quirk is.”

Silence was his only response- sans for a gaping mouth. The deepest hue of rosiness tinged his pale cheeks and his brain wracked with a surge of thoughts as he struggled to rationalize with this revelation. Meanwhile, you were nonchalant. Your half-lidded gaze looked down as you adjusted his bowtie. It's like you were expecting this. And that's because you were.

“That’s why I know that, deep down, you're okay with this. That’s how I know you love me, too. You just haven't accepted it into your heart yet. Not completely, anyway.”

You crane your neck to peer down at him with an expression of prideful amusement. His composure faltered underneath your softly domineering smirk. There was no way he could refute your argument. You had him figured out even before he had himself figured out.

“Judging by your reaction, I can already tell you've come to terms with all of this. I can see you accepted that, maybe, just maybe, you aren't as against this as you initially thought. Isn't that right?”

He avoided your gaze to glance to the side as he cleared the tension from the back of his throat.

Well, shit.

Looks like the cat is out of the bag for real this time.

“I guess I’ll take this over being outcasted by society and villainized for my quirk.”

His relented response caused you to chuckle. He attempted to establish an expressionless facade but you could tell he was overwhelmed with emotion. And you wouldn't be wrong. You maneuvered your hand through the soft, disheveled tufts of his Indigo mane. The small act of comfort caused his heart to soar with elation. He probably shouldn’t enjoy this, but he can’t help it. He was wrapped around your pretty little finger; an indisputable fact, one that he'd finally come to accept. Maybe deep down, all along, he knew his little acts of resistance were something to prolong the inevitable. To delay accepting his feelings for you. After all, the only real escape was in your arms. The only future he had going for him is a future where you're right beside him. Even if that meant being pampered like a pet all the way. Maybe you weren't that bad, after all.

“I already knew that.” you said, smiling.

He closed his eyes and sighed gently. Not in agitation. Rather, in a subtle display of submission and acceptance.

“The world doesn’t appreciate you. It never has. Nobody has ever appreciated you,” you spoke partially to yourself and partially to him. “Nobody could ever appreciate you the way I do.”

A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest. He couldn’t help but agree with your statement.

“Maybe you’re right. You’re the first person to not view me as less than human, or accuse me of being something I’m not. The first to see me as something other than a villain.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I mean, at this point, there's no point in denying my feelings. And there's no denying that you're the only one who never judged me for my quirk. And for that, I'm grateful to you, (Y/n). For giving me a chance. For always being there for me, and for taking care of me now.”

He hated to admit it, but he could appreciate you for who you are. Even prior to becoming your captive, you were the only one to ever treat him with basic human respect. Others rejected him, ostracized him. They deemed him a freak- someone with a quirk suited for villainy. He kept to himself, yet they persisted in his apparent villainous nature. If he was silent, he was plotting. If he spoke, he was an intrusion. If he looked at you, he was perverse. If he didn’t, he was judging. If he worked with others, he was a mooch. If he was alone, he was stuck-up. That’s all he was to people; the embodiment of depravity, no matter the angle he was viewed from, no matter how contradictory their accusations were. He would always be the bad guy. All because of his natural gift.

“Of course. It’s because I love you. I’m the only one in this world who understands you. The REAL you.”

You were the opposite. The complete opposite to what he’d been accustomed to for his entire life. You weren’t afraid to be around him. You weren’t disgusted, judgmental, or abrasive. You spoke to him directly, answering his questions with direct eye-contact. No sign of hesitation, no waver in your voice. You regarded him as another human being- simple as that. You felt comfortable enough to approach him, to smile at him, to invite him for studying sessions and the likes. The only one to ever see past his apparent “villainous” exterior. And for that, he had to thank you, to show you his gratitude.

“The people who judge you and bully you- they claim to be better, yet they treat you so terribly. Who is the villain then, huh? The one fighting to become a hero despite everything, or the one who rejects those based on something they can’t control?” you asked in rhetorical reference. “You aren't the villain. They are. The audacity they have to mistreat you, abuse you, and then claim to be heroic is disgusting. They're all hypocrites. Every last one of them.”

You scoffed. Your hands instinctively tightened around him and you nestled into the curvature of his neck. Your words, tinged with repugnance, hit too close to home for the introverted male. All he could do was look at you in his state of shock. His heart fluttered, accelerated by a burning passion emerging from his soul. He remained silent, allowing the sentiments to fester in his mind, and allowing his repressed feelings to finally surface.

“You don’t need to worry about them anymore. You don't need to worry about anything else anymore. I’ll take care of you. From now until forever.”

A comfortable silence befell the two of you. He made no effort to protest your love this time around, nor did he feel any resistance to your benevolence. On the contrary- he wanted to indulge further. From the bottom of his heart, he longed to share his heart with yours. He wanted to accept your love. To be a willing recipient, who not only receives love, but delivers it, too. His soft expression then soured. His thoughts of internal self-wallowing began to emerge, and his expression furrowed into a display of doubt. Even after your declaration, lingering anxieties got the better of him. The remnants of his past came back to haunt him again as he doubted your intentions. He couldn't help it.

“You mean it when you say you love me, right? This isn’t some sick joke? Some misguided, deluded power-trip?”

Your head shot up as you responded to him in a heartbeat.

“Of course I do–,”

The sound of your own heartbeat reverberated in your ears as an immediate stillness enclosed every fiber of your being. A cold numbness beyond your capabilities restricted your mind and body, depriving you of free will. No longer were you in control of yourself.

With your movements halted and your eyes glazed over with an expression starved of emotion, he pounced. He’s brainwashed you before, but never to inquire about your true intentions. A part of him needed to be reminded of your love, but under the condition of his quirk. He needed to know that this was real.

He was a needy little kitty, after all.

“Answer truthfully,” he commanded. “Do you love me?”

“Yes. I love you more than anything. I would do anything to prove my love for you. I would do anything for you to love me.”

Your response was instantaneous. Even under hypnosis, your voice was defined by pure, unadulterated compassion. Shinsou released a staggered breath of air- one he wasn’t aware he was holding in.

He shouldn’t care about your love.

He really shouldn’t.

He shouldn’t even think about loving you, either.

Even after you kidnapped him- even after the countless pampering sessions, where you treat him as some little pet needing to be cared for constantly. He shouldn’t be entertaining your insanity; he’s said it before.

But . . . 

Maybe he doesn't care what he "should" or "shouldn't" do anymore. Maybe that’s the line between heroism and villainy that becomes blurred. To love someone who is a villain- to acknowledge and appreciate the good qualities in them.

But who's to say who is and who isn't a villain? Maybe you were just like him. Someone deemed a “villain” merely for existing out of the boundaries of conventionality. Someone called a "villain" just because you lived life a little differently from others.

You may have done some.. less than lawful things, but you still had a good heart. Was this justification? Rationalization? Should he be concerned that he was falling for his kidnapper?

Eh.

Looks like he didn’t care about that anymore.

Coloration was restored the shrinking whites of your eyes as the grip of his quirk relinquished from your being. When you came to, you gazed at him in loving adoration, a soft smirk adorning your lips. The coldness from his quirk was replaced by the warmth of your love. He refused your stare by looking at the ground in shame. The bell on his choker jangled slightly as he did so.

“Have I,” he struggled to find his words as he willingly resigned to his fate, “misbehaved?”

You giggled at his remark.

“Not at all,”

Your hand grasped his cheek as you redirected his gaze, staring deeply into his dark purple eyes.

“I like when you use your quirk on me, Kitty Cat.”

Any mental restraint holding him back disappeared once you said those words.

For the first time, Shinsou initiated the first move by leaning in to kiss you. Something unanticipated from both sides. Your breathing caught in your throat as you were taken aback by his emboldened move. His arms slithered around your form to pull you flush against his chest- his long digits splaying across your back, sending a series of pleasant tingles down your spine. Your shock diminished quickly and you melted into his touch. Your palms cupped his cheeks as you cradled his face in your hands and rubbed your thumb over his cheekbone. His lips moved in slow, passional synchronization to your own as you indulged in a moment of tender intimacy. For once, he allowed himself to be vulnerable, accepting you as his own. The world beyond the two of you didn't need to matter. Not anymore. Your hands slithered up his outfit to entangle in his hair. The feline-themed headband fell to the ground as your fingers tousled about, and you could taste his lipstick smearing onto your own lips. He tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss and you oh so graciously accepted. The two of you kissed passionately for what felt like a heavenly eternity. When the kiss parted, the two of you were breathless, weighted in an atmosphere of requited fondness. Hitoshi’s breath intermingled with your own. His lips hovered against yours, as if waiting with bated breath for your next word. 

The silence was broken when he peered up at you and muttered against your lips, “You’re the first person to say that to me.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

“I’ll be the first and only one.”

He closed his eyes to indulge in the taste and feeling of your lips once more. You pulled away briefly, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eye.

“Now, then,” you cooed, “why don’t you meow for me, like the good little kitty that you are?”

Shinsou sighed. This time, he sighed in contentment, with a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“Meow.”

“Now purr for me!”

“Don't push your luck.”

[springsmile]

over my shoulder || 02

18+ | h. shinso x f. reader

warnings: non-con, smut, pre-established trauma (r*pe), extreme anxiety/paranoia, victim blaming/shaming, abuse of prescriptions, self harm, suicidal ideation, disassociation, negativity around hospitalization, violent intrusive thoughts, kidnapping, murder, specific reader characterizations, manipulation, anorexia/bulimia behaviors

** reader's quirk is enhanced senses. upon activation, emotions and sensations are pretty much exacerbated. reader never learns how to channel or control it to its full potential, only to turn it on and off.

a/n: sorry it’s short .. i’m setting the stage, you see. get ready for mr toads wild ride >:D

you can’t distinguish whether the rattling is that of a sink or shower.

whichever it was, you didn’t care. you just wished it’d stop. there was no feasibly appropriate reason to shower at 3:30am. you wouldn’t accept any string of logic. not work. not an accident. this was a personal blow. a direct and calculated kick to your balls.

heavy like poison lead, your eyes twitch behind your closed eyelids. the burning of your retinas is almost tangibly painful. worst, when your tremor stricken fingers inch to the darkened half circles under your eyes, and poke unceremoniously, you jolt at the sting. sinus infection. christ.

each time you think the metallic clunking has ceased for the night, you jerk in the midst of your pseudo slumber, the first half of your circadian rhythm interrupted, almost fucking routinely at this point. you can only imagine the hysteria that is to befall you at work in a few short, tortuous hours. you’re dreading it, what was there to look forward to? that creepy fuck, coming around again? having found your dad’s name and number and potentially your address and your family’s—

oh.

it stopped.

you twist around in bed, searching for that warm, tender position that cradles your neck and spine.

maybe this time… maybe it’ll be done for good… and then you can sleep…

a thud from upstairs strikes.

maybe.

the stinging warmth of the sun stains your skin when your eyes creak open in the morning, yielding a softer shade.

you lay there for a moment. heart palpitating furiously, and dried sweat smeared across your forehead. it could’ve been the heat, it could’ve been the serpent in your chest or the knocking around in your head. a lot went on in the night for you.

there’s this reel that is ever lingering. scorching your head and pricking the backs of your eyes with the precision of a sharp dart. the man with the indigo hair and sneaking eyes. he emanated this… strange air. it was stifling, and you didn’t like it.

though, a future run in was disconcertingly possible… so many perverts…

the duvet is damp. balmy, even. you shake your hands out, all the while, the thick sheen of sweat glares at you. you wipe them on it furiously. you’d need to run to the laundromat, you discern with a heavy groan.

you swing your legs over, and they creak with disuse. your hair is matted, a sticky and frigid press on your scalp, given the meager hum of the fan overhead. it’s disgusting, and you imagine your fingernails massaging the skin lightly, shampoo foaming around (h/c) breadths.

you glance at your phone—the one that hadn’t obliterated your senses with its jolting buzz. your breath catches in your throat— fuck! late!

you scramble for your blow dryer, holding it to your head and wincing at the highest setting whilst sprawling on eyeshadow, yet again shake-y handed. the crescent shaped swoops of black hugged the curves of your eyes starkly, while the white in your waterline almost managed to breathe a minuscule of life back into your eyes, dulled to this muted hue you couldn’t stand to look at.

you look deplorable. that’s fine. a semblance of togetherness was all you needed to plow through the day— and the black accentuating your eye shape was comforting as it was familiar.

with twitching eyes climbing to the time, unfurled within you is a twisted, guiltless epiphany; you couldn’t eat breakfast. not that you would, anyway. weight gain would decimate the remnants of your psyche. a pound would be tantalizing. maybe you’d reach back into the warm of your mouth, unwavering and armed with jagged nails, and claw at your uvula again. the pain revitalizing as it was cumbersome. blood was often an accompaniment.

the knob is wide and cold, used lovelessly with chinks and dents— and now, it’s at your mercy. you twist it until it can no longer give.

the door is improperly slotted within the door frame, and it takes a few full body throttles against it to wedge it back into place. pressing the key to the lock’s fitted grooves, you readjust the position of your purse on your shoulder with a handless jerk, pat your hair down, smooth your clothes— then, you’re en route to work.

your restless thoughts aren’t as deterrent today. usually, they press on your eyes until they glisten, but your head is rampant with else things— namely, the hero that’d rescued you with immeasurable gallantry. that repulsive, subdued haughtiness— a startling contrast to the matching apathy his eyes bore assaulted your memory.

can i get a thank you? my ass.

not that you had the pluck to voice this. even if you were met with the disconcerting opportunity to interact with him again, you’d resign to that pathetic complacency and vacant expression. it was safer that way.

the walk is lackluster. no cat with the curious eyes, no teenaged girls with shrinking eyes and glossed cherry lips. but the stagnant fear of hands around your throat, a bruised windpipe, a man appearing from around a corner that’d failed to enter the radius of your (otherwise) acute surveillance would inevitably prevail all potential logical thought, at all times, and forever.

you’re particularly sweaty today—suffering from hyperhidrosis—and the balminess of your underarms, and the soiled material of your garment, was overstimulating as it was cumbersome.

briefly, your eyes fall closed, and for a moment, your loss of vision is tranquil as it is indisputably dangerous. you pause at the crosswalk with open eyes, which flit to the concrete.

your converse are ratty and beat. the fabric frays upward, and the toe cap’s adhesive has seemed to loosen, leaving you privy to damn near trench foot when it rains on your walk home. when you look at them with a wrinkle in your nose, you fight the onslaught of memories, tainted by a note of pessimism that leadens your retinas and press oh so heavily on the backs of your eyes. but the sensation refused to evoke tears. just this palpable heaviness. and it remained.

the tinny bell above the door is sprayed gold, but the years have worn it to a silver. nonetheless, the jingle tickles your ears when your hand seized the door handle and drew it outwardly.

your job is inconvenient, yet it allows for this backseat reprieve that rests your mind and allows for the most simple coding and recollection. it’s not hard to recall where a book is. and it’s not hard to deal with a fragmented smile and greasy palms. it’s difficult to deal with gilded words and honeyed demands, but you’re seasoned at this point.

“(y/n).” your assistant manager says when you touch the receiving room’s door handle. you’re shrewd enough to grasp that he’s not greeting you.

before you can manage a greeting, practiced and cool, a stiff remark hits you.

“you were scheduled for 10:45.”

your eyes roll to the clock above the door. it’s 10:48, and it’s a tuesday. inconsequential— as erroneous as you are.

“i’m sorry.” you apologize with utmost lethargy. do you bother with an excuse? to your credit, astuteness in the sphere of tone recognition was something that you were inherently privy to. your situational awareness could use some work. lamely, you try, “there was traffic.”

“don’t make this a habit.” he chides with a huff. you nod wordlessly.

a mind-numbing day had transpired, your walk home filled with self-loathing and nothingness. cursing your manager silently. you were actually looking forward to doing something, despite menial, to occupy your otherwise empty time.

your bedroom door is open at a peculiar angle.

reaching back into your memory with a pointed palm, there’s no conceivable way you left with any hurried note. no physical sort, at least. everything was supposed to be tidy as you left it. but your bedroom door was ajar. only slightly, as not to evoke alarm, you think. but for all your irrationalizations there’s the justification that you’re unpopular for a reason, and acquaintance-less on that note.

you attribute the amplification of your paranoia to the stifling properties of your quirk. you shake your head, and began to gather your sheets and comforter.

you grimace at the wear and tear your fitted sheet had endured, and deduced it was time for a new one. but not now. maybe another day, a day where your head wasn’t full of lead and your shoulders weren’t hunched, head swinging over your shoulders periodically to ensure another assailant was not, in fact, laying in wait. waiting to pounce and desecrate you with grimy palms and a crooked, yellowed grin.

dropping a few deoxidized yen into the slot before slamming the metallic slab back into its crevice, you teeter back and wait for #13 to thrum to life.

the washer’s military grade left you abashed; owning perhaps only two weeks’ worth of clothes and a tattered duvet and fitted sheet physically hyperbolized the machine, and you were too grimed in languish and perspiration to feel abashed.

you watch your reflection in the suds and water whilst finding your ears inadvertently honed in on an amalgamation of sound.

“deku is such a dreamboat, are you kidding me?!”

“the fuck? dreamboat? dynamight’s where it’s at.”

“i don’t know guys, shoto’s got this like adorable ‘i-dunno-where-the-clit-is-but-i’m-willing-to-do-some-investigating’ vibe to him…”

the eye-bagged man with the indigo hair and miffing forwardness must’ve been a vigilante or… indisputably, not pro. you reason. his decorum was laughable, and it shouldn’t be challenging for even the most simpleminded person to discern that that man wasn’t the sociable type.

nevertheless, something in you was struck. presumably, these girls were hero fans, and it was worth bearing some humility on your sleeve in order to do some digging and, as much as you loathed to admit it, exert yourself in tenses other than customer service.

“excuse me.” you say, swinging your chin over your shoulder. “do you guys know that tired looking hero with purplish hair…?”

too wary to glimpse their expressions, your eyes climb that spot you’re well acquainted with.

“he’s a guy.” you add with a sniff.

one girl’s eyes brighten like the headlights of a car. it irks you instantaneously. this joker’s got fans…?

“you mean shinso!! shinso hitoshi!!” she squeals in adoration.

“o-oh, yeah, right! love him!” you laugh uneasily in response.

“who?” one of her friends inquires roughly with, you note, a stereotypical valley twang.

“his quirk is like, super cool, like— mind control,” she winces at her friends’ dubious countenances. “which sounds bad! but he seems like a good guy. he’s never done anything wrong; he’s a hero after all. and he’s a hunk too…”

“yeah, not yet.” the other girl snorts.

you blink singularly, and face the suds once more. seemingly from nowhere, a chill climbs up your spine. you lurch over with a tremor racking through your body. it’s disorienting. arms wrapped around your torso, you glance around, wondering if the sudden and briskness of your movements warranted any deprecating stares. absentminded to the prospect to one of lust.

but there was nothing.

hitoshi shinso yields minimal results, besides the headline highlighting the use of his quirk in a tense hostage situation, and its villainous quality, despite its use for apparent good-doing.

your brows crease— you can’t gauge this guy. and you can’t figure out why you want to.

gingerly, you close the lid of your ancient laptop lid, and try to evoke a state of equilibrium, honing in on that film reel in your mind of the broken dam being sealed, water flow ceasing all together, and everything feels somewhat normal. if there ever was a sense of normality you could latch onto.

your sheets were a little damp—having run short on the fee for another tumble dry, and you flop on your bed and ignore the way it seeps into the fibers of your hoodie. tomorrow would be better.

[seraphicloves]

Fingers grazed the screen, caressing his face gently. He was talking to the news about a recent save, the bright colors of the tv lighting up the otherwise darkened room.

"Oh, my love." She cooed, kissing his lips when they do a close up towards him, "Soon you will be mine."

The video shut off, leaving her in complete darkness. She sighed quietly, dropping her phone down on her bed. Then she stood, tracing her lips as though she could pretend they were his.

There in front of her was a beautiful shrine for her darling. She knelt in front of it, admiring the pictures that were there of him. Her eyes fell forward to the single strand of purple hair she had been able to snatch, one night while he eas sleeping soundly. (One of the few times she has noticed him sleeping.)

"I love you, Shinsou." She breathed, her heart already starting to race and heat begin to pool between her legs. He would be hers, to touch and to hold. To kiss and to love. He would be hers.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[thetreefairy]

Platonic Aizawa, Present mic, and Hitoshi reaction to reader getting turned into nomu. They look the same but their skin is a different color or something. The reader follows them around like a cute lost puppy.

imma just make this a small thing because lately i have been having a writers block.

they/them reader

lets just say that you still have your brain while being a nomu but simply can't communicate and now only does things by Erasermic's and Hitoshi's orders.

Of course the three will feel guilty that they couldn't safe you from this fate.

But they absolutely love how clingy you got, how you listen to them without hesitation.

So they make sure to take full advantages of that.

But that doesn't mean they won't try to reverse the nomu effect.

[sweet-honey-tears]

Advertising Hero Makeup

Hero makeup brand- what the advertisements look like.

Characters: Bakugou,kirishima, Shoto,Denki, Shinso x GN!Reader

I’m back! Hope y’all enjoy this! There maybe another one of these- idk I really liked doing this and I liked the concept.- if you have any other makeup ideas or characters, feel free to list.

Warning:Suggestive themes for some. Reader is wearing makeup.

“New Pro Hero makeup brands have been released to the public as of yesterday. And all I can say is it is no bullcrap branding. There seems to actually have been a lot of thought out into these product- cruelty free and safe. There even seems to be ointments in the makeup to help with skin… actual care was put into these products.”

- Vlogger

Bakugou

Bakugou: Eye shadow palette. Very pigmented. Holds the colors of his hero uniform.

Advertisement: The background is completely white. Bakugou is in his uniform (minus gantlet) and leaning down towards you, a heavy hand resting on your upper face as he kisses you. The other wrapped around your waist to pull you towards him. The top part of your face is covered in bright eye shadow. The colors form a copy of his mark over your skin.

Kirishima

Kirishimas: Lipstick-Fire Red.

Advertisement: Kirishima in a suit. The tie was loose around his neck and one of his large arms on the armrest and the other around you. You are on your lap, dressed in your own- somewhat tight- business attire. Your face shifted towards camera, with the powerful red lipstick on. You have this look, the best way it can be described as ‘fuck around and find out’. And your hair- thanks to the stylist, gives the same attitude. Kirishima- to his trouble- has a smug and self-satisfied look.

Todoroki

Todoroki- Concealer and foundation line(hear me out!)

Advertisement: It’s you and Todorki, both smiling brightly at the camera. His arms are wrapped around you as you stand in front of him. His hair is brushed out of his face and yours is too. Both of you are wearing concealer and foundation on certain sections of your face. It’s smooth, having no light bounce off of it while evening out your facial tones. The concealer and the foundation are specifically meant for people with sensitive skin- caused by burns, cuts, or any outcome due to their quirk. It comes in both light and heavy coverage. One of the other more popular advertisements is an image of Shoto holding a Sharpie, a small smile on his face as looks at you. There a heart drawn on your cheek- but half of it is covered. Completely- nothing can be seen.

Denki

Denki- Highlighter

Advertisement:It's a side view of you and Denki standing face to face. One of Denki’s hands, the one not facing the camera, is on your cheek, lightly rubbing it. This advertisement- with its flashing lights- is startling to say the least. Denki’s other hand, the one facing the camera, rests on your jawline, his thumb on your lower lip. The whole room is dark, minus a yellow flash- fake lighting- illuminating the two of you. It would come on at random- bright and shocking. The camera catches your silhouettes and sections of your and Denki’s face. It catches the highlight, causing your cheekbones and even the tip of your nose to shine a bit. It catches the thumb on your lip, and Denki smirks as though he was about to lean in.

Shinso

Shinso: Black lip gloss

Advertisement: (Background in the photo is black.) It’s of Shinso, his voice changer hanging on his neck. His purple hair is slightly wild as if just coming off patrol. He’s smirking at the camera, his eyes slightly lidded (fuck me eyes). Around his face are slight dark kisses. The shine from the gloss catches the light and causes them to shimmer. His own light pink lips shimmer, a slanted kiss having been pressed there by you. His tongue is peeking out, licking some of the black shine that lays there.

[the-faceless-bride]

Shinsou was so happy when you finally realized all you needed was his, and fuck he loved the way you showed your appreciation <3

I fucking love him so much…

[lovelywongie]

Yandere that would take you on walks after the Stockholm syndrome: Present mic, Midnight, Hitoshi, Erasermic

Yandere that would never let you step out of the house: Eraserhead, All might, Deku, Bakugou, Shoto, Hawks

Writing streak: 17

[call-me-copycat]

Can I please ask for a yandere hitoshi with kianna komori

But how would he react to her bulimia

* side note he met her in UA

And the rest is up to you

By the way you could find her info on my page here on Tumblr

Hello hello! I just wanted to take the time to apologize for how long it took me to get to this request (๑•́︿•̀๑) I really am sorry for the wait, it's for the first time I struggled a little to write this, but after so many WIPs I decided to just get it finished (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ

As an apology for the wait I drew your OC for you and put it at the bottom of the post (sorry if it's a little off from the way she is >⁠.⁠<)

I hope you enjoy your fic, and I hope you have a lovely day! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

So Should She

➤ Welcome - Introduction and request rules (requests are open + some info about me)

▶ Characters: Yandere! Shinso x Kianna Komori

▶ Genre: Comfort

▶ Summary: As the ask states

▶ Word Count: 1884

▶ Warnings:

- Mention of eating disorders

- Stalking

She always seemed so... Perfect.

Walking around with grace that came to her as naturally as breathing, gentle eyes always ever so observant, it sometimes seemed unreal.

Perhaps her quiet nature was what drew Shinso in. UA was notorious for bringing in all types of loud ones - it was rare to find someone as quiet and elegant as her. A red rose in a field of white lilies. He was captivated.

Slowly, he attempted to befriend her, hoping to get on her good side just enough so she'd allow him in. He had never really seen her with anyone else, and most would believe she didn't have any friends.

But she was polite. Spoke back to whoever approached her first before moving on to her own thing. Maybe she just wanted to be on her own? Shinso could understand that, sometimes the usual antics of Class 1A got to be too much for himself as well.

Still, he attempted and attempted. Luck seemed to be on his side when the dorms were built, as he was overjoyed to finally have a better chance of seeing her more often.

While his mind was a mess on the inside, on the outside he still held onto his stoic demeanor. He didn't know why exactly, but if asked he'd probably pin it down on something to do with her.

He often found himself questioning a lot about her. Shinso wasn't a naturally curious person by any means, most of the time he desired to be left out, rather than deal with any possible drama that would occur. Yet, he was drawn into her, captivated to learn as much as he could.

That's what he would tell himself, at the very least, as he stood behind the school's pillar to watch her make her way back to the dorms. Or when he would immediately react whenever someone called her name, eager to know their business with her. Or the times when he would just... Watch.

Watch and wait. This was how he began to piece together everything about her. He wanted to know more. He needed to know.

To know if she was safe.

Happy.

Comfortable.

Everything she wanted and more.

There was an ongoing theme of gracefulness and elegance that surrounded her. And in turn people would associate those with fragility automatically. He knew that wasn't the truth though.

Shinso had seen her, and knew her enough at this point to know that she was anything but. The most amazing thing to him was the fact that she was able to hold onto that aura of refinement and still have the strength to hold her own.

As much as he longed to be near her, as much as he thought of her as perfect... He couldn't help but feel that something was bubbling underneath that surface of hers. A perfect face only stayed that way for a loss of something in its place.

He wanted to find it. To fix it, to replace it, whatever it was.

-

"Do you have business with me?"

She was standing in front of Shinso, keeping him from leaving the classroom. His eyes widened, did he get caught watching? He couldn't have, he's been training to be an underground hero, he knows the skills it takes to stay hidden.

"I saw you... Watching me during lunch."

Ah, he remembered now. He had so badly wanted to invite her to eat with him. He personally didn't care for lunch time, it was too loud, too crowded. He never really ate with anyone either. He had wondered the same thing, if she had no one to eat with either.

However, he never saw her enter.

She'd go to the classes, and would promptly leave the next day. Shinso couldn't help but feel a pang of worry. Such a lonely life couldn't be good for one's mental health.

He knew what it was like. He knew how much it hurt. He knew what it was like, being tied to past issues, with them always hanging off of you everywhere you went. They'd float in your head when you didn't want them too, they'd block your vision when you were trying to reach something in front of you.

Was she hurting too? Or had been hurt once before, like he had been?

The pressure to remain perfect was one of the heaviest things one could hold. It was a tight mold to fit into, and he couldn't help but wonder if she was shaping herself into something she couldn't fit into. Changing her shape, piece by piece...

To Shinso, she was perfect. Inside and out. Her strength and passion. The way she thought. How she was always ready to stand up for herself.

But...

Did she realize just how truly perfect she was?

He saw the signs.

Skin unnaturally pale. Shaking limbs. In the mornings, her mouth would have the slightest red tint.

She never grew. Never gained any weight, neither fat nor muscle.

He only knew this because in order to train, everyone had to first work their bodies. To grow them, to sculpt them to be healthy and strong.

What image was she trying to uphold?

No... He was not going to allow this. He loved her too much to watch her force herself to waste away.

"And if I do?" He challenged her.

He watched as her expression remained unchanged. Yet, he knew that brilliant mind was rushing.

"Please, I ask you to not meddle in something that doesn't bother you."

His violet eyes seemed to bore into hers. It unnerved her a bit. The way his view seemed to look right through her instead of at her.

Shinso raised his hands up, smiling a bit. "That's too bad, I was wondering if I could invite you out after school today?"

She quirked an eyebrow, this boy... She had seen him all over the place. He seemed to always be conveniently right where she was. She wasn't blind. But, he didn't seem to be a threat. All he seemed was curious...

"Shinso Hitoshi, right?"

Reaching a hand out for her to shake, he nodded. "You're correct."

Hesitantly, she reached out and gently shook his hand before quickly retracting it back. "I'm afraid I'm busy at the moment. I'm sorry, but I can't accept your invitation. "

He knew she'd be stubborn.

"Unfortunately for you, I can accept that excuse."

Her eyes widened at the audacity this boy seemed to have. Was he like the others? Where they would play nice until they got rejected, and then show their true faces.

Quickly, before she could lose herself, she tried turning around to leave. "I have somewhere I need to be-"

"I know what you are. "

His words hit her hard enough to cause her to pause in the middle of the hallway. They were spoken with such confidence, yet so nonchalantly that she couldn't help but fear the worst.

As much as her mind screamed at her not to ask, she couldn't help it.

"And what is that? "

Those eyes of his... The deep indigo seemed to only grow darker by the minute. It unnerved her.

"You're hurt."

She... Didn't expect that. It was vague, but it struck her. How did he garner that from her? She was sure she kept herself composed. She was sure.

"What...?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, he paused before taking a step forward towards her, testing. When she stood in place he stayed where he was.

"I..." He didn't know how to do it. Words suddenly evaded him, this was the most he's ever spoken to her. And now Shinso Hitoshi - someone who was always so quick with words and comebacks - struggled for the first time.

"I want you to know that even if you don't know me, I care for you." Sighing, he turned towards the ground. "You remind me so much of myself. I remember how much I wanted someone to come in and help me."

He grit his teeth at the thought. Looking back up at her, his eyes burned with some unknown passion.

"That's why... That's why I want to be your hero!"

She couldn't help but be intrigued. This boy, he was different∆. She couldn't put a finger on it. But he seemed to hold some sort of odd infatuation, that much she saw. But, as odd as it was...

He genuinely seemed to care for her.

A pregnant pause took hold, unspoken words bouncing between the two. A mutual understanding suddenly formed, words not needing to be said.

"You know..."

His face had fallen into a frown.

"I used to force myself to be who everyone else wanted me to be in middle school," He explained. "They didn't want me, they wanted someone else. So, I obliged."

Tilting her head, she couldn't help but question him. "But, can I ask why you're telling me this?"

"Because I know you're doing the same. Trying to force yourself, to force your body, to conform to an unreachable limit. And all for what?"

There was not one student in the hallway. As the sun began to fall, she started pondering. He knew∆. How did he know?

"To uphold an image isn't 'forcing oneself to conform'- " Cutting in, Shinso's expression hardened in response.

"When I joined UA, I allowed myself to let the leash I had on to go lax. And I just wanted to explain to you, that that was one of the best decisions I've made."

Taking another step forward as she stood in place, he was brought closer. Both stared right at the other, both unwavering.

"You may not know me well. You may think I'm a little crazy. But I don't like who you're forcing yourself to be." His expression softened as he let the tension out of his body. "I only want you to love yourself as much as those around you do. Because you don't deserve that."

He had wanted to say 'To love yourself as much as I love you'...

She couldn't help it. Couldn't control the water forming in her eyes as she turned to face the ground.

"But... What if I do?"

He frowned at the thought. "Nothing you ever could have done would make me believe that you deserve to go through such a thing."

Steaks of yellow colored the walls. The day was ending, but it wasn't the same as the many other times she had watched the sun set.

"Please, let me in. We'll get through this together. I won't leave your side, not even for a second." Reaching out, he offered his hand once more to her.

The choice...

Did she really want to give up her image that she worked so hard to uphold? To accept the care, to accept the love... But to lose her impression?

Or did she value her image that much? To go back to the way things were. To familiar habits, old ways.

To how things used to be.

Looking up, she faced him as she came to her final decision.

And put her hand in his.

I'm sorry again! I really hope this didn't turn out as bad as I thought (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Please accept this drawing I made as an apology!

But thank you again for the request, I had a good time hearing about your OC and I really appreciate you keeping me updated on her - it meant a lot (◍´͈ ᵕ `͈ ◍)

[theextratreefairy]

Hi if your requests are open can I please ask for a yandere bakugo and izuku and shinso

With a quiet and sweet darling that wears

Jirai Kai fashion because of their abandonment issues and because it's cute

And can it be where the darling asks them if they can paint their nails / put Clips in their hair/put ribbons in their hair

Darling: can I please paint your nails / put Clips in your hair / put ribbons in your hair?

RTSBFKBS I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT STYLE. Taglist: @theninjabozo Warnings: abandonment issues, fluffy fluff time :) I assumed you meant separate so, I did that :) They are kinda small tho. I also didn't know for certain if you wanted feminine pronouns or not, so I wrote it as 'you'

SHINSO HITOSHI - CAN I PLEASE PAINT YOUR NAILS?

Hitoshi loved you, and you knew that.

But sometimes you couldn't help but wonder if you were too much for him, if you made him feel annoyed. Even if that fear was irrational to Hitoshi since he's basically keeping you in his dorm outside of school and also brain washes any who tries to get too close to you.

You felt unsure when you two were in the same room and it was just filled with comfortable silence.

While you were painting your nails and trying out pretty new designs, Hitoshi was trying to do homework Aizawa gave to him to try and get into the hero course.

When your nails were done, you mustered up all your courage as you fiddle with your shirt and you ask: "Hitoshi, can I ask you a question?"

"You don't need to ask, love." Hitoshi chuckled softly. "C-can I paint your nails?" You ask, avoiding his gaze. "Only if I get to pick out the designs." Hitoshi teased you with a lazy grin on his face. "O-okay! What colors do you want?"

"How about purple and pink?"

BAKUGO KATSUKI - CAN I PUT CLIPS IN YOUR HAIR

Sometimes you couldn't help but be scared of Katsuki's reaction, because of this you had issues expressing what you wanted to him. And your abandonment issues were quite a factor in that.

Katsuki knew this all too well, so his angry attitude was never directed to you, and because of this he knew all too well when you wanted something but was afraid to say so. "OI, liking what you see?" He asks in a teasing tone. He sees you staring at him, more specifically his hair.

You looked down at the clips in front of you and said: "Yes... I do."

This caused Katuski to chuckle softly and that gave you the courage to ask: "Can i put clips in your hair?"

"you better pick out the pretty clips." He grinned. "I saved my explosion clips just for you, Katsu."

MIDORIYA IZUKU — CAN I PUT RIBBONS IN YOUR HAIR?

Izuku loved to ramble, and you loved to listen. While Izuku was rambling about Eraserhead's fighting style while you were trying to style your hair with the ribbons in front of you.

"Well technically Aizawa-sensei fights quirkless, which means that he would have been an absolute favorite to quirkless kids all over Japan!" You just kissed him on his cheek shyly, causing his rambles to stop as he froze. "Can I put ribbons in your hair?" You ask shyly. Izuku nodded while blushing furiously. But before you could start he kissed you softly, causing you to become the flustered one.

"That is payback for the surprise attack."

[springsmile]

over my shoulder || 03

18+ | h. shinso x f. reader

series masterlist.

warnings: non-con, smut, pre-established trauma (r*pe), extreme anxiety/paranoia, victim blaming/shaming, abuse of prescriptions, self harm, suicidal ideation, disassociation, negativity around hospitalization, violent intrusive thoughts, kidnapping, murder, specific reader characterizations, manipulation, anorexia/bulimia behaviors

** reader's quirk is enhanced senses. upon activation, emotions and sensations are pretty much exacerbated. reader never learns how to channel or control it to its full potential, only to turn it on and off.

one time is a coincidence, twice is… an oddity?

your door is open again— well, you’d left it open, but it was acute angularly. you only leave it open a crack.

was there a draft? you raise your hand in the air, and unwittingly activate your quirk, heightening your sense of touch. the flow of air is ordinary, breezing around your hand slowly, and with a cheap low pressure.

there’s nothing, as such. it wasn’t as though you could afford a better ac system.

everything was in its right place. the knick-knacks cluttering your windowsill, your bedsheets creased in the corners, comforter balled in a misshapen lump in the center— everything was eerily correct… to your knowledge, at least. as if time had never raked across it. your stomach tightens, and you shift your gaze to the bathroom door, equally as ajar.

your scale is still slotted against the toilet, and while the occasional meeting of the porcelain and the glass did make you wince, it was more accessible in that position. upon further analysis, even the curtain was drawn back and the fabric ripples. it might’ve been a touch juvenile, but the ever-present fear of a form appearing shadowy from behind the polka-dots was stifling.

still having been equipped with your quirk, your gaze becomes more intent, hardening with each blink. it’s still bunched to the left, and is just that. still.

your quivering hand hovers in the air for a pregnant pause, suspended by uncertainty and fright. you inhale, which does nothing to quell your rampant heart, and seize the curtain—but when you pull it toward yourself, nothing is there. just the protective plastic and cheap design.

but when you drop your head on your pillow that night, your head encounters some light difficulty committing your habitual tossing. you lift your head, and peer down. bemused, your fingers ghost over your bare pillow.

there’s a new girl at work.

company policy, which you’ve been forced to commit to memory, states that hair must be a solid color, and a natural color at that. her hair is anything but. there's raccoon tails and pastels melting together, done indisputably by her hand, but adds to her charm and absent-minded character.

seniority rules, and so, it's decided she spends her first day with you. Initially, she begins her introduction by informing you the cheese danishes in the store's cafe were her drug, proceeded to mime snorting a line of coke. your laugh is ungodly at best, and your throat airily expands with the sound. clarity hit her seconds later, where she meekly asks you not to tell your superiors she said that.

"don't tell me you're an op, y/n." she murmurs to you with pressed palms.

"umm... i'm not?"

she proceeds to make small, correctable errors, and hits it off with the customers. you study her rapport with apt awe. every so often, she runs her fingers along the glossy spines of moby dick and war and peace whenever we pass them, and she remains there for a pregnant pause.

your breaks aligned, as she would be shadowing you for the day. the break room is desolate, save for her and you, and a shade of white that elicits a vague memory of TV static before your eyes. in your periphery is the equally disconcerting bright phone screen in yuka’s hands (nails a collection of color that don’t compliment the other in any particular way) that stains your side view. but you can make out the familiar formatting of the tumblr website. her phone ringer is on, so as her thumbs flit across the bottom of the bright glass, it goes something like ‘pcka-pcka-pcka’ but you’d have to produce a sound with your mouth that required you to press your lips together and suck them in, in order to replicate it correctly.

you like her.

you might’ve assumed kinship due to her appearance— it's anything but conventional. or maybe it's her manner. quick, blunt, but doused with sweet sincerity;

“so, it turns out that’s not how you pronounce it–I think that’s where the disconnect occurred.” she’d stated matter of factly, but there wasn’t a trace of animosity.

with darkened eyes, the customer’s mouth protrudes. his upper lip furls into a snarl.

“No. It’s accor-di-ance.” he insisted.

“accordance.” she said with a gentle smile. “but it’s alright–we found it! I hope you enjoy it.”

he left contentedly, despite his earlier erroneous insistence. flummoxed, you remained silent during the exchange. selfishly, you didn’t feel the need to interject. that, and you deduced that yuka capable enough to sort out the issue herself.

either way, it's difficult not to acquiesce her boba tea date request. you have some leftover money from making rent early, and it's not like you had anyone to call a friend.

it could be a safe change. hopefully. you’d take the leap. what could go wrong?

"if you were boba–with the pearls–you would be taro. just because I like the color. It's pretty. just like you." yuka says in the midst of alphabetizing and brain-racking. you’d been section detailing fiction. yanking out titles that didn't belong in the various shelves, or were in the wrong order. tedious, but it wasn't hard.

the warm flush that encompasses your cheeks is alarming— you hold them in your hands dazedly.

"oh." you utter stupidly. "thank you."

she giggles, and you’re instantly envious of its melodiousness.

“what section is this in?”

you pull out the device that displays inventory and genre, and twist the book around, where the scanner is particularly blinding, and survey the tiny print.

“social sciences.” you answer, watching the screen illuminate her gentle features.

she bites her bottom lip—it’s plump and full, swollen with color and life. “where’s that again, (y/n)?”

the shelves stood half way to the ceiling, and it was difficult to see around them. but you could navigate the labyrinth with ease. and so you weaved your way through the bays and yielded to a few elderly patrons, before halting upon the social sciences section.

“remember that the subsections aren’t labeled. you’ll figure it out by eyeballing the titles carefully.” you say. something about her charisma and unconventionality brought you solace, and a smidge of relaxedness.

she raises her wrist and inspected her watch.

“it’s time for our break now, isn’t it?” she asks fervently.

you crack a tentative grin at her. “it’s 5 already? then yeah, go on.”

“y/n!” a barista calls out with plum crescents under her eyes. you stand from your ornately ivory wired seat— you have angry red imprints on the backs of your thighs— and retrieve your sugary boba tea.

admittedly, you’d never really liked that herby-earthy taste. but something about the sparkling excitement in yuka’s eyes made you inclined to spend a minute amount.

she watches you earnestly, waiting for you to slurp up the pearls and taro. you do, and you unsuccessfully suppress a cringe.

“it’s not bad.” you lie, still working on chewing the onslaught of saccharine.

she studies your face for a few seconds, before leaning back in her chair with a pout. “you hate it.”

you nod solemnly. “i do.”

her chest heaves with a hearty laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners and mouth falling half open. her teeth are aligned perfectly. you wondered if she’d had braces.

“i appreciate you trying to spare my feelings, but don’t force yourself to drink it. i can give you the money back for it—“

“no.” you interject, pausing when you realize the harshness of your tone. “no.” you soften. “don’t even worry. i got it.”

she didn’t seem deterred by your insistence, but relinquished anyway with a sigh.

“alright, y/n.” she huffs. “you win this time. next time, i’ll treat you.”

you smile small. “okay.”

you fall into light conversation about your boss, who flirts with all the girls staffed.

“when i was taking out a book off of the bookseller favorites display, he told me he’d ‘fill my hole.’” you scowl. “fuckin’ weirdo. why would he say it that way?”

yuka giggles, hiding her smile behind a heavily ringed hand.

“i can’t believe there’s so much drama at my new workplace! you have to keep me updated, y/n. i’ll let you know if he says any pervy shit to me.”

you marvel at her words. this was an invitation. to friendship? you weren’t positive. but it was the start of something new. and for once, the potential of change didn’t frighten you.

words flowed with great ease past your tongue, much to your shock. her very character assuaged your nerves, briefly, and you’d spoken more than you had in months.

out of nowhere, your hair stands on the back of your unexpectedly. you throw your chin over your shoulder, attempting to glimpse the cause of your paranoia. but besides the bustle of patrons, there was nothing you could pick out.

“you okay?” yuka asks concernedly, eyebrows pinched at the middle.

“yup.” you answer unconvincingly. “just fine.”