#hosu city

[mobiusmobiles]

did todoroki know izuku was in trouble or did he just see an excuse to bail?

[pocketramblr]

people good at estimating number, how high do you think the casualty count of the hosu attack was bc there's not one in canon

[guccigarantine]

delighted and terrified that bluff city has suddenly become annihilation

[mysterioushimachal]

The Haunted Red-Roofed House of Solan: Unveiling the Dark Legend

[amtrak-official]

Here are my urban design predictions:

Detroit and Cleveland will make a comeback and start growing again, Gary will not

The outer suburbs of Miami and Houston will be some of the first cities in the US to start to decline due to the effects of climate change

Philadelphia will become more influential over the next 30 years.

Milwaukee, Cincinnati, Columbus, or Rochester will start building a proper light rail within 20 years

Chicago will get more expensive if they don't do housing reform

Seattle, Austin, and Minneapolis will continue to be national leaders on hosuing policy

The core of the Bay Area will start to shift to Oakland and Berkeley

Louisville will start losing population

Buffalo will expand the light rail

Portland will build the MAX tunnel

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 3

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, found family LoV, mdni wc: 4.8k | prev | chapter 4 | m. list | read on ao3

Sometimes days can pass by pretty slowly in the League. It takes time for a good plan to come together. 

Today is one of those days. 

You’re sitting at the bar, fiddling with your given phone and customizing the home screen when someone slaps a paper down on the counter, startling you from your task.

You glance up and of course, it’s Shigaraki. It’s hard to fight the eye roll, loaded and ready, but you do — the photo on the paper catches your eye instantly. 

All too familiar eyes meet yours. 

Same hair, same nose, same mouth. 

It’s you. 

Your eyes widen as you glide over the words printed above your photo. 

Missing Person. 

You feel the pricks of panic trail its way up your spine as you read the words below your photo.

Have you seen me?

There was no way. 

“Where did you get this?” Your voice feels foreign as you fall into the sinking feeling in your chest, the anxiety is beginning to spread throughout your mind and it is taking a lot to remain still. Even though it feels like an impossible task, you try to calm your rapid breathing, hoping that this was some kind of sick joke.

Shigaraki just shrugs, watching your every move as he takes his own seat in the barstool next to you. “All over. These posters are everywhere right now.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “What…”

“I didn’t know your father was the lead detective over the city.” His tone is light and airy as he taps at his phone. Shigaraki’s concentration is deep in the search, but his movements are relaxed — too relaxed for your liking. “That’s impressive.”

Shigaraki seems to find what he is looking for as he turns the phone in your direction. A news article with your face below the headline. 

“He’s staging it as a break and enter gone wrong,” he continues, “said they knocked him out and took you away. He’s been in the hospital recovering for a few weeks now.” 

You are rendered speechless. He is not dead. Your father is alive and well and he is looking for you. 

“Wanna see the press conference?” Shigaraki’s question rings in your ears as he holds the screen up to your face, pinky and index fingers extended as the others clutch the device. 

You don’t, but you can’t bring yourself to speak, nor could you shake your head and deny. A morbid curiosity within you wants to see though. It wants to know everything happening outside of these walls. 

Shigaraki is pulling the screen up before you could refuse — taking your shell shocked silence as permission. 

(Maybe he knew, deep down, that you wanted to see, to know your reality in its entirety.) 

Sure enough, there was your father — bandages wrapped around his head and in his detective uniform you knew so well. He stood at a podium, two of his colleagues beside him as he read off of a paper in front of him. 

Your father speaks of criminals and senseless violence, he speaks of the injustice done to him and his family and how he will work day and night to make sure those responsible will pay and that you will be brought home safe and sound.

It’s so heartfelt you almost believe it. 

If it weren't complete bullshit. 

You knew the truth. You know exactly what happened that night and how it all went down.

He is a monster in his own right. One that puts on a front of the caring guardian, but you know so much better.

The truth of it all makes you nauseous.

“And to my precious daughter,” his voice rings through the speakers of the phone, “We will find you and we will bring you home. That’s a promise.”

The video ends there and the screen goes black, revealing your own troubled reflection in the glass.

“He’s going to find me,” your voice shakes as Shigaraki locks the phone and slides it back into his pocket, “I don't have long.”

“He won’t.” Shigaraki is unbothered, crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. 

You shake your head, knowing your father all too well. 

He is thorough in everything he does and he would leave no stone unturned until he finds you and brings you home. That cursed home you would never set foot in again. The one that haunts your dreams. 

There's heat burning at your eyes and you realize it's the sting of tears. You couldn’t cry here, not in front of villains — in front of your leader of all people. It's humiliating. 

“He will! It's only a matter of time.” Bringing a hand to your chest, you fist the fabric of your shirt, wishing it could be your heart, open and able to be ripped out of your chest just so you could stop the rapid beating—

“Let them look, but they won't find you.” His voice is calm, rational. It's certain in ways you weren't sure you could believe. “You’re with the league now — we won't let anything happen to you.” 

It’s hard to believe when your face is plastered on everything. When a huge search and rescue effort is being made and for all the public knows, you were being held somewhere against your will, subject to all kinds of torture. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. 

You can only watch as Shigaraki stands from his seat, exhaling sigh on his lips as he waves you off. Clearly he had other places to be and other things to do.

“It’s getting late, you should get some rest.” he offers, and you note that it's barely nightfall, but say nothing. Lost in a daze as you stare at your feet, tears threatening to fall and humiliate you further. 

“Kurogiri.” Shigaraki commands and the apparition nods, opening a warp gate. You can tell by the familiar bedding beyond the portal that it leads to your room. 

“We will keep an eye on the situation and make further plans tomorrow.” He announces passively as he walks off, passing by the warp gate and leaving through the door. 

The gate will save you a trip of walking through the borderline endless tunnels, and you’re grateful. All you wanted was the safety of your room. 

You waste no time walking through and sighing in relief as the portal closes behind you. 

There was no chance of anyone coming into your room here, but you move to lock your door anyway — the extra layer of security makes you feel safe.

Your mind swam in the overwhelming feelings, drowning your thoughts in fear and anxiety. 

It just couldn’t be. The idea of killing your father was beginning to sound much more manageable than the reality. 

And his press conference?

The bed greets you with its comfort and you bury your face into your hands, tears finally escaping and sobs fighting their way through your staggered breaths. 

It was all bullshit. 

The break and enter, the kidnapping and the promise of finding you.

He wants you back, but not for a friendly reunion. No, the day he finds you again will be the day you are better off dead.

Everything else said is just fluff for the media and crowd. 

But you knew better. It is an intimidation tactic for you. 

A way to weed out the possibilities of hiding with a good civilian. Any good civilian would take their chance to bring you back to your seemingly loving home and surely loving father. It was a chance for an ordinary person to be a hero and reunite family together from a tragic event. 

Bullshit. 

The man is abusive. In every way possible and he will take advantage of any benefit given to him. He was nothing more than a shady cop who just so happened to play his cards right and work his way to the top of the food chain. 

The idea of someone so cruel being on a team of detectives makes your stomach curl as the sobs you so desperately held tight echo throughout your small room. 

It's just not fair.  

Why should you have to pay the price for wanting freedom? 

The question haunts you as you lie your head down onto the pillows, quiet gasps of your easing sobs filling the room. Your new blankets have always seemed warmer than the ones from your old home. You hold them tight and pray that Shigaraki is good on his word and strong in his promises. 

If they cannot find the most wanted criminal in the country then there was no doubt they would not find a missing girl. 

You would have to place your faith into this group. It’s the only thing you can do for now and the uncertainty of it all only makes you feel worse. 

The uncertainty of it all weighs on your mind as you pray your troubled thoughts won’t catch up to you in the form of nightmares.

———

The meeting of the day is brief and to the point. 

Since the media is plastering your face everywhere, it is best for you to stay back at the base. It's not much different from what you had been doing, but still informative for the other members around you. 

However, after the meeting you run into a small problem.

A small, blonde and enthusiastic problem.

“Just come with me, please!” Toga is loud as she bounces in place with her fists clenched in excitement. The wild smile on her face makes you take a small step back from her. “It won't take long!”

She was so young, but so… odd. You weren't sure what to make of her. “They just told us I can’t leave.”

“It’s not out in the open! Let me show you!”

You sigh and look around, no one is paying any attention to this scene Toga is causing, which leads you to believe that this must be a common occurrence for her. 

Even Shigaraki gives no reaction, only focused on his newspaper and you assume it must not be much of a problem if he doesn’t care. 

Well, if he doesn’t see a problem in Toga dragging you around, then you suppose it can’t be that bad. Reluctantly, you shrug and agree. 

Toga does not hide her excitement, cheering and waving to Kurogiri. 

“Kurogiri! Will you do the honors, please?” She asks the man behind the counter and he agrees, opening a gate and Toga wastes no time grabbing your hand, pulling you through. 

The gate leads you to an empty field. So much for not being out in the open. 

There’s a sinking feeling of unease making itself present as Toga lets your hand go. 

It lingers as she walks on, fully expecting you to follow her along to wherever she deemed so important to show you. Against your better judgment, you follow her, believing in your heart that you were both in the League so there was no reason not to trust her. 

But…

The entire situation is odd. Even as you look around the field and see that it is as vast as it is empty, you know that something is off. The girl only hums a tune, completely content with leading you nowhere. 

“Hey, healer,” Toga starts, continuing her pace ahead as you begin to lag behind — your thoughts catching up with you and making you slow. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever dream?”

The question makes your brows furrow as you watch from a distance. She seemed so carefree.

It makes you ponder as you find the words to respond, “No, not really. If I do, I won’t remember them.” 

You may not dream, but you do have nightmares from time to time.

They haunt you when you least expect it, but you would rather not share that with a girl who made venomous snakes look good on a bad day. Instead you try to focus on what’s around you. The field is as green as it is empty, and it only makes you wonder more why you were brought out here — wherever ‘here’ even was in the first place. 

It’s all unusual. 

You look back at the girl and notice she’s stopped walking, causing you to catch up with her.

“Hey, Toga, where are we going anyw—“

Your words are cut short as she turns on you, the silver gleam of a knife in her hand now against your throat. 

“I dream, too! But I remember mine,” Her eyes are glassy as she smiles in delight, the look on her face makes you more on edge than the knife against your throat. “I dream of a world I can live freely in. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

The question sounds rhetorical but you bring yourself to nod anyway, swallowing your fear and you can't help but wonder what deity you’ve pissed off to have ended up in this situation. 

She pulls the knife back and it feels like you can breathe again, only to be put back on edge as she lunges towards you. 

It’s a reflex, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bring your arms up to defend yourself from an oncoming attack, but you do. Only to be met with nothingness. 

Toga presses a hand to your shoulder, using the momentum she gained to jump up and over your head. 

The action makes you pause, but you don’t get any time to question as the swift print of a shoe kicks you right in the back, making you fall to your knees onto the ground.

You feel it then, the unease you’ve noticed since walking through the warp gate. 

You are weak. 

You are small and fragile and it burns at your throat as you grit your teeth in frustration. The idea of being taken down by a child is so fucking frustrating it makes you sick. 

The press of Toga's shoe against your back feels like it holds the weight of the world within it. 

Every ounce of inadequacy falls upon your back as you curse under your breath. But just as soon as the weight is there, it is gone. Lifted away as she comes to stand in front of you — extending a hand with a smile no longer wicked, but warm. 

“Living in this world is hard, you know? It looks like it’s been hard for you too.”

Her words make you still, your eyes meeting Toga’s hand and then dragging up to meet her eyes as well. You decide to take her hand in yours, allowing her to help you to your feet, even though you are still wary of her movements. 

“To me, you’re like… a caged bird.” She continues, making a point to keep your hand in hers. “But now you’ve opened the cage and you still won’t fly! That just won’t do.”

It’s difficult to place this feeling in your chest, this string tugging at your heart as you purse your lips, unable to speak as she goes on. 

“I love the league. It’s my home. The one place where I can truly be free and do whatever I want.” She looks far away as she speaks, eyes staring off at the now setting sun, illuminating the field in orange and pink hues as she smiles fondly. “I love Jin and Dabi and even Tomura! They’re my friends.”

Her attention is back on you as she brings her hands to your face, cradling your cheeks in her small palms like you were the one needing comfort and not the other way around. 

“And I love you, too, little bird!” Toga pulls you into a hug then and it is as warm as it is strange. The action shocks you still, you can’t recall the last time you had been hugged. “I’ll help you fight.” 

Toga’s voice is soft as she continues, words dripping with honesty, “The League will help you spread your wings. You’ll fly with us.”

You lean into her touch and think maybe, just maybe, you’re right where you need to be. 

———

The scene to greet you both at the bar is a strange one. It makes you raise a questioning brow as you walk through the warp gates. 

A rare sight of Spinner and Shigaraki, in a deep discussion, that is somewhat shy of an argument over what seemed to be a video game. 

“No, no, no! He is not the best at that! It’s Little Mac!” Spinner is at the counter of the bar, seated next to Shigaraki, his scaled fingers jabbing into the counter beside them. 

Shigaraki seems unbothered, an assessment you can only make by the posture he held and relaxed form. You couldn’t make out any kind of expression behind the hand covering his face. 

“That’s dumb. He’s easily countered by Ness.” He supplies and this answer only seems to frustrate Spinner more. The latter groaning and desperately pleading his case. 

You can’t help the way a smile tugs at your lips as you walk towards the counter yourself, hoping Kurogiri would supply you with more of that fizzy clear soda you enjoyed. 

“Hey, healer!” Spinner calls, making you snap your head towards him. “Tell him! Little Mac could beat any competitor with no trouble if you’re skilled enough at playing him!” 

You fight the frown making its way onto your face. “Um…” This was about a game, you’re sure but the name of it eludes you. “Is this that fighting game that came out a while ago?”

Spinner is enthusiastic as he nods, just happy you recognize it. “Yes!” 

“Oh, um,” your brows furrow as you try to remember the details of it, but it’s fuzzy in your mind. “I don’t really remember much, but I always played as the character with the blue dress. My father said games like that rot your brain, though, so he took the console before I could really get good at it, sorry.” 

The memory makes you huff a bitter laugh, mood souring at the idea of a fun game potentially ruining your young mind. “Gotta make sure dad’s keep their daughters’ undivided attention at all times, right?”

The comment was more towards yourself — thinking out loud, really. But the feeling of all eyes on you makes you look up. 

You feel like you’ve said something wrong with the way you feel the eyes on you. Even when you let out a small awkward laugh to break the tension it remains. It makes your stomach turn as you are constantly reminded of your unusual upbringing. 

Spinner speaks first, with a look of genuine worry on his face. “That’s… not normal. Why would he do that?”

“Um, I’m not sure.” You walk past the group, forgoing the soda and instead choosing to head straight for the tunnels, eager to get out of there and more than ready to shower and go to bed. “But I think I’ll head in for the night.”

It’s a feeling you can’t outrun, you realize as you sit in the shower of the bathroom — allowing the water to run over your body and you watch as it flows down the drain. 

You wish so badly things were different. That you could have been a normal child with a normal upbringing and a normal life. 

But that just hadn’t been in the cards for you. 

You tuck your head down into your hands as your thoughts spun around you. Toga's words invade your mind, swimming around in your head and you agree with them. 

You were just like a caged bird. 

And even though that door is open, you know exactly what lies outside of it. You know exactly who is watching and waiting for you to take the bait, to come out and risk capture again. The repercussions of escape this time may be much more dire than before and you just couldn’t take that chance. 

The warm water of the shower masked the tears running down your face, but nothing could cover the burn of them. The way they sting at your eyes as you fight to maintain composure. 

You know exactly why your father took the console from you. Some shitty reasoning lying beneath the real issue of how much attention you were putting towards it instead of towards him. 

It was bullshit.

It makes you feel sick. 

—------------

Everything feels more peaceful at night. 

It’s a comfort you didn’t expect to find here in the league but it is a welcomed one. 

The days can feel long but the nights are calm. Even though more than a few of the members are working throughout the night, you are safe to relax and enjoy them. You’ve even started filling your bookshelves. It’s only three books for now but they keep you entertained. 

Even when your leader pays you a visit, you don't feel afraid. 

Tonight Shigaraki is your patient and he is as quiet as the night. The lack of disembodied hand daunting his face is obvious as the pale moonlight lit the room — bathing his natural features in a soft light. 

You’ve learned that there seems to be more than meets the eye when it comes to Shigaraki. 

He never asked more than he needed to know, his eyes never lingered.

Tomura Shigaraki had goals and his focus was undoubtedly on them at all times. It made you feel… safe. Like you weren’t a burden indebted to him. Like you had autonomy. 

Never anything you had at home. 

No one in the league really bothered you or impeded into your space. It was refreshing. It’s why you feel the boldness within you that gives you the strength to ask,

“Why did you send Toga to train me?”

The question breaks through the stillness of the room, catching Shigaraki by surprise, but his expression stays neutral — only opting to raise his eyes from the ground and meeting yours. 

The question seems to pull him from his own deep thoughts. His eyes were carmine red and they seemed to glow in the light of the moon. The intensity of them makes you want to shy away. 

“She seemed like a good fit.” 

“Is it because she’s a girl?” You feel emboldened in the space of your room. The door, forever cracked, allows more light to bleed into the area. 

He doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s because she can fight.”

Silence. 

You move to heal the next area, a cut along his arm. He went out into the field today and didn’t come back unscathed. 

“Does that bother you?” His question surprises you and it shows on your face. 

You shake your head, it doesn’t. “No, it’s fine.”

He hums in acknowledgment. There’s an awkward air to the space now, but you’re sure it’s only on your end. Your nerves prickle as you work on his arm, past his deadly palms. 

“She did pull a knife on me though.”

 “That damn brat.” He huffs a little sigh. “She wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Yeah, I figured that out after. Shook me a little though.” You pause taking in the calm of the room. “Thank you.”

He looks surprised, the small tick of his brow giving the expression away. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said… and my father.” You look down, focusing your gaze along the arm you’re healing. His skin is so pale. You were so close. “I never thought I would get the chance to stand against him, or even fight him. But… I want to be able to if it comes down to that.” 

Shigaraki says nothing and you aren’t sure he’s even heard you, yet you go on, speaking the most you have since you’ve gotten here. “I think in any situation, I want to be strong. I want to try to stand on my own. Working with Toga is a good choice, I believe.” 

You swallow, nerves catching up to you and it’s a wonder you’ve said this much. You don’t know where these words are coming from, but you can’t help but wonder if you should have probably kept them to yourself.

“That’s good to know.” 

His voice surprises you, causing your eyes to look up and meet vermillion. It sends heat spreading along your face and you feel stuck — frozen in place as his gaze locks you into a trance. 

Shigaraki is not bad to look at once he no longer had his face fully covered. You can’t help but wonder if it’s inappropriate to think of your leader as cute. Handsome, even. 

Lately he has shown you something akin to kindness, but you know better than to let your guard down. He is still a villain. A villain with goals of taking down society. 

But…

He could be kind. You feel desperate to find some kind of connection in this new world you’ve found yourself in. You’re not sure what pulls you towards your leader — be it the promise of safety or guidance it just does.

You break out of the trance you’d found yourself in moving along to the battered bruises along his upper arm. 

“Also… is Spinner always like that?” The question falls and the corner of your mouth ticks up in a small smile. 

This piques his interest. “Like what?”

“Nerdy. Ecstatic about video games.” 

Shigaraki huffs a laugh, barely there and light. A blow of air from his nose and nothing more. “Yeah. He’s kind of a weirdo.” 

You laugh at this, words falling before your brain can catch them. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You instantly regret it, freezing your motions and wondering if you’ve made a mistake. 

Shigaraki actually laughs. It’s short and shallow and rings in your ears. You decide you like it and would do anything to hear more of it.  “Yeah, well, it takes one to know one.” 

It’s silly, really. The way you would take any crumbs of generosity after years of the opposite. Years of violation and violence can never compare to consistent kindness and respect.

When you feel your cheeks flush at the sound of Shigaraki’s laugh you feel strange. The feeling makes you remember a quote you had read from one of your mother’s old poetry books. 

Something about silver spoons and knives. 

But still, you want to indulge the feeling. 

“Hey, Shigaraki?”

He hums in acknowledgment, eyes meeting yours again. It makes you focus on anything else, the ground is your subject for now. 

“Do you think the investigation will go anywhere?”

“No, they have nothing in their corner.” He’s confident, and continues, “guys like that are full of shit.” 

The bluntness surprises you, though it's not unwelcome. “You think so?”

He scoffs at this, “Yeah, it’s all for show. There are no criminals and he’s hiding something deeper behind the pretense of you going missing. If they dug closer into the issue, they would find his lies. He wouldn’t want that.”

You nod in agreement, and for the first time you feel yourself relax a little. Shigaraki was not only sure, but he had the reasoning to back it up. The confidence made you feel warm — glad you were not in this alone. 

“Got anything else for me?” You ask, the hint of a smile sneaking onto your lips as you finish your healing. Shigaraki shrugs, shaking his head as he moves to stand. 

You don’t know how you hadn’t seen it before but there’s a bandage around his hand. Wrapped tight and kind of sloppy, you reach for it before you think about it, your innate need to help bleeding through at the worst times. 

This was perhaps the first mistake you’ve made since joining the league. 

Shigaraki’s reaction tells it all. His movements are fast and sharp. 

The way he recoils from your touch makes you think you’ve burned him. Shigaraki is on his feet in an instant, knocking the chair he previously sat on backwards and sending it tumbling to the ground. 

Your eyes widen in shock as you try to reach out again, an apology quick on your lips, but he’s far away from you now — more than an arms length away and ready to put more distance between you two.

“Don’t,” his voice is low and his glare is sharp, if you didn’t know any better you would think the rise and fall of his chest was from panic instead of anger. “Don’t touch me.”

It hits you then and you curse your carelessness.

His hands.

You almost touched his hands, without a care in the world — just wanting to help your leader out and fully heal whatever you could. 

You were so close to danger, so careless.

“Shigaraki, I—” You don’t get to finish your thoughts, already lost to the open and slam of your bedroom door. The air of the room is quiet and still, the only reminder of his presence being the overturned chair left behind. 

The silence rings in your ears as the distressed expression on Shigaraki’s face replays in your mind. For someone supposedly so cold to react so strongly to the smallest possibility of accidentally activating his quirk makes you wonder what else lies beneath your leader's layers. 

It makes you wonder just who Tomura Shigaraki is. 

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia AU: What Happened on Friday

An Ambush Simulation comic.

Fair warning, this is not one of my usual lighthearted ones. If you’ve read the fic, you’ll know the scene, but if you haven’t, be warned there is brief domestic violence and some blood. Nothing more serious than what's already in My Hero's canon.

Read right-to-left.

Ah, yes. The inciting moment for The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation.

Addressing the reason why things escalated so quickly, since the answer is not really given in the accompanying fic either, we need to look at Endeavor’s point of view. He’s invested twenty-three years into his goal of trying to complete his perfect successor. He has almost succeeded with Shouto, except the events of Hosu City nearly jeopardized that beyond repair. Shouto is his last chance. He can’t have another kid, it’s unlikely he can train a grandchild to succeed him. (You can’t tell me he didn’t consider that.) Shouto being charged with vigilantism and having that black mark could have ruined everything he’s worked so hard for.

And now Touya, his past failure and current problem child who has been charged repeatedly with vigilantism, is stepping between him and Shouto and mouthing off. He’s interfering, just like his mother did.

Old 'habits' die hard.

...

I thought about cutting the comic short with the brothers heading to the bathroom, but I thought it was important to also include Touya's toxic behavior. Yeah, he has PTSD, abandonment trauma, and who knows what else, but acting like this isn't healthy either.

In Chapter 2, Touya fixates on the fact that Endeavor hit him. He barely pays attention to the fact Shouto was there.

In Chapter 3, Shouto is the one whose pov provides the whole picture. He was being scolded and then Touya stood up for him. Touya has never stood up for him, nor does he really understand why he did it. During the confrontation, Endeavor hits Touya. Endeavor has never done that before. Two of Shouto's 'normals' got overturned in the span of two minutes. He's confused, but he still tries to do the right thing by his hostile sibling.

And rather than accept his help, Touya lashes out at him again once the shock wears off. As he is in canon, he is still spiteful, self-destructive, and a bit self-pitying and returning home after the coma in this AU did little to change that because the core issue is Endeavor being a bad parent.

...

And if there's any confusion as to why Shouto sees Rei briefly after Touya is knocked to the floor, this is a bit of dialogue from the fic it's from:

"I spent my entire childhood listening to my mother crying because you hurt her over and over.  I refuse to live through that again with my brother."

...

Fun fact: I did not draw these pages in order.

Through the whole bathroom scene, all I could think was, "Shouto...baby...gloves."

...

Further comics for this AU, click here.

[thr0wnawayy]

How Corrupt Is Hero Society?. Part 2

Nomu and Endeavor, a cause for concern

To add to the today's chatter about Endeavor and his excessive force and how that applies to the rest of MHA's "heroics". I'd like to point something out

It has always been this way

Excessive violence against Nomu isn't anything new, ever since Hori downgraded them into punching bags so the audience wouldnt question the morality of it all.

It does, however bring into light just how desensitized Hero Society is, how they view villains and may display some quirk-ism. Allow me to elaborate.

To the publics knowledge this is a PERSON.

The general public, hell most heroes. Had no fucking clue what a Nomu was. To their knowledge this was just someone with a heavy mutation quirk.

And they just, carry on.

Endeavor's gut instinct here was to burn his head off to stop him from regenerating and no one bats an eye.

But don't worry it gets worse.

Gran Torino is someone the community has dug into countless times for his attitudes towards Shigaraki and belief that "killing is another way to save"

So when Torino does this:

it doesn't really help his case, especially when Endeavor tried to kill that Nomu prior to this by incinerating him alive (almost killing 2 civilians. But I'll get to that)

Such a move would at the very least, sever someone's spine rendering them paralyzed for life. While I can see what Torino was trying to do, the ends do not justify the means here.

I'm not saying the Nomu are innocent, but it's blatantly obvious that they should be aiming to detain them rather than resorting to lethal force right away.

The worst part is the public has no reaction to this. No one asks anything and the authorities sure as hell aren't telling them squat.

We see it again during the Hood Fight and what's worse is that Hood can talk, bringing into question of how sapient is Hood.

Again Endeavor incinerates the Villain and no questions are asked.

Alright remember what I said about the two civilians?. well it gets worse, Firstly, they didn't even know if they were alright until near the end of the Hosu Incident, just letting them run off.

After Endeavor recklessly unleashes a wall of flame, the Nomu absorbs it and processed to reflect the same attack.

(on a second note: Torino and Enji even refer to the Nomu as if they were fighting a Human!?)

What does this mean?. Well that Enji ran into that fight without thinking!.

He didn't even so much as think up a strategy (just like a certain blonde we all know and despise) for what would happen if the opponent just, didn't die.

In Vigilantes he opts to bathe an entire city block in fire because he can't find the Villain (6)

He creates a fucking fire tornado with no thought for collateral damage

(The reactions of his sidekicks concern me, though knowing how Burnin' reacted to Dabi's exposé I'm not suprised.)

Given that he's this destructive and openly antagonistic in public, I don't even want to imagine the state Rei was in after every "training session" spent protecting Shoto.

This is why looking back, I can't say I'm suprised how some of the civilians dove back into worshipping heroes, even after Hawks killed a man and Heroes left them to fend for themselves.

Because as the saying goes

A bird stuck in a cage believes flying to be an illness

_______________________________________

Additional Info:

As pointed out by @gecmi09 (thank you for bringing that up), Endeavor did indeed refer to Crawler and Popstep as villains, as seen here:

I'd like to draw attention to the fact that he is drawn in a similar manner to Number Six, who is also often drawn in a silhouetted fashion, especially when his true colors are exposed.

The two characters are ironically very similar. Both are willing to resort to destructive means if it means achieving their goals.

Both willingly hurt those around/close them and use flawed logic in an attempt to justify their actions.

Both pretend to be something/someone they're not

Both of them brought about their own demise through one of their victims (Dabi and Knuckleduster [who took in Koichi] respectively. Though Six's was more indirect.)

Even though Vigilantes is loosely attached to MHA, I find it interesting that these two characters are so similar. Really makes you think.

[fujoshirat]

+Strawberry Magic! ♡ 30 Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?!♡+

Chapter 2: An Extra Boost

Summary: When virgin Pro Hero Shouto turns 30, he gains the magical ability to read the minds of people that he touches. After finding out that his personal assistant has a crush on him, everything changes and Shouto finds himself lost in the stressful game called love.

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Reader

Warnings: aged up characters, mention of virginity, as usual: this entire fic is and will be written in Shouto's POV. HOWEVER... there is a short reader's POV in this chapter so I hope you enjoy it (hehe)

"Todoroki-san, are you alright?"

The sound of Y/N's voice snaps Shouto out of his dazed state. What was he doing again? Oh right, walking her to the subway. The soft splash of shoes stepping into rain puddles fill Shouto's ears, the rain having stopped a few minutes ago.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, I was just thinking about something."

Y/N nods and continues walking with her boss. After a few minutes, the covered stairs to the subway become visible, quickly bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

"There it is!" Shouto nods and escorts her to the entrance. Stepping under the covering, Y/N turns to Shouto and bows.

"Thank you once again, Todoroki-san! I hope you didn't mind the detour on the way." Shouto shakes his head. "It's quite alright, L/N-san. It's the least I can do for my assistant."

He makes sure that she goes down the stairs, and once she is out of sight, he walks in the direction of his house.

...

After tossing together chicken and whatever vegetables he could find in the fridge, Shouto begins his research. Busy typing away on his personal laptop and halfheartedly eating his dinner, he types the following:

Cherry magic 30 years of virginity can make you a wizard

What happens when you turn 30

Mysterious happenings at 30 years old

Is it possible to read minds

Development of mind reading quirk at 30

Mind reading at 30

Hand crushing and mind reading

Am I possessed?

Finishing his food, Shouto groans when his research hits a dead end.

'I don't understand! Has no one ever experienced this before?' Turning his laptop off, he looks at his reflection in the dark screen.

'Maybe I'm just being silly. It's all in my head.'

...

Spoiler alert: he was not being silly. Shouto really could read minds.

Reaching the scene where a villain infamously known for kidnapping women was on the loose, he looks at his interns behind him.

"Mitsuru, Tsubasa, evacuate the area and check for any others who may need assistance."

"Yes sir!"

As the high school students spread out, Shouto faces the villain chasing after adolescent girls. With his right side, he encases the distracted man in frigid, freezing ice. Once he is rendered immobile, he walks up to him.

"If you don't wish to catch frostbite before being sent to prison, I suggest you tell me where your victims are." The twisted criminal laughs and smirks.

"Why would I tell you?"

Shouto's left side flares up slightly and places his hand on the man's head, eliciting a yelp from him.

"Okay! Okay! Fine! I'll tell you! They're in Yokohama, by the river!" Nodding, Shouto is about to remove his hand when suddenly he hears a voice in his head.

'Stupid pro hero Shouto! The guy doesn't realize I'm lying straight to his face! The dumb chicks are still in Hosu City! He'll never find Club Diamond.'

His eyes widen slightly, and he lets go of the man's face. The police arrive just in time, and the city detective walks up to Shouto.

"Pro hero Shouto! Thanks for taking care of him."

"Ah, it's no problem, Matsuyama-san." The shorter man smiles and takes out his notebook. "Did the villain say anything about the missing women?" Shouto looks at the criminal being escorted into a police van. Once he is out of earshot, he turns back to Matsuyama and speaks.

"Can you find a Club Diamond? In Hosu City."

♡ 3 hours later ♡

"Good evening, I am your reporter, Muramoto Kozue, and here is Tokyo's latest headline news. At around noon, pro hero Shouto and Hosu City's lead detective solved the puzzling disappearance of women in the area. Having rescued five women no older than 26, pro hero Shoto also apprehended the criminal."

Holding her microphone, the news reporter turns to Shouto.

"Pro hero Shouto, eyewitnesses have stated that the villain told you that the women were in Yokohama. What made you decide to check our own city, no less a club?"

Taking a silent breath, Shouto speaks into the microphone the sentences that he practiced in his head.

"No villain would truly be upfront with information that heroes want. With the way that he told me the supposed location of the victims without hesitating as well as his refusal to make eye contact with me were signs that he was lying. Also, the alleyway that the Diamond Club is located in has been known for crime and sketchy mishaps."

'Signs my ass, I knew all of this because of this weird mind reading ability.' Nodding, the reporter looks back at the camera.

"Well, there you have it! Shouto-san, thank you once again for your efforts in keeping Hosu City safe. I'm Muramoto Kozue and this is your latest report on what has just gone down in Tokyo. Signing off." The camera shuts off and the cameraman gives the thumbs up. Shouto bows to the report crew and walks over to his interns on the side.

"Sensei! You were so cool!"

"Sir, I would have never guessed that the victims were in Hosu City!"

Shouto waves his left hand. "It was nothing really. Thank you two for escorting all of the victims. I heard from Matsuyama-san that you both assisted well." Reaching a vacant taxi, he gestures for the boys to enter.

"We did good today. The agency's around 20 minutes away on foot, and since you boys did a lot today, we can take a taxi."

His interns cheer in unison.

"Thank you, sir!"

...

"L/N-san! Is it okay if I ask a few questions? It's about my report."

"Of course!" Y/N walks over to Mitsuru, who appears to be struggling with his report. Tsubasa speaks up.

"L/N-san, what's it like being a secretary?"

"Hm? Well, it's a lot of work, especially here at this busy agency. I'm sure you both see me, running around the building, negotiating, answering phones, collecting and looking over reports, deliv-"

"Buying coffee for sensei!"

Y/N blinks slowly at the younger boy, then starts laughing. Tsubasa snickers in the background.

"B-buying coffee? For Todoroki-san?"

Mitsuru's cheeks turn red. "My bad, L/N-san! It's just- you always buy coffee for Todoroki-san. Do all secretaries do that?" The other intern nods. "L/N-san does always seem to get sensei coffee." Y/N chuckles.

"I guess it's been a habit for me to buy Todoroki-san coffee. I mean, ever since he hired me, I've always bought him his coffee in the morning!" She starts giggling.

"Do you boys want to hear a story?"

"Yes! Yes!"

She stands between them and starts whispering.

"So one time, I had an appointment in the morning one day..."

...

When Shouto exits the elevator, he hears giggling. Turning to the desks, he sees Y/N huddled with the high schoolers. Leaning over her shoulder, his frame towering hers, he speaks up.

"What are you doing?"

Y/N yelps and turns her head. "Oh! Todoroki-san! I was just bonding with our interns!" She giggles and winks at the boys.

'L/N-san has a pretty laugh', Shouto thinks.

"L/N-san was telling us about the time when the agency was turned upside down because you didn't get your morning coff-!"

"Shh! Mitsuru! How could you betray me like that? After I trusted you with such a delicate secret... Boohoo.." She sniffles, teasing the intern and slip up.

"Mitsuru!" Tsubasa hisses. "You're such an airhead!"

"My bad! Me and my big mouth..."

Shouto chuckles and looks at Y/N, who has a smile adorning her face. "I was helping them with their reports, and I wanted to tell them one of our agency's very fun stories." "And you decided to tell them the story that could destroy the grand image that the two of them have of me?" Shouto jests lightly, the corners of his mouth curved upwards at the thought of the memory.

"That day was the day that everyone in the agency realized that we couldn't function without L/N-san. L/N-san is a very important person here, so please treat her nicely."

"Oh please," Y/N's cheeks turn pink. "the interns are absolute sweethearts and I really only focus on management, PR, finance, meetin-" All three boys look at Y/N, and she laughs sheepishly.

'Y/N has a very pretty laugh,' Shouto thinks again.

"Okay, maybe I do do a lot. But it's worth it! I love the agency and do not want to incur the wrath of my boss without coffee!"

"I wasn't that bad!" Shouto huffs playfully, his left hand resting on Tsubasa's chair.

"Mhm, whatever you say, Todoroki-san."

Shouto lets out a soft laugh-

And then,

he hears Tsubasa's voice in his head.

'L/N-san and sensei act like a married couple. Are they dating?'

...

After clocking out, Shouto goes home. Once he finishes eating dinner, he takes a shower and lays on his bed.

'Today was... interesting.' Looking at his hands, he smiles softly. 'This mind reading ability was really helpful today. I didn't expect the women to still be in Hosu City. Maybe this mind reading thing is a good thing.'

'L/N-san and sensei act like a married couple. Are they dating?'

'Do L/N-san and I act like a married couple? Well... I do think her laugh is pretty.'

'Oh god, I like him so much.'

Shouto's eyebrows scrunch together 'What L/N-san said yesterday... What did she mean by *like*? Was it admiration? Approval?'

Shouto's eyes widen and his cheeks turn pink.

'No way.'

Gaining an idea, he grabs his phone and opens Line. Clicking on the groupchat consisting of two other members, he swiftly types out a message. He sends it out, anxiously waiting for a response.

Kushikatsu. 7:30

-6:42pm

'L/N-san has a pretty laugh.'

A/N: That's it for chapter 2! Can you guess who Shouto messaged at the end? The little reader POV was completely unplanned so it was a surprise to me too when I was writing this OwO I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Once again, thank you everyone who has being showing interest and support in this series so far <3 If you haven't already, you should definitely check out Yuu Toyota's Cherry Magic! series which greatly inspired this series!!!

Also, I'm starting a taglist for this so if you wanna be tagged, just let me know in the replys/comments :] I didn't realize the amount of people that would actually read this messy fic, so I obviously I didn't plan on making a taglist but here we are!! (i'll figure it out eventually, i promise) ^^ Chapter 3 is in the works, so once again thank you all and I hope you all look forward to that ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

~entire fic and notes written by me: fujoshirat!

TAGLIST (thank u!!): @boogiemansbitch

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 5) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 5

You end up on a rooftop, you and Tenko and Kurogiri. Tenko has a pair of binoculars, and he lets you look through them before you have a chance to ask what he’s looking for. “We’re in Hosu,” he says. “The current location of the Hero Killer.”

“Are you going to fight him?”

“I’m doing what you said.”

You can’t remember what you said, except for your stupid joke. “Making him unfuckable?”

Tenko snickers, and somewhere behind you, Kurogiri does the same – which is extra weird. “No. Putting us back in the headlines.”

“Oh.” You don’t like this. “I’m not a strategist. You shouldn’t listen to me.”

“Why?” Tenko gives you a weird look. “You’re not stupid. Your ideas aren’t any worse than mine.”

“I don’t want you to get mad at me if it goes wrong,” you say. “I’ve heard you get mad at Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri chuckles. “That’s different,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura. Tell her why it’s different.”

“Shut up,” Tenko says. He put the hand back over his face once he let go of your hand, but he’s turning red around it. Again. “Kurogiri’s not my sidekick. I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You don’t have to listen to me, either,” you say. “I don’t know anything about being – this.”

“You understand them better than I do,” Tenko says. He gestures at the expanse of Hosu before you. “What would it take to make you stop trusting heroes?”

You already don’t trust heroes very much. What would it take to move people like your parents or your siblings, who live in the other Japan, to where you are? “To see them choose wrong.”

Tenko gives you a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“Heroes can’t save everybody. They can’t be everywhere. They can’t be there all the time. But nobody ever thinks that the heroes won’t choose to save them,” you explain. “If you wanted to shake things up, you’d have to make it so the heroes choose wrong. For everybody to see.”

Tenko’s eyes light up, and the smile on his face this time looks less like your friend’s and more like the villain he’s become. “Then we’re in the right place,” he says. “This city is crawling with heroes looking for Stain. Let’s put them in a bind. Kurogiri, bring the Nomu. All of them.”

“Nomu?” you squeak, even as multiple portals open around you. “You have more than one?”

“We have lots. Sensei only gave me three.” Tenko gestures proudly at the monsters emerging from the portals. Everything about them looks like they’ve been put together wrong, from their staring eyes to their featureless faces to their pasty skin that smells like rot. The news reports about the attack on UA were clear about one thing – the Nomu that faced off against All Might was fast and extremely strong. “What do you think?”

One passes close to you and you cringe away, closer to Tenko. “They’re awful.”

“Exactly,” Tenko says. He stares down at the city, an expression on his face that’s somehow grim and vicious at once. “Let’s see what the rest of them think.”

The Nomus crawl down the sides of the building and vanish into the city. Tenko hasn’t given them orders, and neither has Kurogiri. You have questions – a lot of questions – but you’re not sure what it’s safe to ask. You’re Tenko’s sidekick, but that doesn’t mean his plans are yours to comment on. It feels weird to keep quiet, too. You and Tenko used to get in trouble for talking in class because you never ran out of things to talk about.

“You don’t look weird.”

You cough. “What?”

“You don’t look weird,” Tenko says again. You look at him, surprised, and find him looking straight ahead, peering through the binoculars. “I should have let you fix my shoulder the rest of the way.”

“What did you end up doing with it?” You reach over and part the cut fabric on his shoulder, wincing as you get a look at the bandaging job. “Next time, just let me finish.”

“Can you fix the rest of it?”

“I can’t do more stitches when it’s been open this long,” you say. Tenko grimaces but doesn’t swear at you. “There’s a chance it’ll get infected. If it does –”

“I’ll send Kurogiri to find you.”

“Tell him to give me a heads-up instead of just snatching me. I might need to grab antibiotics and I don’t want to make two trips.”

Tenko nods like this makes sense, which it does, except for the context. You’re standing here on the roof of a building in a city that’s already facing one villainous threat, while your childhood best friend turned aspiring supervillain has just released another – on your advice, no less. You try to rationalize it. Hosu is crawling with heroes, like Tenko said. If they’re good heroes, they’ll divert their attention to protecting the civilians. Heroes fighting Nomus will get Tenko the headlines he wants for the League of Villains, and if nobody gets hurt aside from the heroes who signed up for the job –

You need to be careful with that line of thinking. With that line of thinking, you could excuse what happened to the students during the attack on UA. “Can I ask you something?” you say, and Tenko nods. “Why did you go after the students?”

“I wasn’t after them. The point was All Might.”

“But you brought all those other villains,” you say. “On the news they said that Kurogiri moved the kids all over the training facility so the villains could kill them. And –”

You’re thinking of something else you heard, from Kazuo – that Tenko tried to kill at least three students directly, and All Might’s arrival was the only thing that stopped him. “He was supposed to be there from the beginning,” Tenko says. “All Might. Dividing the students up was supposed to distract him. Split his focus so he’d be more vulnerable to Nomu.”

You don’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. “Those villains were weak,” Tenko continues. “The brats could deal with them on their own. It would have taken All Might two seconds. But two seconds is all we would have needed.”

“So it was – strategy.”

“Yeah.” Tenko lowers his binoculars, glances at you. “Do you believe me?”

The words leave your mouth before you can think better of them. “I’d believe you more if I could see you.”

Tenko was in the process of looking away. Now he glances back, and you can tell he’s startled, even through the fingers of the hand. You’re not sure what the hands are for. When he attacked the USJ, he was wearing multiple sets, but usually he only wears Father around you. You haven’t asked him to remove the hand before – only asked him where it was when he wasn’t wearing it, and when you think it over, you can’t see any commonalities between the times when it’s off and the times when it’s on. Maybe it’s the kind of thing you can ask about now that you’re Tenko’s sidekick again.

Tenko grips the binoculars one-handed, reaching up to remove the hand with the other. “The brats weren’t the real target,” he says.

“But you still tried to kill three of them.”

“Yeah,” Tenko says, like it doesn’t matter, without care – and without malice. “They were right there, and I thought All Might wasn’t coming. Everybody had to see how he failed again.”

Again? You’re not the biggest All Might fan, but you don’t remember hearing about All Might failing to save children who were being held hostage. In fact, when All Might has to prioritize, he saves children first. Tenko is watching you now. “Do you believe me?”

“I believe you,” you say, and you see his shoulders relax. “You’re not a very good liar.”

He never was. When you were trying to get away with things as children, you did the talking. Tenko’s job was to stay quiet and not make eye contact with whichever adult was questioning the two of you. No matter how desperate he was not to get caught, a few seconds of eye contact was enough to break him. In the present, Tenko smiles slightly. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

You like seeing him smile, and you’ve seen it twice tonight. The knot in your chest relaxes, only to tighten again as a chorus of screams rise from the city below. Tenko lifts his binoculars eagerly and you twist your hands together, trying to contain your unease. You have your best friend. He wants you with him – his sidekick, just like you used to be. You still know how to make him smile. And he’s a villain, the kind of villain who, when his plan to kill All Might looked like it wouldn’t pan out, decided to kill three children instead. What are you doing here?

More screams from below. You wonder how many civilians are being hurt, how many heroes are protecting them versus chasing Stain. You know there’s a free clinic branch in Hosu, one that’s open overnight just like yours is. They’ll be busy tonight. At least you won’t have to worry about them treating injured villains as well as civilians.

Or will they? What are the Nomus, exactly? Where did they come from? Is that the kind of question you’re allowed to ask Tenko now that you’re friends again? “Um,” you start, but he doesn’t look at you, just keeps peering through the binoculars. Sometimes he focuses so hard it’s like his ears stop working. You remember that from when you were kids. “Tenko?”

He still doesn’t answer. You reach out, touch his shoulder, and he startles so badly that he drops the binoculars. If he grabs them with all five fingers, they’ll disintegrate. You catch them for him, since it’s your fault, and pass them back once he’s ready. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s – fine.” Tenko’s shoulder is tense beneath your hand. You’re still touching him, and you shouldn’t be. You pull your hand back. “What is it?”

“The Nomu,” you say hesitantly. “What are they?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri warns. “You should not –”

“She won’t tell,” Tenko says without looking at him. He hasn’t put the hand back over his face. “They’re – I guess you could call them zombies. They’re made from bodies. Usually two or three bodies, and three or four quirk factors. It’s usually the same quirk factors. Shock absorption, regeneration, speed. I don’t care if you touch me.”

You’re too busy trying to wrap your head around the fact that somebody’s figured out how to raise the dead to catch the last thing. It takes you a second to get to it, and even then, you have to ask a clarifying question. “You don’t care? Or you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind.”

Something is wrong with you. Something is really wrong with you that you’re more interested in why Tenko doesn’t mind if you touch him than in the fact that Tenko has multiple zombies at his disposal to turn loose on unsuspecting heroes and civilians. You try to focus. “Where do the bodies come from?”

“I don’t know,” Tenko says. He’s frowning slightly. A moment later, he puts the hand back on his face – but before you can decide if it’s because he’s mad at you, he hands you the binoculars. “Look.”

You look through them. You’re looking in the wrong spot, and after a few seconds of trying to give you directions, Tenko gives up and just covers your hands with his, moving you in the right direction. His index fingers are lifted, protecting you from his quirk. You see what he wanted you to look at quickly enough – heroes facing off against the Nomus. Endeavor facing off against the Nomus. It looks like the heroes chose right.

You can’t deny that it’s a relief. The civilians will always be your priority, and even if almost everyone has a quirk, most of those quirks are useless when it comes to defending against zombies with multiple quirks, and they’re banned from using them anyway. But you have the sense that Tenko’s not pleased, and when you look at him, you see him scowling behind the hand. “They’re making it look too easy,” he complains.

“These Nomu were not as strong as the Nomu from USJ,” Kurogiri says. “You were made aware, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“These heroes aren’t as strong as All Might,” Tenko snaps in response. “Master set me up – again –”

You spot something through the binoculars. Something Tenko needs to see. You push them back into his hands. “Look at that.”

Tenko’s still scowling, but he lifts the binoculars to peer through them. A second later he startles. Even without the binoculars, you can see a dark shape in distant flight over the city, something clutched in its claws. You don’t know who the Nomu grabbed, or where it’s taking them, but Tenko can’t fail to be pleased with that. Can he?

He can. A moment later he swears. “Fucking Hero Killer –”

Your heart sinks. “What happened?”

“He killed it. To save some hero brat.” Tenko’s binoculars are crumbling in his hand. You wonder if he even notices. “Fucking Hero Killer. Fuck!”

You’re pretty sure that’s not the end of the story. The Hero Killer saved a hero, after claiming that there’s only one true hero, and it’s All Might? You slide your phone out of your pocket, clear a bunch of notifications from your friends’ group chat, and navigate to Twitter. Somebody’s got to be reporting on this live, and sure enough, you find “Hero Killer” trending, plus a livestream of Stain’s arrest. He’s getting arrested, and with at least twenty murders under his belt, there’s no way he’s getting out of Tartarus in this lifetime. You touch Tenko’s shoulder again – after all, he said it was fine – and speak quietly. “Hey.”

“What?”

He won’t look at you. “Look at this,” you say instead, holding out your phone. “The heroes got him.”

“So?”

“So that’s it for him,” you say. “He’s going to prison for the rest of his life. All Might’s definitely not going to fuck him now.”

It’s quiet for a second, aside from a wheeze emanating from somewhere behind the two of you. It’s still weird to hear Kurogiri laugh. You don’t even know if he has lungs. Beside you, Tenko’s doing everything in his power to hang onto his scowl, and it’s not working very well. “Is that the only joke you know?”

You feel a surge of relief. “I’ll stop using it when you stop laughing at it.”

You hear the sound of helicopter blades in the distance, growing closer. Tenko can hear it, too. “Kurogiri, let’s go. We’re done here.”

You barely have a second to wonder where you’re headed before the black mist wells up, and you’re not entirely surprised to find yourself back in the bar. Kurogiri’s behind it already. Tenko’s sitting at it, the chair next to his kicked outwards. As you watch, Kurogiri sets two glasses down and lifts an unopened bottle of champagne. He opens it, pouring first Tenko’s glass, then the glass in front of the empty chair.

Tenko glances over his shoulder, spots you, and gestures impatiently at the chair. You sit down next to him and study the glass of champagne. Tenko’s already chugging his, but he stops halfway and glances at you. “Why aren’t you drinking it?”

You could lie, but you don’t want to. “I watched him pour it, and I don’t think you’d drug me. But I still have to be careful.”

Tenko doesn’t look offended. Instead he swaps glasses with you, and Kurogiri makes a discontented noise. “She doesn’t want to drink your backwash, Tomura. Even if you did brush your teeth before we left.”

“Shut up,” Tenko snaps at him. He’s turning red again. You look down into your new glass, trying not to laugh. “I brush my teeth all the time. You’re not special.”

That one gets you. You start laughing, and Kurogiri makes that weird wheezing sound. You’re starting to realize that unlike the villain you met earlier today, who was all over the place, Kurogiri’s got two distinct aspects – one that’s more formal, more severe, and another that’s significantly more relaxed. The second one sounds younger, too, and the impression only grows stronger when Kurogiri speaks again. “If you drink someone else’s backwash, it’s like making out with them indirectly.”

“No it isn’t! I didn’t ask you!”

Tenko is bright red and sputtering, and Kurogiri’s yellow eyes are crinkling, almost the way a person’s would. It occurs to you what this aspect of Kurogiri reminds you of – a sibling. You teased your younger siblings the exact same way, when you could get away with it. Well aware that you’re making some kind of statement about the whole thing, you pick up the glass that used to be Tenko’s and take a small sip. It doesn’t taste like anything but champagne.

When you look up, you find Tenko and Kurogiri watching you. Staring, more accurately – Tenko’s jaw is dropped. You will your face not to flush. “Thanks for switching with me. As long as you don’t pass out in the next half an hour, we’re good to go.”

“So you have to stay at least that long.”

He doesn’t want you to leave. You take another sip of champagne, giving yourself time to get under control. You don’t want Tenko to know how pleased you are with the thought, or how ambivalent you are at being pleased by it. “I guess I do.”

You stay for another hour and a half, reading over the news coverage of the Nomu attack and the Hero Killer’s capture until you can barely keep your eyes open. But you have an early morning, and even though Tenko complains that you have to go and makes fun of you for agreeing to take Yoshimi to her appointment, he doesn’t suggest that you back out of it. As Kurogiri is determining where to set a warp gate to send you back to Yokohama, you ask him why not.

Tenko gives you a weird look. “I know you,” he says. “That’s not who you are.”

He’s right. It isn’t. And as much as you’re pleased by the thought that your best friend still knows you after all these years, the disquiet lurking underneath it follows you home, curls up on your chest as you try to fall asleep. You’re not the kind of person who’d turn your back on a friend, or go back on your word once you’ve given it. But apparently you’re the kind of person who watches a villain turn monsters loose on innocent people and does absolutely nothing to stop him.

You might have made your choice already. You might have stepped over the line. But you have a bad feeling that you’ll be looking back over your shoulder at it until it’s vanished over the horizon, knowing you made the wrong call and knowing deep in your bones that there’s nothing else you could have done.

You’ve done basically nothing, but you still get the sense that you’re leading a double life. You comfort yourself with the thought that even if you went to the police, you’d have nothing useful to tell them. You don’t know where Tenko’s hideout is. You don’t know anything about who makes the Nomus or where they’re hidden. You don’t know anything about Kurogiri except that it seems like there are two personalities in there, and what Kazuo said about his quirk not being natural. You’re still not sure what Kazuo meant by that. Just like you’re not sure who Tenko’s master is.

The things you know would be absolutely useless to them. You know that Tenko recovered from his USJ injuries only to get immediately slashed up by Stain. You know Tenko likes champagne but can’t hold his liquor for shit. You know he’s smart and strategic, a lot more than the news gives him credit for, which is bad for them and probably also bad for you. You know he likes video games more than he did when he was a kid, but he likes you just as much as he did back then. You like him just as much, too. Probably too much.

You haven’t seen him again since that night in Hosu. You know he’ll send Kurogiri to find you if he needs you, and the fact that he doesn’t need you means he’s not getting hurt. But you’re watchful anyway. No matter where you’re walking, day or night, you find yourself keeping a close eye the shadows, watching from your peripheral vision in case one of them hides a warp gate. Or better yet, hides Tenko.

“Hypervigilance,” Kazuo remarks when he catches you at it, one partly cloudy day in early June. “A hallmark of traumatic stress. You could benefit from counseling.”

“It’s not wrong to be wary,” you say. “Things are more dangerous than they used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

“Another hallmark of PTSD. Persistent, negative cognitions about yourself, others, or the world, exemplified by statements like The world is more dangerous than it used to be.” Kazuo can be a real asshole sometimes. “But you’re correct. Crime rates have steadily increased as All Might’s taken a step back from the public eye.”

“You really think it’s All Might?” You glance sideways at Kazuo. “Not the League of Villains?”

“The League of Villains is a symptom,” Kazuo says. The two of you got to the park early; the rest of your friends are running late for your meetup. “I looked into the backgrounds of those who were captured in the attack on USJ. For the most part, I found petty crime – thievery, fleeing from the police, physical violence committed in the course of fleeing a crime scene or an altercation with heroes.”

That tracks with the kind of villains you run into at work. Most of them have done next to nothing to earn the title. “Looking back further,” Kazuo continues, “I found poverty, substance abuse, quirk-based discrimination, childhood trauma. There were some among the criminals at USJ who sought violence specifically and consistently from an early age, but for the majority of them, it was far from inevitable that they would become criminals. It could have been otherwise.”

Thinking about what’s going on with Tenko, you’ve gotten in the habit of playing devil’s advocate. “And that’s on All Might? One hero can’t fix poverty, or childhood trauma –”

“No, they cannot. But the presence of heroes gives everyone else an excuse not to try to fix anything,” Kazuo says. He gives you a look. “There will always be some villains. The existence of enough villains to allow your friend to form a League of them means that society is failing.”

“You’re not wrong,” you say. Usually when you admit that Kazuo’s right, he moves on, but this time he keeps looking at you. “What?”

“At least try to deny it,” Kazuo says, and you know what he’s talking about. “One day I won’t be the one asking.”

You know he’s right, but as much as Tenko occupies your thoughts, you don’t have much time to dwell on him on a daily basis. Yoshimi’s sick, cancer in her lymphatic system, and with her family out of the picture and her shitty boyfriend dumping her the second he found out, you and your friends are on overdrive trying to support her. Since you’re the only one who works in the field, a lot of the daily stuff is falling on you. You’ve been taking some shifts at the central clinic so you can check in on her while she’s there for treatments, and since the high school students are all studying for their medical assistant exams, you’ve been grabbing fill-in night shifts at your regular clinic at the same time. You’re getting four hours of sleep a night, if that.

You’re exhausted. So exhausted that, when the shadows in the corner of your vision turn out to be mist as you’re walking home from the park, you keep walking straight into Kurogiri’s warp gate without a second thought.

When you arrive in the bar, Kurogiri seems surprised to see you. “I thought you might run.”

“I’m too tired to run,” you say. “Does he need me?”

Kurogiri nods, as much as a person with mist for a head can nod. “Follow me.”

You balk when you realize where you’re headed. “He doesn’t want me in there.”

“He asked me to bring you there specifically,” Kurogiri says. “Don’t worry. He’s cleaned.”

“Oh.”

The door to Tenko’s room is open, but Kurogiri knocks anyway. “Shigaraki Tomura, the girl –”

“You’re here.” Tenko appears suddenly in the doorway, the hand clamped over his face. “That was fast. You didn’t run away?”

“What kind of sidekick runs when their boss calls?” You look Tenko over. “Kurogiri said you needed me. Are you hurt?”

“My shoulder’s a mess,” Tenko says, unconcerned. “I needed to talk to you. Come in.”

He takes a few steps back, leaving room for you to step through the door. The memory of how Tenko reacted last time is still fresh in your head, and based on Tenko’s expression, he can tell. “I cleaned it,” he says impatiently. “Come in.”

In spite of the fact that your best friends have usually been boys, you haven’t spent a lot of time in boys’ rooms. The ones you have been in aren’t exactly standard. Kazuo’s room looked like an interior design magazine spread even before his mind snapped, so minimalist it was hard to imagine anyone actually living there. Sho’s room looks more like a girl’s room than yours does. Tenko’s room back when you were kids just looked like a kid’s room. Like how you would have wanted your room to look if you weren’t already sharing it with two siblings.

Tenko’s room, compared to the last time you saw it, is no longer filthy. You can see the floor, at least, and some rearranging has occurred. The desk and monitor setup has been shifted unceremoniously into one corner of the room, and on the wall where it previously sat is a flatscreen TV. You can see that it’s hooked up to a router, as well as a cable or smart TV box, and there are a few consoles and controllers strewn around nearby. Across the room from the TV is a coffee table. And behind that, a bed.

You gesture at it. “Was this here before?”

Tenko doesn’t answer. “Kurogiri, go,” he orders, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Kurogiri vanish from the doorway. “Sit down.”

You sit down on one end of the bed and Tenko sits on the other. He slides a collection of games across the coffee table to you. “I like all of these. You can pick which one we play first.”

“I’m not good at games.”

“I’ll teach you what you need to know,” Tenko says. He pushes the games at you again. “Pick.”

You start sorting through the games, searching in vain for any title you know while you try to shift the subject back into reasonable territory. “You said something was wrong with your shoulder. Can I look at it?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You said it was a mess,” you point out. “Let me see.”

“Pick a game and then you can see it.”

You see exactly one title you know – Call of Duty. You hold it up and Tenko frowns. “We can play that one for a bit. In co-op mode. But after that –”

“Show me your arm.”

Tenko scowls, but he moves from the other end of the bed until he’s within reach. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, oversized to the point where you can draw the neckline aside and reveal the wound. It’s clear that the stitches have been disturbed. The wound site is red and angry-looking and you can see scratches around it. There should be a scab on the part that Tenko wouldn’t let you stitch, but it’s clearly been peeled away. It’s either infected already or about to be, and either way, the healing process is going slower than it should be. A surge of frustration sweeps over you.

You look up at Tenko and find him watching you, unrepentant. “What?”

“You were scratching this.”

“It itched,” Tenko says. He gives you a weird look. “You never said not to.”

“I didn’t think I had to say not to scratch your open wounds.” Your frustration seeps into your tone. “You should have sent Kurogiri to get me as soon as the swelling started.”

“I tried. You’re always busy.” Tenko’s voice takes on the quality of a sneer. “Kurogiri’s been watching you for three days. You’re at that other clinic with that girl all the time.”

He didn’t use to be like this. He didn’t use to be jealous. “She has cancer. She needs someone –”

“She has other friends and doctors and parents and some loser boyfriend somewhere,” Tenko says. You start to argue that Yoshimi doesn’t have a boyfriend, courtesy of said boyfriend being a loser, but Tenko cuts you off. “She has lots of people. I only have you.”

He has Kurogiri, his master, the doctor, the Nomu – or does he? Shigaraki Tomura has those people. Tenko only has you. You peel your eyes from the angry mess Tenko’s wound has become and look up at him. “If I had known you needed me, I’d have found a way to be here. You’re my best friend.”

“I know. I –” Tenko breaks off, frustrated. “I didn’t mess with it so you’d come back.”

“I didn’t think that,” you say. “I know you scratch sometimes. It seems like less than before.”

“Only when you’re here.” Tenko shifts in his seat. You’re about to tell him he shouldn’t worry about that when he speaks again. “I feel different when you’re here. Can you fix it?”

“I’ll need to take the stitches out and clean it before I bandage it up again, but yes.” You look around for the medical supplies and Tenko pries open a drawer full of them. “Then we can play the game.”

“I can’t believe you like Call of Duty.”

“It’s just the only one I recognize,” you admit, and Tenko laughs. You like hearing him laugh. “Get ready to lose all respect for me. You might want a better sidekick.”

“I don’t need a better sidekick,” Tenko says. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

Warmth floods through you, pooling in your cheeks and your chest and the pit of your stomach. He remembers. You pull on a pair of gloves and open the suture kit. The sooner you rebandage his wound, the sooner you can play a game with your best friend for the first time since you were kids.

But after you’ve taken out the stitches, as you’re bandaging his shoulder, you notice something. The other times you’ve seen Tenko and treated his wounds, he’s been wearing long sleeves, and when you’ve cut them to get a look at the injuries, you haven’t paid much attention to whatever else might be underneath them. Now, with his arms exposed by design, you can see things you didn’t before. Tenko’s always scratched. After fifteen years of scratching he’d naturally have scars. But when the two of you were kids, you never saw him scratch his forearms. And you’ve never seen scratches look so uniform, so evenly spaced. You’ve seen things that look like that before. They weren’t scratches.

You look up and find Tenko looking at you already. “Sensei had me do them. So I’d be stronger,” he says. Your heart seizes in your chest. “Not in a while, though. When I got strong enough he let me stop.”

“That’s messed up.” You’ve been careful not to speak against Tenko’s master, not when you know so little about him, but you can’t hold back this time. “Hurting yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you hurt.”

“What would you know about it?”

“Lots. I see it every day.”

Tenko gives you a look that tells you just how little he thinks of whatever you’ve seen, and you lose patience. You let go of his arm and pull up the sleeve of your own short-sleeve shirt. “I don’t mean at work.”

Tenko’s jaw drops behind the hand. “Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me. I did it myself, which makes me a lot dumber than you,” you say. Tenko’s lines are even. Yours are jagged, because you were angry or crying or hurrying to finish up before one of your siblings needed the bathroom or your mom came back to keep arguing with you. “Was your master trying to make you stronger? Or was he trying to teach you not to show when something hurts?”

Based on the way Tenko’s red eyes flash, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head. “What were you trying to do, then? When you were being dumber than me?”

You were being really dumb. So dumb that it’s embarrassing to talk about. “It’s a reset, biologically. Injuries force the body to release endorphins, which make you feel better for a little bit. There was a while where I had trouble controlling my temper. It helped me do that. Or at least not show it.”

“A while,” Tenko repeats. “You should have had trouble the entire fucking time.”

“I did,” you admit after a second. “You used to tell me it wasn’t okay, what my family was like. It took a while to believe you.”

Half the reason you didn’t believe Tenko was because you knew his family was messed up, too. No matter what else your dad did, he didn’t scream at you or lock you outside without dinner. But as you got older, you realized why your parents didn’t do that: They needed you too much. They needed your help with the extra kids they shouldn’t have had, and the older you got, the more it started to infuriate you.

You saw evidence of it everywhere, in places it was and places it wasn’t. They didn’t wipe your memory because they cared that you were upset about your missing friend, they did it because they needed you to be quiet and helpful instead of sad. They didn’t let you choose your favorite snack or go to a birthday party once in a blue moon because it was the fair thing to do, they did it so you wouldn’t complain about all the times you weren’t allowed to. They promised they’d make it up to you every time they shorted you in favor of your siblings with quirks, hoping the apology would make you forget. By the time you were fourteen, you weren’t forgetting anymore.

Tenko’s watching you from behind the hand, but you don’t want to be watched right now. You focus on placing the bandage. Maybe if you do that, you can pretend this isn’t happening. “What happened?” Tenko asks. “With your family.”

“Nothing,” you say. Nothing like what happened to his. “They’re out there. They call me on my birthday. Every so often they ask me for money. Do you really want to talk about this?”

Tenko doesn’t follow up. On that, at least. Three of his fingers brush across your exposed upper arm and it takes every ounce of self-control you have not to jump out of your skin. “These are old, right?”

“Not as old as yours,” you say. “They aren’t recent, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I stopped, so you should, too.” Tenko’s palm covers your upper arm for a moment, then lifts away. “It wouldn’t kill you to control your temper less, anyway. When was the last time you got really mad?”

“Three days ago. Yoshimi’s boyfriend ditched her, so I called him and lit his ass up.”

“Sure you did. I bet you never raised your voice,” Tenko says. You look up, offended. “You probably sounded like some kind of evil shrink, telling him what a piece of shit he is and how you understand that he can’t help being an asshole but it would probably be best for everybody if he took a long walk off a short ledge –”

He’s mimicking the soft, semi-conciliatory tone you use when you’re trying to de-escalate a situation, looking at you from behind the hand with a smirk on his face. You’d get mad, except it’s a pretty accurate imitation, and you like the thought that he knows you well enough to pick on you like this. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about getting really mad. Really losing control. When’s the last time you did that?”

You can’t remember. You shrug helplessly. Tenko heaves an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a good thing we’re playing Call of Duty next. If getting your ass kicked in a video game can’t wind you up, nothing will.”

It’s been a while since you played an actual video game. You were bad at it then, and you’re really bad at it now. Tenko makes you play a round in single-player mode to see what you’re good at and where you’re weak, and he spends the entire time laughing so hard that you’re worried he’s going to dislocate a rib or fall off the couch. It takes you way too long to hide away from the enemies onscreen long enough to ask Tenko a question. “What’s so funny? I know I’m not doing it right –”

“You’re just –” Tenko wheezes, then makes an effort to get it together. “Up here in the corner of your display is the map. The dot is where you are. And then everything in front of you is your point of view. That’s why it’s called a first-person shooter.”

“I know,” you say. “The display –”

“You control that on this side of the controller. And that’s where your trigger is, too. The other side handles motion,” Tenko says. His shoulders are twitching, like they do when he’s trying to hold in his laughter. “I’ll watch the map for you. Just go where I tell you to go.”

“Okay.” You adjust your grip on the controller and prepare to be humiliated.

Tenko directs you to move straight forward, which you do. Then you make a left turn and jump up on a crate for a better firing angle, at which point someone shoots at you. “Shoot back,” Tenko orders. You press the trigger. “Nice work. Okay, now jump off the crate and –”

You jump off the crate as requested, but then you get your buttons jumbled, and instead of running in the direction Tenko told you to run, you find yourself bumping into the wall repeatedly with your viewpoint stuck directly upwards. “Tenko –”

Tenko is howling with laughter again. The hand dislodges and falls off his face, and you see his eyes crinkling at the corners, his smile just a little too big. Some girls in your class said his smile was creepy, but you always liked it. You liked that you always knew which of his smiles were faked and which weren’t. “I’m stuck,” you say, and he laughs even harder. “What did I do?”

“If you were doing what your character is doing right now, you’d be doing this.” Tenko mimics pointing a gun straight up at the sky, and suddenly you get why he’s laughing. “You’ve been running around like this –”

No wonder you keep running into walls. Now you’re laughing, too. “You weren’t kidding,” Tenko says, shaking his head. “You really are terrible at it.”

You set the controller aside and wipe your eyes. “You sure you don’t want a different sidekick?”

“I have the sidekick I want.” Tenko glances at you, almost shyly. “We’ll need allies, though. I want you to meet them.”

Your stomach lurches. “Do you have them already?”

“One of the brokers is bringing them. He finds them through the black market.” Tenko sets the controller back down in your hands, adjusting your fingers to the right buttons. Then he unpauses the game. “Once I have them all – go right. No, your other right. Once I have them all, I want you to meet them. I need them to work together, and to stay calm instead of fighting each other. You’re good at getting people to do that. Watch out, there are – nice work.”

He’s giving you a strange look. “What?” you ask. “I didn’t get killed yet.”

“You’re better at shooting people than running around. That’s weird.” Tenko’s expression stays odd for another moment; then he grins. “Works for me, though. As long as you don’t mess with your viewpoint too much, we can play together.”

“Works for me.” You’re still going to be pretty useless, but at least you can protect Tenko’s back. That’s more than you’d be able to do in a real fight. The thought kicks off a flood of anxiety, and before you can stop yourself, you find yourself speaking out loud. “Tenko –”

He pauses the game mid-switch to co-op mode. “Yeah?”

“I don’t know if I can help you the way you need me to,” you say. He gives you a skeptical look. “Medical stuff is one thing. I’m good at that. If your allies need help with that, I’ll help them, too. But the rest of it, I’m not – planning, getting people to follow you –”

“I can do that part. But villains fight all the time. Like kids do,” Tenko says. He smiles slightly. “If you can handle me, they’ll be easy for you.”

“But I know you,” you say. “It’s different.”

“So you’ll get to know them, too.” Tenko’s confident, just like you remember him being. Once he’s decided how something will be, it’s hard to shake him. “Come on. Let’s clear this level.”

It’s an easy level, or you think it’s supposed to be. You spend most of your time running backwards, keeping one eye on the map so you don’t lose track of Tenko and the other eye out for enemies of any kind. On reflection, you do think your accuracy with shooting is a little weird. Between this level and the next one, you rack up a decent number of kills. “You’re already getting better,” Tenko says, grinning. “I bet we can beat this thing if we keep playing.”

“I’d like that,” you say – but you’re still thinking about Tenko’s semi-crazy idea that you meet a bunch of villains for crowd control. “About the allies – you trust me, but they won’t have any reason to. I’m still a civilian.”

“You’ll need a disguise,” Tenko says, which wasn’t what you were hoping he’d say. “Something that hides your face. “If any of them have a problem with you, they can take it up with me.”

You don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Tenko getting into it with other villains over you makes you feel sick. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt at all. You’re my best friend.”

“I’m not your boss,” Tenko says, which doesn’t make any sense. Your confusion must show on your face, because Tenko elaborates. “Earlier. You said sidekicks don’t run from their bosses, but I’m not your boss. I don’t want to be your boss. I want –”

He breaks off, clearly struggling with what to say. There’s a patchy flush coming up in his cheeks, and you see his hand rise, twitch toward his neck – then fall back. “I don’t want to be your boss,” he says again, looking everywhere but into your eyes. “I want – you should –”

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Kurogiri’s voice issues from behind you, and you and Tenko both jump. “Your master wishes to speak with you. You are overdue.”

“Shit,” Tenko mutters. His grip on the controller tightens, and you lift it out of his hands before all five fingers can touch it. “Where’s – I need –”

“Here.” You pick up the hand from the floor and pass it to him, feeling a chill go down your spine as you touch it. “Go talk to him. It’s okay.”

“I’m late. It isn’t.” Tenko settles the hand back over his face. His free hand rises again, clawing at the side of his neck, and something about the image, the situation, feels uncomfortably familiar to you. “I’ll send Kurogiri to get you again soon. For another date.”

“This was a date?”

“Of course it was.” Tenko gets up, heads for the door. “Remember. Find a disguise. I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone, and a second later, so are you – Kurogiri drops you in an alley off the street you were walking on. He lingers for a moment, and the question explodes out of you. “It was a date?”

“I told him it’s not a date unless both people know it’s a date.” Kurogiri looks vaguely uncomfortable, and his voice is in the other register – the one that sounds more like an older brother than a servant. “Next time I’ll tell him I can’t find you.”

“Don’t do that,” you say at once. Even reeling like you are now, you’re sure that you want to see Tenko again. “Just – warn me, if you can. If it’s a date or something else.”

“I can do that.” Kurogiri vanishes, but his voice lingers for a moment more. “You protect him, too.”

What does that mean? Maybe it means that Kurogiri sees you like he sees himself – a protector of Shigaraki Tomura, although if there’s anyone you’re trying to protect, it’s Shimura Tenko, your best friend. Your best friend, who’s in a lot more trouble than you thought he was.

You’re standing in the middle of an alley. You need to get moving before someone peeks in here and starts asking questions. You slide your phone out of your pocket, raise it to your ear, and lower it as you step back out into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk, like you were taking a call that just ended. Your apartment’s not far away, so you’ll get there, and then you can think about all of this. The villains – the date – the scars on Tenko’s arm that look too much like yours – the scratching that didn’t start until after the hand covered his face. The hand he calls Father.

And that’s when you realize what it reminded you of, what happened when Kurogiri told Tenko his master was waiting for him. He was himself when you spoke to him, even after he put the hand back over his face – right down to how he reacted when his master called for him. Because his reaction looked the same as his reaction to his father calling for him when the two of you were kids.

You had a bad feeling about Tenko’s master, and now it’s worse. You have a bad feeling about what your involvement with Tenko means now, because he wants you to back him up when it comes to dealing with other villains, to take the de-escalation and conflict resolution skills you learned the hard way and put them to use keeping a band of villains together under Tenko’s control. You have a bad feeling because Tenko’s told you to find a disguise, to hide your identity like the villain you aren’t. You aren’t a villain. Are you?

Maybe you aren’t a villain – yet, a voice in your head whispers, you aren’t a villain yet – but there’s something wrong with you. There must be. Because knowing all that, knowing that you’re getting drawn further into Tenko’s plans, doesn’t do a thing to dampen your excitement at the thought that he wants to go on dates with you. That he likes you. That your best friend, who you always thought you’d have developed a crush on if the two of you had gotten to grow up together, might feel the same about you as you do about him.

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

This probably isn't new but it just occurred to me that if sinners can't leave the pride ring, and the exterminator can't kill hellborns, then like 86% of hell has probably never even SEEN the carnage of the extermination.

We don't know how long the extermination go on for, but I feel like the way Adam is, that they're probably pretty quick, like legit a full day if not just one night.

And I can't imagine they BOTHER checking the other rings for escapees, if we're assuming there's nothing but the law stopping sinners from leaving, and THEY assume that's enough.

So there's like, probably a legit underground railroad of sinners trying to get out of pride, like probably at all times, but especially the days and weeks leading up to the extermination.

And I could see so many hellborns taking advantage of that, like life as a sinner cannot be safe or good in the other rings when you have to keep you head down and try to blend in. They're probably like, legit selling their souls for it. Which is what makes me think sinner can physically leave. (Or, can sinners tell their souls to hellborns or only other sinners?)

It's trading one hell for another. Literally.

And they're immortal. They'd get noticed if they didn't stay hidden, if they're contract wasn't like, passed down parent to child in a same house hold told to keep it quiet, because rtheye equally not auposed to have a sinner in their hosue. They couldn't lead any better of an immortal life.

Could you then imagine them trying to get back to pride just to be their own person again even if it means they might get murdered every year.

And getting back to 86% of hell's residence that have never seen it up close.

They've got to be buying into some kind of propaganda about it.

"Oh sinners are immortal and more powerful than us. They should be thinnes out or theyre rise up and take over hell" kinda thing, like the legit same argument heaven has for the genocide.

and since most of them never MEET sinners to empathize with, and the way they're encouraged to put down imps as children, they'd be it easy to convince.

But I feel like some Hellhounds and Imps would DEFINITELY be helping sinners escape pride.

I bet they help hide the ones who couldn't get out because I can't imagine sinners just go about their business as the extermination starts.

The days leading up there'd be so much going on as sinners try to get somewhere safe, in their own city, or places outside it or in other cities. The hours leading up to it, the streets have to be so quiet you'd think it already happened.

And because the sinners HIDE, the angels MUST be knocking down doors and raiding basement in house and business across pride.

I wouldn't be surprised if hellhounds and imps get killed, and the angels just don't see consequences because it's hellhounds and imps.

Like it's really actually that horrible.

Very very glad the shows plot is ending it.

[Continuation here]

[moonbeamwritings]

next time

wc: 1.9k

warnings: dabi being a menace (as always), injury and violence mention

PART 2 →

You’ve been in a lot of hairy and otherwise life-threatening situations as a pro-hero. There’s the time you got pinned under a car, and that other time you were held at gunpoint. Oh! And there was even one afternoon where you’d ended up strung up by your ankle from a skyscraper window. Dangling 400 feet above cold, hard cement really encourages a person to reconsider their life choices (but apparently not enough to make you quit your job).

So curling up against the cool, stinky metal of a dumpster in some back alley in Hosu City with notorious League of Villains member Dabi crouching in front of you like the cat that got the cream, all things considered, really isn’t that surprising.

Your leg is busted, so you can’t run. And with the heavens above as your witness, you’d tried. The only good it served was to send bile up your throat and white hot pain shooting through the meat of your thigh. Not smart. Your side burns and blood bullies through the gaps between your fingers, sticky and wet from the blast of a scummy criminal some ten minutes earlier. You hunch further against the dumpster, the adrenaline racing from your bloodstream leaves your body feeling tired, limbs leaden. You can’t fight anymore.

Feeling defeated, you huff a sigh and close your eyes. “Here to cut off all my limbs, leave me for dead? Isn’t that what you villains get up to on Monday nights?” 

“Dismemberment isn’t really my thing, doll.”

“Arson then? That seems to be more your speed.”

Dabi offers you a lazy smile. “Arson’s fine.”

“Mmm, nice,” your side throbs and you wince. “Well? Hero barbecue tonight? ‘M sure the League would love that.”

Your comment goes ignored. “It’s nice to see you again, little hero. Rough night?”

“Weren’t you taught not to play with your food?”

He shrugs, rocking on his heels like he’s having fun with you. “I could’ve killed you the last…” he stops, pretending to think. He makes a show of counting on his fingers before he invades your space, grin morphing into a smirk. “Three times we’ve met like this. Don’tcha think I would’ve done it by now?”

You groan, head lolling back until it makes contact with brick. “Touché.”

“Who did this to you anyway?” Dabi punctuates the question with a curious prod at your thigh. You slap his hand away with a hiss, and when you do, he’s quick to switch focus. Not one to be deterred, his hand moves to grip your chin, tilting your head to one side and then the other, eyeing you carefully as if he’s looking for something. You let him.

“Some criminal we’ve been after for the last few weeks. Serial murderer, all around bad person. The usual. Pretty nasty quirk, too.” You bite back a smile. “You know him?”

“Sounds like me.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

He leans closer, hand stilling along your jaw. “I could find out for you, but it’ll cost ya.”

The offer hangs heavy in the air. He looks so honest, so earnest despite the smirk that sits on his lips and the teasing glint in the turquoise of his eyes, that you feel a tug in your ribcage. You want to take the bait. You shake your head to remind yourself that this is probably exactly what he wants — some hero like you to owe him a favor so he can exploit you later. A win-win for him and, ultimately, a crash and burn, win-lose for you. You humor it, though, if only to see what that cost is.

“Oh yeah? What do you want?”

A hum, and then silence. Your heart leaps into your throat, goosebumps rising across your flesh as Dabi shrinks the gap, closer now than he’s ever been. So close you can feel the movement of air with every exhale, can smell the cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey that cling to his clothes, his breath. If he’s trying to do what you think, you’re not sure you’ll have the strength to stop him. Realization sits heavy on your chest as your hand curls around the collar of his leather coat — you don’t want to stop him.

His lips are a hair’s breadth from yours, one tiny push would be all it takes to finally connect them, when he pauses. You feel his lips quirk up. A ghost of a smile. Dabi chuckles somewhere deep in his chest, voice barely above a whisper as he tells you, “I don’t know if you can afford it, little hero.”

You don’t know if you can either, but the heat settling in your cheeks and the half-lidded gaze staring back at you is enough to make you want to try. Anything to close that gap. And still, you can’t bring yourself to move, to even speak. You must look like a deer in headlights as Dabi’s eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

With the words caught in your throat, Dabi takes the opportunity to break the silence. “How ‘bout this, sweet thing,” he croons, hunching closer so his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “You go home, lick your wounds in your pretty little penthouse apartment, and I’ll take care of the dirty work, hmm?” He presses a featherlight kiss to the space beneath your ear. “He’ll never touch you again.”

His palm cups the curve of your jaw, fingers brushing against the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. “And next time, when you’re feelin’ better, then we’ll talk about…” He pauses to bring his lips close to yours again, scarred skin hovering over your mouth, but never quite touching. He’s teasing. “... this. How does that sound?”

Next time. The phrase rings in your ears, and you’re sure it’s more than your injuries that are making you dizzy. It sounds good, really good, but the voice in the back of your head screams as you think it over. This is dangerous. It’s bad enough you’ve met him more than once and have only half-heartedly tried to restrain him one time, but now you find yourself dancing in a moral gray area, hand-in-hand with one of Japan’s most wanted criminals.

You chuckle, little more than a weak exhale that sends a splinter of pain shooting between your ribs. Your hand doesn’t move from the collar of his jacket. The dance continues. “I don’t know if I can really condone the whole murder part of that plan.”

Dabi laughs and pulls away, thumbing at your jaw before finally dropping his hand. “You heroes and your damn moral compasses.” A smirk follows a beat of silence. “But the other part you’re okay with?”

“Mmm,” you hum, eyes shut and teeth clenched. “Ask me next time.”

Next time. You’ve sealed your fate with one simple phrase. A promise written in the air between you.

Dabi scoffs, but his smirk doesn’t falter. “You’re certainly something, little hero.”

He eyes you again, though you don’t see it. A look mirroring care, concern, crosses his features as he takes in the hole in your hero costume, exposing a mess of crimson that mingles with black and blue. Blood pools beneath your thigh. He could kill you. You’ve laid yourself bare for him, injured and alone. Too trusting. All it would take is a flicker of his quirk and there’d be one less hero running around, one less loose end to worry about. But as he crouches in front of you, he can’t bring himself to do it.

He’ll let himself stew about all of these bullshit emotions later, but for now, he moves to stand, holding an open palm to you. You blink up at him dumbly when you drag your eyes open, and he sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “What? You wanna sit here in the trash all night?”

“Hey,” you moan teasingly, dropping your hand in his. “These trash bags are actually quite comfy, given the circumstances.”

“Just,” he rolls his eyes and pulls you to your feet as gingerly as he can. When he gets you standing, he takes your weight, wrapping his arm around your waist. He’s careful to watch the wound in your side. “Shut up already.”

As he guides you to the mouth of the alley, he continues, “Your friends make a habit of leaving you behind?”

“Solo job tonight,” you suck air through your teeth as another wave of pain rolls through your muscles. “No one to leave me behind.”

“Just our luck then, huh?”

Your arm curls a little tighter around his shoulders. “Just our luck.”

Dabi shoots a look up and down the street, and once the coast is clear, guides you over to a bench on the sidewalk. His arm lingers around your waist for a moment, warm palm pressed into the curve of your hip. Hesitant. 

After a beat, two beats, he lowers you onto the bench, and without so much as another glance, turns heel down the sidewalk and disappears into the shadows again.

“See you around, little hero.”

Everything hurts and the smell of blood hangs in the air as you sit on that steel bench, letting the chill of the metal seep into your tired muscles. You pray that it steals the warmth that Dabi has left in his wake. Your fingers shake as you pull out your phone to call for an ambulance, a feeling stirring somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Tipping your chin up to the sky, you watch as your exhale creates a fleeting, misty cloud in the cool night air. “God, I really hate Mondays.”

Given your injuries, it’s easy to talk your agency into giving you the time you need to recover, and you relish in it. Days off are rare, rarer still as a pro, so you spend them lazing around your apartment and nursing yourself back to health — just as Dabi suggested. On this particular day, your movements are slow, lazy as you make your way to the kitchen. In your haze, you almost don’t notice the single red rose sitting on your counter, a note tucked gently under its petals.

“You’re welcome.”

Though you’ve never seen it before, you know that handwriting as if it’s your own, and without a second thought you scramble towards your living room, practically falling over yourself to turn on the news. Has the story even broken yet? Who knows about this? Just you… and Dabi?

They cycle through a few other stories and you bite at the skin of your lip until a familiar face flashes on screen. Your mouth hangs agape, heart thundering against your ribcage and pounding in your ears as the news anchor describes the warehouse fire that killed the fucker your agency had been chasing, the one that had left you in that alley last week. No one knows how the fire began, she explains.

But you know. The note, your gut, tells you as much.

The rest of the report falls on deaf ears as you sit frozen on your sofa — rose hanging from your fingers, tea kettle whistling on the stove.

Despite the myriad of unanswered questions that itch at your skin, you know four things with certainty. First, Dabi, despite having ample opportunity, has not tried to kill you. Second, he definitely killed that guy on your behalf. Third, he knows where you live.

And above all else, you’re undeniably, irreversibly fucked.

[dokidokidraft]

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (pt 1) cont.

okay so now we’re actually gonna match the series timeline! Starting off with….. Stain attack (because bakugo just ignores everyone until then)⚡️!!! (I’m completely winging this ig)

warning: swearing (it’s bakugo so obviously)

Having feelings made Katsuki feel weak. It was something he hated the feeling of. But during the internships, his weakness was shown. The hero killer, Stain had started attacking a pro hero, down in Hosu city. He didn’t really worry about it at first, but then Midoriya sent his location to everyone. So he was probably in trouble or some weird shit he got into.

Katsuki, for one, couldn’t care less about the damn nerd. Todoroki was in the area as well, so he’d take care of any casualties the Stain attack had. But then he remembered something. Your internship was also in Hosu city. He cursed himself for even thinking about you at all. This internship was to get away from all his confusing emotions, but he soon found himself making a half-assed excuse to Best Jeanist, and on the fastest bullet train to the city. He kept checking his phone. He had your number, and although both of you were too nervous to text first, he felt like the possibility of you dying was enough motivation to check in.

“Hey nerd. Heard there’s an attack in your city. Need back up?” He stared at his text before hitting ‘send’. The backup part was just an excuse to text you and make sure you weren’t dead, since he was already on the train. It’s not like he was worried or anything, just…slightly concerned.

10 minutes into the train ride and still no reply from you. You hadn’t even read it. He mumbled something about you being a dumbass and marched over to the front of the train. He was in his hero suit, so the big, bulky gauntlets were enough that people kept their distance. The train stopped at the Hosu City station, and he was the only one who got off, considering everyone else knew about the attack.

As he walked out of the station, his phone buzzed in his back pocket. Fucking finally. Katsuki quickly opened up his messages, desperately hoping for a response from you. He cursed at himself again for the overwhelming emotion, but brushed it off as soon as he got the notification from you.

“Todoroki-kun is here! He took care of everything, thanks though!(>_<)” His grip on his phone tightened. That IcyHot bastard did all of it? And what was with the ‘kun’ part at the end of his stupid name? Was that nerd seriously your friend??! His thumbs raced across the screen, almost aggressively.

He responded with, “Next time ask me for help dumbass. That shithead can go suck on an egg. Send me ur location I’ll be there in 5”. Crap, did he respond too early? He probably sounded so desperate. Damn you and your fake faces. Just the small gesture of ‘(>_<)’ made him feel something. Shit, why’d you have to be so cute over text? And now he was cursing himself for ever thinking of anything as ‘cute’. How the hell was one text effecting him so much?? His mind was working a mile a minute until finally you sent him your location. He practically threw himself out of subway, and using his explosions he made it across the city in under 5 minutes, as promised. He wasn’t going to think about how the motivation of getting to see you made his quirk work a little better than usual. Stupid shitty emotions. The quirk thing was a silver lining throughout this whole lovesick life that he hated. Katsuki’s eyes widened when he saw the amount of damage done to the area. Half of the rubble from the buildings was on fire, presumably oil or something similar fuelling the fires, but there was luckily rescue heroes doing their best with the fires. Speaking of rubble, it was everywhere. It looks like something straight out of a dystopian movie. The landscape made it hard to see much, so he climbed a patch of rubble and looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you. The relief was short-lived though when he noticed the scratches on your face and the bruises that lined your arms and legs, not to mention the dirt, grime, and ash covering your body. His prideful grin drops and he clenches his fists at his sides, only managing to relax slightly at the sound of your voice.

“Katsuki!” He was going to call you out for using his first name, but then his ego was already growing at the thought of what you said. You never called anyone else by their first name, not even the purple haired insomniac you were friends with. So he decided to let it slide. “Are you hurt?! What in the flying fuck happened?!” He asked with a scowl, trying to hide his concern with an angry tone. You quickly explained what happened with the Nomu attack, and told him “Todoroki-kun” was with Midoriya somewhere, along with the class rep. What was with you and calling IcyHot that stupid nickname?! How was he supposed to stay calm when you said that damn bastards name with such a big smile? Sure, the grin was comforting, but you didn’t have to say IcyHot’s name like that.

At least you were okay, he concluded. Fuck, those shitty feelings were starting to get the best of him. His thoughts were interrupted by a loud ‘Bang!’ as a random civilian was thrown across the sky. He would be worried, but he knew there was other rescue heroes. He was more worried about the scene in front of him, which was a towering Nomu standing in-between him and you.

This was pretty rushed! Here’s the intro in case you wanna see it. It’s even more short and just me testing the waters >_<. Intro

@kimyoudraft

[sixosix]

do you think maybe you could do a relationship dynamic with izuku as uber famous celebrity x the one cafe barista who doesn't know who they are?

( a/n ) anon i don’t know if ur even here anymore cus this ask was sent september last year but just know that i always thought about you. I LOVE KOTA so he’s here

“listen, i get it,” you say, sliding to the left to cram the bagel into a small, brown paper bag with the shop’s logo printed unevenly on the front, “lo-fi’s not your thing. that’s cool. but you’re really the only one complaining about it.”

the lo-fi isn’t even that bad. sure, you can’t differentiate songs from another if you tried, but it’s a fun game to try when you’re bored, and your only company are the flies and warm sun filtering through. the top fifty songs haven’t changed for too long, and you’ve gotten sick of it, so it’s better this than that.

you give kota his order, put on a winning smile, and pray that he spares you from a headache.

he slams his payment on the counter. his money is always paper, never a bunch of coins as what kids his age usually have. it’s a little curious. it’s like he's making money himself.

“i’m your only customer anyway; what’s the big deal?” he gestures grandly at the space behind him, making a huffy noise when you don’t bother looking up from counting his change.

the big deal is that you don’t go around demanding baristas to do that, but kota has a point. he’s one of your only customers, aside from the lost students who order a medium coffee to use the bathroom. they never come back.

the shop you work in is tucked away in the corner of hosu city, past where the buses stop and far from train stations. it’s an unfortunate placement, but it’s safe from villain attacks because not even they would want to walk this far. kota only found it because he got lost, too, and you felt terrible so you gave him a donut.

the difference is he comes every day since then.

you level kota with a look. “how can i attract other customers if we’re blasting your awful playlist in this quiet space?”

his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment. “my playlist is not bad! you should be thanking me i told deku about this place!”

“right, right. ‘cause you’re best friends with the lead of that super famous hero series! pardon me for forgetting.”

kota looks like a baby kitten hissing with his far-from-threatening growl. “you’re lucky the bagel tastes good,” he says and pointedly bites on the bread. “we would be enemies.”

you laugh, leaning against the counter. “how long did you say you’re staying at hosu for?”

“we’re leaving in two days.” kota looks longingly at the bagel.

“alright, well,” you bend closer and whisper conspiratorially, “let’s make a deal. come back here tomorrow one last time, and i’ll treat you the belgian waffle you’ve been eyeing since you first came here. if there’s no one else, i’ll play you your favorite song.”

kota’s eyes sparkle, despite his insistence on looking unaffected. “fine. i’ll come back.”

“tell mandalay i said hi!”

you thought that’d be the last interesting thing to happen, but minutes later, a young man with comically oversized sunglasses and a shirt saying ‘shirt’ enters the shop, looking around in amazement.

“welcome!” you call out with a customer-friendly grin. you’ve never seen this man, but based on his top, you can tell he’d entertain you well.

he pads over to the counter, somehow looking like a lost child despite his eye-pleasing build based on his thin, white tee. “good afternoon!” his smile is as warm as the orange lights hanging over the counter. “sorry, was kota here earlier?”

he reminds you of the man on kota’s wallpaper with a face that made you stare a little too long. kota asked you if you were struggling to read the time. no, you were just struggling not to blush. 

“you know him? he was chiding me for the lo-fi.”

he laughs, tugging his sunglasses up hesitantly. “kota can be really picky, sorry. um, i like the lo-fi.”

“you’re cute,” you say, admiring his green eyes. “what’s your name?”

“you don’t—” he blinks slowly, his cheeks darkening, “sorry, i didn’t mean it like i was assuming—”

“wait!” you exclaim, leaning closer to study his face, “are you kota’s brother or something? no, you don’t look like brothers… except for the shoe thing you have going on.” you gesture at his bright sneakers.

“i bought him that!” he says, smiling warmly. “midoriya izuku.”

“midoriya,” you say, grinning coyly when his cheeks flush as you say his name, “what can i get for you?”

he scratches the back of his neck. “regular iced latte, please.”

you make sure that it’s the best goddamn latte midoriya izuku drinks in his life so that he thinks of coming back again.

kota comes back the next day with a skip in his step, and a man right behind him.

“my favorite customer!” you already have his waffles prepared, but you weren’t informed that the handsome maybe-cousin, maybe-uncle, related-to-kota-somehow guy was coming along. immediately, you get to work on his latte.

“only customer,” kota says pointedly, scanning the room triumphantly. standing next to the cute guy with their matching shoes that makes them look more like close brothers that happened to not look similar in anywhere else possible.

“hey,” midoriya says with fond exasperation. “you can’t just say that.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “it’s alright. i know kota’s a sweet kid; he makes my day.” kota makes himself comfortable on the table nearest to the counter, looking much happier than he usually does coming here alone.

kota beams when you walk over and give him the plate of belgian waffles. he digs in the second he gets his hands on it. near him, midoriya chuckles, heading over to the counter. his outfit is a little different from last time: fancier and no more unnecessary captions.

“what can i get for you, midoriya?”

“regular iced latte, please,” he says, blinking up at you in a way that made your heart do something strange.

bingo. because of your headstart, his order comes in quickly, but you pretend to take it slower just to keep them longer.

“you don’t have to pay,” you say, unable to keep staring at how his coat makes him look charming. “i’m treating you two. are you also leaving hosu tomorrow?”

“i want to pay,” midoriya says, and you swear his smile gets wider when you head over to serve him his drink. “yeah, we have to leave for a shoot! it’ll take a while, but now i’m not looking forward to it as much as i was two days ago.” when you glance at him, he looks away, looking shy.

you couldn’t even react or analyze his second comment because you hone in on what the hell he means by—

“wait, shooting?”

“yes… for—wait, hold on.” midoriya frowns at kota, who has half a waffle hanging from his mouth. “i thought you said you weren’t hiding it.”

“i waf’n!” kota insists. midoriya tells him to please don’t speak while chewing, so he spits it out, and you watch in disgust as it flops back onto the plate. “y/n just doesn’t know! technically, i wasn’t hiding it.”

midoriya looks horrified, and this conversation is about you, so you ask, “can someone explain?”

midoriya is blushing, but he speaks as if he’s confessing a crime. “have you seen the hero series?”

“no! i’ve heard about it because kota likes this one guy a lot. think it was deku or something.”

“he’s deku, idiot!” kota says. “you know, the one who you said looked cute when i showed you my wallpaper!” he digs back in on his waffle, pouring more syrup.

“what!?” you and midoriya exclaim.

“why would you say that?” you groan at the same time midoriya asks, “you said that?” wide-eyed and grinning.

“go back to the topic at hand!” you slam your hands on the table. kota’s intense EDM music is blasting, fueling you even more. “why didn’t i— deku’s face is literally on billboards!”

“my face in those is usually covered by the mask, to be fair,” adds midoriya meekly. “but kota-kun is my co-worker…”

“what!”

“you’re just stupid,” kota says, grinning devilishly. “we’re flying out of hosu to film together somewhere else.”

“oh my god.”

midoriya laughs, gazing at you with an intensity that makes your throat feel dry. “it’s not your fault, y/n-san.” he nudges kota, who’s stealing sips on his latte and grimacing. “it’s his for pranking you.”

“and,” midoriya adds, smiling shyly, “it was… nice to know you’re interested in me even without knowing who i was.”

kota hums around the straw, “maybe this’ll finally convince y/n to watch the series.”

ok um the ending is lame i know but i rlly didnt know what 2 do w this LMFAO also dont judge idk what baristas do so just play along. mayb ill make a part 2 cus theres a lot unpacked but not rn i just want to let anon know i didnt delete this ask thx for reading rb or comment to make me happy omg!

[marimeeko]

Randomly remembered that Iida literally punched Izuku in the face and Izuku just TOOK IT because he was determined to rescue Kacchan, even after what he and Iida and Todoroki had been through in Hosu city, and Iida reminding him of that.

[sundeathh]

Hello how are you? can i ask you for an imagine or headcanons please with Aizawa where his girlfriend Y/N who is a pro hero (top 10 and with a strong quirk) got in the way during the fight with Stain and the students of UA and was found injured

Hey! I'm good, I hope you're okay too!!

It took me long enough. Sorry for the wait, hope you like it!

.

A HELLISH WEEK

Request | Masterlist | Sensitive content

Pairing: Aizawa   ×   Fem!Reader

Fandom: BNHA | MHA   | word count: 4,4k

Categories: romance; drama; comfort; good ending

CW: violence; mention and description of blood/injuries

You were not supposed to be patrolling Hosu that night, but you ended up being allocated there at the last minute to beef up security in the city because of all the villain attacks.

And as you went there in a hurry, you didn't have time to call anyone beforehand about the situation – you just had to rush there without any immediate backup since you were the closest pro hero to the location.

Your orders were to buy time for only enough so that your colleagues could arrive and take down the villains with you. Not to take it by yourself.

Unfortunately, though, things don't always go according to plan.

The first thing you knew when you got to the place was that one of the most talked about villains at the moment - Stain - had hurt Shōta's students while two of them were still fighting, protecting the third one that lay on the floor.

As you rushed over them, the villain noticed you, instantly letting his focus off the kids and turning it to you instead, taking a menacing step towards you, his blades ready to attack.

You immediately ordered the kids to run off to safety before doing your job to stand as a hero and protect the students and the other civilians.

But of course, they would not listen to you.

That brought the endless memories of Shōta complaining to you about how his students would get on his nerves, doing what they should not have and running to where they were not supposed to.

You tried to warn them of the danger as you jumped into action, telling them there would be no point in trying to fight if they would get themselves killed. But they stubbornly ignored you and went against your advice anyway, running up to your side, ready to fight. 

That pissed you greatly, but you could not blame them – you were the same way.

Besides that, they had another reason for wanting to fight by your side: they already knew you. You were the young pro hero who quickly climbed the rankings to be one of the top 10.

But that was not all. You also meant something to someone the kids knew; you have been seen around U.A several times before, even though you didn't work there, even though you probably had a large workload being one of the top 10. Still, you would frequently stop by to meet with one person specifically.

However, your relationship with Shōta was not outstanding. Yet, his students noticed how he would go off his way to be around you anyway.

They also perceived how their usual grumpy, tired and tense teacher would seem truly relaxed whenever you were around, even though they didn't know what exactly you were to him.

Thus, they almost panicked when Stain got too close to you, when they saw that you were now bleeding and that Stain had brought his blade to his mouth, tasting the viscous liquid that allowed you to live.

Nonetheless, the boys quickly moved, pushing the villain away from you, creating a barrier between you and him as your body became limp, attempting to protect you from further injuries; or simple death.

And they did it – they handled Stain on their own. And you watched, immobile, as your consciousness threatened to leave you with the same vigor you tried to keep yourself awake; until your body failed you due to your continuous blood loss, your mind fading into nothing but utter darkness.

Just then, the other pros arrived.

When Shōta got the information that the pro he would usually hang out with was found seriously injured, he felt like he would have a heart attack.

He immediately rushed over to where he was told you were, only to see you lying down on the pavement, both heroes and paramedics surrounding you, some of them trying to stop your bleeding while others checked your pulse.

Aizawa froze in place, but his mind ran a thousand miles. The thought of really losing you crossed his mind, and he cursed himself for not being faster enough to save you.

He hated how helpless and hopeless he felt at that moment, and his eyes threatened to flood with tears as he stared at your unconscious being.

He was only brought back to reality when he saw you being lifted on a stretcher and carried into a waiting ambulance. Then, he immediately snapped out of his stupor, following after the sight of you, yelling out to the ambulance crew to allow him to follow suit.

But they stopped him, pulling him away from you through arms and brute force, pushing him back as he desperately tried to move forward.

He could not help but feel angry. How dare these strangers to take you away without him! You already were away from him for too long, and he blamed himself for that. 

He could not forgive himself for not being there with you, not protecting you, for allowing someone to hurt you. So he couldn't bear being apart from you any longer because he didn't want to lose you like this.

No, he couldn't lose you like this.

Then, he had to shout furiously at them, his voice breaking as he told them you were his partner, that they had to let him ride along with you, begging them to let him stay at your side.

And when they finally permitted him to stay, he ran freely towards you, throwing himself into the ambulance as fast as his legs could take him.

He didn't need to talk, didn't need to explain any further why he insisted on following the ambulance.

But he also couldn't sit still; he refused to. So he kept jumping around, asking the paramedics questions in hushed whispers, begging to know more. Anything to find out about how badly injured you were, whether you needed surgery... anything.

Eventually, a paramedic handed him a bottle of water, forcing him to drink it before politely asking him to keep his mouth shut, allowing them to focus on your injuries, which he obeyed without complaint.

They explained to him later on how lucky you were – you weren't deadly hurt, and even though you've lost a large amount of blood, your chances of survival were good, especially considering you are young and have excellent healing abilities.

But his relief came only after seeing you alive and breathing steadily, looking beautiful even in your weakened state.

And when you finally opened your eyes a little, your vision was hazy, so you blinked, inefficiently trying to adjust to the bright light shining directly in your face. But you couldn't, so you emitted a quiet sound in discomfort and protest, closing your eyes again.

Meanwhile, you heard a voice saying something, but it sounded weird and muffled. It wasn't right. Anyway, your eyes flickered open for half a second at the sound, closing again right after.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" The same voice asked, louder this time. It was a man's voice, sounding concerned.

Your thoughts slowly started to clear, but everything still hurt. Your head felt as heavy as a rock like someone was weighing it down with bricks. You felt exhaustion in your body that you have never felt before. You also were in pain.

You wanted to say yes to whatever question the man was asking, but it was hard. So, in the end, all you managed to do was nod weakly before falling asleep again.

The next time you woke up, you realized you were in what you assumed was a hospital room. Everything else you remembered was blurred, and you were confused about why you were there; or why you felt so tired.

But then, it hit you. You remembered the fight. The stabbing. The villains. Stain. The students.

Those kids…

…they saved you, right? Were they alright?

You tried to remember their fight after you fell, but you couldn't. You only remembered the impact of the villain's sword on your body and the pain. You recollected the blood. Then you remembered nothing.

You realized that someone was holding your hand, and you looked over at whoever it was, realizing that a man with black hair was looking at you worriedly. He must have been here waiting for a while.

You wanted to smile at him, but you also wanted answers. So you saved the small amount of energy you had for speaking. 

"How-" you rasped, barely being able to speak. You immediately trailed off as you became aware that your throat was sore and dry.

The man managed to smile softly at you, despite the worried expression he had on his face. He leaned closer, kissing your forehead gently. His skin was warm and soft, which made your breath hitch slightly. Then, he stroked your cheek with his thumb while his other hand intertwined with yours as he finally spoke to you.

"Don't worry, babe. The kids are fine." He informed you, his voice sounding gentle to your ears. "I'm sorry I couldn't get there sooner." He added after a while.

You wanted to tell him that he didn't have to apologize; that you didn't blame him. You were just happy that you were alive and that he was here with you now. 

But you couldn't speak without causing you an incredible amount of pain, so you settled for giving him a small smile, weakly squeezing his hand in reassurance – a gesture that he reciprocated.

You wanted to stay in this moment with him for a while longer, but you could feel yourself drifting again. You tried your best to keep yourself awake, keeping your eyes open. But you knew your efforts would be in vain anyway.

"Rest, sweetheart," Shōta told you, gently placing the back of his hand on your forehead, checking to see if you had a fever.

You felt your eyelids growing heavier by the second you felt the warmth of his touch, your gaze fixed on him, watching as his expression changed from concerned to something more gentle.

"I'll be here if you need anything, alright?" He assured, smiling softly at you before placing another tender kiss on your forehead, whispering some other words that you didn't quite catch.

You could tell he wanted to say something more, but your eyelids became heavier, and you quickly drifted back to sleep. 

You slept a lot longer, waking up once or twice during the night but staying half-conscious every time.

Each time you awoke feeling a little bit better, your body feeling less heavy somehow. You felt yourself getting stronger each time. And eventually, your eyes fluttered open to greet the sun, your senses returning fully to you. 

While you noticed where you still were, you were slightly startled to find that the man beside you had fallen asleep on his chair, the upper part of his body leaning over your hospital bed, his hair partially sprawled over his face and on the covers.

You gazed at him for a few moments, smiling at his sleeping face. The image of this man leaning on the bed in his usual resting posture made you think back to when he'd pass out from exhaustion on his desk while grading, and you'd reluctantly have to wake him up to get him to bed. 

Then, you gently ran the back of your fingers over his cheek before carefully brushing some of his messy hair away from his face. And he didn't stir. He just snored lightly, which made you giggle.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you enjoyed watching him sleep. He always looked so peaceful when he did, with his lips slightly parted, his breathing deep in his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his hand…

His hand was still wrapped around your fingers.

You smiled softly, deciding to entertain yourself by running your free fingers through your lover's hair, playing with his soft locks as you hummed under your breath, finding out that your throat wasn't sore anymore. 

His hair felt nice; it was silky smooth to the touch. And you had to admit it – you really enjoyed feeling the strands in your fingers. 

But you knew you should stop messing with his hair since he might wake up from your continuous fiddling. So, you stopped touching him, knowing it wouldn't be good to disturb him while he was sleeping – he needed the rest as much as you did.

Instead, you turned your attention to the monitors and tubes attached to your body. They seemed to all be in order, but your injuries still needed time to heal.

You didn't know for how long you'd been laid on that bed; it was the first time your mind was properly conscious while being awake since you got there.

After looking around the room for a few minutes, the door creaked open, allowing someone to come in, carrying a tray with medicine and a glass full of orange juice.

You were surprised to see Recovery Girl approaching your bed, and she smiled warmly at you once she realized you were awake.

"Good morning, L/n! Good to see you've woken up!" She said, her voice sounding as kind as ever.

You gave her a soft smile, slowly starting to sit yourself up, wincing as you felt a dull ache in your torso and stomach, only for you to defeatedly lay yourself back down. There was no way you could sit up straight like this.

Recovery Girl noticed your struggle and quickly put the tray down on the bedside table before slowly raising the head of the bed so that you could sit up for a bit without straining your torso as much.

"Thank you." You breathed gratefully, taking the glass of juice and the medicine she handed you afterward.

"That's no problem, dear. You made us worried." She replied, examining your injuries for a while. "Are you feeling alright now?"

"A little stiffer." You admitted quietly, afraid of waking the sleeping man curled up next to you, snoring softly.

"It feels like I've been run over by several cars, but otherwise, I'm okay." You explained.

"I'm sorry you feel like that." Recovery Girl responded, smiling reassuringly at you as she patted your forearm. "You have to rest a little more. You'll be fine soon; you are recovering well enough. Don't push yourself too hard, though." She said.

You nodded in agreement before asking her about your current situation. You wanted to know about everything that happened after you passed out that night: how long ago it was, how everyone else was, and so on.

And, once she made sure that you were stable enough for that much rambling, she started answering all of your questions.

You were completely out of consciousness for over two days, and the doctors who looked over you weren't sure if you would ever wake up. 

Because, even though none of your organs were seriously compromised, your body temperature had risen while you'd been knocked out, and you needed to face two minor surgeries, after all.

So your body hasn't adjusted to its normal range yet. Thus, due to your delicate condition, no one was allowed to stay or visit you as you were in the emergency room.

However, the hospital rules couldn't keep Shōta away from the hallways and waiting rooms: for the two days you were in a coma, he didn't leave the hospital.

He didn't sleep. He wouldn't even eat; he only did it because the students who fought alongside you that night came to visit you and found him there, looking more tired and down than ever, and forced him to take care of himself for a bit.

And taking advantage of the walk to the hospital, faced with the refusal of permission to visit you, the kids also helped Shōta request a hospital transfer. Because they knew that at least in the U.A infirmary, he could stay by your side.

On the third day, a few hours after being transferred to the U.A care, you woke up for the first time since the fight. 

But your consciousness wasn't stable yet, so you kept waking up and dozing back off several times, sometimes not even knowing you were awake.

And now, on your fifth day of recovery, you finally woke up fully conscious. However, this time your man was the one out of it.

Recovery Girl watched as you gazed attentively at the sleeping hero next to you.

After a few seconds of silent glances, she informed you that it was the first time she saw Shōta sleeping since your hospitalization. She also said he hadn't gone home the whole time you were recovering, watching over you nearly every moment, hoping anxiously to see you finally wake up.

You could imagine how exhausted he must have felt. And yet he had stayed by your side like he was afraid you would disappear without him knowing.

The older lady smiled as she perceived the adoration on your face while you looked back at Shōta. Then, patting your knee gently before telling you that you should rest for a while more, she turned and walked towards him, tapping his shoulder lightly.

He stirred a little but didn't wake up. And you immediately protested, telling the woman to let Shōta sleep, that he's been through a lot and deserved at least an hour of peace while he rested.

She chuckled, shaking her head at you.

"You know Shōta better than that, sweetie." She replied with a fond smile.

"He made me swear that I would wake him up if he passed out from exhaustion or call him if he was out as soon as you'd wake up. Besides, he won't rest well enough until he makes sure you're okay." She insisted. "Believe me, I tried to send him home for rest."

You sighed in defeat, giving in. You knew it was true. And anyway, you wanted to spend quality time with Shōta – just the two of you, alone together. 

However, Recovery Girl didn't push it further than that, instead choosing to leave the room after giving you a bow of her head and a gentle smile, leaving the decision of waking him up or not up to you.

Once she closed the doors behind her, you shifted your gaze back to Shōta. You didn't do anything for a few moments, not wanting to disturb him as he was deep in slumber. You couldn't help but stare at him for a while longer.

But even though you wanted him to have some bunch of rest, you knew Recovery Girl was telling you the truth. He wouldn't be passed out now if he didn't stay by your side all this time.

He deserved to know that you were okay now. He was exhausted from waiting for it.

You let another soft sigh pass through your lips, reaching your hand to brush over his hair.

You smiled sadly. Shōta was such a worrywart…

Finally, you gently called his name, patting his arm lightly.

"Shōta, sweetheart... please wake up." You murmured. "I want to talk to you."

You heard him murmur something in his sleep; probably a protest, but you weren't sure. So you tried again.

"Please, Shōta. Wake up." You repeated louder, shaking him lightly.

This time he opened his eyes slowly, blinking a couple of times to adjust them to the light around him. Once he did, he immediately focused on you, his pupils blown wide as he saw you awake, retracting right after due to the brightness in the room.

He sat straight again, letting out a relieved sigh as he saw your eyelids flicking close and open again, almost like a sleepy cat's, and your lips curled upwards slightly in a warm smile.

He reached his hand up to touch your cheek before pulling back fast as if hesitating to come too close to you.

"Are you alright?" He asked after a moment. He sounded almost afraid of his question.

Because, of course, he was. You were injured. 

Your smile widened a bit as you moved to touch his hand that was still resting on the bed with your own before finally answering his question.

"Yes, I'm fine, love. Just a little stiff… like I haven't slept properly for weeks." You explained. 

He nodded silently, processing your words. But the worry did not leave his expression afterward.

However, his expression turned softer as he stared at you with love, finally gathering the courage to place his hand on your cheek.

And when he noticed the dark circles under your eyes and the slight paleness in your skin, he frowned. You'd lost some weight too.

"How are you feeling now?" He questioned, brushing some loose strands of hair away from your forehead before bringing his thumb back to stroke your cheek tenderly.

"Sore." You merely replied, leaning into his touch with a small smile, closing your eyes for a second as you nuzzled his hand.

Then, you moved as you placed your hand around his palm on your cheek, caressing it affectionately.

"How about you? Are you alright?" You inquired, glancing up at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He assured you. "Don't concern yourself with me, please. I only need a good night's rest. That's all." He insisted.

"Okay." You said, nodding your head a little.

After another moment of hesitation, Shōta leaned forward slowly, pressing a chaste kiss against the corner of your lips. Then, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, his other hand intertwining itself with yours again.

He exhaled shakily, shutting his eyes tight. He was obviously holding back tears.

"...thank god you're okay." He whispered, though his words sounded like he needed someone to assure him that you were okay.

You smiled softly, trying to reassure him.

"I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Shōta breathed a few times, attempting to control his emotions. Then, he placed another soft peck on your lips before breaking the silence again.

"Y/n, I- '' His voice caught in his throat, so he cleared it before going on. "I'm sorry."

You blinked confusedly, trying to understand what he meant by this statement. "For what?"

He sighed deeply. "For not doing more." His face dropped, his shoulders slumping a little. "For not being able to save you, and… for not stopping someone from hurting you like that."

Now you looked even more confused than before. The last thing you wanted was Shōta blaming himself. Not now. And not for this. 

So you reached out to cup his face, trying your best to comfort him. But his gaze remained firmly fixed down.

"Sho, please look at me." You requested. And when he refused to obey right away, you repeated yourself. "Look at me, baby. Please."

Reluctantly, he looked up, desperately trying to hide the pain in his eyes, but it was impossible.

His eyes were puffy from both holding back tears for so long and exhaustion; they glistened with unshed tears and sorrow, making him appear extremely vulnerable – unlike the usual stoic Shōta, who hid his emotions behind a cold mask of indifference.

"Stop doing that. Stop being so hard on yourself." You scolded, wiping away a stray tear off his cheek. "There's no way I blame you for what happened. You're not responsible for any of this; none of it was your fault. I know you feel guilty over this, and believe me, I understand why you feel like that. And know that I forgive you if you feel the need to apologize. But please, don't be hard on yourself because of it. I'm happy to be alright and to have you here with me now." You reassured him with sincerity, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

His lips trembled slightly at your words, and you smiled, trying to give him the encouragement he needed.

After a few seconds, he let out another shaky breath.

"That was… a hellish week." He confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, still struggling to hold back tears. "I thought... I don't know... I thought I was losing you forever. And I couldn't bear that. It was too much... just too much."

As soon as he finished talking, another lone tear escaped his eye. And then another one appeared. Soon enough, his cheeks were wet with tears, and he had difficulty breathing.

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest at the sight of him crying, and you immediately began running your fingers through his black hair, trying to soothe him.

You weren't aware of exactly how long he cried, but eventually, he calmed down. And he sighed heavily, seemingly trying to compose himself.

When he opened his eyes, however, his red-rimmed gaze met yours, and you were smiling softly up at him.

So many things were swimming in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he gently kissed your temple, whispering "I love you" close to your ear.

Your smile widened, and you said your piece back. "And I love you." Before placing a kiss of your own on his lips.

Then, he returned your smile before bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing your fingertips. You chuckled softly at his action.

"Feeling better? ...better than earlier today, maybe?" You teased, earning yourself an amused scoff from him.

He shook his head, still smiling lightly. "Yeah. But I'll feel even better as long as you stay safe and sound in my arms until the day I die." He stated. 

"Well, if that's what it takes, then we'll do our best to accomplish it, alright?" You retorted, smiling. 

"Deal. I love you, and I don't usually love someone. So please don't get yourself killed. I still want to marry you." He added.

"Don't worry, I won't die on you, stud muffin." You joked.

Shōta scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Not funny."

You giggled quietly. "Love you too." You murmured, leaning forward slightly so that he could close the distance, capturing your lips in another gentle, sweet kiss.