Writer Of Writes

The sound of hinges echoed through the apartment, and the front door swung open. Your next words caught in your throat, your phone slipping from your hand when you saw him standing in the doorway.

His hair was a tangled, messy mop, sprawled across his face. His scarf hung loose and frayed, one end trailing across the floor behind him. His hero suit was stained with dirt and patches of dried blood. In his free hand was his phone, the screen illuminating his face.

You gasped, noticing the cut on his cheek and how the corner of his mouth was a mixture of black and blue, splattered with blood. The skin of his knuckles was chipped, colored a dark red, and bruised like his face.

“Hello,” he said, his voice raspy and his lips tugging back into something that resembled a smile.

“Shota!” You stumbled forward, grasping his arm. Your eyes scan over every bruise and cut. Your breathing staggered, heavy and shallow. “D-don’t just…‘hello’ me like that!” you scolded him. “You look…t-terrible, what happened? W-who hurt you? Did—a-are you?”

“I stopped them,” he said, lowering the phone. His thumb pressed the end call button. He took a breath, coughing slightly. “It wasn’t easy, but…I didn’t let them get away.”

“You didn’t…” You sighed, relief and frustration swirling inside your chest.

He briefly closed his eyes, swaying lightly on his feet.

“Shota…” you hissed, tightening your grip on his arm. “You can barely stand…” You swallowed thickly. “Sit down…for a minute.”

“Heh…” he gave a weak smile but didn’t protest as you helped guide him inside.

“Careful…” you warned as you helped him settle down in a nearby chair. Then you closed and locked the front door before turning back to him, hands on your hips.  

His scarf slid off his shoulders, pooling to the floor as he leaned back with a sigh. His head tilted to stare at the ceiling, his hair pooling over the edge of the chair. He pressed one hand against his forehead, feeling the soft ache that coursed through his bones.

When you looked at him now, you didn’t see the famed underground hero or the stern teacher. To you, he was just Shota. Bruised, battered, beaten, and undeniably human. You crouched in front of him, gently cupping his cheek, feeling the rough texture of his stubble. “You still insist on doing this, even though you’re quirkless now,” your eyes drifted to his eyepatch and the scars that littered his face.

“Someone has to,” he replied dully.

You sighed, biting your lip. The urge to continue scolding him was strong, but right now, he needed help. “You’re going to get cleaned up, and I’m going to help you,” you said sternly. “Now come on, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

He looked at you but didn’t fight it. He groaned as he pushed himself off the chair, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, helping steady him as the two of you navigated to the bathroom.

“Now stay still, and lean against the counter,” you instructed as you helped peel away his ruined uniform. You made a mental note to throw it away later. For now, you were more preoccupied with the scars and bruises that marked his skin. He had a lean build, fit and somewhat muscular, but not too overpowering. “Hold on,” you said, walking over to the tub and turning the water on. Then you fetched a small washcloth and ran it under warm water before pressing it gently against his jaw, wiping away the dried blood.

He hissed faintly as you went higher, pressing the cloth against the corner of his mouth. It left behind a sting, but he clenched his jaw, trying to bear it for you.

“Does it hurt?” you replied, noting the way he winced.

He took a long, drawn-out breath and reached up, lightly wrapping his fingers around your wrist, leaning into your touch. “It’s fine,” he replied, his eyelashes fluttering as he tried to fight off the drowsiness, a clear sign that his adrenaline was wearing off.

“Mm…” you didn’t believe him but made quick work of cleaning the worst of the dirt and blood, being careful with his knuckles and the remaining cut on his cheek. After throwing the towel in the sink, you leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

His breath hitched, a lump forming in his throat at your simple gesture of affection. “You…don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“I want to,” you replied, your voice soft and low. “Don’t argue with me,” you warned, “after making me worry so damn much about you.” Your lips brushed against his cheek next. “If you insist on being a hero and protecting everyone. Then I get to take care of you after.”

A quiet exhale left him, and his posture loosened. His heart seemed to beat just a bit faster. He knew what he was risking when he decided to continue being a hero after the war. But so many people depended on heroes, and so many of them abandoned the profession when things got hard. So, he needed to fill the space, to continue making heroes shine.  

You turned off the water in the tub, gently skimming your hands across it to test the temperature before helping him over. “Take it slow,” you warned him, grasping onto his arm as he lowered himself into it.

He sighed as the warm water enveloped him, easing the tension in his body. Closing his eyes, he sank further into the water, letting his head rest against the edge of the tub.

You smiled, happy to see him finally relaxed. You turned, ready to give him some space, when his hand caught yours. “Hm?” you turned, meeting his gaze.

Silence drifted between the two of you before he murmured, “Stay.”

You raised your eyebrow, your eyes wide. Even after years of being together, it was rare to see him this unguarded, this vulnerable.

 “Please. Stay close.”

Your heart tightened, acting as a reminder of just how well he could pull at the strings. You took a deep breath. “Well…I was going to give you some privacy,” you replied, “but if you insist,” you knelt beside the tub. “I’ll stay.” You smiled, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead.

He sighed, finding comfort in your touch before closing his eyes again.

Grabbing another washcloth, you dipped it into the water, wringing it out carefully before gliding it down his arms and across his shoulders.

His body loosened under your touch, melting the remaining tension away.

You smiled as you continued to lean over him, gently gliding the cloth over his chest before pausing. The way he leaned against the tub, his eyes closed, and his face absent from emotion. It was almost like he was sleeping, and frankly, you enjoyed seeing him at peace.

“Hm?” he peeked one eye open.

You noted the way he was looking at you before leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. “I'm happy to see you like this. Relaxed and...safe,” although you knew he'd just do it all over again. Risk his life, come home injured for you to take care of. Still, you took some assurance in the fact that he was still alive, that his heart was still beating, and he was in one piece.

He let out a low hum, his hand coming to cradle the back of your neck. Droplets fell from his skin, creating a soft rhythm as they hit the surface of the water. He sighed, “I lost almost everything before and after the war,” he muttered quietly against your mouth.

A slight shiver ran down your spine, his hot breath against your lips making your heart quicken and yet sink at his words.

“My quirk, my leg, my eye,” he continued, “Shirakumo.” That one left the biggest sting. “Those things, they used to define me, my skills, my relationships. The way I failed to protect others.”

Your frown deepened, but there was some truth to his words. His quirk was considered unique, and without it, he was at a disadvantage. Shirakumo might have been what drove him to where he was now. Feeling as though he failed to protect an old friend might be the source of why he pushed himself so hard now, even at the risk of his own life.

Doesn’t he realize that he didn’t fail to protect anyone?

His leg and his eye were proof of that, proof of the price he sacrificed to ensure everyone’s well-being, including his students and yours.

“So, I must try. I won’t fail to protect anyone now,” he pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers tightening in your hair. “To protect you,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears stinging your eyes, but you smiled. “Shota…” you said, kissing him more firmly. “You haven’t almost failed. You still have me. You’re still here, your students are safe. That’s not going to change,” you assured him. “What happened with Shirakumo...wasn’t your fault, it was just...unfortunate circumstances driven by a villain who can no longer hurt anyone.”

The silence stretched between you, and the gentle splash of water as he shifted his position.

Then he exhaled, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. He couldn’t deny there was some truth to your words. In this moment, while he had lost some things he couldn’t get back, and it may have felt like it was his fault. He had you, he had his friends, he had his students. Maybe that was enough.

You gave a faint smile and continued washing him. Pressing soft kisses to each scar you saw until the lines of exhaustion disappeared from his face.

The steam that once lingered from the water, making the air warm, had disappeared, and you noticed how the temperature changed.

 “The water is getting cold,” you said after a moment, looking over his body to ensure you had properly cleaned him. “I think it’s time you got up. I’ll patch your wounds.”

“Mm, alright,” he replied.

You smiled, grasping onto his arm as he rose from the tub. The pellets of water falling from his body created a frantic rhythm, and his hair clung damp to his face.

Carefully, you helped him step out of the tub, noticing how his body trembled, but you weren’t sure if it was from the pain, exhaustion, or the cool air hitting his skin.

Regardless, he leaned into you, his arm securely around you once more, using you as an anchor. Something that acted as a reminder that he trusted you completely.

“Lean against the counter again,” you instructed before patting his chest and arms dry. Then you moved to his legs.

He watched you in silence, his gaze heavy, unreadable.

You could feel his stare and slowly tilted your head up. “What?” you asked, your cheeks slightly flushed under the intensity of his stare.

He watched you a moment more before his lips curled into a smile. His voice low and husky, “Nothing.” Honestly, he had trouble showing his emotions, but now, he was reminded how lucky he was to have you.

“Heh, right…” You replied before tying the towel around his waist. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” You kept one hand on his arm, the other securely on his hip as the two of you slowly wandered into the bedroom. Once there, you guided him to sit on the edge before grabbing the first aid kit. You had learned by now to be prepared.

He watched as you pulled out the disinfectant, and his jaw tightened at the antiseptic sting; however, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he brushed his fingers against yours whenever you leaned close, grounding himself.

After a few minutes, you leaned back and grabbed some bandages. Carefully dressing the cut on his cheek before moving on to the rest of his body. Once you were satisfied that every wound was covered, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, another to his forehead, and finally one to his lips.

His eyes widened, and his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His lips pressing against yours, slowly, deliberately. Like a quiet fire that spoke louder than any words he could possibly muster. Gratitude, love, kindness, all poured into a single passionate kiss.

Your eyes widened, and your hands immediately pressed against his chest. Your heart pounding as you noted how fiery his kiss was, the way his lips worked against yours, and the gentle wetness of his tongue swiping across your mouth seeking entrance. It was almost too much. You gasped when he finally pulled back. Your cheeks flushed, and your lips were slightly swollen. “S-Shota…” you whispered, hand now pressed against your chest. “T-that was…”

“Heh,” he chuckled lowly and gently cupped your face, pressing his forehead against yours. His voice was rough, but steady, “I thought I’d lost everything that made me who I am, but tonight.” His thumb brushed across your cheek. “You reminded me that I still have things worth living for,” he said, his eyes sparkling with determination. “Which is why I’ll try to get stronger, build myself up so I can come home to you at the end of the day with fewer bruises and cuts.”

Your throat tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, slowly dribbling down your cheeks. “Shota…” you chuckled, sniffling quietly. “You don’t have to…you’re already strong, you’re already enough.”

Another moment of silence lingered between the two of you, filled only with the sound of your breathing.

His eyes softened, and he gently brushed your stray tears away before leaning closer, pressing his lips against yours again. Gentler this time, and when he pulled away, he gave a faint smile. “Stay close to me tonight,” he lightly demanded.

You chuckled, your tongue sweeping across your lips. “Okay,” you replied, “let me help you into bed.” Grabbing a loose shirt and boxers, you helped him get dressed before pulling the covers back. Once you had guided him the short distance to the head of the bed, and made sure he was secure, you slipped in beside him.

“Yes, and I’m quite certain that—” Tenya Iida paused when he noticed you, currently hunched over your laptop and looking rather distressed.

“Hm?” Tamaki Amajiki noticed how he had absurdly stopped mid-conversation and glanced up. “I-is that Y/n?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, grasping his chin. “Although I wonder what they are doing. It’s almost curfew, and all Class A students are to be in their assigned dormitory bedrooms,” he stated, his hand chopping through the air as he spoke.

“Uh,” he trembled in response, almost thankful that the other wasn’t his class president. All that authority and rules made him feel uneasy, and frankly, he wouldn’t want to be yelled at for missing curfew. Still, he couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air and the way you seemed preoccupied with whatever was on the screen of your laptop. “M-maybe they need help?”

“Hm…” He narrowed his eyes, considering his words. “Perhaps, you are correct.”

Okay, never mind what I said! You clenched your jaw, feeling your stomach continuing to twist and your thoughts continue to multiply. You had been sitting here, growing more distracted by the hour as opposed to being able to focus on your work. Maybe…I could live with a bad grade? Either way, your shoulders slumped as you sighed and reached up to close your laptop when—

“Pardon.”

You blinked. “Huh?” Turning your head, you jolted when you saw the two of them standing there. “Uh…Iida…Amajiki, what are you doing here?”

“Perhaps we could inquire the same regarding your presence here,” he replied, reaching up to adjust his glasses. “I’m quite certain you are aware of the curfew for Class A.”

You furrowed your brow, “W-well yeah but—”

“Do you require help with something?”

You blinked, somewhat baffled by his bluntness before you looked at Tamaki who seemed to be as quiet as ever, just observing the conversation happening between the two of you.

“I…” you latched onto your lip. On one hand, you knew it wasn’t bad to ask for help. On the other, it might be embarrassing to admit that you couldn’t do your work because you were distracted by your own thoughts. You sighed, deciding it was better to be honest, and who knows? Maybe they could help you. Pointing to your laptop, you said, “It’s just…this assignment.”

“A-assignment?” Tamaki peeped up, taking a cautious step closer as he looked at the screen, noting the discussion board.

“Hm…” he leaned closer as well, quickly reading the discussion prompt before leaning back up. His hand grasping his chin, “I see,” he replied. “What exactly are you having trouble with?”

You frowned and reached up, running a hand through your hair. “I…the…it’s…” you groaned, cursing your inability to even properly convey what was the actual issue. You slammed your hand on the table, causing Tamaki to stumble back. Your eyes widen, “S-sorry,” you commented before turning to Tenya.

He wanted to scold you for causing a disturbance in the otherwise quiet space and for scaring your senior, but he refrained from doing such. Especially given that he sensed your distressed state. “Y/n,” he said, his voice slightly stern but still holding that unmistakable gentleness, “breathe.”

That’s easy for him to say. You frowned, but nonetheless, followed his advice and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“A-and maybe d-don’t make any sudden noises again, p-please?” Tamaki added, standing a little away from you now.

You looked at him, feeling a small ping of guilt. “R-right…” you replied, rubbing the back of your head. “S-sorry again…”

“If I may,” he pressed a hand to his chest, “perhaps breaking this task down into smaller steps would allow you to better focus on the assignment.” Although, he was still unclear with what you needed help with.

“How would that help!?” you whined in response before rubbing your temples, obviously frustrated. The words, “I can’t even get started,” slipped out before you could swallow them back. You tensed up, cringing slightly. “I…I mean…”

“Y-you can’t get started?” Tamaki asked, furrowing his brow. He knew that some assignments were challenging, and at times the way questions were phrased could make it harder to understand how to respond.

“Ah,” he drew a breath, his voice steady but careful. “I see…so you’ve been sitting here for hours, unable to start the assignment itself,” he furrowed his brow in thought.

“Mm…you don’t have to put it like that,” you said, a slight pout on your lips and your cheeks slightly flushed. Just as you suspected, it was a little embarrassing to admit you needed help with this.

He adjusted his glasses, the light catching off the lenses. “Perhaps a structured plan would help you,” he suggested, “as I stated before, creating smaller steps may—”

“That doesn’t matter!” you interrupted, your voice slightly cracking as you hung your head. “This…stupid assignment feels impossible. Everyone else…had no problem,” you said, stealing a glance at the screen, and once again feeling like the replies were mocking you. “I…I just can’t…”

Tamaki frowned at your confession, his hands tugging at the bottom of his shirt. “Y-you um…m-maybe that’s o-okay?” he offered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe…opening the a-assignment is enough for…today, uh…it counts as p-progress, right?”

“No,” you replied, slight panic to your voice, “the…assignment is due today.” You groaned and leaned over, your head connecting with the space beside your laptop. “I feel broken.”

“Y-you’re not broken…”

He nodded. “I agree,” he said, “everyone is conditioned to learn and understand at their own pace.”

“Y-yeah,” he swallowed, feeling his stomach churn. This was so awkward, and how could he possibly help you? He knew he couldn’t let you continue believing that you were broken, that much was for sure. “Mm…” he ducked his head, almost wishing he was wearing a hoodie so he could hide his face, which was turning redder by the second. “You…you j-just think differently…” The tips of his ears slowly turn red as he forced himself to hold your gaze for a heartbeat before shyly glancing away again.

“I believe, Amajiki is correct,” he replied, looking at you with a smile. “Comparing yourself to the progress of others is quite detrimental to your own sense of self-worth,” he stated, his hand rapidly chopping through the air, his voice growing higher and prouder with each word, “and it appears as though you have been putting in effort, having been sitting here for countless hours attempting to begin your assignment.”

Your throat tightened at his words. Is he right? Even if you felt like you were putting too much pressure on yourself and that your lack of being able to start made you feel as if you had not put any effort in? 

His hand came to a halt, and his voice dropped to a low and sincere tone. “Such things do not equate to being broken as you have stated.”

Despite his throat feeling tight, Tamaki shifted on his feet and hesitantly reached out to brush your sleeve with his fingertips.

The subtle gesture of affection caught your attention, although you noticed he still looked as nervous as ever.

“W-we can sit with you?” he suggested.

While there was still the lingering doubt in the back of your mind, the one that stated it was your fault for being distracted, for allowing your thoughts to carry you away from your task, you found yourself smiling. Even if a little. “Wow…” you chuckled, “y-you guys would really do that for me?”

“Of course,” he said, straightening his posture. “Perhaps we could use the method I mentioned previously,” he pulled out his phone. “The Pomodoro method incorporates twenty-five minutes of focus coupled with five-minute breaks; I can assist by keeping the time for you.”

“A-and…m-maybe I could…help you come up with uh, w-ways to get started on your assignment?”

The heaviness in your chest loosened, and the knots in your stomach slowly unraveled. “I…I think I’d appreciate that…” you said, your voice somewhat quiet as you turned back to your laptop and navigated to the reply button.

He smiled and started the timer. “Twenty-five minutes begins now,” he announced.

Tamaki pulled a chair closer and watched as you typed out a single sentence, and then paused.

“Uh, i-is something wrong?”

You sighed and turned to him. “I don’t know how to answer this…” You admitted.

“M-maybe we can…do some research? Uh, maybe…something related to this…” he said, pointing at a particular section of the discussion post prompt.

Tenya leaned down, quickly reading it. “Yes, perhaps that would be a good starting point,” he agreed, “and then we can work on connecting it altogether for an effective answer.”

“Uh,” you furrowed your brow, feeling another surge of panic come. However, you quickly drew a breath. “O-okay um…” you exhaled, “I can try that.”

They remained quiet as you worked, doing a bit of research as they suggested before coming up with more words. The progress may have been slow, but it was progress nonetheless, and you found yourself less distracted with the support of your friends.

His eyes flickered between the screen and his timer, steady and unwavering.

You feel a rush of relief wash over you when the timer finally goes off, making you flinch.

“Excellent,” he praised, “it appears as though the structured approach works rather efficiently for you,” he noted the paragraphs you had written. Some were shorter than others, but he was proud of you.

Tamaki smiled. “Y-yeah…um…” he swallowed, “you…you d-did it…”

“Heh,” you chuckled softly, finding yourself more grounded. Maybe Tenya was right, maybe your inability to keep on task wasn’t something that should be viewed as negative, but something you could overcome by finding your own rhythm.

At the next interval, you found that you typed easier, more confidently, and only paused when you needed to. Tenya ensured to praise your progress, and Tamaki continued to whisper quiet reassurance. Their combined efforts make the chaos in your head a little less distracting.

It felt like forever had passed before you finally closed your laptop again and leaned back with a loud exhale of relief.

“You were quite diligent with your efforts,” he stated with an encouraging smile, raising his hand to lightly chop it through the air. “I do hope that you feel a sense of pride, as such is well deserved!”

“Y-yeah,” Tamaki agrees shyly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before slowly looking away. “I-if…you e-ever…um…n-need help again, I-I’m sure we’d be happy to…”

“Yes, of course! We’d always be glad to assist you!”

"Creepy," someone would say.

"Looks like she belongs with villains," another would speculate.

Even after you enrolled at UA, the prejudice didn't stop. You just remained with a mask, one that was created from a scowl that, in comparison, made Katsuki Bakugo look approachable, and why not? You had been judged all your life, grown to hate your quirk. Was there actually something you should be happy about here?

It was easier—to wear a mask. After all, if everyone was going to paint you that way, you might as well play the part.

Yet, you noticed one person who never seemed to look at you with hatred or judgment. One person, who dared not comment or speak about you.

Tamaki Amajiki. He was older, a third-year hero student and part of The Big Three.

The moment you laid eyes on him, you knew, he too, was different. Quiet like you, but also timid with a touch of shyness. You noticed he had a habit of hiding behind his hood when dressed in his hero attire or took to facing the wall when he was in front of a crowd.

Yet, whenever he looked at you, his stare never lingered too long on your shadows, and he never flinched when you used your quirk during training. If anything, he treated you like you were...normal.

"Heh, what's the matter, Tamaki?" Mirio asked, lightly shoving him with his elbow.

"Yeah," Nejire commented, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You've been staring at Y/n for a while now."

He jolted and looked at his friends, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. "W-well, I...um..." he groaned, pulling his hood down to cover his face. Had his friends really caught him staring at you? He didn't mean to stare, "I-it's...j-just that...well...I n-notice the way Y/n...u-uses her quirk."

She blinked, confusion sparkling in her eyes. "Her quirk?"

He swallowed hard, nodding.

"Well, what about her quirk, dude?" He asked, hands on his hips.

He groaned again, looking at his long-time friend with uncertainty. "W-well, I..." he paused, wondering if he should confess. "I...t-think I know how...she c-can control it better."

"You do? That's awesome!" he chuckled and slapped him on the back. "Why don't you go tell her then?"

"T-tell her!?"

"Yeah," she replied, stepping behind him to give him a push. "Go on!" she encouraged, making him stumble forward.

He fumbled a bit before regaining his balance and looked at his friends, who did nothing but smile and motion him to take another step forward. He sighed, feeling his stomach twist as his gaze settled upon you.

You leaned over, hands on your knees, your breathing shallow and deep. Sweat dripping down the side of your temple was a sign of how overworked you felt during this training exercise.

"Um, e-excuse me..."

You paused, your gaze drifting to Tamaki.

He was standing there, hands trembling and hood covering his face. His gaze was focused on the ground, his toes curling against the ground.

"Hm?" you blinked, a smile coming to your otherwise rough features. It was strange how he was the only one who could get you to smile. You dared to step forward, noticing how he flinched, and it reminded you of why people were frightened of you, why you decided to put on a mask. You'd be lying if you said that moment didn't make your heart sink in your chest all over again.

"Uh...um, s-sorry, it's just that uh..." he swallowed thickly, shyly glancing at you before averting his gaze.

"Yes?"

"I...uh, n-noticed...how you use your q-quirk and I thought…maybe I c-could help you...with it?" He latched onto his lip, his eyes softening with an almost pleading glance. I wanna go home.

In this moment, you may not have realized it. But you liked him. The way he walked up to you, despite being shy, and offered help with your quirk. Well, that wasn't something anyone had ever done before, and in a way, it made you feel...wanted? How strange.

"What did you have in mind?" You looked at him, your gaze still holding a steel appearance, but a willingness to consider what he had to say.

"W-well, I...um..."

You furrowed your brow, taking a step forward when a loud bang echoed through the air, and you could feel the heat surge through your skin, peeling away the fabric that constructed your hero suit.

He winced, shielding his body from the blast before his eyes widened, and the reality of the situation set in.

"Tch," the sound of lips smacking together echoed, followed by a low, almost mocking laughter. "Just what I'd expect from a damn extra," Katsuki Bakugou's voice came, followed by a soft thud as he landed on the ground. "Act all tough, trying to upstage me, but you're just as pathetic as the rest of these losers!"

"Oh," he hitched his breath, his arms still burning from the impact of the explosions, and his lips pressed tightly together, his body stiff, anticipating your reaction.

A deep growl came, your fists tightly clenched at your sides, and your quirk slowly surging. At first, it was calm, like a brewing storm; your shadows swirling together. Then, like a crack of lightning, it split into sharp spikes. Some pierced through the ground as if it were made from paper, while others targeted your classmates who screamed and moved quickly out of the way. Your eyes turned black, as if acting as a reminder of how dangerous you are, and why you earned the reputation you did.

While everyone else seemed to panic, trying their best to avoid getting injured by your quirk gone haywire, Tamaki stepped forward, not with confidence or determination like his closest friend, Mirio, but with frightened certainty. He took a steady breath, ignoring how his heart pounded, and his body shook subtly as his eyes met yours, despite the shadows that were beginning to cling to your body like a disease.

Another growl came, and your eyes locked with his in return. "Get away from me," you demanded, your voice low and demonic, as if being transmitted from Hell itself.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, and for a moment, fear and doubt flashed in his eyes, but he tried to shake it off. He couldn't stop now. The way you looked at him, despite his shy and sometimes awkward nature, didn't hold any judgment. Not like others who saw him, and didn't believe he was capable of much, let alone being one of the strongest hero students at UA. It was like there was a silent connection between the two of you, and that connection stemmed from being so different than the rest.

He took a deep breath, "N-no." He dug his feet into the ground, his fingers morphing into familiar tentacles that shot out, wrapping tightly around you. However, even with your arms bound at your sides, those shadows continued to billow around you, spikes regrowing and stretching out to cause more damage.

"Let me go!" You demanded, your teeth pressed together, but your eyes were watering as you struggled against his hold. You knew you were losing control of your quirk. With each moment that passed, it was almost like the shadows were overtaking your sense of being.

"J-just calm down!" he pleaded, wincing slightly as one of the spikes pierced through one of his tentacles, but he pressed on. "C-close your eyes...a-and reel them in," he said gently, despite the chaos unfolding.

"R-reel them in!?" you repeated, almost wanting to spit at his idea. "I c-can't even control my quirk right now!" You stomped against the ground, making it crumble beneath you and once again strained against his grip.

He pressed his teeth together, buckling his knees as he pulled his arm back, dragging you closer to him. "Y-yes, you can!" he argued. "C-can’t you just...try?" His confidence slipped, but even so, that didn't change the fact that he was determined to help you as a hero should.

Your eyes softened, and your lips parted. He...believes in me? The fact that he was even reaching out to you, dragging you closer to him, made you feel like a person. Not a villain disguised as a hero student.

Can I do it though? You looked around, witnessing the still frightened faces of your classmates through the debris that swirled around you. Some of them continued dodging the shadowy spikes you created, while others tried defending against them.

Taking a long, drawn-out breath, you looked back at him. Your heart slightly aching, and though a trickle of doubt still brewed in the back of your mind, you closed your eyes. Reel them in. You focused on the burning feeling deep within you, the one that made your stomach turn, the one that poisoned your head with self-hatred, and slowly fought against it. Breathing in and out, replacing it with the feeling that Tamaki had instilled within you. The one that made you believe you just admired him and nothing more.

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling slightly as he watched you relax. The black shadows that surrounded you slowly disappeared, the spikes shrinking as you reeled them back in.

You could feel a soft warmth forming where that burning fire once was, and when you opened your eyes, they were no longer black, but rather bright. As if you were looking at the world for the first time, and for the first time, someone was standing in front of you that didn't view your quirk as villainous or find your mean face off-putting. You were even certain he didn't view you as mean but rather someone that...just needed a friend.

From that day on, however, you slowly began to realize that viewing him as a friend or ally wasn't entirely correct. Your heart fluttered every time you saw him, and your stomach twisted into knots. The little details about him, from his shy smile to his quiet bravery, coupled with the fact that he looked at you like you weren't the least bit frightening, were all too noticeable.

Although, since the training exercise incident, you noticed your classmates, and most of the first and second years seemed even more scared of you. Not because your usual scowl wasn't present, but perhaps because of the happy glint in your eye.

Even so, their whispered comments, "Is that the girl who almost destroyed the training grounds?" and "I heard that she almost killed all her classmates," fell on deaf ears.

I can't believe this...You held your breath as you stood across the gym, your palms unusually sweaty, and your scowl slipping into a nervous smile as you stared at him. I guess my feelings go beyond just admiring him...In fact, you were certain that you...liked him. More than liked him, actually. And...naturally, you wanted to confess such a thing to him. Sure, maybe you'd get rejected, but that wouldn't erase the way he had changed your life.

"Amajiki?"

"Ah!" he jumped, startled by your sudden appearance. He turned, his eyes locked on you, and panic etched across his features as if he thought you were going to yell at him. "Uh, Y-Y/n," he said, "what...um w-what do you need?"

You smiled, placing your hands behind your back. Your pulse increased, and the sound of your heart pounding echoed in your ears. An unusual warmth spread across your cheeks, making your appearance look bright and radiant, a stark contrast to what it usually was. "I...I just wanted to say..." you glanced away, hesitating for a moment.

"Hm?" he noticed the soft red tint of your cheeks and the way your appearance was somehow different today. More...noticeable.

You took a deep breath, voice trembling. "I...I like you a lot!" you announced, the sound echoing slightly off the walls, and maybe it was the nerves finally getting to you, or your newfound sense of honesty; either way, the words spilled from your mouth faster than you could comprehend. "You're...r-really kind, and brave, and you've never looked at me...l-like I'm a villain," like everyone else does, even more so now.

His eyebrows raised, and his lips parted. He knew you had a reputation, but he didn't think it was so bad that a school designed for heroes still made you feel like a villain. He wanted to speak up, to say something, and yet the words seemed frozen in his throat.

You fidgeted, your fingers nervously playing with one another. "You m-make me feel normal, and I just...wanted you to know that."

The silence that lingered was deafening, and you swore you could feel eyes on you. Likely, your classmates wondering why you were talking to Tamaki.

He opened his mouth again, but just as quickly closed it. His face was a delightful shade of dark red, and he almost wished his gym uniform came with a hood so he could cover his face. For now, he'd have to settle for hiding it with his hands. "Y-you're....joking, right?" he replied, his voice quivering. "P-people, d-don't say things like t-that to me unless....unless t-they want to torment me..."

Your eyes widened. "W-what?!" you blurted out, shaking your head. Your shadows swirled some at your feet but otherwise remained calm. "I-I'm not joking!" you insisted. "I t-think..." you grumbled, glancing away, "I think you're amazing...Amajiki."

He jolted at your words. "A-amazing?" he repeated the word like it was an insult. "I d-don't think so," he muttered, his hands still pressed against his face. "I...I j-just...I w-wanted to help...you always seemed so s-strong and confident...like Mirio..." he admitted, his voice cracking some as he turned to face the wall. "I...I care what o-others think about me...but you...it d-doesn't seem to bother you and I...I wanna be like that."

You furrowed your brow, lips parted slightly. Did I hear him right? Did he just say he admired the way you didn't care and that you were strong and confident? "A-are you saying you...admire me too?"

His shoulders hunched, "I...I um..."

You chuckled, the sound soft and sweet.

"Hm!?" he jolted, he had never heard you laugh before, and the sound made his stomach backflip as he slowly turned to look at you.

You felt a soft warmth swirl in your chest, and your shoulders felt less heavy, as if, for the moment, the weight of your troubles was nonexistent. "I wasn't trying to scare you," although you knew you had a reputation for scaring damn near everyone. "I just...really like you, I'm not joking about that."

He swallowed hard, his eyes shifting to the door, and for a moment, he contemplated running. But then, a shuddered breath came, and he nodded. Despite his hands shaking, he reached out, brushing his knuckles against yours. "Uh, t-thank you," he muttered, his fingers slowly grasping your hand.

While it was touching to see, it also left a sting. You looked toward the entrance, still holding on to the lingering, pathetic hope that your father would walk through the doors at any minute; however, you reminded yourself of the reality of the situation and exhaled loudly. Smoothing over the fabric of your dress, you slowly made your way to the row of chairs that were propped up against the opposite wall.

“Hey, Y/n!” Uraraka cheerfully greeted, with an almost empty plate of food in her hand. “Where’s your Dad?” She asked with a furrowed brow.

“Oh...uh, well...” you paused, recalling the events that had occurred earlier today.

The morning sunlight stretched across your family’s estate, reflecting off the gold pieces that made up the shoulders of your father's hero suit. He was currently standing in the kitchen, ensuring he had a proper lunch to take to his agency.

You watched him from the doorway, dressed in your UA uniform. Normally, you’d be at the UA student campus, but you had gotten special permission to spend the night at your house instead. There was something you needed from him, and it was that something that created the heavy uncertainty lingering in the air. “Uh,” you hesitated, “…Dad?”

His sharp gaze turned to you, his eyes holding their natural steel appearance. The one that made you wonder if he held any emotion at all.

You trembled a bit under his stare but cleared your throat. “That dance is tonight.” Glancing down, you could feel the knots in your stomach growing tighter. A part of you wasn’t sure why you were even bothering to remind him. “It’s…the father-daughter one I told you about before.” You nervously rubbed the back of your neck. “I was thinking maybe—”

“I’ll try.”

Those were the same three words he always used. The ones that you had long since tried to stop clinging to. Stop hoping that for once, he'd actually keep his word. Your shoulders stiffened, and your eyes widened before glancing away. A frown on your lips.

“Oh, okay…”

You knew he wasn’t going to come. He never did. Still, you forced a smile on your face, “Good luck with work today.”

Shrugging, you said, “Well, you know, he’s busy…as always.” Having a hero for a father wasn’t all that easy, and if you were frank, you did feel neglected from time to time.

“What?” she responded, her face contorting into something of pity and horror. “He’s…too busy?” she asked. “E-even to come here?”

You shrugged, “I suppose so.”

“Well, maybe I could—” She paused when she heard her father calling her. She looked at him and back at you.

You gave a bittersweet laugh, your heart pulsing with an all too familiar ache. “It’s alright,” you assured her, “go have fun. Dance with your Dad.”

She hesitated as the music shifted to something more upbeat. She exhaled, “Alright,” she said, “but…if you need anything, I’m here.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Ochako,” you replied, watching as she disappeared onto the dance floor with her father. You sighed and hung your head. The ache in your chest continued to gnaw at you, but again this was to be expected.

Shota Aizawa stood in the corner, casually sipping on his drink. The fruity mix tasted strange on his tongue and a touch too sugary. His eyes scanned the dance floor before drifting off to the side. He tilted the cup back, ready to take another sip, when he noticed you sitting all alone. He furrowed his brow before throwing away his drink and making his way over to you.

Part of you just wanted to get up, leave, and forget this night even happened while another part was too shy and scared to move. Damn it…what the hell should I do? Why did I even come here?!

“Why aren’t you dancing, where’s your father?”

You hitched your breath, startled as you looked up. Your paranoid thoughts shattered as you saw Shota Aizawa, aka Eraserhead, the hero department’s teacher, standing just a few steps away from you. His scarf hung loosely around his neck as usual, and his expression was unreadable, but that usual intensity still lingered in his eyes, one that demanded an answer to his question.

“Oh, um, it’s okay really I—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Your shoulders stiffened. “Uh…” Of course, he’d say that. He was known for his stern and sometimes unforgiving nature. You looked away. “Well…you know my Dad,” you said, “he’s always a little too busy for…things like this.” Your shoulders slumped, and you leaned back in the chair. “I…didn’t expect him to make time for this.”

He grumbled in response, turning his head to once again observe the other students dancing with their fathers. But, in your case, there seemed to be severe neglect on your father’s part. He understood more than anyone the demands that a hero had to deal with, but this? He hated to admit it, but he wouldn’t stand for it.

You could feel the shift in the air, that awkward but angry tension seeping from him. Those knots from earlier returned, making you feel nauseous, and you promptly stood up. “It…i-it doesn’t matter,” you said, awkwardly chuckling.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, huh?” he replied, obviously not buying your words.

“Mm…” You looked toward the exit. “I think I’ll just go get some air or go back to the student dorm.” Either one sounded better than just sitting around, playing the part of a pathetic wallflower. You turned, but when you took a step forward, you felt something grab your wrist.

“Wait…” he urged, keeping his grip firm but gentle.

You froze, your pulse quickening when you realized he had grabbed your wrist. When you looked back at his face, his eyes that held a sharp and guarded gaze were now soft.

He took a deep breath, sighing. He couldn’t just ignore the sorrow and hurt that lingered over you. “It’s no surprise you’re feeling upset because your father isn’t here,” he said, releasing your wrist.

Your body stiffened, like you were frozen in ice. “T-that’s not—”

“I want to ask you something. Answer me honestly."

“Huh?” You looked at him, knowing what he was going to ask. “Mr. Aizawa,” you replied, shaking your head. “It’s okay,” you gazed at the floor. “This happens a lot with my Dad, he’s so busy and…he misses a lot,” you explained, shrugging. “Like I said, it…doesn’t matter,” at least that’s what you’d tell yourself, “this dance was silly to begin with.”

He frowned, hearing that lingering hurt you tried to hide within your voice.

You rubbed your arm. “I actually just…really want to go back to the dorm and forget all this,” you could feel a soft warmth filling your cheeks, evidence of the embarrassment you felt confessing such a thing to him.

He frowned at your response, his heart aching as he noticed how casual you were trying to be about this. If you were so used to this, he couldn’t help but wonder how many other occasions your father had missed and how long you had been suffering like this. Granted, he admired how strong you remained. He hesitated for a moment, almost in disbelief at the next words he was about to speak. “Dance with me before you go, then,” he said, offering his hand.

“Huh!?” you took a step back, looking at his hand with wide eyes. “What? You…me...dance?”

His brow arched, and he resisted the urge to sigh. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he said, grabbing your hand and guiding you toward the dance floor before you could argue.

The music was slow and steady. His hand was warm against yours, and his other took firm grip on your waist.

“Uh, a-are we really doing this?” you asked, slightly panicked. You could already feel eyes on you.

 “Heh,” he gave you a rare smile, and began to move. His steps were simple, and easy to follow.

“No way…”

“Is she…dancing with Eraserhead?”

“I so have to get a picture of this!”

You hitched your breath when you heard the whispers floating through the air, mingling with the slow melody that flowed out of the speakers and almost wanted to stop. To push him away and run out of the gymnasium.

He heard their words but paid them no mind. His focus was only on you now, and he felt the way you were trying to resist, your panic all too evident. He secured his grip, his fingers digging into the side of your hip as the two of you continued moving across the dance floor.

Your chest tightened, and a familiar heat spread across your cheeks, dusting them a soft pink. You shifted, that urge to run away remaining strong despite the grip he had on you. Ducking your head, you tried to ignore the whispers and instead follow along with his steps under the rainbow-colored lights. Yet, you found this task to be impossible as you only continued to feel the weight of stares on you. “E-everyone is staring,” you muttered.

“Ignore them,” he instructed.

That was easy for him to say. “I…I can’t…” you whispered, latching onto your bottom lip.

“Yes, you can,” he replied, his voice low but stern, leaving no room for argument. “Focus on me,” he lightly demanded, “that’s all you need to do at this moment.”

“Mm…” despite your uncertainty, you slowly lifted your head, and your gaze locked on his. You never expected this to happen, and yet, his eyes didn’t waver.

He wanted you to be appreciated and comforted at this moment. Show you that you were worthy of dancing with and fill in the absence that your father created.

Slowly, you took a breath. “Okay,” you replied. The noise around you blurs, and the whispers and stares fade. The steady rhythm of the music and the secure hold he had on you were the only things grasping your attention. You took note of the way the light danced across his face, painting it in different colors that somehow made him a little less intimidating.

He almost felt prideful as he watched you relax. “You don’t have to pretend to be fine all the time,” he said quietly. “Even if this is something you’re used to, I’d rather you be honest with me.” It was his job as a teacher to ensure the well-being of the students at UA, even if you weren’t technically his student.

A lump formed in your throat. To think someone cared this much about you, it was both new and refreshing. “Heh,” you swallowed before nodding. “T-thank you, Mr. Aizawa,” you said, “for dancing with me.” You leaned forward, resting your head against his shoulder.

The unfamiliar weight of your head cradled against him made him stiffen, but your affection wasn’t unwelcome. He looked at you and how peaceful you appeared now. He took a breath, sighing as he tilted his head back, his attention focused on the lights above. What the hell am I doing? he wondered.  

When the song ended, he didn’t let go or step back. Rather, he guided you off the dancefloor, ignoring the curious eyes of your classmates and their fathers.

Normally, those stares would have bothered you, and the chatter that followed. But just as he had shown you, when you shifted your focus to the task at hand, you could accomplish anything.

“Oh,” you trembled some when he guided you outside, the cool air kissing your skin and causing goosebumps to rise to the surface. You wrapped your arms around yourself, noticing that your heart was beating fast. You shifted on your feet before looking at him. “Do…do you think people are going to talk…about what happened?”

“They will,” he replied without hesitation. He turned to you, that same soft smile returning to his face. “But that doesn’t matter,” he noted, “what does is how you feel.”

“How I feel?” you replied, furrowing your brow. You cradled a hand to your chest, taking a moment to notice how lighter it felt. Like the heavy weight you were carrying before suddenly vanished. “Heh,” you chuckled, “I feel…better.”

“Good,” he said, his voice softening a bit. That’s what he wanted after all. “Let’s get you back to the student dorms then.”

You nodded, “Right.”

The rest of the walk to the dorms was quiet but comfortable, and when you walked up to the door, he spoke.

“Get some rest,” he instructed, laying his hand on your shoulder. “And remember—you don’t have to carry everything alone. Not when I’m around.”

Your eyes widened, and a warmth bloomed in your chest. A newfound hope shining in your eyes. “Thank you again. For everything.”

He gave the faintest of nods, then melted back into the shadows.

You watched him disappear and slowly walked into the dorm that was quiet and still. Hm, I guess the ones that didn’t go to the dance fell asleep already. You shrugged and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle before heading down the hallway to your room with a smile on your face.

He was sitting alone on the couch, the soft moonlight that filtered through the window bathing him in an abnormal glow. As you stepped closer, you noticed that his back was straight, and his hands were curled tightly on his lap, square jaw tense.

“Iida?” you asked, stepping closer, your voice echoing through the air that was as still as a cathedral.

He turned to you, his eyes glowing a faint red from behind the lenses of his signature glasses.

You tensed up a bit when you noticed him leering at you with a certain hunger that you assumed was related to his thirst for blood. Not that he actively sought out blood, but his quirk, in addition to making him have superhuman speed, also made him crave human blood. “Hey…I thought it was you,” a chuckle passed your lips, “you uh…you didn’t eat dinner earlier. Are you okay?”

He winced slightly, as if your question pained him. His lip curled up, revealing one of his pointed fangs, before he turned away, afraid that the longer he looked at you, the more his bloodlust would beckon him to bite you. “I…” he took a deep breath. “F-forgive me, I am…quite alright,” he replied, “please return to bed.”

You frowned, noticing the faint pleading hint in his voice. At the same time, your stomach churned, sensing that something wasn’t right. He didn’t eat his dinner, that look of hunger in his eyes, his fangs beginning to show. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. You frowned and slowly approached him. “I don't think so,” you replied casually, sitting down next to him.

His shoulders stiffened at your rather bold move. “Y/n,” he warned, although he wasn’t surprised by your stubborn nature.

You narrowed your eyes. Although he was intimidating the first time you met him, you had been far too exposed to him to be afraid now. “You’re not fine,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “You didn’t eat dinner, your fangs are showing, and I recognize that look in your eyes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “…I am fine…” he repeated, voice low and firm. “I’m managing it quite effectively.”

“No, you’re starving.”

His breath hitched. Yes, it was true. He was starving; this hunger was growing, pushing him to the edge, but he needed to stay strong. He could not risk injuring you or his friends for his selfish cravings. “I...I am fine,” he repeated, although his voice remained strained. “I…I cannot risk injuring you nor my friends, as I would…never forgive myself if I—”

You clasped your hand over his mouth.

His eyes widened, his hunger igniting once more, painfully so, as he smelled blood through your skin and felt the small pulsing of your veins against his mouth. It was almost shameful to admit that it made him salivate, but once again, he tried to calm himself, to not give into his nature.

You notice his skin was colder than it should be, and this only added to your concern. You leaned closer, your eyebrows lowering. “Iida,” you said, “I’m serious, feed from me. You’re starving and—”

He yanked your hand away like your touch burned. His fingers were firm around your wrist, but still held that unmistakable gentleness that ensured he wouldn't harm you nor leave a bruise. “No.”

You frowned, frustrated. “Why not?” you pressed, “I trust you and I know that you—”

“That is not the point!” His voice cracked, and he rose from the couch, releasing his grip on you. He took a deep breath, pushing down his anger. His hand rapidly chopping through the air as he explained, “It is not just feeding, it’s a rather…intimate act.” He hated to admit that, but in essence, it was. There was a connection created between the one who was taking the blood and the one who was being fed on. “It’s quite messy and rather dangerous, and I do not wish to harm you.”

You gave him an encouraging smile, standing beside him. You gently laid your hand on his arm, hoping he’d listen to reason. “You won’t,” you assured him. “I know you, Iida. You’d rather die than lose control. So, feed from me, the way you want—The way that avoids making a mess.”

Your words made a subtle lump appear in his throat, and he swallowed hard as he searched your eyes for any signs of doubt. His own, filled with desperation and concern. He winced, his fangs once again showing, but he couldn't give in. Not yet. “No…” he replied, “you…you do not understand what you asking—”

“I do.” Tightening your grip on him, you tilted your head, exposing your neck. “You always keep everyone on track and take care of our class.” It was his job as Class President, but even so, it was almost endearing how seriously he took his responsibilities. “So...let me return the favor, let me take responsibility for feeding you so you don't lose your damn mind.”

He swallowed again, his breathing shaky. His eyes zoned in on your exposed throat. He could hear the blood rushing through your veins, making a slight ache rumble in his stomach. Can I…continue to deny such a request? Y/n…is offering, and I am not certain if they will accept refusal. He admired that you wanted to help; it was truly heroic, and if you were okay with it, then…“I will be gentle,” he whispered, finally. “And I will ensure that this does not create a mess.”

You nodded, feeling your heart race with anticipation. You had never been fed on before, so this would be an experience worth having.

“Please,” he said, placing a hand on his chest, “allow me a moment to gather everything.”

“Gather everything?” you repeated, watching him walk away. “What do you need?” Was this transaction more complicated than you thought? You furrowed your brow, sitting back on the couch as you waited, somewhat nervously, for him to return.

A few minutes passed, and when he returned, he was holding a small bag. From it, he withdrew a small vial of disinfectant, gauze, cotton pads, and a roll of medical tape.

As he placed each item on the table, your eyes widened. “Uh, Iida…” you said, “do you really…uh, need all these things for—”

“Yes,” he replied sternly before taking out a handkerchief from his uniform pocket. It was white, embroidered with his family crest. He took a seat next to you. “Pardon,” he said, gently laying it across your collarbone.

You couldn’t help but snicker at the way he so delicately laid the handkerchief over your collarbone and glanced back at the items on the table. “Heh, you uh…wanted to be prepared for this as best as possible, huh?”

“Yes,” he replied, “as class president, and future hero, it is imperative to prepare for all possible scenarios,” he explained, his cheeks flushed as his fangs elongated slightly. He took a steady breath. “Are you ready?”

Seeing those fangs poking out and resting against his lower lip made a shiver run down your spine. Then, when he asked if you were ready, a hint of fear and excitement swirled inside of you. “Y-yes,” you replied, bracing yourself for what was about to come.

“Very well,” he replied, leaning in slowly.

You trembled when you felt his cool breath against your skin, causing your pulse to quicken. A shiver ran down your spine at the equally cool touch of his lips against your neck, just below the area of your jaw.

He took a shuddered breath, able to feel the gentle pulsing of your veins against his lips, and the beautiful iron-coated scent of your blood with just a hint of sweetness. “P-Pardon…” he mumbled against your neck, cradling the back of your head with one hand. His fingers took a gentle but firm grip while his free hand went to hold yours, hoping to bring you a sense of comfort before—

Pierce.

Like a needle being driven into your skin, you felt two sharp pricks followed by a dangerous chill that filled your body, causing the remaining breath in your lungs to leave. Then a warmth, and the pressure of weightlessness washed over you.

He couldn’t help but groan as your warm blood rushed over his tongue, but he also fed slowly and delicately. Ensuring that not a drop spilled. He kept your head steady and gently squeezed your hand as he continued to drink. His hunger grew more satisfied as the minutes passed, but he drank only what he needed. “Ah,” a soft breath sounded as he pulled back and immediately grabbed a cotton ball. He quickly dabbed it with a small amount of disinfectant and pressed it to your neck, right against the punctures he had created.

You winced slightly, feeling the slight sting from the disinfectant, but after a moment, it disappeared. As you looked at him, you noticed the faint crimson that still coated his lips and the way his brow furrowed, indicating he was concentrating on cleaning your neck. However, you also noticed the hunger in his eyes had faded.

“Are…are you well?” he asked, his voice soft like a whisper. He carefully placed the slightly bloodied cotton pad into a plastic bag and grabbed another one, dabbing the bite again.

You smiled. “Of course, I am,” you replied, “it doesn’t look like you even left a mess.” You didn’t feel any blood oozing down your neck when he was feeding on you, anyway. “Well, apart from the residue on your lips.”

“Huh?” he paused, his tongue slowly lapping over his lips. He could feel the slight residue on his lips as you described, and a hint of shame came over him. He always wished to keep a clean and professional appearance. “Y-Yes,” he replied, a hint of embarrassment in his tone which reflected in the pink hue of his cheeks. “I…I will properly take care of my rather unkempt appearance after I…ensure you are well,” he explained. “Forgive me, I know I must look rather odd with such a color coating my lips.”

You snickered, shaking your head. “I don't mind,” you tried to reassure him, noticing the pink color that filled his cheeks. It was almost cute to see him so embarrassed over something so trivial. “That's kind of expected when you're doing something like this,” although you knew all about his need for a clean appearance, and the professional expectations he had for himself, which also extended to the members of Class A.

His expression softened at your words. “Yes, well, regardless, I should maintain a proper appearance,” he reasoned. “I would never treat you with anything less than respect, Y/n, and part of respect is keeping a proper appearance that is pleasing to others and conveys a message of professionalism.” He paused, locking eyes with you. “However, I must confess that it is not often one volunteers to be…fed on,” he took a breath, “and for that, I cannot have anything but respect for your bravery and dedication.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said affectionately. “It has nothing to do with bravery or dedication,” you chuckled, and looked at him fondly. “I saw someone I care about suffering, and I wanted to do anything I could to help them.”

His eyes flashed for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together as he analyzed your words. “I see,” he replied, disposing of the second cotton pad before grabbing two pieces of gauze. He gently placed them over the puncture wounds and secured them with surgical tape. “There we are,” he stated, “I am finished. Are you certain you are feeling well?”

You chuckled. He was so persistent, and the way he was overly worried about your well-being was sweet. “Yes,” you nodded, “I’m well, Iida, in fact…” You scooted closer to him, placing your hand over his.

He stiffened in response to your touch; your hand was so warm against his skin, and it made his heart flutter. An unusual feeling made his stomach churn as well, leaving him to question why he was reacting in such a way to a simple, affectionate gesture.

You noticed the way he stiffened and couldn’t help but tease him. “You’re so easily flustered.”

“P-pardon?”

“Anyways,” you said, “we’re doing this next time you’re hungry. I’m not hearing any ifs, ands, or buts about it. Got that, Iida?”

He opened his mouth, about to protest, but instead, exhaled softly. “Very well,” given how stubborn you were, it was best not to argue. But, perhaps, he’d feel less guilty about feeding from you next time, especially given that he knows what to expect now. He turned to the table, the small vial of disinfectant, gauze, cotton pads, and a roll of medical tape still where he had left them. “Next time,” he said, closing his eyes. “I will be better prepared with a proper feeding kit on hand.”

You laughed. “I'll look forward to seeing that.”

He looked at you, somewhat shocked. But a moment later, a gentle smile came to his face. “Yes, I suppose it will be something to see,” he agreed before standing up. “Pardon,” he said, reaching over to take the handkerchief that was still resting against your collarbone.

“Hm?” You blinked, almost having forgotten that the handkerchief was there.

He inspected it before folding it back into a small triangle and tucking it into his pocket. He then locked eyes with you, “Please excuse me for a moment, I am going to properly wash my mouth and face.”

Yes, the heroes who attempted to apprehend you always subjected you to speeches about the dangers of vigilantes and how, if you changed your life, you could become a worthy hero. Loved and adored by all. Blah, blah, blah, you get it—the bullshit hero life they could never quite sell to you. However, one stood out from the rest, the former number one hero: All Might. Unlike the other bullshitters disguised as "heroes," he spared your ears from any gooshy, mushy, and vomit-inducing rants about justice and didn't shit on your personal lifestyle choices.

Oddly enough, he seemed to agree that the world and everyone in it, including villains, heroes, vigilantes, and any other unfortunate bastard cursed to be born on planet Earth, were subjected to shitty lives. Some shitter than others. Overall, he, at the very least, sympathized with you and the current state of Japan, especially now that All For One and numerous villains had escaped from prison, making the country their own personal playground.

In essence, the shitty state of Japan was actually a paradise for said villains; the heroes were struggling to keep up, and many of them were retiring. Instead of adoring cheers, civilians were now cursing their names, blaming them for the chaos, and, as you had come to notice, some were defacing statues of heroes, including All Might. Whoever hung a sign with the words 'I'm Not Here' on the former number one hero's statue was persistent. You saw it almost every day, and almost every day, some strange woman would come to clean the said statue and remove the sign. You weren't sure why and assumed she was still a loyal All Might fan.

"Just another day in paradise," you said, or so you thought. As you near the familiar area with the All Might statue, you tighten your fingers around your umbrella, trying to make sense of what you are seeing.

There appeared to be a man standing in front of it. The familiar sign was still hanging from it, and as you approached, using your quirk so your feet hovered just above the ground, you noticed the man's unruly blond hair. He was wearing a long-sleeved black jacket, a belt, dark green jeans, and sneakers.

You narrowed your eyes. Oh great, is this a new weirdo who has nothing better to do than want to clean and remove the sign, only to have it, *gasp*, magically appear the next day? Over the soft pellets of rain that landed on your umbrella, you heard what he was saying.

"The reality is, you've been holding him back. Great job, All Might."

Your eyes widen. Wait a fucking minute. The man before you was All Might? Well, surely, he wouldn't try taking the sign off his statue; you were pretty sure he hated himself just as much as the villains hated him, or rather, his former hero self. Either way, it was still a little hard to recognize him in his skinny form. But who was he holding back, and why was he being so mean to...well, himself?

"Hm..." You twirled your umbrella, the gears turning in your head. I may lean more towards the villain's side, at least to those righteous, cape-wearing fuckers who have nothing better to do than judge me, but I still have some morals. And it was those morals that seemed to be contemplating whether you wanted to stay and have a little chat with All Might or just leave him drowning in his shit pot stew.

Again, as far as heroes went, All Might was decent, more grounded in reality. Even if that current reality was being torn apart at the seams. You stared at him for a moment more, finding yourself smiling. There's something about the way he's standing there. All moopy in the rain, that's almost attractive. You grinned. And misery loves company, doesn't it?

Toshinori sighed and turned to leave, only to stumble back when he saw you land on the ground, a foot or so from him. His sunken eyes widened, making his soft blue irises a little more visible. After a moment, however, his stiff shoulders slumped. "Oh," he said, "it's you...Y/n." He couldn't say he was surprised. He was almost certain you'd take advantage of the chaos that was happening now. Then again, you weren't a traditional kind of vigilante, at least not in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

You smirked and held your umbrella out, shielding him from the rain. The rain that now fell across your hair and skin felt refreshing. But you remained quiet, finding it more fun to mess with him with your lack of words. Even so, eye contact remained.

He blinked, surprised that you were offering your umbrella. They...want to shield me from the rain? His gaze lingered on it for a moment, his fingers twitching. Strange. He took hold of the handle, his heart gently fluttering in his chest. "Why would...you do this for a washed-up old hero, like me?"

You laughed at his question and leaned forward, your hands behind your back. Your eyes lingered with mischief, and part of you thought it amusing that he referred to himself as a washed-up old hero, and yet his earlier words echoed in your head.

The reality is, you've been holding him back. Great job, All Might.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to study your movements. Yet, he also remained standing tall, refusing to back down or become intimidated by you. I don't sense any dangerous intent coming from them. Granted, that didn't necessarily mean you weren't up to no good. Yes, you weren't the typical vigilante type, but you were easily as dangerous, if not more dangerous than a villain.

"I heard what you said earlier!" You sang, almost like a child.

He raised his eyebrow. Oh...so they heard that. He glanced down. Can't say I'm surprised at that either. His breath was long and drawn out, his eyes settling upon you with some coldness. "I suppose you're wondering who the great hero All Might was referring to."

"Meh," you replied, shrugging. "I don't really care," a teasing tone coated your voice as you slowly began to circle him, like an animal ready to pounce on its prey. "But, even if I did, I assume that you were simply referring to another good doer, bullshitter."

A soft growl rumbled in his throat, his eyes narrowing as he continued to watch you. While he didn't appreciate you calling Izuku such a thing, he knew from experience that it was best not to act on anger, and so he kept quiet.

"I'm more interested in why you were referring to yourself as if you hate who you were," you replied, your footsteps sloshing slightly as they continued to step along the dampened ground. "At least when you were a hero, you weren't like those goodie two-shoes ones. So, why do you hate yourself so much, All Might?" You sounded smug, almost like you were making fun of him, and of course, you were, to some extent. Nothing made you happier than pushing a hero's buttons. Granted, you were a touch nicer to him than most others you encountered.

"Tsk," he gave a smile, your words resonating with him. He turned back to the statue—the shadow of his former self. "All that work," he said, "throughout the years, and what did it get me?" He had caused Izuku suffering, put the boy in situations he didn't ask for, and tried coddling him, only to realize his actions pushed him away.

You furrowed your brow at his explanation. So...he's feeling sorry for himself. Although you couldn't say you didn't experience that from time to time, maybe it was human nature, even if some people thought you were less of a human being because you sought your own sense of justice in this fucked up world. "Is that it?" you asked, unimpressed as you crossed your arms and sighed.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes still mixed with hints of anger and curiosity.

You frowned when you noticed the way he was looking at you. Jeez, this suddenly turned sour. He's really down in the dumps, isn't he? You rolled your eyes. "Okay, fine," you said in a huff. "You're no fun when you're serious," you commented, stopping in front of him.

He frowned, glancing away. I suppose that's what Young Midoriya thought as well. Granted, he wasn't supposed to be fun, and he was only trying his best to protect the boy. Yet, that didn't stop the guilt from overwhelming him.

"Mm..." you pouted, feeling your stomach churn with unease. You knew your words would be meaningless, and that it was likely he wouldn't believe them despite the brief conversations you had exchanged in the past. You took a long breath, exhaling loudly. "As far as heroes go, you're the only one I respect, even remotely, mostly because you don't bullshit anything."

"Only one you respect, huh?" He looked away. Sounds like Stain. Although Y/n is a little more stable than that. His fingers brushed against his mouth. Then again, what do I know? I don't know anything about Y/n that they haven't shared, or I haven't learned from our encounters. He hummed softly. Come to think of it, this was his first encounter with you since he had lost his quirk for good.

"Anyways," you said, rolling your eyes. Damn, you hated this. Being mushy and feely wasn't your thing. Then again, maybe you were just feeling sorry for him because he reminded you of yourself. When society's expectations got too much for you, when you finally cracked under the pressure. You winced, rubbing the back of your neck. "Even if you were holding someone back because of who you were, maybe it's not yourself you hate, but the stupid expectations you had to abide by as a hero."

He furrowed his brow despite your words making sense. He was focusing too much on what he had learned as a hero. As the glorious All Might, who, like many of the other heroes, was being shamed and tormented. All because they couldn't keep up with the recent demands from the panicked citizens of Japan. Everything they had done in the past, all the joy they had granted, all the praise they received from saving the day...meant nothing now.

You glanced away, grumbling the words, "Expectations aren't something I follow. Sometimes you gotta break the damn rules to get what you want and find out who you really are when the going gets tough."

He raised his eyebrow, a soft hum sounding in his throat. "Break the rules as a former hero..." he repeated, his stomach churning some, and yet a tingle of excitement crept up his spine. It was a bit crazy, but perhaps it was time to stray from the hero path he had known and enact his own sense of justice and what he, Toshinori Yagi, thought was right.

You chuckled. "That's right, don't let it go to pretty head," you teased. "Blaming yourself for whatever mess the heroes have made or whatever mess you made with whoever the hell you were referring to isn't going to get you anywhere." You shrugged, placing a hand on your hip. "What will is going against the rules laid before you and enacting your own justice isn't always bad."

His eyes widened, your words stirring something inside of him. The lingering guilt for pushing Izuku away, being unable to protect others, and having to watch from the sidelines would continue to weigh heavily on his heart; this much he knew. But that could also be the source that prompted him to take action. Do something to appease it before he suffocates in his own misery.

"You were All Might..." you continued, "but you can become something more than that if you're willing to twist the game in your favor." Your gaze lingered on him for a moment more before you walked past him, your little speech finished, leaving you feeling sicker than anticipated. Seriously, did I just give advice to him? Uh, what is wrong with me?

When you walked past him, he hitched his breath, his eyes widening, and his chest feeling lighter as the weight of his troubles had waned but not completely disappeared. Yes, hope was hidden within your words, and perhaps he could truly become more than just All Might, even if he was washed up, retired, and quirkless. His fingers twitched and tightened around the umbrella handle as he spun around. "Y/n!" he said, a slight sense of panic in his voice laced with a hint of determination.

"Hm?" you paused, the melody of rain still lingering as you gazed at him from over your shoulder.

He paused, slumping. "Uh…" he glanced down, the subtle awkward tension seeping around him. Y/n...I didn't expect such wisdom from them. Guess this old dog can still be surprised by new tricks.

"Heh," was he at a loss for words? You turned, your feet hovering off the ground once more before you gently floated over to him.

He stiffened some at your close presence and tilted his head up, as you were floating just a little above him now. He cleared his throat, "Thank you," he said after a moment, "for saying all that." Yes…he'd still find a way to protect Izuku, even if it meant using outside sources like support gear to do so, even if it meant breaking the boundaries that kept him chained down as a former hero.

You raised your eyebrow. Wait...he actually listened? To think a hero would even consider your words worthy was shocking; at the same time, it acted as a continued reminder of why you favored All Might. You gave a half smile. It was almost amusing that he was thanking you. "Consider it payback for all the times your fellow heroes preached my ears off." Guess their useless words were good for something. You chuckled, "But you're welcome," you replied, about to turn your body and continue floating away, when you paused. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Hm?"

You chuckled again as you grabbed his chin, your grip tight and firm.

He hitched his breath, his jaw clenched as you took hold of it. His eyes narrowed, and his posture grew stiff yet defensive. His hand wrapped around your wrist, prepared to pull away your hand by force if necessary. He knew you were bound to have unpredictable moments. However, nothing would have prepared him for just how unpredictable your next move was.

You grinned, your face just inches from his. Might as well mess with him. You enjoyed keeping people in a constant state of confusion, which only added to your reputation as a vigilante. Nobody knew what you could do, or what you'd do next. And you liked it that way. You took pride in seeing the way his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. Your nose brushed against his as you finally closed the distance, pressing your lips to his.

"Mm!?" He trembled, the sensation of your warm lips against his bringing back some youthful memories, and that fluttering in his chest increased. It had been years since he had kissed anyone, and yet, at this moment, where the world was quiet but laced with chaos, he found himself slowly melting into it. Perhaps he was just glad to have something that brought a strange sense of calm to his otherwise frantic life.

Your lips curled into a smile when you felt his body relax and heard the soft thud of the umbrella falling to the ground, leaving his hand free to cup your cheek. His fingers felt rough but gentle, and his palm warm against your skin. Being merciful as you were, you allowed him a few more moments to enjoy what you had given him before leaning back.

Your lips parted with a soft pop before you smirked, finding his flushed face amusing. You grabbed the umbrella, handing it back to him. Your feet were back on solid and wet ground as you looked up at him. "Since you actually listened, here's another piece of advice," you said, "if all else fails...keep smiling." This was followed by a shrug. "You kind of had a good smile..." you ducked your head, muttering, "for a stupid hero."

Kissing you went against most of what he had learned as a hero—yet, the moment replayed again in his head. His fingers tightened around the umbrella handle, and a timid smile came to his face. I don't regret it. His eyes locked with yours, noticing how the rain was causing small strands of hair to stick to your forehead. "So, that's all you wanted to say...to do," he said, his eyes watering a bit, "with a washed-up old hero like me."

"Maybe," you replied, "but I look forward to seeing what you can accomplish now, thanks to my advice, Toshinori Yagi."

During a much-needed training exercise between Class A and Class B, he was blessed enough to be matched up with you. "Oh, how refreshing, another overhyped so-called hero student from Class A," he purred, his voice laced with that familiar mocking tone as he pressed a hand to his chest. "I’m afraid I don’t care enough to know your name, but it’s almost funny that you’re being claimed as a so-called prodigy," he smirked. "I do hope you know that you’re not intimidating in the slightest." A wide, confident smirk came to his face as he anticipated your reaction.

You chuckled some, placing your hand on your hip. Your eyes leering at him a bit, taking him in from head to toe. "You’re Monoma, aren’t you?" You had heard quite a few things about him from Eijirou, one of your new classmates. While you could see how they'd view him as annoying, you found his taunting to be cute, albeit somewhat childish. This is why you didn't flinch or react negatively. Rather, you smiled. Sweetly, warmly, almost too friendly. "Nobody told me that you’re so cute when you're petty."

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. His legs grew heavy, as if he were frozen, like he couldn't process what you had just said.

"Hm?" you blinked, tilting your head. "Is something wrong?"

His eyebrow twitched, his mouth sputtering unidentifiable words. After a few moments, however, he spat out "I-I'm fine!" Then he crossed his arms and turned his back to you. "E-even if I was not, I would not stoop so low as to confess my troubles to a Class A wannabe like you!"

"Oh, I..." before you could say anymore, he stomped away. Although you swore you saw the faintest red color on his cheeks.

He grumbled as he took a seat next to Hitoshi Shinso. How dare that...that Class A buffoon just...compliment me like that! Honestly! He growled softly, clasping his hand over his mouth, his brow furrowed.

"Uh...is something wrong?" Hitoshi asked, noting the strange way he was acting. However, he was only greeted with silence as a response and sighed.

Perhaps I should just ignore her! Yes! That will surely crush her spirits! Having I, Neito Monoma, Class B's greatest student and Class A's greatest rival, ignore her! He grinned, oh yes. Perhaps if he pretended you didn't exist, he'd crush your fragile little ego just like the rest of the Class A members. However, his plan ended up backfiring the next day at lunch, when he found himself standing in line next to you.

"Hi Monoma!" you said brightly, nudging his arm with your shoulder. "Getting lunch, I see."

He groaned, his gaze dark as he turned to you. "T-that is what lunch time is for, or do you simply not know how to tell time?" He scoffed, crossing his arms. "I wouldn’t expect such skills from Class A anyway."

You laughed at his words, a bright smile coming to your face. "You know, you should try the strawberry mochi," you insisted, "it's just as sweet as you."

He blinked, staring at you as if you were speaking a foreign language, and you might as well have been. "What!?" he sputtered, his body betraying him as his cheeks turned red. "I...I d-do not...w-why...you buffoon I...I was..." he growled and proceeded to stomp away. Furious that he had been thwarted by you again.

This continued for weeks, and each week, he grew more irritated at the way you'd wave at him in the hallway like he was your best friend. How you'd randomly bring him snacks from the vending machine, and then you had the nerve to try and praise him after the two of you were in a joint training exercise meant to teach the students that pairing up with unlikely heroes would be a common occurrence in the field.

Somehow, the two of you managed to win your round. "We won, Monoma!" you declared with a bright smile that made his stomach churn. However, that was nothing compared to the way he hitched his breath when you laced your fingers with his, the simple gesture making him both flustered and frustrated all over again. And that giggle of yours that followed, like the mocking icing on top of the cake. In his moment of anger, he hadn't realized just how hard he was squeezing your hand.

"That's some grip, Monoma!" you said, that taunting giggle of yours still lingering in the air. "I bet you work out super hard so you can take down villains, right? That's amazing!"

His eye twitched subtly, as if his brain had stopped functioning because of your words.

"Hm?" you blinked, noticing his dull-eyed expression. "Monoma, are you okay?" A moment of silence passed before you shrugged and walked away like nothing happened.

Oh, how he hated how you left him there. All alone like an idiot. It was driving him crazy, so crazy to the point where he was finally determined to figure it out. Why do you compliment him? Why wouldn't you fall or cry under his words? He needed to figure you out. Until then, he'd go back to taunting you...or at least trying to.

However, this short-term dedication was broken during another joint Class training drill. He thought he had the upper hand when he snuck behind you, smirking like a villain as he copied your quirk. "Hah!" He snickered. "Seems like Class A has lost their touch!" he declared. "I so easily copied your quirk without you noticing. Make no mistake, I am always ten steps ahead of you Class A wannabes." He sighed, "Honestly, I expected more from you."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips when you faced him. Hands on your hips, eyes locked with his before closing the distance. You kept a smile on your face as you looked up at him, your bodies just inches from one another. Then you did something unexpected.

He gasped when your arms wrapped around his waist, your head coming to rest against his chest, the top of your hair tickling his chin.

"You’re amazing, Monoma. So clever, and brilliant!"

A shiver ran down his spine, but he remained frozen. No words came, and his arms remained out like he was nothing but a porcelain doll. The rest of it was blank; he didn't remember walking away from you, nor did he recall how he got back to the locker room. His eyes were wide and devoid of any emotion, but inside, a hurricane was brewing. T-that Class A....idiot! Who does she think she is? Messing with someone as great as I...I'll...I'll... He groaned; it was clear he needed to do something else to confront you, as nothing else had worked so far.

You knew there was something special about Neito from the moment you heard about him. Someone who wasn't afraid to raise the stakes, to outright declare his plans and follow through with them, well to the best of his ability, anyway. Which is why you waited. The following day, you stood by the vending machines outside the main UA building and smiled when you saw him approach. "Hey Monoma—"

"Quiet!" he snapped, his hands curled into fists at his sides. His jaw clenched, and his teeth tightly pressed together. "Why!?" he hissed out.

"Why what?"

He growled softly, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks dusted a soft pink, and his eyes narrowed. "Why are you...so nice?" he grimaced as if the question burned his tongue. "An idiot like you from Class A shouldn't dare be nice to a member of Class B who is clearly the superior class," he noted. "Yet, I have been trying to get under your skin, attempting to break you, and it's as if my words, my actions, have meant nothing. You just—"

You tilted your head, eyebrow furrowed as he tried to come up with the words.

"Just...mock me instead!? Compliment me, hug me?!" he growled, and grabbed the front of your blazer, being careful not to tear it as he pulled you closer. "Are you truly attempting to mess with someone from a superior class!?"

Silence filled the air.

You frowned, processing his words. Your eyes softened, and you reached up, gently wrapping your fingers around his wrist. "Monoma," you said, shaking your head. "I don't care that you've been trying to get under my skin or insulting me."

His grip on you loosened, your touch sending tingles down his arm. "W-what?"

You chuckled. "I just like the way your mind works," you confessed. "Your sharp tongue and the way you always try to stick to your plans even when they don't work out."

His eyes widened, and a soft burning sensation filled his cheeks. He stumbled back, releasing you. "W-well, I..." he turned his head, muttering under his breath. Once again, you seemed to have caught him off guard.

"Hah, are you embarrassed?" you asked, folding your hands behind your back. "You're so dramatic even when you don't have to be," you teased, "but that's okay. That's just another thing I like about you."

"Mm..." he looked at you, eyebrow twitching. Yet, his heart was racing and his brain fried, absent of any thoughts or logic as to why you were saying any of this. What could you gain from it?

You took a step forward. "You want to know what else I like about you?" Grinning, you pointed at him and said, "You're passionate above all else. You don't care what people think, you already know your worth, and I see that."

"S-shut up..." he weakly replied, his cheeks turning darker.

"Hah, again you're trying to insult me. But that's okay, I love you as you are, even when you're trying to be a menace." You smirked, daring to step even closer. Then you leaned in, "Besides, you blush really easily, and it's adorable."

His eyebrow twitched again, a soft growl rumbling in his throat as he locked eyes with you. "Y-you are evil for a member of Class A," he muttered.

You weren't sure what to think or do. While your classmates tried to offer you some comfort, the weeks following the news were dreadful. The longer you were apart from him, the more your heart hurt, and yet, you longed to see him. To ask why he didn't trust you enough to confess beforehand. Perhaps if he did, this whole thing could have been avoided.

You sighed, sniffling softly as you wiped another tear from your cheek. "Damn it," you hissed, your eyes focused on the window. The sky looked heavy, painted with clouds that hung low and cast a moody atmosphere. You shifted your glance to the side when you heard gentle steps behind you.

"Y/n?" The soft sound of Izuku's voice came.

You remained quiet for a moment, once again noticing the hollow feeling in your chest. "Mm...what?" you replied, your voice dull, absent of any emotion.

"Uh," he frowned, noting the tension that hung over you like a veil. He knew you were friends with Yuga and had been friends with him long before anyone else in Class A. Still, you were in this together, and he wanted you and Yuga to reunite, savage what you could of your friendship. "Did you hear the news?"

You sighed, hanging your head. "What...news?"

"Aoyama got released," he said, his voice betraying a hint of relief.

Your eyes widened, and as much as you hated to admit it, your heart leaped in your chest, fluttering like it hadn't in weeks. "R-released?" you repeated, turning to him.

He nodded, glancing at the floor. His fingertips gently pressing together. "He...asked me to come get you..." he explained, lifting his head up. "He...h-he really wanted to t-talk to you." He stepped closer, "I know...i-it may not be easy with everything he...he put you through, but..."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "It's not..." you clenched your jaw, "just...about what he put me through, it's what he did." Your gaze turned dark. "It's just..." you groaned, the frustration billowing inside you.

"Uh," the tension grew thicker, and he knew you were liable to burst. But maybe if you talked to Yuga, you'd be able to sort everything out, even if it meant letting your anger go. "C-come on," he insisted, holding his hand out. "I'll take you to him, and t-then you...can talk about whatever you'd like..." he insisted.

You looked at his hand, your eyebrow raised. You knew he was correct, however. You couldn't just hide behind your pain; you needed to face Yuga. Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, you took his hand.  

He guided you outside, and the cool chill in the air nipped at your skin. Your heart was racing, and your stomach was twisting with each step you took. "Mm..." you pressed a hand to your chest. What am I even going to say to him? The soft burning in your stomach indicated that you'd likely react in anger, or so you suspected.

"Here..." Izuku said, turning to you with a smile before releasing your hand.

"Huh?" you blinked, coming out of your daze. "W-what?" you asked before noticing Yuga, and your breath hitched.

He stood a few feet in front of you. His back to you, much like the first time you saw him during the entrance exam. He was just a strange boy standing away from the crowd, muttering to himself. But, as you ventured closer, you noticed that he was applying something to his eyes, which looked like glitter.

"Uh, are you...putting on make up?"

"Hm?" he paused, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Huh?" That's when you noticed his soft but feminine face. His long blond hair was swept out to the sides. His eyes were an enchanting indigo color, and he had long eyelashes. It was almost like you were looking at a member of royalty, apart from the strange belt he wore around his waist that had some strange blue crystal. However, you quickly assumed that it was a support item.

"Oh, sorry!" you said, holding your hands up, a nervous chuckle slipping past your lips. "I totally wasn't making fun of you or anything, but uh...it's unusual to see someone applying make up before you know, an entrance exam."

"Heh," a soft chuckle came from his lips before he struck a pose, placing his arm behind his head, and a finger against his chin. He closed one eye as he looked at you with a smile. "The battlefield is no excuse to look drab, I prefer to shine, mon ami!" Your eyes widened, surprised at the strange mix of French and the high but flamboyant tone of his voice, not to mention his strange but amusing actions. You couldn't help but laugh.

He frowned, his brow furrowing. He didn't exactly like it when others laughed at him, but he was sort of a loner. Didn't have many friends, and yet his dream of becoming a hero remained shining bright. His hands fell to his sides, a familiar ache making his chest feel heavy. His gaze locked with yours, fingers curling inward, prepared to walk away when you spoke.

"Is that right?" Your snickers died down, and you stepped forward, a smile on your face. "Do you think you could do my make up too?" you asked.

His eyebrows raised, and his lips parted. They...want me to do their make up!? A smile came to his face, his eyes now sparkling.

You blinked, glancing away. "Uh..." you looked back at him, "a-are you okay?"

He nodded and struck another pose. One hand on his chest, and the other extended outward. "Of course!" he replied, chuckling as he stepped closer to you. "I'll make you look fabulous, and perhaps..." he wanted to say that he hoped the two of you would pass and possibly be in the same class together, but perhaps it was too early to hope for such a thing. "Nevermind," he held up the glitter eyeshadow he had been using. "Let's make you shine!"

Since that day, the two of you have been friends. Always by each other's sides, through training exercises, villain attacks, and everything in between. He always sparkled with that flamboyant confidence. Sometimes it was a little over-the-top, but somehow, endearing, and as of late, you found it was making your heart flutter much like it was right now, as he slowly turned to you. A bittersweet smile on his face.

"Thank you for bringing them to me, Midoriya," he said, his voice lingering with what you assumed to be regret.

Izuku nodded. "Yeah," he replied before turning to you, giving an encouraging smile.

"Uh," the feeling of dread skyrocketed as you watched Izuku walk away. Part of you wanted to reach out and grab him, make him stay because it'd be too awkward to speak to Yuga alone. Frankly, you had never felt that way before, but again, you were reminded that running away from your problems wouldn't fix anything. You had to face him, here and now.

"Y/n," he said.

You trembled when he spoke your name but refused to look at him. Your hands curling into the bottom of your shirt, uncertain how to respond and yet, your heart fluttered.

"Mon ami," he said, taking a step closer. His hands were trembling, wanting to reach out to you, but fear that you'd slap his hand away kept him from doing it.

You latched onto your lip, anger, frustration, sadness, betrayal...all swirling within, and you feared opening your mouth would let out the hurricane. So, you remained quiet, trying to keep yourself in check. Your eyes were still trained on the ground.

He frowned; the way you avoided his glance twisting the knife already embedded into his heart. He swallowed thickly, his eyes slightly burning as they filled with tears. "Won't you look at me?"

When news began to float around about a traitor among you, one who had been leaking information to All For One, you noticed something. Yuga would grow tense, and when your gaze met his, he'd look away. As if he were hiding something. So, why should you give him the same courtesy if he wouldn't even look you in the eye when you asked if he was alright and assured him that he could tell you anything?

He hitched his breath, hot tears slowly sliding down his cheeks. He had wanted to see you this whole time, you were the only thing he thought about when he was locked away, tied and bound like a common criminal with a mouthpiece that silenced him. He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to you, although it was shaking.

You could sense the heaviness in the air, and you slowly picked your head up. Your focus on his hand, the sight of which made you flinch. "Why didn't you t-trust me?" you responded, your voice somewhat cold.

He hitched his breath, his lip trembling at your question. "W-what?" he replied. "I...do trust you, Mon ami, please just—"

"Just what!?" you snapped, hands now clenched at your sides, knuckles turning red. "I...I had asked you once...i-if everything was alright..." You remembered that day well.

"Hey…." you said, approaching him and laying a tender hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright?" Your chest felt heavy as you anticipated his answer.

He turned to you, his eyes wide, and his hands nervously rubbing his stomach. "Y-yes…" he replied.

His voice was shaky, uncertain, and left a sour taste in your mouth. Although you couldn't assume anything, all evidence pointed to him lying to you. But why? You thought he trusted you, and in return you trusted him, but…were your intentions misguided?

"Oh, okay…" You replied, letting your hand fall from his shoulder. The atmosphere that was once warm and inviting between the two of you, now cold and distant. You rubbed the back of your head, eyes lingering on him. "You…" hitching your breath, you sighed. "You know that you can tell me anything, right? We are friends…best friends in fact."

He winced as he looked at you. His eyes held a hint of sadness, as if your words hurt him. As true as it was, part of him had always hoped for…something more with you. At the same time, he didn't want to lose you, but he knew that was likely once you found out the dark truth.

"I guess being best friends means nothing to you."

"It means everything to me!" he choked through his tears, a soft hiccup escaping his throat.

You flinched again, his words hanging in the air, making your heart skip a beat. And yet, sink when you saw his face. His lip was quivering, tears were streaming down his face like a river, and his body was trembling uncontrollably. He looked human. So small. So breakable. You felt your heart twist, but part of you was still angry. "So then..." you looked away again, "why did you lie to me...back then?"

He furrowed his brow, the lump in his throat growing.

"I asked you before if you were alright, and you...you lied to my face!"

Another hiccup came, and he grasped the sides of his head. His tears were hot and slippery against his palms. "I know!" he shrieked, his legs bending some as he closed his eyes. His head was throbbing painfully, and the tightness in his chest was growing. "But I...only did it to protect you," he pleaded, his hands lowering as he set his sights on you again.

"Protect me!?" you snapped back, shaking your head. "How would...how does that even...that doesn't make any sense!"

His eyes cast over with a dark glint as his gaze shifted to the ground. "Then...maybe I was just being a coward," he said quietly, "and you can keep screaming at me. I deserve it."

Your breath hitched at his words, and guilt came crashing over you like a violent wave. Am I acting like everyone else? You frowned, taking a breath. Everyone is wondering why he betrayed us. But All For One is a pretty scary villain...and I guess he had no choice. He did everything he did out of fear. Sighing, you took a step closer to him. "I won't scream anymore." Your words were followed by silence that mingled with the gentle howl of the wind and the rustling of leaves.

"Just...I want to know why you didn't tell me," your voice cracked slightly, "I'm your...best friend, right?" Even if you had growing feelings for him. "You could have...should have told me," you insisted, "we could have gone to Mr. Aizawa or the other heroes."

He swallowed hard, wiping his eyes. "I was ashamed," he confessed. "I’ve always been ashamed. I didn’t want to be this person. One who betrays and lies to everyone," he wiped his face, sniffling loudly. "But I was scared. My parents were scared. All For One gave me my quirk and used it as a tool to control me into submission."

Your brow furrowed, once again caught between conflicting emotions. You felt angry that his parents were so desperate for him to have a quirk that they turned to a villain like All For One instead of accepting him for who he was. And yet, your heart was also breaking for him. For the circumstances he was put through, just to be part of a society that praised people for having quirks and shunned those who did not.

"Do you know what it’s like," he continued, voice trembling, "to act fabulous when all I wanted to do was run?" The overwhelming sense of guilt was getting to him. "To hide and pretend none of this happened? That I wasn't some victim playing the part of a hero?!"

Your eyes widened, your breath hitching. His words made your heart ache all over again. "Yuga I—"

"Yet, you...you kept me from falling."

"W-what?"

He grabbed your hand and held it tight so you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to.

You shook your head, your heart racing at his words. "I...wasn't the only one you had to keep you from falling. Everyone in Class A..." you trailed off, knowing this moment was only between you and him. You looked at your hand in his, noticing how his touch felt tingly. You latched onto your lip, contemplating your next words. There was no way everything he did was just an act. "You weren’t pretending," you said gently. "You were still you, even through all of this. The way you shined was real, it couldn't have been fake."

Even after hurting you, the fact that you said he still shined meant everything. However, it wasn't completely the truth. He shook his head, sniffling. "I...didn't think anyone could love the real me, the scared me. The one who betrayed everyone so he could survive."

"Mm..." you glanced away, although you could feel a heavy truth to his words. Stepping closer, you reached out, brushing his hair out of his face. The back of your fingers caressed the side of his cheek, noting how warm and wet it felt. "I...still love you." Your words came out soft and shy. "T-that's why it hurt so much when you..."

His eyes widened at your confession, "W-what?" He took a straddled breath, locking eyes with you as if trying to make sense of words he never thought he’d hear. "You…you still do?" he asked quietly, taking a step closer. His body now inches from yours.

You nodded, your heart beating just a little faster. "I hate what you did," you clarified. "But I also know you hated it too. Hated being...scared, betraying everyone to keep yourself safe."

He frowned as you reminded him of his cowardice. "I'm...sorry," he muttered weakly.

"But..." you sighed. "If you're willing to fight now, to...fix all of this, then I-I'll forgive you and I’ll stand beside you."

He let out a breath and leaned forward slowly, as if afraid you'd vanish. He kept his grip on your hand, and his other came to rest on your lower back, pulling you against him. His forehead pressed against yours.

Your heart was racing as he closed the distance between the two of you. Despite the countless times the two of you exchanged hugs in the past, this felt different.

"Mon amour," he whispered, "you're so good to me, I...do not deserve you," he commented, his eyes, although slightly bloodshot, shone with a sense of adoration.

As he whispered, your heart jumped in your chest, and your stomach churned, slowly fluttering with butterflies. Did he just say? You looked at him, stunned and slightly confused.

He noticed your confused expression and couldn't help but smile. The first real genuine smile he had since being locked away, since the truth came to the surface. You were always so adorable, so sweet and kind to him. That's likely why he began to have feelings for you, and regardless of how you felt now, he was determined to prove to you just how much you meant to him. "You're choosing me anyway, even after everything I've done," he noted, leaning closer.

"Stop it," you muttered, he wouldn't want me to act like this. as you continued to walk, the smoke slowly clearing. "Everything will be fine," you tried to assure yourself, taking a deep breath to calm the knots in your stomach. However, you stopped in your tracks when you saw someone lying on the ground.

A soft growl rumbled in Katsuki's throat, his fingers curling deeper into the ground. He turned his head, looking at his injured shoulder. The skin was hot, irritated, and bloodstained from the cut he had received, and the fabric was torn away, lingering with faint lines of smoke. Of course, he was too prideful to let anyone know that it hurt. He was angrier at himself for letting his guard down. What kind of damn hero would he make if he fell for dumbass tricks or distractions? Shit—he needed to get better if he was going to be the number one hero someday. However, his thoughts were shattered when he heard a voice cut through the air.

"Katsuki!" You ran as fast as your feet would carry you, despite knowing the cameras were capturing your every little move. But at this point, you didn't care who saw what; all you knew was that someone you cared deeply for was hurt, and you were in a panic.

His teeth now latched onto his bottom lip, his body tensing as you approached. "Y/n..." he growled, almost like a warning, although he knew you'd ignore it. You were stubborn like that, and yet, the only person besides that damn Deku who tried to break down his walls. He let you in, but at the same time, he was also pushing you out. Maybe he was selfish, but he didn't want his hero image ruined because of his sexuality or his relationship with you.

"Katsuki," you said, kneeling beside him, "h-hold on...I can—" How were you going to fix this? You swallowed and settled for holding his hand, trying to force a reassuring smile. "You're going to be alright, baby."

The heavy buzz of sirens could be heard in the distance, evidence of the match ending and help arriving soon. At least UA High was concerned about the well-being of their students and always took care of their injuries on site, thanks to Recovery Girl.

"See? The match has ended and..." you squeezed his hand, "I know you hate losing, but I can still offer you a kiss for your hard work—" That's when you felt it. The heated tension, and it wasn't just fueled from this moment, his injury, or losing the match...no. It was something else.

"Get...the hell off!" he hissed. "And let go of my hand, damn idiot!"

You furrowed your brow. "W-what?" you replied. "But I'm just—"

"I said get the hell off!" he snapped, shoving you away.

You grunted, almost losing your balance. But you were more hurt than shocked, feeling a heavy weight upon your chest, like your heart was shattered because of his actions. He had done things like this in the past, and while you had always forgiven him, something about this time was...different.

Seconds later, the sound of robotic feet came, and two robots that UA High used during training to fetch students and survey the area came to collect Katsuki, who immediately refused to go with them.

He grunted as he stood on his feet, glaring at the robots. "I don't need to go anywhere, damn it!" he snapped, his opposite hand clenching his injured shoulder. "Stupid...idiot..." he muttered, taking long, dragged out steps toward the exit of the training field.

You remained there, on the ground where he had left you.

The others—Eijirou, Kaminari, Shoto, Ashido—were watching this moment.

"Uh, should we help Y/n?" Eijirou asked, turning to the rest of his classmates.

"I don't know," Shoto replied, looking at Ashido, "it looks like Bakugou was mad."

She huffed in response. "Bakugou is always mad," she stated, "but it looks like he really hurt Y/n's feelings. That stubborn Bakugou can't accept help, can he?"

Kaminari shrugged. "Yeah, it looks like Y/n was only trying to help Bakugou...but Bakugou pushed him away. Why is Y/n just sitting there now? Come on!" he shouted at the screen. "Move Y/n!"

You continued to look at the ground, your head hanging low as you replayed the moment he pushed you away. You could still hear his slow, heavy footsteps in the distance. "Mm..." you frowned, your hands curling into fists. You drew a lingering breath, sighing as you slowly stood up. But it felt as though you were walking on glass as you trailed behind Katsuki, your steps cautious like a nervous animal, not wanting to anger him…again.

As expected, your classmates were waiting for you, and each one of them was equally as worried as the next. However, most of the concern went to Katsuki, who tried to play off his injury.

"Mm..." you frowned, feeling your stomach churn. You weren't sure if you were jealous or if that lingering feeling of hurt was eating away at you. But something about the way they looked at him, asked him if he was alright, even laying their hands on him, made a soft fire ignite within. Maybe you were foolish, and maybe you should have considered what your next actions would cause. But surely, his earlier anger was just a fluke, right? He wasn't really angry at you; he didn't really want to push you away. You took a deep breath and walked over, wrapping your arms around him. Your chest pressing against his back. Gasps sounded at your display of affection, but somehow that made you more prideful. Like you were showing that he belonged to you, and you only.

His body stiffened in response, his eyes widened, and his head slowly turned. His jaw clenched, and that heated tension from earlier seeped into the air.

You nuzzled your head into his back, believing he just needed a little comfort. That wound of his was probably hurting, but a little tender, love, and care would make him feel better. "Katsuki's so brave and strong," you commented, "a little wound like that can't keep you down, right?"

His voice cut through the air like glass shattering, and he brought his arm back, shoving you away from him once again. "You damn idiot!" he snapped. His brow furrowed, and his teeth bared like a rapid animal ready to bite. "I don't need a damn extra like you saying stupid crap like that! Leave me the hell alone, got it!?"

You could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on the two of you, and the awkward and heavy silence that followed.

"Tsk," he slowly walked away, assumingly to Recovery Girl.

You stood there, his words 'Leave me the hell alone' echoing in your head. Your chest tightened, and your mouth went dry. His dark eyes and the scowl he wore when he spoke those words were all too understandable, and that made you finally understand he wasn't ready. You blinked, noticing that your eyes were watering, leaving behind an unpleasant burning.

"Huh? Dude! Are you alright?" Kaminari asked, noticing that you looked like you were about to cry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your cheeks still hot and rosy, likely from the secondhand embarrassment that was still processing.

"Come on, dude! Are you okay?" Kaminari asked again.

"Well, obviously, he isn’t okay!" Ashido said, "Bakugou was a real jerk to him." As weird as the display was, she didn't think Katsuki had any right to push you away twice. Especially when you were only trying to help.

"But hey! Don't worry man," Eijirou said, coming to lightly slap your shoulder. "No need to cry! I mean, you can totally cry if you want, I think it's super manly to express your...uh, emotions! But maybe Bakugou just needs to cool down, I'm sure he didn't mean all that...stuff he said."

Your heart sank further as you stared at them. But everything finally made sense. He didn't want them to know, and maybe...he never would. You opened your mouth, taking an uneasy breath before wiping your eyes. "G-got it," you replied quietly.

"Hm?" Eijirou blinked and looked at Kaminari before turning back to you. "What?"

You gave an awkward smile, not bothering to answer him as you walked away.

For the following week, you avoided him as he wished. It didn't matter whether you were in class, in the halls, in the cafeteria, or doing training exercises. But at least this gave you time to evaluate your relationship with him. You were the one who confessed your feelings to him first, and as a male, you thought he'd reject you immediately. But he seemed okay with it. He'd allow you to hold his hand, sneak in a few kisses, but never in front of anyone. He always said he'd come out when he was ready, and even with you by his side, he didn't seem any less eager.

'I don't need a damn extra like you saying stupid crap like that!'

Yeah, maybe if you had never confessed your feelings in the first place, you wouldn't be suffering from a broken heart right now. Surely, you deserved someone who was proud to show you off, who wasn't afraid to say, 'This is my boyfriend, and I don't care what you think.' Sadly, that wasn't the reality. You technically had no one to hold hands with, no one to stare at lovingly, no one to steal kisses in the dark with.

He noticed the distance you had put between yourself and him. At first, he assumed it was because you were mad at him for what he did. When he replayed the moment, he could admit that he was being a little harsh, and yeah, maybe he was selfish for not wanting others to know about the relationship you two had. But hell, now everyone noticed how you were avoiding him, and frankly, it was pissing him off. Who the hell does he think he is, avoiding me!? However, he also assumed that you'd come back to him. Maybe yell at him behind closed doors, smack him, call him names. Something. It's not like the two of you hadn't had arguments about this in the past, but as the days went on, and he realized you weren't running back to his arms, he got concerned.

"Damn it!" he growled one day, slamming his bedroom door as hard as he could when he stepped out into the hallway of the student dorm building. His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists. He was torn between stomping to your room and begging for you back and remaining prideful and so assured that he didn't need you.

Eijirou came running down the hall. "W-what's happening?" he asked, somewhat concerned and panicked, before his eyes settled on Katsuki. "Uh, Bakubro," he said, cautiously approaching. "Did you just slam your door?"

"Yeah, what of it!?" he snapped.

He took a step back, holding his hands up. "Whoa there, heh...no need to be so angry." Of course, that was always an understatement with Katsuki. Ashido might have been onto something when she said he was always angry.

"Shut the hell up, you damn idiot!" he growled, closing the distance between them. Anger seeped from him in waves, making the aura around him dark and suffocating.

"Uh, heh," he swallowed hard before lowering his hands. "Uh, are you and Y/n...good?"

His body jolted at the mention of your name, and his gaze grew dark.

His eyes widened, and he rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, I mean...y-you've been acting weird since that day, I just...uh, wanted to make sure everything is okay." He chuckled. "I mean...Y/n is a pretty good guy, you know. I think he was just trying to make you feel better and...I'm sure he understands why you were so angry."

He growled, wanting to bark back at him. To scream, to even ring his neck, but he found himself unable to do so. "Tsk..." he latched onto his lip, looking away. He was the one who told you to back off. He was the one who pushed you away. He was the one who didn't want anyone to know what the two of you had. Yet, he was the one feeling hurt and abandoned. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, pushing past Eijirou.

"Hey!"

Why did he hurt like this? Damn it, he hated to admit that he needed to fix this. He didn't want to keep hurting like this, and yet he didn't want to admit he was missing you. But he knew he couldn't keep this up. He was only getting more pissed the longer you avoided him, and yeah...maybe he wasn't the best partner...boyfriend? He didn't know what to label himself as, but one thing was sure: he wanted you back.

You sighed as you zipped up your hoodie and pulled the hood over your head, carefully stepping out of your room. Although it was past curfew, you made your way to the rooftop where you had been spending the past few nights. Finding yourself unable to sleep, you assumed some stargazing and cold night air might help. "Another sleepless night," you muttered as you folded your arms over the railing of the roof. Your eyes absentmindedly stared into the dark, and that heavy feeling still surged through your chest. You thought that avoiding Katsuki would help him realize how important you were to him, but it had been a week, and well...there was very little progress. You sighed again and hung your head, frowning. "Maybe I should just give up...there's bound to be someone else out there for me."

"Hey, don't count me out, damn it!"

You blinked, jolting slightly as the noise cut through the air. Your heart, against your will, quickened, acting as evidence of the effect he still had over you. Heavy footsteps followed, each one making your pulse rise just a little more.

"Eh," he said, laying a hand on your shoulder. Although he half-expected you to brush it off, what he didn't expect was that you remained facing forward. Not bothering to look at him. The silence that lingered between you was heavy, reminding him of how he messed up. Yeah, maybe he let his anger get the best of him...maybe pride too. "Mm..." his fingers tightened on your shoulder, "you've been avoiding me, huh? Think I wouldn't notice?"

"I'm only doing what you told me to," you replied, your voice soft and hollow.

A gust of wind came, brushing over the rooftop, feeling like shards of glass against your face, and rustled the nearby leaves, creating an eerie echo.

He took a deep breath, trying to push down his anger that boiled like fiery hell flames inside him. "I know," he replied with a slight growl, "but I...didn't mean it like that."

You gave a bitter laugh, "Okay." Obviously, you didn’t believe what he said.

He clenched his jaw, wanting to snap at you. Instead, he swallowed his pride and removed his hand from your shoulder to run through his hair. His fingers were hot and trembling. Evidence of his anger and how it affected his quirk. "F-fine!" he said, stomping his foot against the roof, the sound echoing into the otherwise silent night. "I...did say that..." he muttered, "but I didn't think you'd actually do it!" He paused, trying to come up with his next set of words. "And...and I didn't want pity from those idiots or questions about why you were hugging me and saying all that…crap you said." He enjoyed praise on most occasions, but the way you spoke to him was almost childish, like you were making fun of him in his injured state.

You sighed and hung your head before turning to him. "You never want to admit what we have," you pointed out. "Are you that ashamed of me when I was only worried about your well-being?"

He shifted his feet, crossing his arms. "No." He sighed, his brow furrowed. "I just don't want everyone eyeing us every time we walk into the room or trying to give us damn relationship advice!" he explained. "What we have isn't any of their damn business, so why do you want them to know?"

"You're acting like I asked for a kiss in front of them. I was only saying what I said to help comfort you." You sighed, almost hating to admit that his explanation did make sense. If your classmates found out, they would certainly stare and give Katsuki a hard time. When he became a pro hero, there was still a chance such a thing could happen. The media was ruthless, but they didn't touch much on hero relationships unless the hero in question was at least in the top 5 heroes. "And what of when you become a pro? What about after we graduate?" you asked.

He grimaced some, inhaling through clenched teeth. "Graduation is only a few months away, and when I get my damn agency, I can finally have you all to myself. Away from their damn peering eyes," he explained.

You exhaled slowly. "Are you scared?" you asked, knowing you'd hit his nerve. "Pushing me away...in front of everyone. Well, that hurt, Katsuki." Did he not realize that? "You don't get to do that, and tell me to leave you alone, and then act like I'm the one who hurt you."

"I know that, damn it!" he snapped again before taking a breath. "I...know that," he said, slightly calmer. "And I'm not scared...just...angry thinking about what they'd say...but..." he paused, reaching for your hand. No one was watching the two of you now, just the moon and the stars above. "I screwed up, okay?" he finally admitted. "I get that, and I know I hurt you. But, hell, I'm trying to make this work the best I can, I..." he paused again. His voice was a little rough as he spoke the words, "I still want you."

"If that's true, then you wouldn't be trying to hide our relationship, and-"

"Okay!" he snapped again, his grip on your hand tightening. He hated showing vulnerability, but it was there, hidden underneath all his anger. He leaned closer to you. "How about this then," he suggested, "when we graduate, we'll tell them together, yeah?"

"Tell them together?"

"I'm not scared," he repeated, "but if it makes you happy, I'll tell them with you by my side, okay? And...until then, when we're alone..." he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. "I'll prove to you how much I want you, okay? Just...stop avoiding me, damn it, and..." he sighed, and leaned down, burying his face into your hair. His nostrils filling with your familiar scent that brought him comfort. "Just...hug me back, you idiot."

Yet, he felt somewhat self-conscious regarding how you'd react to his new glasses. His brow furrowed as the quiet uncertainty lingered in the air, and yet he knew, as a hero, that he could not allow fear or uncertainty to plague him. Composing himself, he walked over to his desk. His long strides bleeding with confidence as he spoke into the intercom, "Y/n, I require you in my office immediately."

It wasn't unusual for him to call you into his office, as you were a dedicated member of Team Idaten and had known him since your days at UA High. However, given that it was a slow day, you wondered what he could possibly want, as he usually took this time to finish paperwork. Regardless, you made your way to the top floor of the building and politely knocked on his office door.

"Come in."

Your lip curled, resembling a half smile as you stepped inside and saw him standing in front of the window wall, his hands folded behind his back.

He looked at your reflection in the glass. "Ah, Y/n," he said, despite his stomach churning as he faced you. His fingers gently grasped one side of his glasses. "I trust you are well," he said with a smile.

You blinked, as if double-checking if the man was Tenya. Then you tilted your head, staring at him. No words, just silence echoing through the air.

He noticed your lingering gaze and how your lips parted slightly as if you wanted to say something but couldn't articulate the words. Yet, the longer you stared, the more tense he found himself. The silence grew heavier by the second, and he could feel a faint heat creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat. "Forgive me...do my new glasses look rather odd?" he asked. His fingers twitched, prepared to yank the frames off his face if you disapproved of them.

You slowly came out of your daze, then gave a gentle smile. "No," you replied, coming to stand in front of him. "Actually, you look...amazing," you chuckled, "like a true hero should."

"A-amazing?" he repeated, ducking his head slightly, his perfectly sculpted cheekbones turning a soft rose color.

You chuckled at his all too obvious attempt to hide his flushed face. "Yes," you confirmed, "classy, clean, and very distinguished." Although it could be argued he was already those things, you couldn't resist how your compliments affected him.

An odd tingling began to spread through his stomach, and for a moment, he believed something might be wrong or perhaps he was simply feeling nervous due to your positive response regarding how his new glasses improved his appearance. He swallowed hard, noticing his mouth suddenly felt dry. He parted his lips, but no words came out. He cleared his throat before attempting to speak again. "I...t-thank you," he said, although it was all too clear he was still nervous. He lifted his hand, rapidly chopping it through the air as he explained, "I...was uncertain if these glasses truly suited my face. However, I believed it was time for a change as heroes must keep up with such things as public appearances." He paused, taking a much-needed breath. "But if you believe my selected eyewear is acceptable—"

"Whoa there," you said, "I complimented you, Iida." Shaking your head, you added, "At no point did I use the word acceptable." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Even if they weren't acceptable, it's more important what you think, not what I think. But...I think you look good with those glasses."

His body stiffened, his hands pressed against his sides, fingers sticking out as you corrected him. Oh...yes, perhaps he did just simply assume that is what you said. Like his face, he could feel a warmth spreading through the tips of his ears, tinting them a soft pink. "Y-yes...um," he cleared his throat again. "Please forgive me, I..." he shyly glanced at you. "I am afraid I quite favor your opinion; it truly means a great deal to me."

"Huh?" you raised your eyebrow. Tenya Iida, the great Ingenium, favored your opinion? You clicked your tongue. "I don't understand why you would favor my opinion. But uh, thanks..." you chuckled. "For the record, I really do think you're handsome, Iida," granted, so did most of his fanbase, "especially in those glasses."

He nearly choked when he heard the word handsome, and covered his face with his hand, feeling the rising temperature of his cheeks against his palm. Perhaps this was more than he could handle for the moment. "I...I see...w-well that is...uh, t-that is..." He was at a loss for words.

You snickered and touched his arm, your fingers gently gliding over his shoulder as you stepped closer and leaned up to whisper in his ear. "Don't think too much about it," although you knew he overthought everything, which was probably why you began walking away, believing it was best to leave him stewing in his thoughts until he was ready to find you again.