announcementz: arctic analysis schedule out now!! please reblogs and like it up!! I love this series more than life so please give it even a fraction of that!! summary posted on the schedule!
A/N: thank you so much for all the support and interactions!! if u don't see ur fav up here, its most likely cause I just got tired ;) but requests are open and I'm happy to write for almost anything and anyone! rules posted, pls read before making requests!!
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SO how we feeling about reader being part of erisâs rescue team when all of this overhaul thing happened so now sheâs very attached to you too and sees you as the mother figure she never had and you, knowing everything sheâs been through, canât help but feel the same way and adore her so times goes by and now you go visit her at UA anytime you can after your pro-heroe work and also as an excuse to see mr. midoriya more (youâve been good friends since you joined class 1A but also your secret crushâŠ) and eri just KNOWS since day one but also knows everything izuku has never had the courage to show/tell you, so tries to give you both a helping hand!
Cupid
summary: cupid!eri trying to get teacher!izuku and hero!reader together bcz she knows damn well they need it
warning/s: none! fluff
w/c: 4k~
The raid on the Shie Hassaikai compound was a blur of dust, shouts, and collapsing tunnels. Y/N had been pulled onto the rescue team as Class 1-A supportâher sound amplification Quirk perfect for signaling teams and clearing paths without full structural collapse. When Mirio stumbled out carrying a tiny, bloodied girl, Y/N was closest.
She dropped her gear and knelt immediately. âHey⊠Eri, right? Iâm Y/N. Youâre safe. Iâve got you.â
Eriâs small hands gripped her sleeve like a lifeline. She didnât let go the entire extraction. That silent attachment stuck. Y/N knew the reports laterâ the years of pain, the Rewind Quirk experiments, the isolation. So she showed up every day she could during Eriâs recovery, bringing quiet company and no pressure. Just steady, bubbly warmth that cut through the fear.
Eight years later, things had settled into a rhythm.
Y/N was twenty-four, two years into full pro hero work with a mid-tier agency specializing in urban rescue and crowd control. She balanced patrols with occasional guest teaching slots at UA. IzukuâDekuâhad followed a similar path: full hero license, then sliding into a teaching role at UA alongside his fieldwork. Theyâd stayed close friends since their student days, the kind of friendship built on late-night strategy talks and mutual respect. Y/Nâs long-standing crush stayed buried under easy banter. She wasnât about to risk the one steady relationship she valued most.
Eri was fourteen now. Still small for her age, but sharper, more independent. She lived on UA grounds under staff supervision, attending regular classes while continuing careful Quirk counseling. She still saw Y/N as the closest thing to a motherâsomeone who understood the weight of her past without forcing conversation about it.
Y/N visited whenever her patrol schedule allowed, often using Eri as the perfect excuse to swing by the faculty areas where Izuku usually graded papers or prepped lessons.
Today, Y/N arrived just after the final bell, helmet tucked under her arm and a canvas bag over her shoulder. The late afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the UA campus. Eri was waiting near the faculty entrance like she always did when Y/N texted ahead.
âYouâre later than usual,â Eri said, falling into step beside her. Her voice had that quiet steadiness sheâd grown into, but she still leaned slightly toward Y/N.
âHad to finish a report on a minor villain takedown. Nothing serious.â Y/N bumped her shoulder gently. âBrought those sour gummies you pretend not to like and some new sketch pens. Figured you might be drawing during study hall again.â
Eri took the bag with a small nod, but her fingers brushed Y/Nâs wristâa habitual check that she was really there. âThanks. The teachers get excited when you visit. Even Aizawa.â
Y/N grinned, bubbly energy lifting her step. âHeâd rather die than admit it. Come on, letâs drop stuff off before he pretends to nap through the whole thing.â
The teachersâ lounge hadnât changed much in the years since Y/N graduated. Same worn couches, same faint smell of coffee and dry-erase markers. Present Mic spotted her first and waved.
âY/N! My favorite pro dropping in to save us from boredom!â He kept his voice at a manageable level these daysâage and experience had mellowed the volume somewhat. âWhatâs the haul?â
âSpicy chips for you, Mic-sensei. Plain salt for the cowards. Those dark roast pods Aizawa pretends he doesnât hoard, and some protein bars for All Mightâs afternoon slump.â Y/N unpacked everything onto the central table with casual efficiency.
Aizawa, seated in his usual corner reviewing lesson plans, accepted the coffee pods with a grunt. âYouâre enabling them.â
âYouâre welcome,â Y/N replied cheerfully. She dropped into the chair across from him. âNew third-years giving you that usual headache?â
âWorse. They think theyâre original.â Aizawa tore open a pod and slotted it into the machine. The twitch at the corner of his mouth was as close as he got to appreciation. The staff had learned over the years that Y/Nâs visits meant decent supplies and a temporary lift in mood without anyone forcing small talk. She fit the rhythm of the place.
All Might, still involved in mentoring despite his reduced hours, gave her a warm nod from his seat. âYoung Y/N continues to brighten the halls. Eri looks forward to these days.â
Eri had settled against Y/Nâs side on the couch, quietly eating a gummy. At fourteen, she no longer clung like she did at six, but the attachment remainedâquiet trust earned through years of consistent presence.
Y/N ruffled her hair lightly. âHowâre classes? Any better with math?â
âStill hate it,â Eri muttered. âBut Iâm passing.â
âThatâs my girl.â
They lingered for half an hour. The teachers updated her on minor campus events, asked about her recent patrols. Her kind, bubbly demeanor cut through the usual post-class fatigue. Even Aizawaâs dry commentary flowed easier, though heâd deny it if asked.
Eventually Eri tugged her sleeve. âDekuâs in the training field with the second-years. We should go.â
Y/N felt the familiar flutter but kept her face neutral. âLead the way.â
Izuku had been teaching full-time for nearly two years now, balancing it with weekend hero shifts. He stood at the edge of the field demonstrating a controlled Full Cowl application, green energy flickering around his frame. When he spotted Y/N and Eri approaching, he wrapped up the drill quickly and jogged over.
âHey! Perfect timing.â His smile was genuine, a little tired from the day but brighter at the sight of them. âPatrols go smooth today?â
âStandard stuff. One idiot tried robbing a bank with a weak emitter Quirk. Handled it.â Y/N kept her tone light, friendlyâthe same way sheâd spoken to him since their Class 1-A days. âYou look like youâve been running them ragged.â
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, curls damp. âTrying to get them to think about efficiency instead of flash. Eri, how was your day?â
âNormal,â Eri said. Then, with calculated innocence: âY/N brought snacks again. You should join us later. She always picks the ones you like.â
Y/N shot her a sideways glance. Eri had been doing this for monthsâsmall nudges, innocent observations. Sheâd clocked Y/Nâs feelings early, and she knew Izukuâs side too. The way he lingered after Y/N left. The extra analysis notes he kept on her Quirkâs applications in rescue scenarios. The way his muttering returned when she visited.
Izuku smiled. âThatâd be great. Iâve got twenty minutes left here if you two want to watch.â
They stayed at the sidelines. Y/N crossed her arms, watching the students run drills while staying hyper-aware of Izuku beside her. Their shoulders brushed occasionally. Eight years of friendship, and the crush still sat heavy and unspoken. She valued what they had too much to gamble.
âYouâve been coming by more often,â Izuku noted after a moment, voice casual. âWork isnât burning you out?â
âNah. Eriâs a good excuse to escape paperwork.â Y/N kept it breezy. âPlus itâs nice seeing everyone. Even when Aizawa glares like Iâm disrupting his nap schedule.â
Izuku chuckled. âHe appreciates it. More than he shows. We all do.â
Eri wandered a few steps away, pretending interest in a patch of grass, but Y/N knew she was listening.
The pattern continued over the following weeks.
Y/Nâs visits became a regular bright spot. Sheâd show up with supplies tailored to whoever was aroundânew earplugs for the noise-sensitive staff, updated hero journals for the teachers mentoring fieldwork. The UA faculty had grown fond of her over the years. Present Mic always greeted her loudly. All Might treated her like a favored successor. Aizawa tolerated her with minimal grumbling, which was high praise. Her bubbly kindness didnât grate; it simply made the long days easier.
Eri, at fourteen, had grown more strategic with her helping.
One afternoon she âforgotâ her notebook in the library where Izuku was grading. Y/N went with her to retrieve it and ended up spending forty minutes alone with him discussing old training methods while Eri mysteriously took her time returning.
Another visit, Eri drew a detailed sketch of the three of them on patrol together and left it on Izukuâs desk while Y/N was in the room. âItâs just practice,â she said plainly. âBut you two look good working side by side.â
Y/N felt her face heat. Izuku studied the drawing quietly, ears red.
âYouâre getting bold, kid,â Y/N told Eri later, half-amused.
Eri shrugged. âYou both helped me when everything hurt. You should have something good too. He likes you the same way. He just doesnât say it.â
Y/N crouched to her level, voice soft. âItâs not that easy, Eri. Weâre friends. Good ones. I donât want to complicate that.â
âBut you make him less serious,â Eri said. âAnd he makes you smile bigger after hard patrols. I see it.â
One overcast Thursday, Y/N arrived straight from a longer patrol, costume still dusty from a building collapse response. Eri met her at the gate with a spare jacket.
âYou look tired,â Eri observed.
âRough one. Everyone got out okay, though.â Y/N accepted the jacket and pulled it on. âLetâs find Deku. I need something normal after that.â
Izuku was in the faculty lounge this time, reviewing student essays. He looked up immediately when they entered, concern flickering across his face at her disheveled state.
âLong day?â he asked.
âYeah. But itâs fine.â Y/N dropped onto the couch beside him, Eri claiming her other side. âBrought those matcha snacks you both pretend are too sweet.â
They settled into easy conversation. Eri stayed close, occasionally chiming in. When the girl eventually stood to âget water,â she left them alone.
Izuku shifted slightly. âYou know you donât have to come here every time youâre exhausted. Weâre grateful, butââ
âI want to,â Y/N said simply. âEriâs important. You all are.â She paused. âYou especially, Deku. Always have been.â
The words hung thereâhonest but careful. Izuku met her eyes, green gaze steady.
âSame,â he replied after a beat. âSince our first year. Youâve always been the one who made heavy things feel manageable. I⊠value that. A lot.â
No big confession. No dramatic music swell. Just quiet acknowledgment between two people who had built something solid over years. Y/N felt the weight in her chest ease a fraction.
Eri returned with water and said nothing, but the small, satisfied curve to her mouth was telling. She leaned against Y/Nâs shoulder while the adults continued talking in low voices about patrols, lesson plans, and Eriâs upcoming school festival plans.
Outside, the clouds finally broke into steady rain. Inside the lounge, the mood stayed warm. Aizawa passed through at one point, paused to grab one of the snacks Y/N brought, and offered a short nod of thanks before leaving again. High approval.
Y/N stayed until evening curfew approached for the students. When it was time to head out, Eri walked her to the gate, Izuku trailing a few steps behind to give them a moment.
âWill you come next week?â Eri asked.
âWouldnât miss it.â Y/N hugged her tightly. âLove you, kid. Stay out of trouble.â
âLove you too.â Eriâs voice was quiet but sure. Then, softer: âTell him soon. Okay?â
Y/N laughed under her breath. âWeâll see.â
She glanced back at Izuku, who raised a hand in goodbye. The crush was still there, but the space between them felt a little smaller. A little warmer.
For now, the visits, the quiet support, and Eriâs patient nudges were enough. Life as pro heroes and teachers didnât need grand gestures. It needed consistency. And they had that.
Not a req but while I know ppl make Monoma the âbullyâ or jerk character since he kinda is in canon, heâs a bit like Bakugo in the sense itâs so fun to ragebait him
and I love how sero (specifically) and the bakusquad take FULL advantage of that
HI sorry this is not a request but Iâm the anon from the star quirk request hehe im sososo very happy you liked it that much!!! because i absolutely LOVED it, i love izuku and i can feel how much you love him too by the way you write about him (itâs so cute) so please never stop doing this because youâre amazing, like really Shakespeare would die a second time just to have your talent. I swear. đźâđšđźâđšđźâđš
so every time i have an idea i will come here and tell you if itâs helps you to write or come up with other ideas (always if you really like it and want to do it, i donât want to overwhelm you or anything so just let me know if im being annoying lol)
â đ
OMFG THANK U S MUCH! THIS IS SO KIND AND SWEET! ur asks are so creative and that's specifically why I loved to write for urs!! glad u enjoyed it!!
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Reader accidentally hurts someone again with their quirk and it's like the last straw and they like finally snap and run away from UA in an attempt to protect their classmates. But with the stress of everything their quirk gets more out of control and they end up causing havoc in the streets, breaking lights, buildings, hurting people on accident, even hurting themselves eventually
i just wote something like this actually! its called never just protection!! hope u like it!
I love your work so much and I wanted to ask for a reader that is obsessed with musicals like Hamilton, Be More Chill and Heathers. Theyâre always humming and singing them. They are also like active in theater and has a great voice. Class 1-A is trying to get used to it but some think itâs crazy how good their voice is and some think itâs annoying how theyâre always singing. Izuku would just be fascinated with how well they sing and how good their acting is. But have a good day and donât feel pressured to answer these!
Theater Kid?! Its a MUSICAL
àŒâ§âË. summary: musical kid!reader x class 1a who accidentally shows of her skills, but 1a doesn't seem to mind!!
àŒâ§âË. warning/s: none! fluff
àŒâ§âË. w/c: 2k~
You were humming again.
This time it was âThe Room Where It Happensâ as you dropped your gym bag in the common room after morning training. Half the class was already sprawled across the couches and floor, exhausted and sweaty. Your voice wasnât loud, but it carried enough that several heads turned.
âSeriously?â Kaminari groaned, face planted in a pillow. âWe just ran drills for three hours and youâve still got energy for that?â
You shrugged, switching to the rap part under your breath while grabbing a water bottle. âHelps me cool down. Better than sitting in silence replaying how I almost ate dirt in the third set.â
Mina stretched out on the couch, kicking her legs up. âI donât get how you do it. You sound like youâre actually in a theater even when youâre just muttering. Itâs weird.â
âWeird good or weird bad?â you asked.
âWeird impressive,â she admitted. âStill weird though.â
Most of Class 1-A had adjusted to your constant soundtrack over the past few months. You were the theater kid who refused to drop the hobby even with hero course hell eating up all your time. Between Quirk training, academics, and actual theater club rehearsals twice a week, you still found time to blast Hamilton, Heathers, and Be More Chill in the dorms. Sometimes you sang full songs. Sometimes you just hummed while doing homework or cooking.
Some handled it better than others.
Bakugo had made it very clear he was in the âothersâ category.
âOi. If youâre gonna keep making noise, at least make it something that doesnât sound like a middle school drama club,â he snapped from the kitchen, slamming the fridge shut.
You didnât miss a beat. You turned and hit the opening of âBig Funâ from Heathers with full voice, smirking when his eye twitched hard.
âDie,â he muttered, but he didnât bother escalating. Heâd learned weeks ago that yelling only made you louder.
Izuku was different. He didnât complain. He observed.
He was sitting at the table with his notebook open like always, but his pen had stopped moving the second you started humming. Green eyes tracked you with that intense, analytical stare he usually reserved for Quirks.
Later in the afternoon, during individual Quirk refinement time, you were running vocal warm-ups while stretching. Izuku wandered over, notebook in hand.
âUm⊠sorry if this is random,â he started, âbut how do you keep your voice that steady after breathing exercises? I noticed during the rescue drills last week you were still projecting clearly even after carrying that weighted dummy. Is it diaphragm control from singing? Or is it part of your Quirk?â
You paused mid-hum. âBoth, I guess. Theater training helps a ton with breath support. My Quirk makes sound waves stronger when I push them, but the control comes from singing. Why?â
He flipped a page, scribbling quickly. âItâs just⊠really efficient. Most peopleâs voices crack or get breathy after physical strain. Yours doesnât. And the way you switch stylesâHamilton rap one minute, Heathers belt the nextâitâs like youâre training emotional range and vocal flexibility at the same time. Thatâs actually kind of amazing for hero work. Especially in crisis negotiation or crowd control.â
You raised an eyebrow. âYouâve been watching me sing that closely?â
Izukuâs face went a little red, but he didnât back down. âItâs hard not to. Youâre really good. Like⊠professional level. I keep wondering how much of it is natural and how much is training.â
âMostly training,â you said, sitting down on the mat. âIâve been doing musicals since I was twelve. Auditioning, rehearsals, the whole thing. Helps that I actually like it.â
Jiro walked past, earjacks twitching. âUnderstatement. Your pitch is scary accurate. I thought you were using a backing track the first time I heard you do âWicked Little Town.ââ
You grinned. âHigh praise from the actual musician.â
She shrugged, but looked mildly impressed. âJust facts.â
The real test came two days later when theater club had you preparing a solo for the upcoming showcase. You practiced in your bedroom after dinner because the music room was booked.
This time it was âDead Girl Walking.â Full voice. No half-measures.
The class slowly filtered in as you went through it. Some were just passing through. Others stayed.
Kirishima sat on the arm of the couch, eyebrows up. âDamn. That oneâs intense. Youâre actually acting while singing. Like, full face and everything.â
You finished the last note and rolled your shoulders. âThatâs the point. Itâs not just hitting notes. Itâs selling the scene.â
Uraraka looked a little stunned. âI thought you were just⊠humming for fun before. But that was actually crazy good.â
âTell that to the people who think Iâm annoying,â you said, glancing toward Bakugo, who was pretending to watch TV but had clearly been listening.
âTch. Still annoying,â he grunted. âDoesnât mean you suck at it.â
That was probably the closest thing to a compliment youâd ever get from him.
Izuku stayed the longest. After everyone else had gone back to their rooms or homework, he lingered, fidgeting with his notebook.
âCan I ask something?â he said quietly.
âSure.â
âWhen youâre acting it out⊠how do you flip emotions that fast? One second youâre cocky, the next youâre desperate. Is it just practice or do you actually feel it?â
You thought about it. âBoth. You rehearse it so much that it becomes muscle memory, but you still tap into real stuff. Otherwise it looks fake.â
He nodded slowly, like youâd just explained a new fighting technique. âThat makes sense. Your control is insane. Iâve been trying to work on my own public speaking for hero stuff and itâs nowhere near that level. The breathing, the projection, the way you stay in character even when youâre moving around⊠itâs impressive.â
You huffed a small laugh. âYouâre such a nerd, Deku.â
He smiled sheepishly. âCanât help it. Itâs cool.â
By the end of the week, the class had mostly settled into a routine with your soundtrack. They teased you less. Some even made requests.
Mina asked for âCandy Storeâ and tried (and failed) to do the choreography with you. Sero challenged you to rap âAaron Burr, Sirâ at full speed and looked genuinely surprised when you nailed it.
Kaminari still complained about the noise, but he stopped leaving the room when you started singing.
And Izuku kept watching. Not in a weird wayâjust quiet fascination. Heâd ask technical questions about warm-ups, how you handled belting after running, or how you used breath control during combat exercises. Sometimes heâd quietly hum along when he thought no one was listening, though he was terrible at it.
You caught him once and smirked. âStealing my material now?â
He scratched the back of his neck. âResearch purposes.â
You snorted. âSure.â
It wasnât a big dramatic thing. No one was suddenly obsessed or calling you their inspiration. They were just⊠used to it. Your humming in the kitchen, your singing in the common room, your theater-kid energy bleeding into training.
àŒâ§âË. A/N: yo anon...get off my alt...I LOVE hamilton, like I've seen it twice in person and 116 times on Disney+...
HAIIII arctic fox anon from a little ago (can i use -âïž from now on?) youre hurting my hearttt omg my poor izuku đđđ i'm so excited for what's next, also sorry if i sound like a broken record but tysmmm for doing all of this!!!
alpha izuku and an omega reader that everyone honestly thinks is an alpha due to how cold/stoic she seems and the way she hides everything omega-like about her, but she gets super soft and cutesy in bed even if she doesn't mean to? đ
i don't really write fr omega or alpha reader or character anymore, sorry! ik I did a fic recently, but at the bottom I explained that it just makes me uncomfortable, not saying this isn't a great ask tho!! if u want I can recommend some writers that I think could write this better if u want?? sorry!
Simp!Katsuki and Yearner!Katsuki are his best versions frfr
yesss!! like whimpery!katsuki who only realizes he's whimpering when you tilt your head with a confused but entertained grin on ur face. then he acts all tough and tries to power bottom u by thrusting upwards but it just makes him whimper again!!
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ââșââ . summary: after reader gets asked out on a date, izuku cant help but feel like his hearts been frozen over as he watches her go out with someone that's not him...why couldn't he be quick enough? do you even like him??
ââșââ . warning/s: slight angst, yearning, hurt no comfort
ââșââ . w/c: 2k~
The weekend sunlight streamed through the common room windows of Heights Alliance, casting long shadows across the floor. Most of Class 1-A was scattered throughout the spaceâsome studying, others gaming, and a few just lounging around enjoying the rare break from hero training.
The front door suddenly burst open, and you rushed in, your face flushed with excitement. Your white winter hair seemed to glow under the natural light, and your fox ears were perked straight up, twitching with every rapid heartbeat.
"GUYS!" you squealed, bouncing on your toes in the middle of the room. "You won't believe what just happened!"
Almost everyone looked up from what they were doing. Mina was the first to scramble over, followed closely by Uraraka and Hagakure.
"What happened? What happened?" Mina asked, grabbing your arm excitedly.
"Is it about your Quirk?" Uraraka chimed in. "Did you do something new with your ice powers?"
You shook your head, grinning so wide it almost hurt. "Better! Much, much better!"
More classmates gathered aroundâKaminari, Kirishima, Sero, Jiro, and even Tsuyu hopped over from her spot on the couch. Iida approached with his usual measured steps, while Todoroki glanced over from the kitchen area where he was making tea.
"Spill!" Mina demanded, practically vibrating with anticipation.
You took a dramatic breath, your fox tail swishing behind you. "Ren⊠from Class 2-B⊠he just asked me out! On a date!"
The room erupted in a chorus of gasps, cheers, and congratulations.
"No way!" Kaminari shouted. "The Ren with the super strength Quirk?"
"The same one!" you confirmed, barely able to contain your excitement. "He said he's noticed me around campus and wanted to get to know me better!"
Mina grabbed both your hands, jumping up and down. "This is HUGE! When is it? Where is he taking you? What are you going to wear? We need to plan everything!"
Uraraka joined in, her eyes sparkling. "Oh my gosh, you have to wear that cute blue sweater that brings out your eyes! And maybe we could do something special with your hair?"
"Your winter form is so perfect for a date!" Hagakure added enthusiastically. "Those ears are absolutely adorable!"
The girls immediately surrounded you, all talking at once about outfit options, makeup ideas, and potential date scenarios. You found yourself swept up in their excitement, answering questions between laughs.
Even some of the guys joined in with supportive comments. Kirishima gave you a thumbs-up. "Man, Ren's cool! You guys would make a great couple!"
"Yeah, he's one of the stronger second years," Sero added. "You should definitely go!"
Throughout all the commotion, Izuku remained frozen in place on the couch, his notebook lying forgotten in his lap. He had been taking notes on hero combat strategies when you burst in, but now his pen was still, his green eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at you.
His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat sending a fresh wave of panic through his system. Ren⊠from Class 2-B⊠asking you out? The words echoed in his mind, each one twisting like a knife in his gut. He'd been working up the courage for months to finally tell you how he felt, and now⊠now it might be too late.
Bakugo, who had been observing from the kitchen area, noticed Izuku's reaction immediately. He saw the way his childhood rival's shoulders slumped, the color draining from his face, the slight tremble in his hands. With a quiet scoff, Bakugo turned back to his snack, filing away the information for later.
As the excitement in the room gradually settled, most of the class dispersed back to their previous activities, though the girls continued to whisper excitedly with you about date plans. Izuku remained on the couch, staring blankly at the wall.
Later that evening, when most of the dorm had quieted down, Bakugo approached Izuku in the hallway outside his room.
"You looked like someone shot your damn dog earlier," Bakugo said bluntly, crossing his arms.
Izuku flinched, turning to face him. "What? No, I was just⊠surprised."
"Bullshit," Bakugo retorted. "I know exactly why you froze up when Fox Girl was talking about that second year asking her out."
Izuku's shoulders drooped, and he leaned against the wall. "Is it that obvious?"
"To me it is," Bakugo replied with a shrug. "You've been mooning over her since the sports festival. So what's the deal? Why haven't you said anything?"
"I⊠I don't know," Izuku admitted quietly, running a hand through his messy green hair. "Every time I try to work up the courage, something happens. Or I convince myself it's not the right time. Or that someone like her would never be interested in someone like me."
"She seems to like you well enough," Bakugo pointed out. "She puts up with your muttering and notebook nonsense."
"That's just because she's nice," Izuku countered, his voice dropping further. "I'm just⊠too scared. Scared of ruining our friendship if she says no. Scared that I'm not good enough. Scared that someone like Ren is exactly what she deservesâsomeone confident and straightforward, not someone who overanalyzes everything and can barely speak to girls without turning into a stuttering mess."
Bakugo was uncharacteristically silent for a moment before grunting. "Pathetic."
"I know," Izuku agreed miserably. "I just⊠I think I missed my chance."
The next evening, you returned to the dorms much later than expected. The common room was mostly empty except for Izuku, who was pretending to read but actually waiting anxiously for your return.
When you walked in, his head shot up, ready to ask how it went, but the words died in his throat. You didn't look happy. Your shoulders were slumped, your fox ears drooped low against your white hair, and your tail hung limply behind you. The bright smile that had been there earlier was gone, replaced by a strained expression that barely masked your disappointment.
Izuku's heart sank as he watched you trudge across the room without a word to anyone, disappearing down the hallway toward your room.
ââșââ . A/N: I adore this series. please show it some more love!! part 3 will be out promptly...ladies ladies
iâve seen a lot of fanmade quirks related to light control or stars soooâŠâŠhow we feeling about reader being an exchange student at UA and having a quirk that allows her to create stars from the palm of her hands (since theyâre made of gas they can be used in combat as fireballs capable of reaching great power and speed and so on), the cons are that overuse leaver her with cramps/pain in her hands and sometimes struggles to control them to not explode uncontrollably which makes her somewhat insecure about her quirk and abilities as a future pro-heroe.
this is when our izuku enters!!! heâs completely captivated by her quirk and just how ethereal it looks every time she uses it, and the more he spends studying it and getting to know her, sharing class experiences together and so, itâs inevitable that something starts to grow between them but our reader doesnât want to get her hopes up; she knows how sweet heâs with everyone and the weight he carries with his dream, so she doesnât wanna get in the way or become another responsibility to carry.
sorry for rambling on so much, but i thought it could give you some ideas for creating something (youâre free on this like it can be a oneshot, a mini series, fluff, smutty or both đ«Ł i donât mind at all) i really like all of your works and love your writing and the way you describe/express things soo i trust you hehe
PS: by the way, instead of blushing, when her emotions are very strong mostly because of him lol her whole body literally glows like little stars (yes like vampires in twilight no shame)
bye bye and hope you have a great day!
â đ
The Novelty Nova
àŒâ§âË. summary: transfer!reader from America comes to 1a t explore her star related quirk and meets the one and only izuku midoriya! maybe its more than just a friendship...
àŒâ§âË. warning/s: quirk related injury, kissing, suggestive
àŒâ§âË. w/c: 4.5k~
The first time you used your Quirk in the UA training grounds, it felt like holding a piece of the universe in your hands. You cupped your palms together, focusing your energy, feeling the familiar tingle build from your wrists to your fingertips. Then, you pulled them apart. A tiny, brilliant sphere of light pulsed into existence, a miniature star casting a warm, golden glow on your face. It swirled with nebulae of pinks and purples, a captured galaxy no bigger than a plum. It was beautiful. It was also a ticking time bomb.
"Stellar Genesis!" Aizawa-sensei's voice cut through your concentration. "Don't just stand there admiring it. Put it to use."
You took a shaky breath. This was the part you hated. The transition from art to weapon. With a flick of your wrist, you launched the star forward. It shot across the field, a comet of pure energy, and slammed into a training dummy with a satisfying WHOOSH and a burst of incandescent flame. The dummy was left a scorched, blackened husk.
A murmur went through your classmates, Class 1-A. You were the exchange student for the semester, a novelty from America, and your Quirk was unlike anything they'd ever seen.
"Whoa," Kaminari breathed, his eyes wide. "Did you see that? It's like she's throwing actual suns!"
"That's so sparkly!" Mina squealed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Look at the colors! It's so pretty!"
You felt a familiar heat creep up your neck. "It's⊠it's just gas and plasma," you mumbled, trying to downplay the spectacle. "It gets really hot if I hold it too long."
You could feel their eyes on you, a mix of awe and scrutiny. It made you want to shrink into yourself, to hide the very hands that created such beautiful, destructive things. You clenched them into fists, ignoring the faint, phantom cramp that was already beginning to throb in your right palm. The price of your power.
Then you felt a different kind of gaze. It wasn't like the othersâfull of simple wonder. This one was intense, analytical, and utterly focused. You glanced over and met the wide, green eyes of Izuku Midoriya. He wasn't just looking at the aftermath of your attack; he was looking at you, at your hands, with an expression of pure, unadulterated captivation. He had a notebook out, of course, and his pen was moving so fast it was practically a blur.
That's how it started. For Izuku, your Quirk wasn't just a party trick; it was a fascinating new frontier. He was relentless in his pursuit of knowledge, approaching you after class with a barrage of questions that were both terrifying and endearing.
"The gravitational binding! How do you maintain it on such a small scale? The energy required to compress gas into a stable, self-igniting sphere must be immense! Does it draw from your own body's electrolytes? And the color variationsâare they indicative of different temperatures or gas compositions? I've theorized that a star's color is directly related to its spectral class, but to be able to control that manually isâ"
"Izuku, breathe!" you'd laugh, cutting him off mid-mutter. His passion was infectious, but his vocabulary was a level of academic you hadn't encountered since your last physics exam. "I don't know! I just⊠think about making a star, and it happens. The colors are kind of a mood ring thing, I guess. If I'm happy, they're warmer. If I'm annoyed, they're more blue."
He'd scribble that down furiously, his green eyes sparkling. "Incredible! So there's a psychological component! That explains so much about the variability in stellar phenomena!"
You couldn't help but be charmed by his sheer enthusiasm. He saw the science in your art, the mechanics in your magic. But you were also keenly aware of the weight he carried. You saw it in the way he trained, pushing himself to the absolute brink, the way his eyes would sometimes cloud over with the shadows of past battles and future responsibilities. He was destined for greatness, a hero in the truest sense of the word. You were just⊠the girl who made pretty explosions. You didn't want to be another variable in his already complex equation.
The girls of 1-A, however, had a different perspective. To them, you were a source of endless delight.
"You're just so cute!" Mina declared one afternoon, grabbing your cheeks and squishing them. "Your little ears get all pink when you're nervous!"
It was lunchtime, and you were telling a story about a mishap during your training back home, where a star you'd created had accidentally singed off your teacher's eyebrows. The memory, coupled with Mina's sudden proximity and praise, sent a jolt of flustered emotion through you.
And then it happened. The one thing you couldn't control. A soft, internal warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading through your veins like liquid light. Tiny, pinprick sparkles began to shimmer across your skin, starting on your cheeks and spreading down your arms, dotting your hands and neck like a constellation come to life. You glowed.
"It's the cutest thing I've ever seen!" Hagakure chimed in, her gloves gesturing emphatically.
Your face burned hotter, and the stars on your skin only brightened in response. "Stop it!" you squeaked, covering your glowing face with your hands. "You're making it worse!" Your muffled voice only made them giggle more. You were a walking, talking, blushing disco ball, and your classmates' teasing was your on-switch.
Through it all, Izuku would watch from a distance, a faint, fond smile on his face. He never teased you. He just⊠watched. And that was almost worse.
Your partnership for the upcoming joint training exercise was, naturally, assigned by lottery. The slip of paper you drew had a single, familiar name written on it: Izuku Midoriya. Your heart did a little flip-flop that you tried desperately to ignore.
"Partners!" Mina cheered when you announced it. "That's perfect! Star-power and One for All! You'll be unstoppable!"
You just hoped you wouldn't be a liability.
Training with Izuku was an experience. He was a brilliant strategist, his mind constantly working, analyzing every angle. But his body was a different story. You saw the strain, the way his fingers would break and bleed, the price he paid for his incredible power. It made your own hand cramps seem trivial.
"Your control is getting better," he noted one afternoon, watching you form a series of small, rapidly spinning stars in your palms. "The rotation is more stable. They're less likely to prematurely detonate."
"I've been practicing," you said, focusing hard. The stars wobbled for a moment, a sign of your wavering concentration. You were acutely aware of his proximity, of the way his green hair fell into his eyes, of the faint smell of mint and clean laundry that clung to him. "It's harder when I'm⊠distracted."
He tilted his head. "Distracted? By what?"
You couldn't very well say 'by you.' So, you just shrugged. "Stuff. Life. The usual."
He accepted your flimsy answer, his mind already moving on to the next problem. "We need to work on combining our attacks. If I use a Delaware Smash to propel one of your larger stars, the velocity increase would be exponential. We could create a targeted meteor shower."
The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating. "And if I lose control of it?" you asked, your voice small. "If it explodes mid-air?"
"We'll be out of the blast radius," he said confidently, as if that solved everything. "I'll calculate the trajectory. You just focus on creating the biggest, most stable star you can."
His faith in you was staggering. You wished you shared it.
The day of the exercise came. Your objective was to breach a heavily fortified 'enemy' base guarded by members of Class 1-B. The plan was Izuku's, and it was audacious.
"Ready?" he asked, his eyes alight with determination.
You took a deep breath, cupping your hands. This time, you poured everything you had into it. You thought of his faith, of his strategy, of the need to not let him down. A massive star, the size of a basketball, bloomed into existence between your palms. It burned with a fierce, white-hot intensity, swirling with cores of brilliant blue. It felt heavy, dangerous, and alive. The muscles in your forearms screamed in protest, and a sharp, searing pain shot through your hands. It was too much. You were losing control.
"Izuku," you gasped, your voice strained. "It's⊠it's too big. I can'tâ"
"You can," he said, his voice firm and steady. He moved to stand beside you, his own hand raised, green lightning crackling around his fingertips. "Trust me. Trust yourself."
He didn't touch you, but his presence was an anchor. His belief was a shield. You took another breath and pushed past the pain, focusing on the image of his plan, on the target in the distance.
"Now!" he yelled.
He unleashed a Delaware Smash, a powerful gust of compressed air that struck your star like a cosmic cue ball. The star rocketed forward, a silent, beautiful missile of destruction. It soared through the air, a perfect arc of incandescent fury, just as Izuku had calculated.
It slammed into the fortified wall of the mock enemy base, and for a moment, there was only light. A blinding, silent flash that turned the afternoon into a miniature dawn. Then came the soundâa deep, resonant BOOM that shook the very ground beneath your feet. The reinforced concrete wall didn't just break; it disintegrated, vaporizing into a cloud of dust and debris.
A collective gasp went through the observation deck where your classmates and teachers were watching. You could imagine Aizawa-sensei's unimpressed expression and Present Mic's booming commentary.
You didn't get to see the aftermath. The moment the star left your hands, your world narrowed to a pinpoint of agony. A white-hot pain seized your hands and shot up your arms like lightning. You cried out, a sharp, involuntary sound, and crumpled to your knees. Your hands were clenched into useless, trembling fists. You tried to open them, to flex your fingers, but the muscles in your palms and forearms were locked in a vicious, spastic cramp. It felt like your bones were being crushed in a vise.
"Y/N!" Izuku was at your side in an instant, his earlier battle focus evaporating, replaced by raw concern. He knelt in front of you, his own hands hovering awkwardly, afraid to touch you. "What's wrong? Are you hit?"
"My⊠hands," you gritted out through clenched teeth. Tears of pain welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Cramps. It's⊠it's bad."
He finally gently took one of your clenched fists into his hands. His touch was surprisingly careful, his calloused fingers warm against your skin. He could feel the way your muscles were bunched up, the frantic, trembling spasms.
"Overexertion," he muttered, his voice low and urgent. "The energy draw was too high. You pushed yourself too hard." He looked up, his green eyes filled with a guilt that made your chest ache. "This is my fault. I asked you to make one that big."
"No," you gasped, shaking your head. "I wanted to. I had to⊠I couldn't let you down."
The exercise was forgotten. The victory was meaningless. All that mattered was the searing pain and the boy in front of you who looked like he'd just kicked a puppy. He carefully scooped you up, one arm behind your back and the other under your knees, lifting you effortlessly.
"I've got you," he said, his voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. "Let's get you to Recovery Girl."
Being carried by Izuku was a surreal experience. You were acutely aware of the strength in his arms, the steady beat of his heart against your side. You buried your face in his shoulder, partly from embarrassment, partly to hide the tears of pain that were now freely streaming down your face. Your body, reacting to the overwhelming mix of agony, relief, and his proximity, started to betray you. A soft, internal warmth began to spread, and you knew what was coming.
"Oh no," you whimpered into his shoulder. "Not now."
Tiny, silver sparkles began to shimmer across your exposed skin. They dotted your cheeks and neck, a galaxy of embarrassment blooming in the wake of your physical pain.
Izuku felt the faint, tickling sensation on his shoulder and glanced down. He saw the stars glittering on your skin, and a slow blush crept up his own neck. He didn't say anything, but his hold on you tightened just a fraction, a protective, grounding gesture.
Recovery Girl clucked her tongue like a disapproving mother hen when she saw your hands. "Another case of a student with more power than sense," she tutted, waving her syringe. "Hold still, dear. This will sting."
The healing was swift but draining. The pain receded, replaced by a profound, bone-deep exhaustion. Your hands, now limp and sore, were finally able to relax. The glittering across your skin faded as your emotional turmoil subsided, leaving you feeling pale and washed out.
"You need to rest," Recovery Girl ordered, pointing a stern finger at Izuku. "And you. Don't let her overdo it. Her Quirk puts a unique strain on her musculature. Pushing past her limits like that could cause permanent nerve damage."
The weight in Izuku's shoulders seemed to triple at her words. He nodded solemnly. "Yes, ma'am. I will."
He carried you back to the dorms, the journey silent and heavy with unspoken words. He took you straight to your room, gently setting you down on your bed. He hesitated for a moment, looking awkward and unsure.
"Can I⊠get you anything?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Water? Or⊠something?"
"Just⊠rest," you murmured, already feeling sleep pulling you under. "But⊠thank you, Izuku."
He just nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he quietly left, closing the door behind him.
You slept for hours. When you woke up, the room was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight coming through your window. Your hands were still sore, a dull, aching reminder of your recklessness. There was a glass of water and a small plate of cookies on your nightstand. You knew who they were from.
You found him in the common room, hunched over his hero notebook, scribbling furiously under the warm glow of a desk lamp. He looked up when you approached, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"You should be resting," he said, his voice soft.
"I needed a drink," you replied, holding up your hands. "And to say thank you. Again."
He set his pen down, giving you his full attention. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I pushed you. I didn't think about the consequences. I was so focused on the strategy, on the power, that I forgot about the person wielding it."
"It's not your fault," you insisted, sinking into the armchair opposite him. "My Quirk is my responsibility. I'm the one who can't control it."
"That's not true," he said, his voice firming with conviction. "You have incredible control. To create something that volatile and keep it stable for that long⊠Y/N, that's amazing. The problem isn't your control, it's your confidence. You don't trust yourself."
His words hit you with the force of a physical blow. He saw right through you, past the bubbly exterior and the glittering blushes, to the core of your insecurity.
"You're carrying so much already, Izuku," you said quietly, your gaze dropping to your hands. "The legacy of One for All, the expectations⊠I see how hard you push yourself. I don't want to be another burden. I don't want to be another thing you have to worry about, another person you have to save."
He was silent for a long moment, and you were sure you'd made him uncomfortable. Then, he stood up and moved to kneel in front of your chair, forcing you to look at him. His green eyes were serious, intense, and filled with an emotion that made your breath catch.
"You're not a burden," he said, his voice low and earnest. "You're not a responsibility. You're⊠incredible. When I see you create a star, I don't just see a weapon. I see someone pulling a piece of the cosmos out of thin air. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen. And yeah, maybe I get a little carried away with the analysis," he admitted with a small, self-deprecating smile, "but that's only because I'm trying to understand how something so beautiful can be so powerful."
He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his thumb stroking over your still-sore palm. The touch was electric. "Don't ever think you're in my way. Being around you⊠it makes me want to be better. Not just as a hero, but⊠as a person."
The warmth that bloomed in your chest this time was different. It wasn't the frantic, embarrassed heat of being teased by your friends. It was a slow, deep, radiant glow. And it wasn't just on your skin. You felt it in your soul. Tiny, soft sparkles began to shimmer across your cheeks and the backs of your hands, a gentle, steady light instead of a frantic burst.
Izuku watched them appear, a slow, wonderstruck smile spreading across his face. He didn't laugh. He didn't tease. He just watched, his eyes soft and full of an emotion that was no longer just admiration.
"They're⊠warmer this time," he observed softly, his thumb still tracing patterns on your palm.
"They are," you whispered, your heart hammering against your ribs. You didn't cover your face. You didn't look away. You just let him see you, glowing under the weight of his words, a star finally finding its anchor in the vast, lonely universe.
The world seemed to shrink to the space between you. The low hum of the dorm's refrigerator, the distant sounds of your classmates settling in for the nightâit all faded into a muffled silence. All that mattered was the warmth of his hand on yours, the soft light emanating from your own skin, and the intense, unwavering way he was looking at you.
"You're not a burden," he repeated, his voice a low, earnest murmur that vibrated through your entire being. "You're a constellation, Y/N. You're made of the same stuff as heroes."
A shaky laugh escaped you, half-sob, half-wonder. "A constellation that almost blew its own hands off."
"Even stars have to burn out sometimes," he countered, his thumb gently stroking the pulse point on your wrist. "It doesn't make them any less magnificent."
The air crackled with an energy that had nothing to do with Quirks. It was charged with possibility, with the terrifying, exhilarating precipice of something new. You could feel the pull, a gravitational force drawing you toward him that was stronger than any star you had ever created.
He leaned in closer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips, and then back again. It was a question asked without words, a silent plea for permission. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic, wild rhythm. Every instinct you had, the part of you that was shy and nervous and so used to holding back, screamed at you to pull away, to make a joke, to do something to break the spell.
But you didn't.
You stayed perfectly still, your body humming with a soft, steady light. You leaned in, just a fraction, an answer to his unspoken question.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn't a fiery, passionate explosion. It was quiet, gentle, and impossibly tender. His lips were soft and hesitant, tasting faintly of mint and the cookies he'd brought you. It was a kiss that said 'I see you' and 'I'm here' and 'you're safe.' It was the kind of kiss that could rewrite galaxies.
A soft gasp escaped you as his lips moved against yours, and the stars on your skin flared, glowing brighter for a brilliant, breathtaking second. You felt him smile against your mouth, a small, happy sound that made your entire body feel weightless. Your free hand came up to rest on his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie, grounding yourself in this moment, in him.
When he finally pulled back, it was only by a few inches. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his breathing coming in soft, warm puffs against your cheek. The room was bathed in the gentle, ethereal glow of your skin, a private universe for just the two of you.
"Wow," he breathed, the word barely a whisper.
"Wow," you echoed, your voice trembling.
He opened his eyes, and the raw, unguarded emotion in them stole the air from your lungs. It was admiration, affection, and a dawning, breathtaking tenderness that was all for you.
"I've wanted to do that for a while," he admitted, a faint blush creeping up his neck, visible even in the dim light of your glow.
"Really?" you asked, your voice small. "I thought⊠I thought you were just analyzing my Quirk."
"I was," he said with a small, sheepish smile. "But somewhere along the way, I started analyzing you, too. The way your nose crinkles when you laugh. The way you glitter when you're embarrassed. The way you try so hard to be strong even when you're hurting." He gently brushed a stray strand of your white hair away from your face. "It's all⊠fascinating."
Your heart felt so full it was a wonder it didn't burst right out of your chest. "You're not so bad yourself, Midoriya Izuku."
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that rumbled through you. He was still kneeling in front of your chair, still holding your hand. "Your hands," he said, his gaze dropping to them. "How do they feel?"
You flexed your fingers experimentally. The deep, aching soreness was still there, but it was muted now, a distant echo under the warm, buzzing feeling spreading through the rest of you. "Better," you said honestly. "Much better."
"Good," he said, his relief palpable. He stood up, but he didn't let go of your hand. He tugged you gently to your feet. "You should still get some real rest. In your bed."
You nodded, letting him lead you toward the hallway. He walked you to your door, the silence between you comfortable, filled with all the things you didn't need to say yet. He stopped just outside your room, turning to face you.
"Y/N," he started, then paused, as if searching for the right words. "I meant what I said. About not being a burden. And about⊠wanting to be better. For you."
Your glow softened, the light becoming warmer, more intimate. "I know," you whispered.
"So⊠can we�" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.
You smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached your eyes. "I'd like that," you said. "I'd like that a lot."
The relief that washed over his face was so pure and endearing it made your heart ache. He squeezed your hand gently before letting go. "Okay. Good. Great. I'll, uh⊠I'll see you in the morning?"
"See you in the morning, Izuku."
You watched him walk back down the hall, a goofy, triumphant smile on his face before he disappeared around the corner. You slipped into your room, closing the door softly behind you. The last of the starlight on your skin faded as you climbed into bed, but the warmth remained, a steady, comforting glow deep inside you. For the first time since you'd arrived at UA, you didn't feel like an exchange student or a girl with a dangerous, unpredictable Quirk. You felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And you knew, with a certainty that felt as bright and powerful as a newborn star, that tomorrow was going to be the first day of the rest of your life.
àŒâ§âË. A/N: anon...I'm having ur kids. I LOVEEEE this ask.
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What if...a thought someone was like bullying class 1-a and just making fun of one of readers friends. We get mad and in a fit of anger trying to protect our friends we actually use our quirk on the person hurting them and we get really scared and go into hiding..something like that to like not hurt anyone else or just to escape the trouble whatever you wanttt
Never Just Protection
àŒâ§âË. summary: while simply trying to protect her friends from Monoma's crude remarks, she ends up overusing her power and running from it
àŒâ§âË. warning/s: slight gore, mentions of running away, fluff
àŒâ§âË. w/c: 3k~
The courtyard was packed for the joint training exhibitionâClasses 1-A and 1-B showing off coordinated drills for the second-years and some pros in attendance. You stood near the back with the rest of your class, arms crossed, already bored of the performative bullshit.
Monoma was running his mouth again. He always did.
âAnd here we have Class 1-Aâs resident charity case,â he announced loudly, gesturing at Midoriya like he was a zoo exhibit. âStill muttering to himself like a broken radio. Tell me, Dekuâdoes All Might still wipe your ass for you, or have you graduated to training wheels?â
A few 1-B students laughed. Kendo looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her. Midoriya just rubbed the back of his neck, offering that awkward smile he used when he was trying not to escalate.
You felt the Rift crackle under your skin before you even decided to move.
âWow,â you called out, voice carrying. âDidnât know they let budget villains do commentary. Stick to copying quirks, Monoma. The stand-up routine needs work.â
He turned toward you, smirk widening. âOh look, the walking disaster speaks. Heard you nearly carved up your own classmates last month. Tell me, Y/Nâhow does it feel knowing your quirk is more useful as a cautionary tale than a hero tool?â
That one landed. You felt the familiar pressure build behind your ribs. The quirk wanted out. It always did when your temper flared.
âNo, itâs fine,â you cut in, dry smile in place. âAt least my quirk doesnât require me to leech off other peopleâs abilities to feel relevant. Must suck knowing youâre the support character in your own story.â
A couple people chuckled. Monomaâs face twisted.
The drill started soon after, but the tension lingered. You tried to focus. Your team was running a rescue scenario against 1-Bâs offense. Everything was controlledâuntil Monoma targeted Uraraka specifically.
He disarmed her during the mock fight, then kept going, voice loud enough for half the courtyard to hear. âCareful, round face. Wouldnât want you floating away like the lightweight you are. No wonder youâre always hanging around 1-Aâs leftovers. Safety in numbers for people who contribute nothing.â
Urarakaâs face went tight. She was smiling through it, but you knew that look.
The Rift surged.
You didnât plan it. One second you were across the field, the next your palm was out and a jagged rift tore open in front of Monoma. The kinetic burst wasnât supposed to be that strong. Youâd meant to just knock him backâmaybe bruise his ego a little more.
Instead the edge of the rift caught him hard, slicing across his side like a dull blade and slamming him into the barrier wall. He hit with a crack, costume torn, blood already seeping through the fabric.
The entire courtyard went dead silent.
Monoma slid down the wall, clutching his side, eyes wide with shock more than pain. Aizawaâs capture weapon was already flying toward you.
You stared at your hand. The quirk was still humming, hungry for more.
âShit.â
You turned and ran before anyone could grab you.
You ended up in the old storage warehouses behind Ground Betaâthe ones scheduled for demolition next semester. Dust-covered equipment, broken training dummies, dim lighting. Perfect for someone who didnât want to be found.
Your back hit the wall and you slid down until you were sitting on the cold floor. Hands shaking. The Rift pulsed under your skin like it was laughing at you.
Youâd hurt someone. Again. Not in training this timeâpublicly, in front of pros and everyone. Monoma was an asshole, but he didnât deserve to get sliced open because you couldnât keep your shit together.
Your phone had been blowing up for the first hour. You turned it off after the tenth message from Mina.
Footsteps echoed somewhere in the warehouse. You tensed.
âY/N.â It was Jiro, voice cautious. âWe know youâre in here. The dust is still settling near the east entrance.â
You didnât answer.
More footsteps. Multiple people now.
âCome on,â Sero called. âAizawaâs pissed but mostly at Monoma for provoking it. Youâre not getting expelled or anything.â
You laughed once, sharp and humorless. âGreat. Iâll get a medal for maiming a classmate. Maybe theyâll name a caution sign after me.â
Bakugoâs voice cut through next. âStop hiding like a damn extra. Get out here so I can call you an idiot to your face.â
âCharming as always, Kacchan,â you muttered, but didnât move.
It was Midoriya who finally found the right corner. Of course it was. He approached slowly, hands visible, like you were a startled animal.
âYou donât have to come out if you donât want to,â he said quietly. âBut weâre all here. Urarakaâs fine. Monomaâs already patched upâRecovery Girl said it looked worse than it was.â
You rubbed your face. âI sliced him open because he talked shit. Thatâs not exactly hero behavior, Deku.â
âHe was being a prick,â Midoriya replied. âDoesnât make what you did right. But we get it. You were protecting us.â
You looked up at him. âThatâs the problem. I always am. And every time I do, someone ends up bleeding.â
The rest of the class had filtered in behind him. Not crowding, but present. Kirishima leaned against a crate, arms crossed. Mina sat on the floor a respectful distance away. Even Todoroki stood quietly near the entrance.
Uraraka stepped forward. âIâm not mad, Y/N. Thank you for standing up for me. But⊠weâre more worried about you disappearing.â
You exhaled, leaning your head back against the wall. âI just needed to not be around people for a bit. In case the Rift decides it wants seconds.â
The quirk was still restless. You could feel it pressing against your control, testing for cracks.
Tsuyu tilted her head. âYouâve been getting better at controlling it. This was just a bad moment.â
âBad moments turn into bad injuries when itâs my quirk,â you said. Dry tone, no self-pity. Just facts. âIâm basically a loaded gun with anxiety. Great for parties.â
Kaminari snorted. âAt least youâre a fun loaded gun. Monomaâs just⊠Monoma.â
You gave a tired smile. âAppreciate the defense, but I still fucked up.â
Aizawa showed up twenty minutes later. He looked exhausted, as usual. âYouâre suspended from practicals for two weeks. Monomaâs getting a formal warning for provocation. Try not to vanish againâmakes the paperwork worse.â
You nodded. âUnderstood.â
He left without fanfare. The class stayed.
That night in the dorms you kept to your room. The others respected it for a few hours. Then the knocking started.
Mina first. âWeâre doing movie night. No quirk talk. Just terrible snacks and judging each otherâs life choices.â
You opened the door a crack. âTempting. But Iâm practicing my mysterious loner arc. Very brooding. Very cool.â
She rolled her eyes. âYouâre shit at brooding. Come downstairs before Bakugo eats all the spicy chips.â
You lasted another hour before boredom won. The common room was loud in the usual wayâSero and Kaminari arguing over controllers, Jiro scrolling through music, Midoriya and Todoroki discussing some analysis in the corner.
You dropped onto the couch between Uraraka and Kirishima.
âDecided to grace us with your presence?â Kirishima asked, grinning.
âFigured if I stayed upstairs any longer youâd all start a search party with flashlights and dramatic music. Save everyone the trouble.â
Uraraka bumped your shoulder. âWe were worried. You scared us, running off like that.â
âYeah, well. Panic makes me fast. One of my better qualities.â
The movie startedâsome action flick with questionable physics. You made dry commentary throughout, earning laughs when you pointed out plot holes. It felt normal. Almost.
During a quiet scene, you spoke low enough for just the people nearby. âI meant what I said earlier. I donât want to hurt any of you. If the Rift keeps slipping like that⊠maybe I should consider support courses or something. Less field work.â
Midoriya turned from his spot on the floor. âThatâs not the only option. We can train together. More controlled environments. Iâve been thinking about ways to help stabilize outputââ
âDeku,â you interrupted, but gently. âAppreciate the nerd energy, but Iâm not looking for a fix-it speech tonight.â
He nodded, understanding. âOkay. But weâre here. Whatever you decide.â
Bakugo, who had been pretending not to listen from the other couch, finally grunted. âYouâre not quitting, dumbass. Your quirkâs strong. Learn to use it or itâll use you. Simple as that.â
You raised an eyebrow. âThanks for the TED Talk, Explosion Murder.â
He flipped you off without looking away from the screen.
The next few days were quiet. You attended theory classes, sat out practicals, and spent evenings in the gym with controlled, tiny riftsâpracticing restraint until your hands shook.
The class rotated check-ins without making it obvious. Mina dragged you on snack runs. Jiro shared new playlists. Kirishima sparred with you quirkless, turning it into a game of who could land the dumbest move.
One afternoon you found Todoroki waiting outside your dorm room with two cups of tea.
âYouâve been avoiding the courtyard,â he said simply.
âObservant as always, Icy-Hot.â
He handed you a cup. âItâs not weakness to need space. But hiding completely helps no one.â
You took the tea. âIâm not hiding. Iâm⊠strategic retreating. Big difference.â
A small smile tugged at his mouth. âOf course.â
By the end of the first week, Monoma approached you in the hallway. His side was still bandaged under his uniform. He looked uncomfortable.
âLook,â he started. âWhat I said was⊠out of line. Doesnât mean I like your class, but I shouldnât have gone after Uraraka like that.â
You studied him for a second. âApology accepted. Next time try being less of a dick. Saves everyone time and medical bills.â
He scoffed. âDonât expect this to become a habit.â
âWouldnât dream of it.â
As he walked away, you felt the Rift settle a little more. Not gone. Never gone. But manageable for now.
That night the whole class ended up on the roofâtechnically against rules, but Aizawa was pretending not to notice. You sat on the ledge with your legs dangling, Midoriya on one side, Bakugo on the other, the rest scattered around.
âRemember when we all sucked at everything?â you asked, looking out at the city lights.
âSpeak for yourself,â Bakugo muttered.
You smirked. âRight. Mr. Perfect Explosion. We all remember your face when you realized other people existed.â
The group laughed. Uraraka leaned against your shoulder. âWeâve come a long way. All of us. Even when we mess up.â
You didnât reply right away. The dry humor was there, but underneath it was the truth.
âI still donât trust it completely,â you said eventually. âThe quirk. But I trust you idiots. That counts for something.â
Midoriya smiled. âIt counts for a lot.â
Kirishima raised a soda can. âTo not dying by friendly fire.â
You clinked your water bottle against it. âTo better aim next time I decide to yeet someone across the field.â
The night stretched on with stupid stories and occasional comfortable silence. No big resolutions. No heartfelt promises that everything would be perfect. Just Class 1-A being Class 1-Aâflawed, loud, loyal as hell.
You stayed until the sky started to lighten. The Rift was quiet for once.
For now, that was enough.
àŒâ§âË. A/N: I don't really have anything to say
Can you do one where you did it for the first time with Shoto and idk if this makes sense but then he suddenly feels a little nervous remembering how heâs conceived from a quirk marriage than the genuine love like the one currently feeling towards you đ„ș
and then bam full on tender lovemaking-
(Lowk this prompt can work with Natsuo too but shhh)
Nothing Like Him
àŒâ§âË. summary: f!reader x shoto where his nerves catch up to him in the middle of intimacy over the fear of the future and becoming what he hates the most.
àŒâ§âË. warning/s: mdni, smut, implied sex, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, angst, mentions of past abuse, endeavor (ew)
àŒâ§âË. w/c: 2k~
The room was dark except for the faint city light leaking through the half-closed curtains. Rain drummed against the window in a steady rhythm. You and Shoto had been at this for a while nowâslow, familiar, the kind of sex that came after eight years together when words werenât always necessary.
He was on top of you, hips rolling in that measured way he liked, one hot palm pressed to your thigh, the other cool against your waist. His breathing was quiet but heavier than usual. White and red hair stuck to his forehead. You had one leg hooked around his back, fingers loosely gripping his shoulder.
It felt good. Comfortable. Routine in the best way.
Then he suddenly stopped moving.
Completely.
His body went rigid, muscles locking up. He stayed inside you but didnât thrust, didnât even rock. His mismatched eyes were open, staring at the pillow beside your head.
âShoto?â you asked, voice low. You slid a hand up to the back of his neck. âYou okay?â
He didnât answer right away. His jaw tightened. After a few seconds he exhaled through his nose and started to pull out.
You tightened your leg around him. âHey. Talk to me.â
Shoto paused, still half-buried in you. He wouldnât look at your face. âI shouldnât be doing this right now.â
âWhy?â
He stayed quiet for a long beat. The rain filled the silence.
âI was thinking about a child again,â he finally said, voice flat. âAbout trying. And then I remembered how I was made. What my father did to my mother. How she was forced into that marriage. How I was⊠planned. Not wanted. Created as a tool.â
His hips shifted back another inch like the thought made him sick to be inside you.
You kept your hold on him, gentle but firm. âShoto. Look at me.â
He did, reluctantly. His expression was tight, guarded. The same look he got when old memories clawed their way up.
âYouâre not him,â you said simply.
âI know that,â he replied, almost curt. âLogically. But the rest of me doesnât. What if I do the same thing without realizing it? What if I push too hard? What if the kid ends up looking at me the way I used to look at him?â
You brushed your thumb across his cheek, right over the scar. âYou already know the answer to that. Youâve spent years making sure youâre nothing like him. Therapy. Keeping distance when you need to. Asking me what I want instead of assuming. Thatâs not something Endeavor ever did.â
Shotoâs breathing was still too controlled, too careful. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against your collarbone. âI freeze every time we get close to deciding. Itâs pathetic.â
âItâs not,â you said. âItâs trauma. Youâre allowed to have it. Especially about this.â
He stayed quiet. You felt him twitch inside you, still hard despite everything. The tension in his shoulders hadnât eased.
You ran your fingers through his hair, slow and steady. âWe donât have to have a kid if it messes you up this much. We can stay like this. Just us. Thatâs enough.â
âI want one,â he muttered against your skin. âWith you. Thatâs the problem. I want it and it terrifies me.â
You nodded. Youâd had this conversation before, in pieces, never quite this raw.
âThen we take it slow. No pressure. And if we do it, it wonât be like your parents. Itâll be two people who actually like each other deciding together. No arrangements. No quotas. Just us being selfish for once.â
Shoto let out a long breath. Some of the stiffness left his back. He shifted his weight, settling deeper into you again, but still not moving.
âThank you,â he said quietly. Simple. No flowery speech. Just that.
You kissed the side of his head. âYou donât have to thank me for knowing you.â
He lifted his head then. His eyes were clearer, the panic pushed back for now. He studied your face for a moment before leaning down to kiss youâslow, almost cautious. You kissed him back, letting him set the pace.
When he started moving again it was careful. Tentative at first, like he was testing whether the bad thoughts would return. You met his thrusts gently, hands sliding over his back, feeling the shift of muscle under scarred skin.
Neither of you spoke much. Just breathing and the soft sounds of skin against skin. Shoto pressed his face into your neck after a while, hips rolling in a steady, unhurried rhythm. His hot hand stroked down your side while the cool one held your hip in place. The temperature difference still made you shiver.
It wasnât desperate or intense. Just close. Grounded.
You came firstâquiet, breath catching as the pleasure rolled through you in slow waves. Shoto followed a minute later, burying himself deep with a low, muffled sound against your shoulder. His body trembled once, then relaxed.
He didnât pull out right away. He stayed there, breathing against your neck, letting the rain fill the quiet again.
After a while he shifted to the side, slipping out of you carefully. He pulled you against his chest without asking, one arm warm around your back, the other cool hand resting on your hip. His usual post-sex silence felt heavier tonight.
âYou still thinking about it?â you asked.
âA little.â His voice was low, almost rough. âI donât want to ruin something good because I canât get my head straight.â
âYouâre not ruining anything. Weâre figuring it out. Thatâs what we do.â
Shoto hummed. His fingers traced a small circle on your skin. âIâm not good at this part. The talking.â
âI know. Youâre better at showing than saying. But you did good tonight.â
He was quiet again. Then: âI meant what I said. I do want a kid with you. Just⊠not yet. Not until the fear feels smaller.â
âThatâs fine.â You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over an old training scar. âWeâve got time.â
Shotoâs arm tightened around you. Not much. Just enough to feel it.
The rain kept falling outside. Inside, the room stayed warm in the places where your bodies touched. No big declarations. No perfect resolutions. Just the two of you, lying together in the dark, working through another piece of his past like you had so many times before.
