#cementoss

The door creaked open, and a small head of golden blonde hair, tied up in two messy pigtails, peeked around the frame. A pair of wide, ocean-blue eyes, the exact same shade as a certain Number One Hero, scanned the room.

"Present!" a small, cheerful voice chirped.

Toshinori Yagi, who was in his smaller, true form and attempting to grade papers with a hand that trembled slightly, looked up. A genuine, unburdened smile spread across his thin face, erasing the lines of fatigue that usually carved themselves into his features. "Ah, Y/N-chan! I thought you were with your mother for story time."

"She had to go do a 'big grown-up thing'," the little girl explained, toddling confidently into the room, waing her hand while walking past him. She was five years old, dressed in a bright yellow t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it and tiny red shorts. "So I came to see you and work friends!"

This was the signal for the lounge to transform from a place of rest into a makeshift playground. Y/N's existence wasn't a secret, but she was a rare and treasured sight within the walls of U.A., a living, breathing reminder of the man behind the Symbol of Peace. She was a tiny sun, and the room's tired orbit immediately began to revolve around her.

Her first target was the closest and most colorful: Present Mic, who was in the middle of a loud phone call, gesturing wildly with one hand.

"—and the ratings were just, like, insane, listeners! A total HEY, WHAT'S THIS?" He yelped as a small body attached itself to his leg like a barnacle.

"Uncle Mic!" Y/N cried, her voice muffled against his leather pants. "You're loud!"

Mic looked down, his shock melting into immediate adoration. "Well, hey there, little listener! What brings you to our humble abode?" He scooped her up effortlessly, settling her on his hip. Y/N immediately began playing with the zipper on his jacket, her small fingers fumbling with the metal pull. "Whoa there, careful with the merchandise! This stuff costs money!"

"Is it sparkly?" Y/N asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"The sparkliest!" Mic boomed, laughing as he bounced her gently. Toshinori watched, his heart swelling. It was moments like these, seeing his colleagues' hard edges soften around his daughter, that made all the sacrifices worth it.

After a few minutes of being thoroughly entertained by Mic's booming voice and dramatic storytelling, Y/N's gaze landed on her next target. She wriggled out of his grasp. "Okay, bye-bye!"

"Hey, where's the love for your favorite radio host?" Mic called after her with a grin.

She made a beeline for Midnight, who was lounging on one of the couches, looking every bit the domineering femme fatale she was known to be. Y/N, however, saw only a mountain of purple fabric and a perfect climbing structure.

"Auntie Midnight!" she squealed, grabbing onto the edge of the couch and hoisting herself up with surprising strength.

Midnight chuckled, a low, husky sound. "Well, if it isn't my favorite little rule-breaker. Come here." She easily pulled Y/N onto her lap, where the five-year-old immediately began to "braid" Midnight's long, purple hair, which mostly consisted of tangling it into a series of messy knots. The R-Rated hero didn't seem to mind in the slightest, gently stroking Y/N's pigtails. "You've got a future in hairdressing, kid. Or maybe rope bondage. We'll see where your talents lie."

"Rope what?" Y/N asked, concentrating on a particularly stubborn knot.

"Never you mind," Midnight said with a wink at a snickering Cementoss across the room.

Her final, and most challenging, target was Shota Aizawa.

He was cocooned in his yellow sleeping bag in the corner, a dark island of exhaustion in the sea of cheerful chaos. He appeared to be asleep, his face hidden, his presence a clear "do not disturb" sign. To a five-year-old, this was not a sign to stay away; it was an invitation to investigate.

Y/N slid off Midnight's lap and padded silently across the room. She stood before the sleeping bag, her head tilted in curiosity. She reached out a small hand and poked the fabric.

"Zawa?" she whispered.

A low groan came from within. "Go 'way."

"Are you sleepy?" Y/N asked, undeterred. She began to pat the sleeping bag, looking for a way in. "It's a cozy bed."

Aizawa sighed, a sound of profound resignation that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand sleepless nights. The zipper of the sleeping bag slid down with a metallic hiss, revealing his tired face and messy black hair. His eyes were cracked open, dark and bloodshot. "What, Y/N?"

"I want to climb!" she said simply, pointing at his shoulder.

He stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes devoid of their usual glare. The rest of the lounge held its breath. This was the man who expelled an entire class of students on the first day. This was the Underground Hero who tolerated no nonsense, whose capture weapon was as much a part of him as his own limbs.

Without a word, Aizawa shifted, unzipping the bag further and creating a small, stable platform with his crossed legs. He gave a single, almost imperceptible nod.

Y/N's face lit up. She clambered onto his lap, her small shoes finding purchase on his capture weapon wrapped around his shoulders. She carefully navigated the terrain, grabbing fistfuls of his black jumpsuit for balance, until she was perched precariously on his shoulder, her legs dangling on either side of his neck.

"There!" she announced, pleased with her new vantage point. "I'm a hero now!"

Aizawa just grunted, his eyes already closed again, as if he had simply acquired a very small, very noisy new scarf.

Y/N sat there happily for a few minutes, swinging her legs and humming a tuneless song. She leaned forward, trying to see what her father was working on, her small body shifting her center of gravity. For a moment, she wobbled. Her small hand slipped from his shoulder, and she began to tilt sideways, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Before anyone could even react, before Mic could shout or Toshinori could lurch forward, Aizawa moved.

It wasn't a panicked flail or a desperate grab. It was a single, impossibly smooth motion. One arm shot out from the sleeping bag, wrapping securely around Y/N's small torso. He pulled her back against his chest in one fluid, controlled movement, settling her safely in the crook of his arm. His eyes hadn't even opened.

"Careful," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep. "It's a long way down."

Y/N, completely unfazed by her near-fall, just giggled and snuggled into his capture weapon, which was surprisingly soft. "Okay, 'Zawa."

Toshinori let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a hand over his heart. Mic lowered his hands from where they'd been poised to use his quirk. Midnight watched with an arched eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips.

Aizawa simply adjusted his grip on the small child, his arm acting as an unbreachable seatbelt. Y/N rested her head against his shoulder, her humming starting up again, softer this time. Within minutes, her breathing evened out, and she was fast asleep, completely trusting in the grumpy hero who had become her personal mountain.

Toshinori watched them, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with his quirk. His daughter, the Symbol of Peace's greatest weakness and ultimate strength, was asleep in the arms of the man who trusted no one. And in that quiet, cluttered lounge, surrounded by heroes who fought villains and faced death without fear, it was the most peaceful sight he had ever seen.

𐙚‧₊˚📒✩ ₊˚☁️⊹♡

A/N: I lovee pro hero!daughter tropes!!! I'm def writing more of these! love yallll

comments and likes are always appreciated!