#story request

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

The last thing you remember is Jake cracking a joke about "coincidences" as he dropped you off at your apartment. That night, the city pressed in heavy and strange, washed in neon and the pulse of distant sirens. The streetlights cast fractured shadows across cracked pavement, and every sound felt sharper than it should—car doors slamming, footsteps echoing, the nervous hush of neighbors behind closed blinds. A chill crawled down your spine as you spotted a nondescript black van idling under the flickering streetlamp, its windows dark, engine rumbling like a restless animal. You couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on you, the sense that someone was cataloguing your every move, just out of sight—waiting. Even inside, the unease lingered. Your phone buzzed with cryptic emergency alerts, and your mind raced as you drew the curtains tight at 2 a.m., trying to believe Jake’s promise that things would finally calm down. They didn’t.

By morning, your world explodes into a mess of sirens, hazmat suits, and questions you’re not allowed to answer. It all happens so quickly: a pounding on your door, voices muffled behind respirators, neighbors gathered in the hallway, someone shouting about a containment breach. You barely have time to grab your cat and a pair of shoes before you’re hustled downstairs and loaded into the back of an ambulance. No one tells you what’s going on—just a barrage of questions about your recent contact, what you remember from the outbreak, if you feel any “symptoms.”

A paramedic leans close, voice clipped: “Anyone visit you last night? Coughing, fever, nosebleeds? Did you touch any strange animals?”

Your neighbor—Mrs. Lee from 3B—cries out, “Why are they taking her? She’s not sick!”

Someone in a hazmat suit jots notes furiously, ignoring your confusion. “Stay calm, miss. You need to answer everything. When was your last contact with the individual named Jake Muller?”

You try to keep up, but your words tumble out half-formed. You’re overwhelmed, frustrated, and getting more frightened by the minute as the questions keep coming, sharp and relentless.

Faces blur past, hands press you down onto a stretcher, and someone jams a needle into your arm. You lose consciousness before you can protest, your last thought a fleeting worry for your cat, cradled in your arms.

You wake up hours later in a hospital bed—needle still in your arm, sunlight slicing across white sheets, the air heavy with antiseptic and secrets. There’s a low beep from the heart monitor, the distant echo of hospital announcements, and the faint purr of your cat, curled up at your feet. For a moment, you think you’re dreaming—until you spot the armed guards at the end of the corridor. Not exactly subtle. Not even for the government.

Your first instinct is to panic, but before you can do much more than sit up, you notice Jake Muller lounging at your bedside—hair a little mussed, jacket slung carelessly over the back of the chair, dark circles under his eyes betraying sleepless nights. There’s a hint of dried blood at his temple—maybe not his—and a tension in his posture that says he’s been on guard for hours, even if he pretends otherwise. Boot propped on the windowsill, he flips through your latest chart like it’s the morning paper. The cocky, infuriating calm in his eyes is the only familiar thing in the whole sterile room. You glare at him. He grins, entirely too unbothered.

“You know it’s illegal to read those, right?” you snap, irritation bubbling up before you can stop yourself.

He shrugs, not even bothering to look up from the chart. “Rules don’t apply to people with mysterious blood types. Or their security detail.”

You huff, feeling helpless and oddly exposed. “Are you actually going to explain, or just keep making cryptic comments and drinking my Jell-O?”

He finally meets your gaze, the edge of his grin softening a little. “Fine. Short version? Someone ran your bloodwork after the outbreak. Turns out you’ve got some weird immunity to the virus. Didn’t you ever wonder why you didn’t mutate after that J’avo bit you?”

You stare at him, heart thumping. “I thought I was just lucky.”

Jake’s smirk fades for the first time all day. “You’re not lucky. You’re unique. The kind of unique that gets flagged in a thousand secret databases and has half of Umbrella’s leftovers drooling for a sample. They want to keep you safe. Or… locked up. Maybe both.”

Your mind races, memories of every strange encounter since the outbreak—the time you caught a stranger in a suit watching your building from a parked car for hours, the cryptic phone call where a voice simply said, “Be careful who you trust,” before hanging up—clicking together like puzzle pieces. The hospital visits, the weird men in suits, the random break-ins—nothing was a coincidence. “So now you’re my bodyguard? Is this, like, a government witness protection thing or…?”

He tosses your chart onto the side table, leans back, and folds his arms. “More like ‘keep her breathing and unkidnapped,’” Jake says. “And yeah, I’m supposed to be discreet. Which, apparently, means moving in next door and rescuing cats from burning buildings.”

You groan and rub your face. “No wonder you keep showing up everywhere. You really are stalking me.”

He flashes that cocky half-smile you’re beginning to hate less and less. “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t know.”

A moment of silence stretches between you. The sounds of the hospital fade into the background, replaced by the low rumble of your own nerves. Despite everything, you find yourself almost comforted by his presence—by the way he pretends not to worry, by the way he keeps your cat close, by the way he acts like this is all just another day at the office.

You roll your eyes, but the weight of everything settles between you. “What now?”

Jake leans forward, dropping the bravado for the first time. “Now we keep living. I watch your back. You try not to die. We both pretend things are normal until they aren’t. And if someone shows up looking for a miracle cure?” He rests a hand over yours, serious for once. “We run. Together.”

There’s a moment where neither of you speaks. Even your cat, perched at the foot of the bed, seems to sense the shift—tail flicking, eyes narrowed at Jake like he’s the only thing standing between you and the next disaster. Outside, the sunlight shifts across the floor tiles, dust motes swirling in the stillness. The world feels strangely small, just the three of you in that sterile room.

You squeeze his hand, just once. “You’re still buying dinner.”

He laughs, relief flickering in his eyes. “Deal. But I’m picking the place. And you’re not allowed to order salad.”

Your lips twitch, a real smile breaking through for the first time since you woke up. It’s not much, but it’s enough.

A distant siren wails and fades in the streets below as your cat circles twice and settles between you and Jake, rumbling with a contented purr. Jake squeezes your hand again, grounding you. The world outside your hospital window is a mess—a tangle of government secrets, viral conspiracies, and threats you’re only beginning to understand—but with Jake beside you, maybe—just maybe—you’re ready for whatever comes next.

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With a sigh, he glanced down into the empty alley and made his way onto the next block. He hopped onto a ledge above a lonely intersection, watching one car lazily make its way through the light and down the next street.

He had time to make a quick call. To ease a bit of the boredom.

Fishing the cracked phone out of his pocket, he dialed your number and waited for you to answer. He was almost certain you were still awake, but a guilty thought crept into the back of his mind that maybe you decided to go to bed early tonight since he wouldn't be back until the wee hours of the morning.

The phone rang a few more times before it went to your voicemail where your chirpy recorded voice asked him to leave a message. He hung up, worried that he did call while you were asleep. He didn't want to bother you, especially this late at night.

Pocketing the device, he headed for the next block. As he landed on the next building, he couldn't help the nagging sensation in the back of his mind, demanding his attention. He knew your routine. He knew it down to a tee. Something about it didn't sit right with him. Of course, there could be a million possibilities of why you didn't answer, but usually, in Izuku's case, it always seemed to end in the worst-case scenario.

His boots dug into the gravel of the rooftop he'd stopped on. The low hum of the ventilation hid the crunch under his boots. He used the cover to lean against the metal and pull his phone out again. It couldn't hurt to just try one more time. As long as he heard from you that everything was okay, then he would be okay. He could always apologize for waking you later.

When the call went straight to voicemail this time, he stared down at the phone. Something wasn't right. That familiar sense of dread filling the pit in his stomach practically screamed it over and over at him. Something wasn't right.

Izuku pulled up the location app you both had installed on your phones. He pinpointed yours, and sure enough, you were home. Maybe you had just put it on silent, or maybe you were just busy with something at the moment.

He impatiently rapped his fingers along the cold metal surface of the unit as he thought through his decision. The apartment78 was outside his patrol route this week. From his position now, it would take him at least ten minutes off route. That nervous hole growing in his gut was only urging him more and more to just at least stop at home to check. You two could laugh about how silly it was later.

Mind made up, he turned back around and launched himself into the air, leaving a small ring in the gravel. If he boosted his speed with his quirk, he could make it there and back in time to finish his route.

The night had been a quiet one. You were used to them of course. Every couple of weeks, Izuku would have to work the graveyard shift so you wouldn't see him until the morning. After a nice relaxing bath, you slipped on your pajamas, hoping that when Izuku did eventually make it home, he'd see you asleep with his likeness plastered all over you. It always made him melt into an adorable blubbering puddle which you took too much pleasure in.

After setting the teapot on the stove, you headed into the bathroom to finish washing your face. Humming a tune, you turned on the faucet. The water felt nice, especially after a long day. You could feel yourself relaxing the longer you splashed your face.

Over the sound of the sink, you heard a door close. With a handful of water brimming past your cupped palms, you froze, glancing at your phone on the counter. Izuku wouldn't be home yet unless something drastic happened, but normally, he would at least call if there was an issue.

Dropping the water back into the sink, you grabbed a towel and patted your face dry, then turned off the faucet. Before you stepped into the hallway, you slipped your phone into the waistband of your pants.

"Izuku? Didn't your shift already start? What are you doing home-" Your words died on your lips as you turned the corner into the living room, locking eyes with a masked person in a hoodie. The ski mask was lifted, revealing a pudgy face and wide saucer-like eyes.

The man was holding a large sack, half filled with contents from around the room. A burglar. You'd walked in on a burglary.

Two pairs of shocked eyes stared at each other for a few tense seconds. Your heart had gone into overdrive, nearly hammering itself right out of your chest. Your feet unconsciously backed up, but the man dropped the sack with a loud crack and pulled out a pistol, shakily aiming it at you.

"Don't move!" he cried out, eyes nervously darting around the room.

He didn't expect to be caught red-handed. His thick fingers trembled, shaking the barrel so badly you were sure if he did decide to shoot, he had a pretty good chance of missing. But you didn't want to take that chance to begin with.

You raised your hands in surrender. "Look, I don't want any trouble." You tried to keep your voice steady so as not to spook him. "Take whatever you want, as long as you leave. Just put the gun down alright? I won't fight."

That much was true. You weren't a hero like Izuku. You wouldn't try to bust your way through a fight. You only had your wits to keep you safe from a bullet and a shaky trigger finger.

The room was silent as the burglar nervously thought it over, the gun never wavering from his target. At last, he lowered it slightly, glancing down at his sack of stolen goodies.

A small bit of relief rolled through you as you thought he'd just take his prize and leave, but then a loud ringtone buzzed from your waist startling you both.

"What is that? What are you doing?" He took a heavy step forward, barrel pointed back at you. "Drop it! Drop it now!"

You couldn't help the panicked yelp as he waved the gun wildly, threatening to shoot. With slow motion, you lifted the phone out of your waistband and carefully placed it on the floor, face up. You could see Izuku's goofy grin lighting the screen as the phone vibrated loudly on the floor, demanding attention. After another ring, the phone went dark, along with your hope.

"N-now kick it over here!" He cried out, obviously getting more and more frantic with how this evening was turning out.

You couldn't say you were any more happy than he was.

Sliding your foot out, you gave it a little shove. The phone twirled across the wood floor until it came to a stop between the two of you. The man narrowed his eyes at you as he took a few more steps out to reach it.

As he bent down to grab it, you debated on the odds of running. If you just got outside, you could escape to get help. Or he could have a much better aim than you thought. The chances of him hitting his target weren't low enough to tangle with. If only there was a way to warn Izuku. But right now, your only means of communication was currently in a panicked criminal's hands.

The man examined your phone until the shrill cry from your kettle in the kitchen startled him so much that he dropped the device. You heard the crunch of your screen the moment it hit the floor, and you were afraid he'd destroyed your phone. Destroyed your chances of calling for help.

He cursed as he swiveled in the direction of the kitchen, trying to find the source of the noise.

"It's just the kettle," you said quietly, not wanting to startle him any more than he already had been.

A nervous gunman was an unpredictable gunman.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go," he whispered as he stormed into the kitchen, keeping the gun trained on you as he moved the kettle off the stove, silencing the pot and filling the apartment with more tense silence.

You watched him, heart hammering in your chest as you tried to figure out what he was going to do. You'd seen his face. His mask was still sitting above his brow. He hadn't made any attempts at hiding himself. You weren't sure if he just hadn't realized it in his panic or if he knew he'd be screwed either way. But with the way he was staring at you now, you were sure this wasn't going to end in your favor.

"He said it'd be easy." The man rubbed his forehead with his free hand, before running his palm down his face. "Shit!"

"Please, if you leave now, I promise I won't say anything."

At least not until you had your phone back. Then there would be nowhere for him to hide once Izuku got wind of it. The only problem was getting to it with that barrel still staring down at you.

"No!" He yelled, pulling the rest of the mask off to rub his head with the side of the gun. Sweat had built up in his damp hair. It dripped down the side of his face, pooling under his chin. "No, no, no! You've already seen me. I'm screwed. If I mess something as simple as this up, then they'll-" he paused as if the next part was too terrifying to say aloud. "No! I've gotta fix this somehow."

An icy dread filled your veins. Everything he just admitted was what you were afraid of. You were the only witness. All he had to do was just get rid of the witness. A short-term solution to a long-term issue. It was a terrible plan. One that had major consequences for both parties, but he didn't seem to be in the listening kind of mood.

That familiar ringtone broke the taut mess of emotions hanging in the air. You glanced at the phone jingling against the floorboards with its merry tune. A stark contrast to your feelings at the moment.

He moved quickly out of the kitchen, back to where your phone lay innocently on the ground. The burglar lifted his boot and in one hard stomp, killed your only chance of calling for help. The buzzing stopped as your poor phone was crushed underfoot.

"Get on the floor! Put-put your hands on your head!" He charged toward you so quickly you sucked in a breath, stumbling back a few steps. "Don't make me tell you twice!"

Unsure of what else to do, you stiffly obeyed. Kneeling on the floor, you locked your hands behind your head, trying your best to regulate your heavy breaths. Panic was building in your throat. Tears blurred your vision. Fear flooded your thoughts. Thinking was nearly impossible as he pointed that gun just inches from your head.

The man wiped at the sheen of sweat building on his forehead and blinked hard. "I-I don't want to hurt you…but I can't…I can't go back to jail. If he knows I messed up again then-" He groaned, smacking his face.

"You won't!" you pleaded, holding in a sob. Anything to make him stop pointing that gun at your face. "Please, this will only make things worse."

"I just needed to pay off some debts." He seemed to be pleading right back, a wobbly tilt to his voice. He was just as scared as you. "It was supposed to be easy money. No one was supposed to be here. You weren't supposed to be here."

The man must not have done very good research before he attempted this little caper. You supposed the only reason he'd gotten caught was the work trip you were supposed to be on this week had been canceled. You weren't supposed to be here tonight. It was a last-minute change that threw him for a loop. And now it seemed you were paying the price.

"I can't-argh!" He twisted away, smacking the butt of the gun against his head in frustration. "Shit, shit, shit!"

The criminal stalked back and forth, seeming to debate about what to do next. As he paced, he only occasionally threw a sparing glance your way. Your stomach churned every time he looked at you. If you could just get past him without him looking. If you could just get through the door before he realized. You definitely didn't want to stick around to figure out what he would ultimately decide.

As he turned his back once more, you tensed your legs, ready to spring into action. With one quick motion, you dashed for the door on the other side of the room. He spun around when you were halfway across the living room and screamed. The gunshot nearly deafened you as it splintered the vase beside you.

You shrieked, stumbling back into the wall, trying to distance yourself from the shattered pottery. It was a gut reaction but it was the wrong choice. Your hesitance gave him the opportunity he needed to place himself between you and the door, raising the gun with his finger on the trigger.

There was no time to think. You knew he was going to shoot. He was too spooked to let you go now. Not after the attempted escape. So you did the only thing you could.

You ran.

Backpedaling as fast as you could, you flung yourself around the corner and down the hall. In your panic, you dove into the first room you came across which happened to be the bathroom. Once you crossed the barrier, you twisted and kicked the door shut, practically throwing yourself into the wood as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you twisted the lock, he slammed himself into the door. The knob shook so hard you were worried he would tear it right out of the door. The bathroom was small and with not much space to work with, you backed up, nearly tripping on the rug in front of the bathtub. Your breathing was too rapid to gain control so you bent over, struggling for air that just wouldn't come. Panic had nearly engulfed your entire being.

The door shook a few times as slammed himself into it over and over again. Whatever the door was made of, it held up surprisingly well under the assault.

But it wouldn't hold forever.

You'd sealed your fate by running. There was no way he'd let you live now. And why would you trap yourself in the bathroom of all places? It was windowless. No means of escape. It just happened to be the first door offering meager protection in your panicked state. If only you'd had the sense to make it to the bedroom where the window led out onto the fire escape.

"Come out now!" He screamed from the other side. "There's nowhere to run!"

Your legs hit the porcelain of the tub. Stepping into it, you crouched low and hugged your knees. Yes, you'd successfully trapped yourself, but you did have one thing going for you. He shot at you. One of your neighbors must've heard the commotion. At least you hoped so. All you had to do was wait him out and hope the door held until help arrived.

The kicking stopped. A part of you prayed that he'd finally come to his senses and fled while he had the chance. Silence filled the bathroom, ringing loudly in your ears as you held your breath. Tears leaked onto your knees, soaking your pajamas. You stared down at one of the masked faces of Deku adorning your knee. You needed him right now, but how in the world was he supposed to know that? The knowledge that he wasn't coming was turning your panic into full-blown hysterics.

There was a small click from the other side of the door. You didn't even have a chance to react as a bullet shot through the thick wood, impaling itself in the tile above your head. With a scream, you threw yourself flat against the tub, hoping it would provide at least some protection. A second shot tore through the curtains.

"Help!" you cried as loudly as you could. "Help!"

A third shot shattered the side of the toilet bowl, spilling water everywhere.

You curled tighter into yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

Expecting a fourth shot, you covered your ears, but instead, a loud thud shook the floor outside. Freezing, you listened in the terse silence, the sound of your breath too loud in your ears. It seemed too good to be true…had someone finally come?

Izuku landed on the sidewalk in front of the six-story walkup. In the darkness of the late-night air, he saw only a few windows glowing with life. His eyes scanned the side of the building, searching out the right floor and- there. The faint glow from the living room drifted through the curtains. So he knew he wouldn't be waking you up, at least.

He entered the lobby, shoes squeaking in the quiet emptiness, and jogged up the stairs that lead to the fifth floor.

The building itself was pretty old. A single elevator sat permanently out of commission, much to the ire of the other residents. Most of the rooms could use a fresh coat of paint…and probably a few other repairs. But rent was cheap and with opening his own agency only a year ago, his savings would take a while to grow back.

You didn’t seem to mind. Working yourself to the ground trying to make your own path with your career. While the place itself was a bit old and rundown, it was what you two joyfully called home because it was where each other was. And that's all you could really ask for in this life.

Izuku had made it to the third floor when he heard the distinct sound of gunfire from above. It was muffled, but there was no mistaking the sound, especially in his line of work. That sense of dread floating in his veins seemed to pool right into his stomach as he boosted himself up the last two flights.

When the door came into view, he stopped, taking in the sight with dread.

The door was slightly ajar.

Someone was inside.

With you.

A second shot fired off and one of the neighboring doors peeked open. An elderly man popped his head out of the door looking rightfully alarmed. Izuku caught his attention with a finger to his lips and motioned for him to go back inside.

He made his way to the edge of the door and glanced inside. From his viewpoint, he could see the living room. There was a shattered vase on the floor, a black bag full of various things you two owned, and then there were the remnants of your crushed phone. But no signs of you or whoever fired that gun.

Another bullet fired further inside, and your scream was what got him moving double time. His quirk sparking around him like furious lightning, he launched himself past the living room. The commotion came from the hallway, and when he rounded the corner, he saw a man dressed in all black fire, another bullet into the bathroom door.

The bullet had barely left the chamber before Izuku slammed into the man with full unmerciful force. Both men collided with the wall at the end of the hall, cracking the plaster. An agonizing cry came from underneath him as the man curled around his arm, bent at an odd angle. He didn't put up much more of a fight as he groaned, glaring up at Izuku.

"You broke my arm!" He screamed as if Izuku was the one in the wrong. "Dammit!"

But the adrenaline was still pumping through his veins and with no fight to serve as a proper output for his fury, he slammed the wall beside the intruder's head with a boiling cry of outrage, making a fist-sized hole in the wall. Walls, he could replace. Heads, not so much.

At the sudden violent outburst, the man stiffened, blinking the rain of dust out of his eyes. He snapped his mouth shut, eyes wide with terror.

Once Izuku took a few breaths to calm himself down, he wrenched the criminal off the wall, only to slam him belly-first into the floor. Pressing a foot down on his back, he used a set of zip ties from his belt to secure the writhing mess of a man beneath him. He didn't care to be gentle as he nudged the criminal on his side and tied his hands tight, ignoring the sobs spilling from his mouth. He moved down to his legs and tied those two. Just to be sure, this bastard wasn't going anywhere until Izuku decided what to do with him.

"No, no, no," the intruder cried weakly into the floor, struggling with his binds. "It wasn't- argh- it wasn't supposed to go this way. It's all her fault!"

He glared down at the whining mess struggling to free himself. "You'll pay for your mistakes. If you hurt her at all," he squatted low to make sure he was listening. "I swear you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

With that, Izuku turned his attention to the bathroom door, now decorated with a few bullet holes. He made his way over until he stood just outside it, trying to hear any signs of life within. It was silent and that perhaps scared him more than anything. Just what would he find in there after this disaster of a night?

You were everything to him. If something were to happen to you, he honestly wasn't sure what he'd do. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not in the safety of your home. Not when Izuku-Deku- is supposed to be watching your back. Not to someone as perfect and as kind as you.

Shaky fingers gripped the knob and turned, only to be stopped by the lock. When he called your name, a slight wobble to his voice, he only heard silence for a few terrifying moments before the subtle sounds of movement came from inside.

"…Izuku?" you asked quietly, sniffling and not entirely trusting. "Is that really you?"

"It's me. I'm here. Everything's okay now. You're safe, I promise." He leaned his head against the wood, trying to tamper down his own racing heart. "I'm so sorry."

The door unlocked and swung open so fast, that he barely even registered it before you crashed into him with a fierce hug, squeezing as tight as you could manage around his bulky frame. The fabric of his uniform twisted in your grasp. You buried your face as deep into his chest as you could and let out a shaky sob. In one long breath, you let all your fear and terror out.

"H-How'd you even know to come?" you asked, voice muffled by the cloth but unwilling to let go just yet.

His arms curled tight around you. A secure embrace you were grateful for and melted into it. You felt him trembling almost as much as you. He had been just as terrified as you were, maybe for different reasons, but still the same fear.

"I…I don't know." He admitted into your hair. "I just…I had a feeling."

And he would forever be grateful to the fates for whatever reason they decided to give him the instincts to come. But at the moment, all he cared about was that you were here, alive, and safe in his arms.

"I'm glad you did," you spoke softly, your emotions finally reigning themselves in a bit. "I don't even want to think about what would've-" you paused, your mouth not quite able to form the rest of the sentence.

He didn't want to say it either. Just thinking about the worst-case scenario had him shuddering at the thought. What if he had ignored his instinct tonight? Would you even be alive after he would've eventually come home hours from now?

Sparing a glance at the man who was too absorbed in pleading his case to the floor, he twisted you around so you wouldn't have to look at him.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Izuku gently cupped your red puffy face in his hands. Those giant green eyes laced with concern as he searched for any sign of pain.

"I don't think so." That much was true, at least in the physical sense. But you did a quick cursory check of your limbs and, finding them still intact, you grasped his wrists. "Thank you. You saved me. He would've- I might've-" stammering out the words, your raw voice dissolved into a puddle, and you pulled him in for another tight hug.

As you hicciped into his uniform, he could only hug you tighter. A light kiss to the crown of your head, and he leaned in to whisper, "I will always be there for you. I promise."

"You won't leave?" you murmured, voice vibrating directly into his heart.

"I won't leave," he assured you, gently swaying from side to side. "I'll stay right here by your side for the rest of the night. For the rest of your life if that's what it takes.

He felt your body sag in relief. Your fingers curled into the creases of the fabric. You let out a deep, slightly shaky breath.

It wasn't a lie.

He would stick by your side for as long as you would let him. You were the light of his life. The thing he looked forward to each and every day. The man would give anything up to make sure you stayed happy, healthy, and alive.

As you fought back the adrenaline slowly seeping from your body, he wrapped an arm around your waist, that look of concern still adorning his freckly face.

"Do you need to sit?"

"Maybe," you admitted, dropping your head into his shoulder and trusting he would have your weight should you stumble.

He led you to the couch where he could still keep an eye on the hogtied criminal down the hall and helped you ease into the cushions. You patted your knees and frowned. Your pants were dirty, smudging the print of his masked likeness.

"They're dirty," you muttered, poking the print. "And they were my favorite."

Izuku, despite the situation, blushed as he stared down at your pants. "They were?"

"Yeah. But I suppose as long as I have the real version with me, I can manage." You leaned back, taking his hand and curling yourself around his arm as he stood vigil over you while you waited for the police. "You're a good hero Izuku. And you just keep proving it. There isn't a doubt in my mind that you'll be Number One someday."

You expected this much. After all, your father confined you in this place earlier that day specifically because it’s the safest, the hardest to reach. Once he gave you this order, you knew that your Kingdom didn’t have much longer.

Enemies have been taking over your territory little by little for a while now; a battle lost here, a battle lost there, and your Kingdom was bound to fall into ruins.

The worst part of it all was that there was nothing you could do to prevent it. Not as a powerless princess, anyway. You vowed to yourself that you would rise in power and change everything as your father fell sick, but there you were, locked in the tower, sitting idly on the floor and hearing your soldiers’ last screams in what would be the final battle before everything would fall apart for good.

You wondered briefly if they reached your father’s chambers yet. He was even less powerful than you now, with the impending death hovering over him like a kettle of vultures awaiting their prey. You wondered if his sickness would get to him first, or if the attackers would land the final blow.

Your thoughts were cut short when the sound of a powerful explosion rang in your ears, and you immediately turned your head to the small window above.

You could see your castle, your precious home, fully engulfed by flames, and your heart began beating alarmingly fast in your chest.

How long until they would find you? And what would come of you once they got to the tower?

Would they kill you?

Would they keep you alive and turn you into a slave to mock you for the rest of your life?

Would they put their dirty hands all over you, force you into submission?

You didn’t enjoy this pointless waiting for the inevitable. You loathed being so powerless, and if these walls were supposed to offer you any protection, you found yourself suffocated by them instead.

You wanted to escape, but how? The door was locked, the window was too small and way too far up for you to reach it. There wasn’t even a blade for you to use to end this suffering of anticipating the inescapable.

The only thing you could do was wait for the attackers to find you, and oh, how funny this game of waiting was. You almost wanted to laugh.

“Your Highness!” You heard a familiar voice from the other side of the door, before it flew open, broken by one of your guards.

“Changbin! If you’re here, that means…” You stood up immediately, running directly towards him.

He took into a tight embrace before grabbing your face with his hands and looking you right in the eyes. His look was grave, indicating the worst.

“Yes. I’m afraid our King has fallen. We must haste, Your Highness.”

“Where are we going?” You asked breathless as he gripped your right hand and began running outside of the room into some underground tunnels under the Tower.

“We can’t stay here any longer. We will escape to the Eastern Kingdom through the sea. A ship should be waiting for us.” Changbin spoke hurriedly, guiding you further into the dark abyss.

“But Changbin… what about our home? What about our friends and families?” You frowned, worry plastered all over your face. You unfortunately knew the answer already, but still had a glimmer of hope inside your heart that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“Your Highness…” He spoke, shaking his head softly and trying to forget all about the once peaceful life you both shared.

“Then, why?” You suddenly stopped running, pulling him back to force him to face you. “Why did you come for me? You should’ve protected them…” You continued, feeling tears building up in the corners of your eyes.

“How could’ve I?” His voice fell. “How could’ve I run away with them and leave you behind?”

“Why would I matter more than them, then? I couldn’t even protect my own people…”

“And I’m no different. I couldn’t protect anyone… anyone but you, Your Highness. You are our only hope, and I swear on my life, I will always protect you.” Changbin spoke in a grave tone, and you knew he was serious, and that you could count on him to always be there for you.

“So will I.” You raised your head. “We will get out of here alive, and after we pull ourselves together, Changbin, I promise you that we will take back everything that rightfully belongs to us.”