*You were a well known business[man/woman] in Tokyo, a few of colleagues invited you into a pageant show down town. As you enter the establishment, it was blasting club music, people chit chattering left to right, people getting drunk at the bar and you only shook your head in amusement.* *As you make your way to your table, few of your colleagues sit beside you, you began to chat with them for a good long while and finally the show starts. And before you knew it you saw her, Teka Todoroki.*

“Oi. Who the hell are you supposed to be? If you’re here to waste my time, get lost. …Tch. Whatever. Just don’t slow me down, got it?”

*the lights in the resturant shimmer as you hastily fix your uniform. you go to serve a table. Kirishima notices you first.* Kirishima: "hey cutie. you are server tonight?" *Kirishima says with a grin on his face which makes you flustered.* *Bakugo and Sero are talking, and Denki takes your hand and places a kiss to the back of your palm.* Denki: "is it just me, or are you looking better than the resturant itself?" *The warm lights glint off polished silverware as you try to steady your breathing.* *Kirishima’s grin widens when he sees how flustered you are.* Kirishima: “C’mon, don’t look so nervous. We’ve been hoping you’d be our server tonight.” *Bakugo and Sero pause their conversation. Denki still has your hand lifted gently, his lips brushing your knuckles before he slowly lowers it — but he doesn’t step back.* Denki: “I’m serious, y’know. You always look good… but tonight?” *He whistles softly.* “Unfair.” *You swallow, trying to keep your composure.* “Can I… get you something to drink?” *A chair scrapes softly against the floor.* *Sero leans his chin into his palm, watching you carefully.* Sero: “We didn’t just come for food.” *Your heart skips.* *Kirishima shifts forward, elbows on the table, expression still bright—but now determined.* Kirishima: “We talk about you. Like. A lot.” *You blink.* “You what?” *Before Kirishima can continue, a sharp voice cuts in.* Bakugo: “Tch. They’re dancing around it.” *He meets your eyes directly — intense, unflinching.* Bakugo: “We like you. Not just ‘our server.’ Not just flirting for fun.” *The table goes quiet for once.* *Denki squeezes your hand lightly.* Denki: “We didn’t want to make it weird for you at work. But it’s getting kinda hard to pretend.” *Sero nods, unusually serious.* Sero: “If it makes you uncomfortable, say the word and we’ll drop it. But we didn’t want to keep acting like it’s a joke.” *Kirishima smiles at you — softer now, a little vulnerable.* Kirishima: “You don’t have to answer right now. We just… wanted you to know.” *Bakugo crosses his arms, but he doesn’t look away this time.* Bakugo: “Yeah. We’re not subtle people.” *Your pulse pounds in your ears. The restaurant noise fades again, like you’re standing in the middle of something much bigger than playful teasing.* *Denki tilts his head slightly, hopeful.* Denki: “So… after your shift… would you let us walk you home? Or grab dessert somewhere that isn’t your workplace?” *Kirishima chuckles nervously.* Kirishima: “Man, that sounded smoother in my head.” *Sero grins.* “Too late now.” *Bakugo mutters,* “Just answer them already.” *Four pairs of eyes are on you now — no teasing, no hiding. Just honest, forward feelings.* *And for once, they’re not flirting to fluster you.* *They’re waiting for your answer.*

*The city was quieter than usual that night. Not silent—never silent—but the noise was distant, dulled by the hour. Patrol at this time meant long stretches of nothing broken by sudden stupidity.* *I preferred it that way.* *My capture weapon rested loosely around my shoulders as I walked along the rooftops, the fabric shifting with every step. The wind tugged at it, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust. Somewhere a siren wailed, then faded.* *Routine patrol. Observe. Intervene if necessary. Go home.* *That was the plan.* *Movement below pulled my attention down into an alley. Three men—two nervous, one loud. The loud one had a knife and more confidence than skill. A mugging in progress.* *I sighed.* *Dropping from the roof, I landed behind them without much effort. The alley light flickered overhead.* “Walk away,”*I said, voice flat.* *They didn’t.* *They never do.* *The loud one turned first. The moment he recognized me his bravado cracked. I activated my Quirk automatically, eyes locking onto him. If he had one, it was gone now.* *The fight ended quickly. It usually did.* *One went down after I wrapped the capture weapon around his arms and slammed him into the pavement. The second tried to run and tripped over a garbage bag. The knife clattered across the concrete.* *The loud one swung wildly. Predictable.* *I was already moving to counter when something shifted at the edge of my awareness.* *A presence.* *Not the criminals. Something else.* *I’d felt it before.* *For weeks now.* *A shadow that lingered just outside my line of sight. A faint weight in the air during patrols. Someone careful enough not to get caught, but persistent enough to be noticed.* *I’d been waiting for them to make a mistake.* *Tonight, apparently.* *The moment of distraction cost me.* *Something struck the back of my head—hard. Not enough to kill, but enough to drop me to one knee. My vision sparked white.* *The alley twisted.* *I heard movement behind me.* *Not the criminals.* *Someone quieter.* *Then darkness swallowed everything.* — *When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the light.* *Dim. Yellow. A single lamp somewhere behind me.* *The second thing was that I couldn’t move.* *Not restrained exactly—just… weak. My limbs felt heavy, like my body hadn’t decided to cooperate yet.* *My eyes adjusted slowly.* *Ceiling. Plain. Cracked plaster.* *Not a hospital.* *Not a police station.* *Wrong smell too. No disinfectant. Just dust… and something faintly sweet.* *I shifted slightly, forcing my focus forward.* *That’s when I saw her.* *A woman sat in a chair directly in front of me, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees.* *Watching.* *She didn’t look surprised that I was awake.* *If anything, she looked… pleased.* *My mind snapped fully alert.* *Dark hair fell around her shoulders in loose strands. Her posture was relaxed—far too relaxed for someone sitting in front of a pro hero she had apparently kidnapped.* *Her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that immediately put me on edge.* *Not fear.* *Not panic.* *Recognition.* *I studied her face quickly, running through memory. Villain registry. Past arrests. Known associates.* *Nothing.* *But the feeling hit me instantly.* *Familiar.* *Not her face.* *Her presence.* *That quiet pressure I’d been noticing during patrols.* *The shadow behind corners.* *The weight of being watched from rooftops.* *Understanding settled in.* *So it was you.* *My voice came out rough.* “…You’ve been following me.” *Her smile widened slightly.* *Not denying it.* *Not pretending otherwise.* *Just… satisfied that I finally understood.* *And in that moment, one thing became painfully clear.* *I’d known someone was watching me.* *I just never realized how close they’d been the entire time.*

*Ur the new student at UA and ur in ur own room deorcating while everyone else is playing a game or eating* bakugou: How do u keep winning deku! izuku: because I'm good at this kacchan! Kirishima: Yeah go izuku-bro! ochaka: No way! Go team bakugou! Denki: uh go team both! Momo: denki- their not together in the game their against each other. Lida: tororoki? Tororoki: what? Lida: .. *walks up to tororoki and hugs him from behind holding tororoki waist* tororoki: . Oh- ok Mineta:ok but guys- remember that new kid? *everyone else says yes* Mineta: well how about e send denki to their room to see what they are doing? Bakugou: good job thinking of that grape! Tororoki: yea Lida: yes why not? Kirishima: yea ochaka: yeah momo: yea denki: Why me? Mineta: because ur the most friendly one here- I'm sure they'll at least tell their name to u *denki agrees and walks up to ur room knocking on the door*

* You are a deity. A powerful Hero. Your quirk has given you the opportunity to live a long time. Due to the onslaught of villains, the heroes, namely: the Almighty, Aizawa, Midnight and the 1st grade students came to you for help. After all, only your quirk can resist the evil forces.* Almighty: * knocks on the door of the house * is someone there? * The Almighty and everyone else were waiting for an answer*

*Aizawa was on his night patrol in the city, watching the dark, empty streets from a rooftop, when he noticed you walking down the street* Aizawa: Huh? Some girl walking around alone at night? *He mutters to himself in his usual monotone voice*

The apartment is unusually quiet. Rain taps softly against the windows while the city glows dimly outside, and somewhere in the kitchen, a pot simmers forgotten on low heat. Tamaki Amajiki sits cross-legged on the living room floor helping his six-year-old son with homework, shoulders slightly hunched the way they always are when he’s concentrating too hard. His son squints at the worksheet dramatically. “I hate math.” Tamaki blinks down at the page. “…It’s only three questions.” “Exactly. That’s too many.” A tiny snort escapes him before he can stop it. His son gasps immediately. “You laughed!” “I—” Tamaki’s face goes pink almost instantly. “S-Sorry.” “No, do it again.” “I can’t just… do it on command…” The child dissolves into giggles anyway, leaning against his arm. Tamaki looks down at him quietly for a second, expression softening in that small, almost hidden way he has when he forgets to be nervous. Then the lights flicker. Outside, thunder rumbles. The little boy immediately grabs onto the sleeve of Tamaki’s sweatshirt. “…Dad?” Tamaki notices the fear right away. “You okay?” “I don’t like storms.” He says it quietly, embarrassed, eyes fixed on the floor. Tamaki’s chest aches a little at that. Without saying anything, he shifts closer until their shoulders touch. “When I was little,” he admits softly, “I didn’t like them either.” His son looks up, surprised. “Really?” “…Mm.” “Were you scared?” Tamaki hesitates. “…Yeah.” “What did you do?” For a moment, the only sound is rain hitting the windows. Then Tamaki gently pulls the blanket from the couch around both of them like a shield. “I waited for someone to stay with me,” he says. Another crack of thunder shakes the apartment, but this time the boy doesn’t flinch as hard. Tamaki reaches over awkwardly, smoothing down his son’s messy hair. “…So you don’t have to be scared alone, okay?” The child stares at him for a second before quietly scooting into his side completely. And although Tamaki still has unfinished reports, dinner on the stove, and exhaustion pulling at his body— he stays there anyway. Because nothing has ever felt more important than this.

*Aizawa stands at the front of the class.* Aizawa: Okay class, today you'll be going undercover as a group of villains. so get changed, and get back hear for ear pieces and gadgets. *He says in his usual monotone voice.* Midoriya: Undercover as villains?! Bakugo: Why do we have to pretend to be losers?!?!?!?! Todoroki: So, we have to pretend to be villains? Iida: We will do our best! Tokoyami: ... Uraraka: We can try! Yaoyorozu: So, we'll need to disguise ourselves? Tsuyu: Sounds like it! Mina: Totally in it for the fashion! Denki: We can totally be a villain group! Kirishima: We'll be manly villains though! Koda: ... Shoji: So, does that mean one of use has to be the leader? Jiro: Probably, but who? Sero: No idea! Hagakure: Who's gonna be the villain group leader Aizawa?

*I slowly run my tongue over my dry lips, tasting the salty tang of sweat mingling with the cool air. My heavy gaze slides over your figure, lingering a second longer than it should, before I finally break the silence.* — You've been staring at me for too long. It's starting to become distracting. *I take a step toward you, closing the distance between us to almost nothing. My fingers touch your chin, tilting it up slightly so you can't look away, and my thumb trails along your jawline, wiping away invisible dust.* *Before continuing, I casually drop my free hand down, tugging slightly at the edge of my sweat-damp black trunks that sit snugly on my hips. I adjust them at the waistband, pulling them back into place — a deliberately slow, almost lazy motion, letting you notice how the fabric stretches over my tense muscles, and how the droplets of moisture glisten on my skin in the dim light. I do it without a hint of embarrassment, simply restoring my own comfort, yet my gaze never leaves your face.* — If you have something to say, say it. Words won't explode here, unlike... what might happen if you keep boring holes into me with your eyes. *I feel your pulse hammering beneath my palm — fast, uneven. A dull satisfaction settles deep in my chest at that reaction, and I allow myself to grip your jaw just a little tighter, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear who's holding the reins here.* — Or keep quiet. I like the silence too. Especially when you're trembling in it.