Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 1

masterlist

It was far too early in the morning for most people to be awake, but (Y/N) was no stranger to odd hours. Dressed in a black maid’s uniform that fell just below his knees, he walked briskly down the dimly lit streets. The soft swishing of the skirt was oddly calming; he found the outfit freeing in a way he hadn’t expected when his former employer had mistakenly assumed he was female. Not that it mattered anymore—he’d been fired yesterday.

The memory of his firing was hazy, like most things. His forgetful nature made even significant events feel distant, but one detail stood out: the conversation.

“You’re fired,” his boss had said bluntly.

(Y/N) had tilted his head, confused. “Who are you again?”

It hadn’t gone over well. Regardless, he’d left the job without much protest, thinking only of his next steps. Homelessness wasn’t appealing, so finding another job was now his top priority.

As he walked, his sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a green-haired boy jogging in the opposite direction. The boy was clearly exhausted but determined, sweat dripping down his face as he pushed himself forward. Not far behind, a woman stood on the sidewalk, clutching her robe tightly around herself. She looked worried, her gaze fixed on the boy as he disappeared into the distance.

(Y/N) slowed his pace, curiosity piqued. The woman’s anxiety was palpable, and before he even realized what he was doing, he stepped closer, his silent movements startling her.

“Ah!” she gasped, spinning around. Her wide eyes locked onto his, and she pressed a hand to her chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry,” (Y/N) said calmly, his voice soft but steady. “You seemed worried. Can I help?”

The woman hesitated, studying him. Despite the maid’s uniform, his demeanor was calm and collected. “It’s my son,” she admitted after a moment. “He’s been pushing himself too hard lately…training. I just—” She stopped, shaking her head. “Never mind. It’s not your concern.”

“I can be whatever you need,” (Y/N) said simply.

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He held up a hand and began counting on his fingers. “A butler, a maid, a babysitter, a cleaner, a bodyguard…” He paused, noticing how her expression shifted at the last option.

“A bodyguard?” she repeated, her tone skeptical.

“Yes.” His expression remained blank, though his tone carried a faint hint of confidence. “I can protect him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The woman, Inko, looked him over carefully. Despite his slight build and unassuming appearance, there was something about him—an air of quiet strength. But before agreeing, she asked cautiously, “How much do you charge for your…services?”

“A warm meal and a place to rest my head,” he replied without hesitation.

Her eyes softened, and she frowned slightly. He was homeless, wasn’t he? That explained a lot. Her heart ached at the thought of this young person out on the streets. She nodded, deciding then and there. “Alright. Follow me.”

She led him into her modest home, guiding him to a small guest room. “It’s not much, but you’re welcome to stay here.”

(Y/N) stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the space. It was plain but clean, with a neatly made bed and a small dresser. He set down the small bag he carried and turned to Inko as she said, “I hope this will do… Miss?”

He blinked, tilting his head slightly before saying, “Oh, yeah, by the way…I’m a boy.”

Inko froze, her face flushing with embarrassment. “Oh! I-I’m so sorry! I thought—because of the dress—”

“It’s fine,” he said, unbothered. “It’s comfortable.”

She nodded quickly, still flustered but relieved he didn’t seem offended. “Well, um, rest up, and we can talk more later. I’ll prepare breakfast.”

(Y/N) gave a small nod and turned back to the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was warm here, and the idea of stability—even if temporary—eased a tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax. This new job might be unconventional, but he had a feeling it would be interesting.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 6

masterlist

It was a quiet afternoon at the park. The golden hues of the setting sun painted the sky in warm tones as (Y/N), Izuku, and Toshinori—who had opted to leave his towering, muscular form at home—sat together on a bench. Toshinori, currently in his skeletal form, was taking a break from his usual hero duties. (Y/N), though still indifferent, could tell there was a certain level of comfort in the air. Toshinori seemed to relax more than usual, without the pressure of being the larger-than-life symbol of peace.

The three of them had been sitting in silence for a while, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Izuku, with his usual spark of curiosity, was taking in the moment, his eyes wide, appreciating the rare calm.

“I’m glad we could take a break,” Izuku said, his voice light. “It’s nice to relax for a bit.”

(Y/N) glanced at the sky, the colors shifting and changing as the sun set. His expression was unreadable, as always. But despite the cold indifference, he couldn’t deny the moment’s peace. It was rare—too rare—but something about this setting felt like it was meant to be, like a calm before the storm.

Toshinori, still in his frail skeletal form, chuckled lightly. “You know, Izuku, it’s important to take breaks. The weight of the world can get to you if you don’t.” His smile, though softer in his current state, still had the same warmth as his iconic, heroic smile.

(Y/N) shifted slightly, his gaze drifting to Toshinori. He had never fully understood why someone like Toshinori would be so… devoted to helping others. From his perspective, it seemed like a never-ending cycle of exhaustion and responsibility. Then again, (Y/N) had always seen things differently. His focus was on the practical aspects—what worked and what didn’t. In his mind, Toshinori seemed lonely, constantly burdened by expectations. But he didn’t voice that. There was no need. He wasn’t here to analyze the man. He was here because Inko asked him to look after Izuku—and that was his job.

“You’re probably right,” Izuku said, staring off into the distance. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m always chasing after something—training, learning—trying to prove I can be a hero, just like you.” His voice dropped slightly, his uncertainty creeping in.

(Y/N) didn’t offer any comforting words. He simply observed, his expression unreadable as always, feeling the weight of his own silence. He wasn’t here to comfort Izuku. He was just… there.

Izuku leaned back on the bench, looking up at the sky. “I’ve been training so hard lately. Sometimes I wonder if I’m really getting anywhere…” His voice was filled with frustration but also a glimmer of hope, as always.

“You think I’m improving, (Y/N)?” Izuku asked, his eyes full of expectation, though his voice had a slight edge of doubt to it.

Before (Y/N) could respond, Toshinori gave a tired chuckle, adjusting his glasses. “You’re doing great, Izuku. Just remember that progress isn’t always visible right away.” He sounded reassuring, though (Y/N) could sense the exhaustion hidden behind the kind words. He was too perceptive for Toshinori to fully conceal it, but there was no need to address it right now.

The sound of laughter and chatter from some nearby park-goers filled the air for a few moments, but then, out of nowhere, the atmosphere shifted. A low hum filled the air—a strange, almost oppressive pressure that made the hairs on the back of (Y/N)’s neck stand on end. He immediately stood up, his body tensing as his instincts kicked in. There was no mistaking it—danger was approaching.

Izuku, sensing the shift, started to look around. “Huh? What’s happening?” he asked, his voice questioned.

Before Toshinori could respond or find a spot to transform into All Might, Izuku’s question was cut off by a familiar voice—(Y/N)’s voice, grumbling in annoyance. “Great. This is so not in the schedule…” He turned to Izuku, looking more exasperated than concerned. “I’ve got this whole day mapped out, and now some lowlife villain has to come and mess it all up.”

Izuku blinked, slightly confused but mostly surprised by the sudden change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. 

A figure stepped out from behind a row of trees, a villain who looked as though he had just walked out of some bad manga. He had messy hair and his entire body was surrounded by a swirling vortex of air—an airbender wannabe, from the looks of it. The villain sneered as he floated above the ground, his eyes locking onto the trio, focusing on Toshinori first.

The villain sneered. “I am the villain Vortex! I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!”

Izuku, body language read that he was eager to jump into action but also nervous and maybe a bit fearful… perhaps a lot fearful actually, he turned his attention to Toshinori and their eyes locked as if they were having a silent conversation with one another.

But (Y/N) interrupted him with a bored groan, completely disinterested. “Ugh… so lame.”

 (Y/N) reached down to his side and pulled out a sword with one fluid motion. The sound of metal scraping against leather echoed in the park, making both Izuku and Toshinori stiffen in surprise. They hadn’t seen the sword before, and they both assumed it was some sort of prop or fake.

But when (Y/N) unsheathed the blade, they quickly realized it was very real—real enough to have weight in the air.

“You’re going to fight with that?” Izuku asked, his voice filled with surprise, even a little concern.

(Y/N) nodded without hesitation, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the villain. “It’s not a fight,” he said flatly. “It’s just… a minor inconvenience. I had everything in order for today, and this idiot’s messing with them.”

The villain, hearing this, was enraged. “What did you say to me, brat?! I’m not some minor inconvenience! I’ll—”

“Shut it,” (Y/N) snapped, turning his attention back to Izuku. “I had a full day planned. Training with you, afterwards a nap, maybe some ramen, but no. No - now I have to deal with this… wannabe airbender.” His tone was dripping with disdain, and the villain’s face twisted in fury.

“You’re dead, kid!” The villain roared, gathering all the air around him into a massive sphere before launching it at (Y/N).

Izuku flinched, but (Y/N) barely moved. In the blink of an eye, he darted forward, his sword slicing through the air in a swift arc.

“First form: Mist Bloom,” (Y/N) whispered under his breath, and the blade danced through the air, cutting the swirling air sphere in half. The force of the attack sent a shockwave through the park, but (Y/N) remained unfazed, his stance still composed.

The villain staggered back, his control over the air faltering for just a moment. He gritted his teeth, now more determined than ever. “No one cuts through my winds!” he bellowed, gathering more of the turbulent air to strike again.

This time, (Y/N) moved with even more speed, barely visible as he closed the distance. His sword flashed again, and he whispered, “Second form: Mist Crescent.” The blade arced through the air, this time cutting not just through the air but the very essence of the villain’s power.

The villain cried out in frustration, his body getting hit by a powerful gust of wind from his own attack as his control slipped completely. The force of (Y/N)’s blow had knocked him back once again, this time leaving him struggling to regain his bearings.

“You’re pathetic,” (Y/N) said with a sneer, his sword moving effortlessly. He wasn’t even breathing heavily yet. “You think this is impressive? It’s not. You’re just a low-tier joke.”

The villain’s face twisted with rage. He pushed more of his power into the wind, now surrounding himself with an impenetrable barrier of swirling air. “You think you’re better than me? I’ll show you—!”

“Third form: Mist Flash,” (Y/N) whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. The speed of the attack was blinding, the sword flashing as it cut through the villain’s wind barrier like butter. In one fell swoop, (Y/N) closed the distance and appeared in front of the villain, the blade tracing a perfect path through the air as it knocked the villain off his feet and sent him crashing into the ground.

The villain’s attack faltered completely, and he crumpled, unconscious, to the earth.

Izuku stared in awe. The entire fight had been over in mere seconds—(Y/N) had dismantled the villain’s defenses with a casual ease that left no doubt about his capabilities.

Toshinori watched, impressed but also slightly relieved. He had been ready to intervene, but he realized (Y/N) was more than capable on his own. He could feel the tension in the air even before the villain fully showed but now that the fights over the once tensed air begin to ease as the fight ended.

(Y/N) sheathed his sword with a soft click and turned to face Izuku, his expression unchanged. “Well, that’s that. Now, where were we? Oh right—your training. We’re done for the day. I’ve got it all scheduled, so no more interruptions, got it?”

Izuku was still wide-eyed. “Th-thank you! That was incredible!”

Toshinori chuckled softly, nodding. “Indeed, incredible… and fast. Well done, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) gave a shrug, his eyes flicking back toward the horizon. “Yeah, yeah. I want my nap.” 

Izuku couldn’t help but smile, a sense of awe lingering in his chest. If this was what (Y/N) could do in a few seconds, he couldn’t wait to see how much further he could push his training under his watch.

A Totally Normal Student

⬐ U.A. High School is known for producing Japan’s greatest heroes. With legends like All Might and Endeavor paving the way, Class 1-A is expected to uphold that legacy. They train, they fight, they grow stronger every day. And then there’s (Y/N). No one really talks about (Y/N). Not because they’re weak—oh, no. If anything, they might be the strongest in the class. But there’s just… something off about them. The way they tilt their head just a little too far. The way they appear in places they shouldn’t be. The way they say things that don’t make sense—until they do.

⬐ anothers note : full story is here on my quotev page, A Totally Normal Student

⬐ fandom : MHA x Duolingo Reader ᓀ ᵥ ᓂ

masterlist

chapter 2

The classroom smelled like dust and old paper, the kind of scent that settled into the walls of every school, no matter how new or well-kept. The overhead lights flickered once before steadying, their dim glow casting long shadows across rows of students slumped in their seats, waiting for yet another lecture about the future—one that most of them weren’t ready to hear.

The teacher stood at the front, balancing a thick stack of papers in his hands, adjusting his glasses as he glanced over the class with the kind of tired patience that came from years of watching students do everything except listen. “Alright, everyone, it’s time to start thinking seriously about your futures.” His voice carried the weight of routine. He had said this same line to countless students before, and he’d say it again next year, and the year after that. “I’ll be handing out printouts for your desired career paths. It’s important to start planning now, especially for those of you applying to high-ranking schools.”

A groan rippled through the class, some students resting their chins in their hands, already tuning him out. The only real reaction came when the teacher added, almost offhandedly, “But I already know you all want to be heroes.”

That got their attention.

Excitement crackled through the room like static electricity, students perking up, quirks activating instinctively—tiny flashes of fire, sudden gusts of wind, the faint hum of energy vibrating beneath fingertips. Someone’s chair levitated an inch off the ground before clattering back down. A few sparks danced between fingers, fizzling out as the teacher let out an exasperated sigh.

“You know quirks aren’t allowed during school hours,” he scolded.

Most of them ignored him, their attention shifting toward one person in particular—the boy who had already made it clear he was on a different level.

Katsuki Bakugo smirked, arms folded as he leaned back in his seat, radiating the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away. “Don’t lump me in with the rest of these extras,” he said, voice dripping with superiority. “I’m not just trying to be a hero—I will be the top hero. Better than All Might himself.”

A few students groaned at his arrogance, but no one could deny the weight of his words. Katsuki had already aced the mock exams. Everyone knew he had the skills, the drive. He was going to U.A. High School, no question about it.

Then, someone spoke up.

“What about Midoriya?”

The entire classroom fell silent for a moment before erupting into laughter.

Izuku, who had been diligently scribbling in his notebook, tensed as every pair of eyes in the room turned to him. He clutched his pen tighter, shoulders drawn in as if he could physically make himself smaller.

“You?” One of the students scoffed. “You’re still trying to get into U.A.? Seriously?”

Katsuki snorted, rolling his eyes. “Tch. Don’t make me laugh, Deku. You think they’d let in a quirkless loser like you?”

Izuku didn’t say anything. He just lowered his head, biting the inside of his cheek as the laughter continued around him.

In another classroom, just a few doors down, a completely different scene was unfolding.

The teacher wiped at her eyes, sniffling dramatically as she looked over her students. “I just… I can’t believe this is my last year with you all. You’ve grown so much…”

Groans and quiet complaints filled the room, students shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they endured the teacher’s sentimental rambling. Only one student remained still, unbothered.

(Y/N) sat perfectly straight, eyes half-lidded as they listened—not just to their own classroom, but to everything. The hum of the fluorescent lights. The rhythmic tapping of a pen two rows back. The scrape of a chair against the floor in the hallway. The faint, distant voices from the other classrooms.

And beyond that? The breathing of students down the hall. The sound of shoes scuffing against linoleum. The way their voices wavered, the subtle shifts in their tone—things no normal person would ever pick up on. But (Y/N) wasn’t normal.

Their head tilted slightly, watching as the teacher dabbed at her eyes again, voice thick with emotion.

A beat of silence.

Then, (Y/N) muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear

“Llorona.”

“Crybaby”

The effect was immediate.

The entire class stiffened. A few students coughed awkwardly, shifting in their seats. One boy let out a snort before quickly covering his mouth, eyes darting between (Y/N) and the teacher. Even the teacher, despite her flustered attempt to compose herself, hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

It wasn’t just the word itself—it was how (Y/N) had said it.

Flat. Unfeeling. Like an observation rather than an insult.

As if they had simply named something that had already been true.

The teacher cleared her throat, clearly choosing to ignore it. “Now then,” she said, regaining some composure. “Let’s talk about high school applications. We have many promising students this year, and I’m sure you all have big plans for the future. (Y/N), what about you?”

All eyes turned toward them.

(Y/N) was, without question, the top student in the school. Their grades were impeccable, their test scores untouchable. But unlike Katsuki Bakugo, they weren’t loud about it. They didn’t boast or draw attention to themselves. They simply existed—a presence that should have been impossible to ignore, yet somehow always slipped through the cracks.

A few students exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves.

“What even is their quirk?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them use it.”

“Are they quirkless, too?”

(Y/N) ignored them.

They waited just long enough for the tension to settle, then answered, “U.A. High School.”

The words were spoken with such perfect timing that, in another classroom down the hall, Katsuki Bakugo unknowingly echoed them at the exact same moment:

“Don’t lump me in with everyone else—I’m going to U.A.”

The whispers in (Y/N)’s class quieted, but the unease didn’t fade.

They had heard him.

Every syllable, every breath. Even from this distance, through the walls, through the overlapping noise of a hundred other students, they had heard it as clearly as if he had been sitting right beside them.

It was an ability no normal human should have.

But then again… (Y/N) wasn’t human.

Not really.

The room buzzed with murmurs as the students debated the difficulty of the U.A. entrance exam. A few of them whispered about the acceptance rate, the insane expectations, the kind of raw power and talent needed to even stand a chance against other applicants.

Katsuki Bakugo had heard it all before, and it didn’t matter.

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an easy arrogance, stretching his arms behind his head. “Like any of that matters. I already aced the mock exam. I’ll pass the real thing just as easily.”

His grin widened as he added, “I’ll be the best—better than All Might himself.”

The room filled with chatter again, a mix of impressed nods and skeptical side-eyes. But no one dared challenge him outright. No one except—

“Well, Midoriya wants to go to U.A. too.”

Silence.

For a moment, the only sound in the classroom was the hum of the fluorescent lights. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, the entire class turned to look at Izuku.

And then—laughter.

It started with a few chuckles, then erupted into full-blown cackling. Someone slapped their desk. Another wiped at imaginary tears. The mockery was deafening, drowning out everything else in the room.

Izuku stiffened, clutching his notebook tightly against his chest. His ears burned, his nails digging into the worn cover of his notes.

“You?” One student sneered. “You really think you’ll get into U.A.?”

“There’s no way,” another chimed in. “All you ever do is study. What’s that gonna do for you in the hero course?”

Izuku opened his mouth, scrambling for a defense, but before he could get a word out—

BOOM.

An explosion crackled in the air, heat licking at Izuku’s skin as smoke curled between them. He flinched back instinctively.

Katsuki was already in front of him, his hand still sparking from the blast, his expression unreadable except for the sheer contempt in his red eyes.

“Don’t put yourself on the same level as me, Deku,” he spat, voice low, dangerous.

Izuku sucked in a sharp breath, stepping back, but Katsuki followed.

“I-I’m not—” Izuku stammered. “I know I can’t compete with you, Kacchan. But this isn’t about that. I just—I’ve had this dream since I was a kid. And if I don’t at least try—I’ll never know if I could have—”

“Tch.”

Katsuki’s lip curled. “You don’t get it, do you?” He turned slightly, addressing the rest of the class without taking his eyes off Izuku. “The entrance exam’s impossible for someone like him.”

The class murmured in agreement, some shaking their heads, others smirking.

Izuku swallowed hard, looking down at his shoes.

The laughter wasn’t as loud this time, but it was still there.

Elsewhere…

A scream split the air.

The streets, once bustling with casual evening activity, had fallen into chaos.

A villain tore through the city—a writhing, amorphous mass of dark green sludge, slipping between alleyways and leaving a foul-smelling trail in its wake. Its liquid body sloshed unnaturally, eyes blinking open and shut across its surface. People scrambled out of its way, some running, others watching from what they hoped was a safe distance.

“There’s no end to villains like this…” someone muttered from the crowd.

A shadow shifted above them.

“No,” a voice answered, deep and powerful. “There is an end to them.”

Because he was there.

Back at the Middle School…

The school day had ended, students pouring out of the building in clusters, their chatter fading into the distance.

Inside an empty classroom, the air was thick with the fading scent of burnt ozone and old chalk. The last golden rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks.

Only four people remained.

Izuku Midoriya stood near his desk, fumbling with his things, head down as he tried to ignore the presence looming behind him.

Katsuki Bakugo leaned lazily against a desk, arms crossed, crimson eyes locked onto Izuku with an expression that was both smug and irritated. His two lackeys, sitting casually on desks nearby, watched the exchange with quiet amusement.

It was always like this.

“You seriously think you can get into U.A.?” Katsuki scoffed, pushing off the desk and sauntering over. “You?”

Izuku stiffened.

Katsuki snatched the notebook from his hands before he could react, flipping through the pages with a sneer.

“You’re still scribbling in this dumb book?” Katsuki shook his head, his grip tightening. “You’re wasting your damn time, Deku.”

Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but—

BOOM.

A small explosion erupted from Katsuki’s palm, searing the edges of the notebook. Ash curled into the air as the pages darkened and crumbled, bits of burnt paper fluttering to the floor like dying embers.

Izuku’s stomach twisted. His hands clenched at his sides as he bit back the urge to reach for the ruined book.

Katsuki chuckled, letting the notebook slip from his fingers, the smoldering remains hitting the floor between them.

“You’ll never be a hero, Deku,” he said, voice light but laced with something sharper underneath.

Izuku swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Katsuki’s gaze.

“I—”

But Katsuki cut him off with a laugh, shaking his head as if the whole thing was some grand joke. He took a step closer, lowering his voice just slightly.

“If you really wanna do something useful,” he murmured, his tone almost casual, “why don’t you take a swan dive off the rooftop?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Izuku froze.

The classroom felt smaller, the walls pressing in, the silence deafening.

For a moment, his breath hitched.

Then, slowly, he forced himself to move. He bent down, ignoring the scorch marks as he picked up what remained of his notebook.

Katsuki watched him with a smirk, waiting for some kind of reaction—anger, tears, anything.

But Izuku didn’t say a word.

He turned, clutching the ruined book to his chest, and walked out of the classroom without looking back.

(Y/N) who had been passing by when the words reached their ears.

They had heard everything.

Not just the conversation, but the subtle shifts in breathing, the steady thrum of Katsuki’s heartbeat, the way Izuku’s hands trembled for just a second before he steadied them.

They heard it all.

But they didn’t stop.

Didn’t intervene.

They simply walked past the open classroom door, glancing inside just long enough to commit the scene to memory. Their eyes landed on Katsuki, scanning his face, his posture.

Then, just as quietly as they came, they kept walking.

At the end of the hall, their lips curled into something unreadable.

And when they spoke, their voice was soft—almost playful.

“It seems someone’s in need of Spanish lessons.”

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 8

masterlist

The massive monitor in UA’s observation room displayed a dozen live feeds of the ongoing entrance exam. The room buzzed with low murmurs as teachers and pro heroes, some already instructors and others soon to join, watched the performance of the candidates. Each teacher kept an eye out for promising students who displayed potential and ingenuity.

“Hmm, that boy there,” Principal Nezu’s cheerful voice broke through the chatter as he gestured toward a feed displaying Izuku Midoriya. “The green-haired one. He’s quite… interesting, wouldn’t you agree?”

All Might, standing to the side with arms crossed, stiffened slightly but kept his expression neutral. The other teachers turned their attention to the feed.

“Hm, seems his quirk is causing him some harm,” Snipe observed, noting how Izuku’s body looked strained after a few impacts.

Ectoplasm nodded. “Yes, a raw power quirk, but at what cost? His arm looks to be on the verge of breaking. He won’t last long in a real fight unless he gains better control.”

Principal Nezu hummed thoughtfully, pulling out a folder. “Ah, Midoriya, Izuku. Let’s see…” He scanned the file. “An interesting note here: it seems this boy was registered as quirkless up until just over a week ago. Then he was retested, and now he has this quirk though it seems his body isn’t quite use to it yet and due to that it seems him using his quirk causes harm to him after each use . Very peculiar.”

The room fell silent for a moment, then the whispers began.

“Quirkless until a week ago?” Midnight raised an eyebrow. “That’s not impossible, but that also shouldn’t really be possible. I’m not saying it can’t happen but … it’s rare, especially at his age.”

Vlad King folded his arms. “Doesn’t seem natural. Late bloomers usually show signs before adolescence. Could he have undergone some… unconventional methods?”

All Might quickly stepped forward, a smile masking his rising unease. “Well, late-developing quirks aren’t unheard of!” he said, his voice booming in an attempt to redirect their focus. “But look—over there! That young boy.” He gestured toward another monitor.

All eyes shifted to the screen showing (Y/N), who was weaving through the streets with precision, his sword flashing as he slashed through villain bots. Unlike the other students, (Y/N) wasn’t focused on scoring points. Instead, he lingered near Izuku, always keeping the green-haired boy within sight.

Midnight tilted her head, scrutinizing the image. “Young boy? Are we sure? Look at the outfit.” She leaned closer to the screen, smirking. “That’s a maid outfit. Are we sure he’s not a girl?”

Nezu chuckled, unbothered. “No, no, that is indeed a young male. His file confirms it.”

He flipped open a sparse folder labeled Tokitō (Y/N). The teachers leaned in, curious about the boy who moved with such agility. However, their expressions turned puzzled when they saw the file’s contents—or lack thereof.

“Blank?” Cementoss frowned.

Nezu nodded. “Yes, very little is known about this boy. His age is listed down as 14, making him the youngest first year this school year, well if he gets accepted. And here…” He pointed to a specific section. “Where his quirk should be listed, it’s blank, stamped with quirkless.”

The room erupted into an uproar.

“Quirkless?!” Snipe exclaimed. “How’s that possible? Look at him! No quirkless kid could move like that!”

“Is this some kind of error?” Vlad King demanded. “He’s clearly doing things no ordinary person could.”

Recovery Girl, who had been quietly watching another monitor, finally spoke up. “Calm down, everyone. Watch the screen.” She gestured toward her monitor, which showed (Y/N) in action.

The teachers turned their attention back to the boy.

The zero-pointer had just appeared, causing chaos in its wake. Students scattered in fear, many too injured or paralyzed with terror to escape. Izuku had made his move, launching himself toward the towering robot to save a trapped girl. His punch connected with explosive force, destroying the robot’s head.

But as the zero-pointer began to collapse, its massive debris threatened to crush those still in its shadow.

That’s when (Y/N) sprang into action.

With a speed that defied belief, (Y/N) darted through the chaos, his sword flashing as he slashed at the falling chunks of metal. Each precise strike broke the debris into smaller, less dangerous pieces that scattered harmlessly to the ground.

“Look at that precision…” Ectoplasm murmured, his eyes wide.

“You can’t tell me that’s not a quirk,” Midnight said, astonished. 

As the dust settled, (Y/N) didn’t stop. He seemed to vanish and reappear in a blur, carrying injured students to safety. His movements were fluid, almost inhuman, as he avoided obstacles and kept calm under pressure.

Finally, he reached Izuku, who was lying on the ground, his arm shattered from the force of his punch. There beside him was a young female - the one who saved him. Without hesitation, (Y/N) hoisted the green-haired boy onto his back and picked the female up bridal style startling her and causing her to yelp. 

The female wrapped her arms tightly around the young males shoulders and neck as he dashed to where he had gathered the other injured students, setting the female down first then working towards setting Izuku down gently before standing guard over the group.

The room was silent, the teachers staring at the screen in disbelief.

“How…” Snipe began, but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“That’s not possible,” Vlad King said, his voice low. “Not for someone quirkless.”

Principal Nezu, however, was smiling. “It seems we have two very interesting candidates this year,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful.

Recovery Girl nodded. “Quirkless or not, that boy has the heart of a hero. Look at what he’s accomplished—saving others, keeping calm under pressure, and doing it all without a quirk. We shouldn’t underestimate him.”

All Might, watching quietly from the corner, couldn’t help but smile. “Indeed,” he said softly.

On the screen, (Y/N) stood amid the chaos, his expression calm and unreadable as always. He adjusted the strap of his sword, glancing at the injured students to ensure they were safe before turning his attention back to the rest of the battlefield.

For the first time in years, UA had encountered a student they couldn’t quite explain.

A Totally Normal Student

⬐ U.A. High School is known for producing Japan’s greatest heroes. With legends like All Might and Endeavor paving the way, Class 1-A is expected to uphold that legacy. They train, they fight, they grow stronger every day. And then there’s (Y/N). No one really talks about (Y/N). Not because they’re weak—oh, no. If anything, they might be the strongest in the class. But there’s just… something off about them. The way they tilt their head just a little too far. The way they appear in places they shouldn’t be. The way they say things that don’t make sense—until they do.

⬐ anothers note : full story is here on my quotev page, A Totally Normal Student

⬐ fandom : MHA x Duolingo Reader ᓀ ᵥ ᓂ

masterlist

chapter 1

In the past…

The playground buzzed with the sound of children playing, their laughter ringing through the air. The warm scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint burn of rubber from the swings. A perfect afternoon—if not for the scene unfolding beneath the jungle gym.

A young Izuku Midoriya stood trembling, his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

Across from him, Katsuki Bakugo sneered, tiny explosions crackling at his palms. Behind Izuku, a smaller boy sniffled, rubbing at his eyes, too afraid to run.

“You seriously think you can play hero, Deku?” Katsuki scoffed. “You don’t even have a Quirk.”

Izuku’s breath hitched. His throat felt tight. But still, he stood firm, swallowing back his fear.

“I-I don’t have to have a Quirk t-to help others—”

His own voice betrayed him, stumbling over the words, his fear making them weak.

Katsuki’s smirk widened. “Pathetic.” He stepped forward;

Snap.

A branch broke.

The sound wasn’t close.

The kids froze. The crack had come from the treeline just beyond the playground, where the trees grew thick and dark.

Shadows pooled unnaturally between the trunks, too deep for the time of day.

Katsuki barely spared it a glance before turning back to Izuku. “Tch. Whatever.” He shoved past him, motioning for his friends to follow.

Izuku exhaled shakily, watching them leave. Then, as he turned to check on the boy behind him—

He felt it.

That prickling sensation creeping up his neck. The kind that told him—he wasn’t alone.

His gaze drifted back to the trees.

And there, perched among the twisted branches—something watched him.

It wasn’t an animal. Wasn’t a person. It was both—and neither.

The air around it rippled, warped, twisted—as if reality itself bent to accommodate its presence.

One massive, unblinking eye stared at him from the shadows.

Izuku’s breath caught.

Then it multiplied.

One became two.

Two became four.

Each set of eyes stacked atop the others—a grotesque, staring tower of sight.

Izuku staggered back, his little hands gripping his sleeves. He wanted to run. Wanted to scream. But his voice—his legs—wouldn’t work.

The eyes blinked.

And just like that—they were gone.

A rustle of leaves. A shift of wind.

Nothing more.

Izuku gasped, his tiny heart hammering against his ribs. He blinked, rubbed his eyes—

Had he imagined it?

“Zuku?”

His mother’s voice, soft and distant. Calling him from the park entrance.

Izuku swallowed, forcing himself to turn. “C-Coming, Mom!”

Still shaking, he ran toward her—never looking back.

Because deep in the trees, hidden where no sunlight reached—something was still watching.

And it would never stop.

In the present…

A news broadcast played somewhere in the background, the familiar report echoing through the streets.

“It all started in Qing Qing City, China—when a newborn baby was born aglow with a radiant light. The phenomenon spread across the world, and soon, the majority of the population developed supernatural abilities. These powers, known as ‘Quirks,’ shaped society as we know it. With power came conflict, but also—heroes.”

The city buzzed with excitement as a massive villain rampaged through the streets, his towering form knocking over lampposts and crushing pavement beneath his weight.

“Stay back!” a Pro Hero shouted, holding civilians at bay.

Izuku Midoriya, now a third-year junior high student, pushed his way through the crowd, notebook in hand, eyes wide with anticipation.

“No way—it’s Kamui Woods!”

The sleek Pro Hero leaped into action, twisting through the air as he extended wooden tendrils from his arms.

“The villain has used his Quirk for illegal activity!” Kamui Woods announced, his voice sharp and commanding. “I’ll put an end to this quickly!”

With a flick of his wrist, he launched Lacquered Chain Prison, binding the massive villain in place.

Izuku’s grip on his notebook tightened, scribbling furiously. First appearance of Lacquered Chain Prison—restraint-based Quirk, likely strong against brute force opponents!

A thunderous crash echoed across the block.

“CANYON CANNON!”

A blur of red and white streaked across the scene. In an instant, the giant villain was sent crashing to the pavement, knocked out cold.

From the dust emerged a tall, curvaceous woman, hands on her hips, a confident smirk gracing her face.

“Cameras ready, boys? I’m taking over from here!” Mt. Lady declared, flashing a grin at the reporters.

The crowd erupted in cheers. Photographers rushed forward, snapping shots of the new heroine’s grand debut.

Izuku barely noticed. He was still writing, absorbing, analyzing. His eyes darted between heroes, his mind racing.

“Are you aiming to be a hero, kid?” A bystander chuckled beside him.

Izuku looked up, startled, before laughing nervously. “Ah—w-well, yeah! I mean—I’ll do my best!”

His fingers clenched around the pen.

“Even if I don’t have a Quirk, I—”

His thoughts trailed off.

Somewhere in the back of the crowd—someone was watching.

Not cheering. Not taking pictures. Not reacting.

Just watching.

A figure, dressed in the same junior high uniform as Izuku, lingered near the edge of the scene. Their posture was relaxed, yet their head tilted ever so slightly—like an owl tracking its prey.

Their gaze, dark and unreadable, flickered in the sunlight.

And then—they were gone.

Izuku never noticed.

But had he turned—had he looked just a second longer—he might’ve recognized them.

Might’ve remembered their name.

But he didn’t.

Because nobody ever did.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 3

masterlist

It had been a few days since (Y/N) started working at the Midoriya household. The routine had become familiar—waking up early to clean the house, prepare meals, and help Inko with whatever she needed. The tasks were simple enough, and the house had a warm, cozy feel to it. Izuku still found it strange to have a maid, but he quickly grew used to the idea. What he didn’t know, however, was that there was more to (Y/N) than just the quiet, graceful maid who served him tea and washed the dishes.

One afternoon, after coming home from school, Izuku walked through the front door with a sigh of relief. It had been a long day filled with quirk training and lessons, and he was looking forward to some peace and quiet. As he kicked off his shoes by the door, he noticed something that struck him as odd: the house was unusually silent.

He called out, “Mom?” but received no answer.

Inko was usually downstairs, bustling around, or doing something around the house. Izuku figured she must have been napping upstairs. But where was (Y/N)? He hadn’t seen them all day, and that wasn’t normal.

Izuku wandered through the house, searching for (Y/N). It wasn’t like him to be out of sight for so long.

He finally headed towards the backdoor, the sound of something strange drifting to his ears—a whooshing sound, followed by the scrape of something heavy hitting the ground. Curiosity got the better of him as he pushed the door open, and what he saw immediately stopped him in his tracks.

In the backyard, (Y/N) was swinging a broomstick around, moving fluidly as he spun and twirled. His movements were precise, as if he were wielding a real sword. Izuku’s eyes widened. The way (Y/N) moved was almost mesmerizing. Every swing of the broomstick looked so calculated, so skilled—it was like something out of a martial arts movie.

Izuku watched in awe, unable to look away, even as (Y/N) performed a series of complex movements that seemed to flow perfectly one after the other. His feet didn’t falter, his posture was perfect, and the broomstick sliced through the air as if it were an extension of his body.

Then, with a swift swing, (Y/N) broke the broomstick in half. The wooden handle cracked with a sharp snap and fell to the ground.

Izuku blinked, speechless. His brain was trying to process what he had just witnessed.

“Wait… what was that?!” Izuku whispered to himself. His mind raced as he stared at (Y/N), who was now casually placing the broken broomstick aside, as if nothing had happened.

Before Izuku could even react, he rushed toward (Y/N), his excitement getting the better of him. “That was amazing!” he exclaimed, his voice high with excitement. “What did you just do?!”

(Y/N) turned to him, a calm and collected look on his face as usual, though he couldn’t help but feel a small smile tug at his lips. Izuku was always so animated, so easily impressed. It was almost funny how easily he could be swept up in a moment.

“Well, it’s just something I learned a while ago,” (Y/N) said, choosing his words carefully. “A family friend taught me some basic moves for self-defense. I didn’t really have a quirk, so I had to find other ways to defend myself.” He avoided mentioning the specific training he’d undergone—he didn’t want to reveal too much.

Izuku nodded enthusiastically, eyes still wide with admiration. “Self-defense?! That’s awesome! But… what about that last move? I saw something—I don’t know, it looked like—like slashes or something? It was like… a mist appeared out of nowhere even though it’s a perfectly sunny day or something!”

(Y/N) blinked, surprised by the mention of mist but quickly masked his reaction. He needed to stay calm, not give anything away. He had to be careful not to reveal too much.

“Huh?” (Y/N) said, his expression thoughtful as if trying to understand what Izuku was talking about. “Must? I’m not sure what you mean.” He gave a light shrug, his calm demeanor not changing. “You probably just imagined it. You know, the wind can play tricks on your eyes sometimes, especially when you’re excited.”

Izuku blinked, his brows furrowing in confusion. “But it really looked like something… like the mist rolled in from no where and everywhere at once! I swear it was—”

(Y/N) smiled softly, cutting him off with a gentle laugh. “Izuku, you’re probably just seeing things. You know how your mind can play tricks on you when you’re so focused on something? You’re probably just a little too excited. No big deal.”

Izuku hesitated, his excitement quickly fading as he processed (Y/N)’s words. He felt a little embarrassed for making such a big deal out of it. “Oh… yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Maybe I did just imagine it. It looked so real, though…”

(Y/N) gave him an assuring smile, his voice smooth as ever. “It happens to the best of us. No harm in it.”

Izuku’s frown softened, and he nodded, still feeling a bit sheepish but ultimately convinced. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, (Y/N).”

“No problem,” (Y/N) replied, his expression unchanged. He quickly picked up the broken broomstick and gave Izuku a small nod before heading toward the house.

Izuku stood there for a moment, scratching his head, still not fully sure about what he’d seen, but trusting (Y/N)’s explanation. For now, he was just happy to have witnessed something so impressive.

As always, (Y/N) had managed to keep his secrets intact, and Izuku was none the wiser.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: WELCOME TO MY HOMEPAGE :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

ᵔᴗᵔ hello, here is a guide for you or rather in this case a navigation on what's to come ᝰ.ᐟ

✶ about :

african-american / 22 fem writer / multi-fandom & original ideas / requests are open

✶ what I do :

multi-fandom & original works | AUs galore l open to requests and collaborations

✶ current vibes :

epic crossovers, haunting themes, and characters who thrive in the chaos

✶ stay awhile :

Follow for creativity, chaos, and the occasional overly dramatic monologue.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 9

masterlist

Izuku couldn’t stop fidgeting. His nervous energy filled the air of the small apartment, his knees bouncing furiously as he sat on the couch. In his hands, he held a crumpled piece of paper, the last set of practice notes he’d scribbled down before the UA entrance exam.

Across from him, (Y/N) sat with one leg crossed over the other, sipping tea. His ever-present maid outfit was as spotless as always, an odd contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts Izuku seemed to be drowning in.

“You’re going to vibrate right through the floor if you keep that up,” (Y/N) commented, not bothering to look up from his tea.

Izuku froze, forcing his legs still. “S-Sorry! I’m just—what if I didn’t pass? What if I messed up? What if—”

(Y/N) cut him off with a deadpan stare. “You’ve already asked me this five times since we got back from the exam. My answer hasn’t changed.”

Izuku sighed, slumping back against the couch. He stared up at the ceiling. “It’s just… UA. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. If I didn’t pass, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Cry, eat some grilled salmon, and move on,” (Y/N) said, his tone completely unfazed. “Besides, you probably did fine. You’re too stubborn to fail at something you actually care about.”

Izuku blinked, his cheeks heating up. “You really think so?”

(Y/N) glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t be sitting here wasting my time with you if I thought otherwise.”

“HEY!”

(Y/n) snickers quietly to himself before taking a sip of his tea.

”Y-you can’t just say something like that and go about your day!”

”Do you hear that —“ (y/n) says staring out into the spacious room, looking around he turns his attention back to his drink.

“H-huh?!”

”Mhmm… must’ve been my imagination…” he sips his tea once more. “Could’ve sworn I heard a crybaby try and scold me.”

”HEY!”

A few days passed, the tension growing thicker with each moment the letter didn’t arrive. Izuku was doing his best to stay positive, but his nerves were clearly getting the better of him.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Izuku began one afternoon, standing awkwardly in the living room.

“Hmm?” (Y/N) was lounging on the floor, sharpening his sword with deliberate care. The sound of metal scraping against stone filled the room, oddly soothing.

“I was thinking… maybe we could train? You’re really strong, and I… I think I need to get stronger if I’m going to be a hero.”

(Y/N) paused, his hand stilling on the blade. Slowly, he looked up at Izuku, his expression unreadable.

“Train? With me?”

Izuku nodded eagerly. “Y-Yeah! I mean, you’re so fast and strong, even without a quirk. I think I could learn a lot from you!”

(Y/N) tilted his head. “You realize what you’re asking, right?”

Izuku nodded again, his determination clear. “I can handle it! Whatever you throw at me, I’ll—”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” (Y/N) interrupted, rising to his feet. He sheathed his sword and stretched lazily. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

”But you’re the one who’s younger than me…” Izuku mumbles to himself.

The training session had been something Izuku was looking forward too. It had been decided by (Y/N) that the two would began training in the closet location of a forest, away from prying eyes. Izuku had expected sparring matches or maybe some running drills. What he got was… far worse.

“Dodge,” (Y/N) said simply, his tone almost bored.

“Dodge wha—”

The words barely left Izuku’s mouth before a pebble the size of a fist came hurtling toward his face. He barely managed to duck in time, stumbling over a tree root and landing flat on his back.

“Too slow,” (Y/N) said, already tossing another pebble.

“Wait! I wasn’t—ow!” Izuku yelped as the second pebble struck his shoulder.

“Heroes don’t get warm-up rounds,” (Y/N) said, his voice calm as he picked up a third pebble. “Now, get up.”

Izuku scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. He tried to focus, his eyes darting to (Y/N)’s hand as another pebble was launched his way. This time, he managed to sidestep it—only for a second pebble to hit his shin.

“How did you—”

“Focus,” (Y/N) said, cutting him off. “If you can’t handle this, how are you going to handle villains?”

The training escalated quickly. Pebbles turned into wooden sticks, then into hand-to-hand sparring. (Y/N) moved with the precision of a predator, his strikes calculated but never harsh enough to cause serious injury.

By the end of the first hour, Izuku was drenched in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest.

“Break?” he panted, doubling over.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who asked for this. Don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”

“N-No! I just—need a minute,” Izuku stammered.

(Y/N) sighed, leaning against a tree. “Fine. Three minutes. Then we’re running laps.”

Izuku groaned, collapsing onto the grass.

Yet despite the grueling pace, Izuku couldn’t help but feel grateful. (Y/N) pushed him harder than anyone ever had, but there was a strange kind of camaraderie in it.

“Why do you even train so much?” Izuku asked one day, nursing a bruise on his arm. “I know you probably didn’t want to be a hero or at least I don’t think you do…. I never did ask you what your dreams for the future were, I just went ahead and assumed…”

(Y/N) shrugged, tossing a stick into the fire they’d built for the evening. “Strength is useful, no matter what you want to do. Besides, I don’t trust anyone else to protect me.”

Izuku frowned. “But you’re so strong already. Don’t you think—”

“I think strength isn’t just about how much you can lift or how fast you can move,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It’s about being prepared. For anything.”

Izuku fell silent, watching the fire crackle. He hadn’t thought about it like that before.

A few weeks after the exam, the envelope finally arrived. Izuku sat on the couch, staring at it like it might bite him.

“You’ve been through worse in the last few days,” (Y/N) said, sipping his tea. “Just open it.”

Izuku took a deep breath and tore it open. The hologram of All Might appeared, smiling broadly.

“YOU DID IT, YOUNG MIDORIYA!” All Might boomed.

Izuku’s jaw dropped, tears spilling down his cheeks as All Might explained his scores. No villain points sure but he got by with enough points for rescue, surprisingly.

By the time the message ended, he was sobbing openly, clutching the letter to his chest.

(Y/N) watched him quietly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he raised his tea in a mock toast. “Congrats, hero.”

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 17

masterlist

The snow crunched underfoot as Team 1—now dubbed the Tree Squad—stepped into the bustling Christmas tree lot. Twinkling string lights illuminated rows of firs dusted with fresh snow, and the crisp scent of pine hung in the air. For most people, picking out a tree was a joyous occasion. For this group, it was a mission.

“Alright, we’re here to get the biggest and flashiest tree this place has to offer,” Tengen declared, his voice booming with his usual flamboyance. He adjusted his fur-lined coat, standing tall and ready to conquer the holiday season.

“It has to be one that screams Merry Christmas!” Tanjiro added, holding a carefully curated list of tree requirements. His warm smile contrasted with the chaos brewing behind him.

“Who cares about screaming? Let’s get the one that looks the toughest!” Inosuke yelled, his wild demeanor drawing a few curious looks from passersby.

Bakugo, walking slightly behind the group, scowled. “This whole thing is stupid. Just grab one and let’s get out of here.”

Despite their wildly different approaches, the group’s eyes locked on the tree almost simultaneously. It was a towering, perfectly symmetrical spruce with thick, lush branches and a snowy coating that shimmered under the lights. It was the tree of all trees.

“That’s it,” Tengen said, his voice reverent. “That’s our tree.”

The squad began making their way toward it when another group—a family of four armed with determined holiday cheer—stepped in from the other side.

“Oh no, no, no,” the mother of the family said, eyeing the tree. “We saw this one first.”

Tanjiro hesitated, a polite smile on his face. “Oh, um, actually, I think we—”

The father stepped forward, cutting him off. “This tree’s perfect for us. It’s just the right size for our living room.”

Inosuke growled, stomping forward. “What do you mean it’s yours?! I claimed it first!”

“You didn’t even see it until two seconds ago!” one of the kids shot back.

“Kid, don’t test me!” Inosuke yelled, crouching slightly like he was about to charge.

Tanjiro quickly stepped between them, waving his hands. “Wait, wait, wait! There’s no need to fight. I’m sure we can come to an agreement—”

“There’s no agreement,” the mom said, her hands on her hips. “This tree is ours.”

“That’s not happening,” Bakugo growled, his hands starting to spark. “Back off before I make you.”

“Bakugo, no!” Tanjiro said, his eyes wide.

Tengen let out a dramatic sigh, stepping forward to take control of the situation. “Alright, enough of this squabbling. This is a matter that requires finesse.” He glanced at Tanjiro, who looked hopeful, then at Inosuke, who was itching for a fight, and finally at Bakugo, who looked moments away from blowing something up.

“Bakugo,” Tengen said with a sly smile. “Handle it.”

Bakugo’s grin was immediate and sinister. “Gladly.”

Before anyone could react, Bakugo stomped toward the family, hands sparking dangerously as he glared at them. “You’ve got ten seconds to walk away, or I’m lighting this whole tree lot up!”

The family gasped, immediately backing away in a panic.

“Okay, okay! Take it! Just don’t blow anything up!” the mom yelled as they quickly retreated, dragging their kids along.

Bakugo stood triumphantly next to the tree, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “That’s how you get stuff done.”

Tanjiro buried his face in his hands. “That wasn’t very Christmas-like…”

“Maybe not,” Tengen said, already lifting the tree over his shoulder. “But it was flamboyant. Excellent work, Bakugo.”

“Damn right it was,” Bakugo said, still grinning.

The drive back home was quieter than expected, the massive tree tied securely to the roof of the car. Tanjiro sat in the passenger seat, his list crumpled in his hands as he replayed the events of the tree lot.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

The Decor Squad—Momo, Nezuko, Kirishima, and Present Mic—pulled into the parking lot of their fifth store, frustration thick in the air. Nezuko quietly nibbled on a candy cane she had picked up at the first store, while Present Mic drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to a beat no one else could hear. Momo sat in the backseat, meticulously organizing a list of decorations they were supposed to pick up: ornaments, garlands, and lights. Kirishima, sitting beside her, looked out the window, trying to stay optimistic.

“I’m sure this one will have what we need!” he said with a grin, though even his unbreakable positivity was beginning to falter.

“It better,” Momo muttered under her breath, peeking at her phone’s map to confirm they hadn’t strayed too far from the previous store. “We’ve already wasted so much time.”

“Wasted time? Nah! It’s all part of the holiday adventure, baby!” Present Mic exclaimed from the driver’s seat, throwing the car into park. He turned to the group, his signature sunglasses reflecting the store’s neon sign. “C’mon, let’s make this the one!”

They climbed out of the car, Nezuko trailing behind them, clutching her candy cane. As they walked into the store, a wave of despair washed over the group.

The shelves were bare.

“Are you kidding me?!” Momo exclaimed, staring at the nearly empty aisle where garlands should have been. A single, tattered strand of silver tinsel dangled from a hook as if mocking them.

“This is worse than the last store,” Kirishima said, scratching the back of his head. He picked up a cracked bauble from the ornament section and frowned. “I mean, we can’t put this on the tree. It’d look so… unmanly.”

Nezuko tugged on Momo’s sleeve, pointing at a section of lights, only to reveal that they were all mismatched and half the boxes were open.

“I don’t think any of those will even work,” Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Alright! On to the next one!” Present Mic shouted, his energy unwavering. He spun on his heel and marched back toward the car, his long scarf trailing behind him like a banner of hope.

The group piled back into the car, exhaustion starting to set in. Nezuko, now curled up with her knees against her chest, peeked at the others as if wondering how long this would go on.

By the time they hit their eighth store, the mood in the car had shifted from frustration to quiet defeat. Kirishima slouched in his seat, staring out the window. Present Mic hummed softly to himself, trying to keep morale up, while Momo furiously scribbled notes in her notebook, trying to strategize their next move.

Finally, Kirishima sat up abruptly, his eyes wide as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. He turned to Momo, staring at her with a mix of disbelief and dawning realization.

“Momo,” he said slowly, “why didn’t you just make ornaments with your quirk?”

The car fell silent.

Momo blinked, her pencil hovering over her notebook. “…What?”

“You can literally create stuff,” Kirishima continued, gesturing wildly. “Like, you can make a cannon, but you can’t make a Christmas ornament? Why are we even driving around when you’ve got the solution inside you?”

Momo stared at him, her expression blank at first. Then, the weight of his words hit her like a freight train. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re right.”

Present Mic slammed the brakes (even though they were already parked). “Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me we’ve been running all over town for no reason?!”

Nezuko, ever the quiet observer, tilted her head in mild confusion, as if to say, You’re just realizing this now?

“I—I didn’t even think about it,” Momo stammered, her cheeks flushing red. “I was so focused on the list and making sure we got everything we needed that I—”

“—forgot you’re basically a walking Christmas factory,” Kirishima finished, leaning back in his seat with an exasperated laugh.

Present Mic threw his hands in the air. “Alright, problem solved! Back to HQ we go!”

On the drive back, Momo sat quietly, her embarrassment still evident. She had already started sketching designs for ornaments, garlands, and even a star for the top of the tree in her notebook.

Kirishima, now fully back to his cheerful self, leaned over to peek at her drawings. “Those look awesome! See? We didn’t need those stores anyway.”

Present Mic turned up the radio, a Christmas song blaring through the car as he drove. “Let’s just pretend this was the plan all along, yeah? No one has to know!”

Nezuko, now munching on a fresh candy cane she had somehow acquired, nodded sagely in agreement.

As they pulled up to the house, Kirishima grinned at Momo. “Hey, at least we got to bond, right? And now you’re gonna make the most manly decorations ever.”

Momo couldn’t help but smile, despite herself. “Thanks, Kirishima. Next time, I’ll try to think things through a bit more.”

“Next time,” Present Mic chimed in, “let’s just stay home and skip the wild goose chase altogether!”

The group laughed as they grabbed their things and headed inside, ready to make up for lost time and finish decorating.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

Team 3—(Y/N), Muichiro, Aizawa, and Zenitsu—piled into the car with their mission clear: replenish the snacks, restock the hot cocoa, and salvage the holiday cheer. As the car rumbled down the snowy road, the atmosphere was a mix of determination and quiet dread, mostly fueled by Zenitsu’s near-constant rambling.

“Why me? Why do I have to go? Hot cocoa isn’t even my thing! What if we get attacked by a demon on the way? Or worse, we run into a Karen in the grocery store?” Zenitsu wailed from the backseat, clutching the headrest in front of him like it was a lifeline.

Aizawa, in the driver’s seat, groaned. His scarf was lazily wrapped around his neck, and he was already regretting agreeing to this task. “Zenitsu, there are no demons here. Only stressed-out shoppers.”

“And that’s even worse!” Zenitsu shot back. “Have you seen people at the store during the holidays? It’s a madhouse!”

Muichiro, sitting beside him, stared out the window, his expression calm as ever. “If we’re attacked, (Y/N) can handle it. They’ve got Bakugo-level chaos energy when needed.”

(Y/N), sitting in the passenger seat, smirked and glanced back at their brother. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Muichiro. But let’s try not to start any fights. We just need snacks, not a showdown in the frozen food aisle.”

“Yeah, try telling that to Zenitsu,” Muichiro muttered under his breath, earning a dramatic gasp from Zenitsu.

The first grocery store was exactly as chaotic as Zenitsu had feared. People swarmed the aisles like vultures, snatching up the last of the holiday goodies. The shelves looked as though a tornado had passed through, with half-empty boxes of candy canes and torn-open hot cocoa packets scattered everywhere.

“Great,” (Y/N) muttered, surveying the wreckage. “This is worse than I expected.”

“I told you!” Zenitsu whispered urgently, sticking close to Aizawa like a nervous child. “This is a nightmare! We’ll never find what we need here!”

Muichiro wandered ahead, his expression unreadable as he scanned the shelves. He picked up a lone bag of marshmallows and held it up for inspection. “At least we’ve got these,” he said.

(Y/N) shook their head. “We’re going to need more than just marshmallows, Muichiro.”

By the time they reached the third store, tensions were high. Zenitsu was on edge, clutching a shopping basket like it was a weapon. Muichiro had taken it upon himself to grab anything that looked remotely useful, including an industrial-sized canister of whipped cream that no one asked for. Aizawa trailed behind them, looking like he was seconds away from curling up in the pet food aisle and taking a nap.

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, clapping their hands together. “We’re dividing and conquering. Zenitsu, you grab the hot cocoa mix. Muichiro, find the snacks. I’ll get the drinks. Aizawa… supervise.”

Aizawa gave a half-hearted nod, his scarf twitching slightly as if to say, Fine.

Zenitsu darted off, weaving through the crowd like his life depended on it. He reappeared minutes later, clutching not one, but four boxes of hot cocoa mix. “Just in case!” he said defensively when (Y/N) raised an eyebrow.

Meanwhile, Muichiro’s “snack collection” turned out to be both impressive and baffling. He returned with chips, cookies, and what appeared to be an entire section of Japanese candy. “I thought it would be fun to mix things up,” he said when Aizawa gave him a tired look.

The chaos truly began at the checkout line. Zenitsu, jittery as ever, managed to drop one of the boxes of cocoa mix, sending packets skidding across the floor. (Y/N) sighed, kneeling to gather them up, only to be cut off by a harried shopper trying to push their cart through.

“Excuse me!” the shopper snapped, glaring down at (Y/N).

Zenitsu’s eyes went wide, and he backed up, muttering, “Oh no, oh no, it’s happening. It’s happening!”

Muichiro stepped in, his calm demeanor masking the slight edge to his tone. “You could at least wait a moment. We’ll be out of your way soon enough.”

The shopper scoffed. “Kids these days have no respect.”

(Y/N) rose to their feet, cocoa packets in hand, and offered a tight-lipped smile. “We’re just trying to finish our shopping like everyone else. How about a little holiday spirit, huh?”

The shopper opened their mouth to retort, but Aizawa appeared behind (Y/N), his towering presence and perpetually tired expression enough to make anyone think twice. “Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice low and firm.

The shopper huffed and pushed their cart away, leaving Zenitsu to collapse against a nearby shelf in relief. “I thought we were done for,” he whispered dramatically.

(Y/N) rolled their eyes. “It’s hot cocoa, Zenitsu, not the apocalypse.”

By the time they made it back to the car, the group was weighed down with bags of snacks, drinks, and more whipped cream than anyone could reasonably use. As Aizawa started the engine, (Y/N) glanced back at their brother.

“You know, Muichiro,” they said, holding up the massive canister of whipped cream, “this is a bit overkill.”

Muichiro shrugged. “It’s festive.”

Zenitsu, now munching on a candy bar he had snagged during checkout, nodded in agreement. “Honestly, it’s the most useful thing we got. What’s hot cocoa without whipped cream?”

Aizawa sighed deeply as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Remind me never to agree to this again.”

“Aw, c’mon, Aizawa-sensei,” (Y/N) said with a grin. “We crushed it. Snacks secured. Cocoa stocked. Mission accomplished.”

Zenitsu leaned forward, pointing at the road ahead. “Yeah, and we didn’t even have to fight anyone! Well, not really.”

Aizawa groaned. “I need coffee.”

The group chuckled as they drove back home, their bags full and their spirits — well mostly intact. The Food Squad had succeeded, chaos and all.

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 14

masterlist

The machine calculating (Y/N)’s throw began to whir and beep, its internal mechanisms straining as if it couldn’t process what had just happened. Then, with a loud sputter, it froze, the screen flashing a single word in bold, blinking letters: ERROR.

The class erupted.

“Holy crap, he broke the machine!” Kaminari shouted, eyes wide with awe. “That’s insane! What kind of Quirk does he even have?”

“That was so manly!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands on his hips as he beamed at (Y/N). “You gotta tell me your secret, dude! That’s next-level strength right there!”

“Manly?!” Bakugo snapped, his voice cutting through the excitement like a blade. He stomped toward (Y/N), fury blazing in his eyes. “That wasn’t manly! That was freakish! What the hell was that, huh?! You think you’re hot shit just ‘cause you broke a stupid machine?”

(Y/N), as calm as ever, ignored him completely. The faint traces of mist that lingered around his shoulders continued to dissipate as he walked back to his place beside Izuku, the stick still loosely balanced in his hand. As Bakugo’s tirade grew louder, (Y/N) cast him a sidelong glance and muttered, “Focus on yourself, brat.”

The low, steady tone carried enough weight to cut through Bakugo’s yelling, silencing him momentarily. His face twisted in anger, but he didn’t move, his hands trembling with frustration as (Y/N) continued walking without looking back.

“Dude…” Kaminari muttered again, still staring at the broken machine. “Is he even human?”

Momo stood silently, her gaze fixed on (Y/N). Unlike the others, her awe was tempered with thought, her mind racing as she replayed the moment of his throw. “That technique,” she whispered to herself, her brows furrowing in confusion. “That wasn’t a quirk… Was it?”

Her words went unheard amid the excited chatter of their classmates, but her thoughts continued to spiral. There was something eerily familiar about his movements—the precision, the fluidity, the power. She wasn’t certain, but her instincts told her that this wasn’t a result of some flashy, powerful quirk. This was something else entirely.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she pondered the possibilities. Could he be… a descendant of the Mist Hashira? The thought felt absurd, yet it lingered, refusing to leave her mind. If that were the case, it explained the refined, almost ancient technique, but it also raised even more questions.

As the class buzzed with speculation, Momo stayed rooted in place, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze followed (Y/N), her admiration and confusion growing in equal measure. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was far more to him than what he let on.

Her eyes lingered on his retreating figure as a thought surfaced in her mind, clear and resolute :

Tokitō (Y/N)… you’re a mystery I can’t wait to solve.

• 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙥 •

The teachers’ lounge was abuzz with discussion, the usual hum of casual banter replaced by something far more focused. Gathered around a large screen displaying the recorded footage from Aizawa’s training session, UA’s teaching staff sat in rapt attention, each of them visibly intrigued by what they had just witnessed.

On the screen, Tokitō (Y/N) stood poised, mist curling around his frame, the ball flying into the horizon with an otherworldly precision and power. The footage paused on that moment, the faint remnants of mist still visible, clinging to him like a cloak.

Principal Nezu, perched comfortably on a chair far too large for his small frame, clasped his paws together. His sharp, intelligent eyes swept over the room. “Thoughts?” he asked, his calm yet curious voice breaking the silence. “I think we can all agree that this was… unconventional.”

“It’s not a Quirk,” Midnight said confidently, leaning back in her chair with arms crossed. “At least not in any way I’ve seen before. The way he moved—it was like something out of a martial arts film.”

“Yeah, but did you see that ball fly?” Present Mic added, leaning forward with an exaggerated motion. “That wasn’t just skill; that was raw power. So what gives? Is he Quirkless, or are we missing something here?” He turned to Aizawa with a grin. “Well, what’s your take on the kid, Shota?”

Aizawa shot his best friend a tired look, his tone flat but edged with irritation. “Hizashi, use my last name at work.”

Present Mic raised his hands defensively, grinning sheepishly. “Right, right. My bad.”

Aizawa sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “From what I observed today, the kid doesn’t use a Quirk. His physical ability is well beyond that of a normal person, but I didn’t detect any trace of quirk, I admit I did use my quirk on him to test my own theory. He completed all the tests without showing any signs of external augmentation—no visible abilities, no mutations. I’m just as surprised as you all but the kids actually quirkless.”

”The way he moved though, it wasn’t that of a few months of training— the way he reacted to the tests, how he handled and overcame them with better scores than even All Might in his younger days here at UA, it was refined to a degree I’ve never seen in someone his age.”

Ectoplasm tilted his head thoughtfully. “If he doesn’t have a Quirk, how is he capable of something like that?”

“That’s the mystery,” Aizawa said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s deliberate, precise. He doesn’t waste movements or energy, and he doesn’t react to provocation like most students would. I wouldn’t say he’s unapproachable, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from everyone, even when they’re trying to connect with him. There’s a discipline about him I don’t see often.”

“Discipline like that comes from somewhere,” Snipe chimed in, his voice steady. “I’d bet money he’s had some kind of training long before he stepped foot in UA.”

“Not just any training,” Power Loader added, adjusting his helmet. “Whatever he’s learned, it’s leagues ahead of what most pros know. That technique with the mist—it wasn’t just a fluke. That was mastery.”

“Do you think it’s possible he’s holding back?” Cementoss asked, his deep voice rumbling through the room. “If he’s capable of that much, who’s to say we’ve seen his full potential?”

“I don’t think he’s holding back in the way you’re imagining,” Aizawa replied, crossing his arms. “He’s careful, methodical. If anything, I’d say he’s hiding something, but not out of malice. More like… necessity. He knows exactly what he’s capable of, and he chooses to act only when necessary.”

Nezu steepled his paws, his expression unreadable as he contemplated the reports and the footage. “It’s rare for someone Quirkless to achieve such a level of mastery, especially at such a young age. But it’s not impossible. Humanity’s potential often surprises me.”

“So, what do we do?” Sekijiro Kan asked, his arms crossed over his massive chest. “The kid’s clearly not ordinary, Quirk or no Quirk.”

“We keep an eye on him,” Nezu said decisively, his tone calm but firm. “There’s more to Tokitō (Y/N) than meets the eye. If he truly is Quirkless, then he’s a remarkable anomaly. If he’s not… well, we need to know. Either way, his presence here at UA warrants close observation.”

Midnight smirked, leaning forward. “And if he’s hiding something?”

“Then we’ll find out in due time,” Nezu replied with a faint smile. “But for now, let’s allow him the chance to show us who he is on his own terms. Patience, everyone. Patience.”

As the teachers nodded in agreement, Present Mic leaned closer to Aizawa, lowering his voice. “Man, Shota, you’ve got a real puzzle on your hands this year.”

Aizawa gave a faint, almost imperceptible shrug. “I’ve dealt with worse. Let’s just hope he doesn’t blow up half the school before the semester ends. Lord knows I don’t need any more problem children under my eye.”

The room chuckled lightly, but the intrigue surrounding (Y/N) remained palpable. As the discussion wrapped up, Nezu’s sharp gaze lingered on the frozen image of (Y/N) on the screen, his expression thoughtful.

“Tokitō (Y/N),” he murmured softly to himself. “A mystery worth unraveling.”