🤭 I Don’t Know What It Is With My Fascination When It Comes To Movies Or Tv Shows That Clearly Are

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 12

masterlist

Aizawa glanced down at his clipboard, his tired eyes scanning the names. “Alright, Tokitō, you’re up next.”

(Y/N) shifted from where he had been standing beside Izuku, his expression as unreadable as ever. Without a word, he walked toward the throwing circle, his movements fluid and effortless, almost as if he were gliding. The murmurs of his classmates began to rise again, though none of them dared to speak loud enough for him to hear.

“He’s gonna do something weird again,” Katsuki muttered, glaring daggers at (Y/N)’s back.

“Quiet, brat,” (Y/N) said without even looking his way, his voice calm yet dismissive, as though Katsuki’s very presence was unworthy of his attention.

Katsuki’s hands sparked, his teeth grinding together in frustration, but Aizawa’s sharp glance kept him in check.

Reaching the circle, (Y/N) crouched slightly, picking up the ball. He turned it over in his hand, his gaze distant as if calculating something far beyond the comprehension of those watching. The class fell into a tense silence, the air seeming to shift as he straightened.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the ball resting lightly in his fingers. Then, barely audible over the stillness, (Y/N) whispered:

“Mist Breathing… Fourth Form…”

And just like that, the world seemed to hold its breath.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The air was thick with the scent of stone and earth as a younger (Y/N) stood before the towering figure of Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira. Despite his imposing size and the intimidating presence he radiated, Gyomei’s calm demeanor put (Y/N) at ease, even as he stood in a ready stance, waiting for the first move.

Gyomei’s blind eyes were fixed on him, though (Y/N) knew that he could see through his senses, every inch of the training ground. The ground trembled slightly as Gyomei shifted his weight, his massive stone axe resting against the dirt. The weight of the weapon was nothing to him, but the sheer size of it was enough to make (Y/N) hesitate.

“You ready, kid?” Gyomei’s voice was low, warm, but there was an edge of challenge in it.

(Y/N) nodded, though the pit in his stomach said otherwise. Despite his training, there was a nagging fear that he wasn’t prepared for this. Gyomei wasn’t just strong — he was a monster, an immovable force. And here (Y/N) was, just a young swordsman trying to prove he was worthy of being one of the Hashira.

Gyomei didn’t wait for him to speak. Without a word, he swung the axe down toward (Y/N) in a fluid, controlled motion. The sound of the weapon cutting through the air was deafening.

(Y/N) barely managed to dodge, leaping to the side as the axe slammed into the earth with a force that made the ground shake. His heart was racing, his breath quickening as he regained his balance. It was just the first move, but already, his body was begging him to slow down, to take a breath.

“Come on, boy, don’t let your mind wander,” Gyomei rumbled, stepping forward. “Focus. You’re stronger than you think.”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed— sure he had trained with the other Hashira’s before, but none were like this. 

None definitely like Gyomei, who could make a single strike feel like an entire battlefield— that man muscles even has muscles. 

2 words : Fucking scary!

He focused, his hand tightening around his sword’s hilt. Gyomei was moving again, the axe coming toward him, faster than before. This time, (Y/N) didn’t dodge… he probably should’ve though. 

He moved in closer, avoiding the deadly arc of the weapon and closing the distance. He aimed for a strike at Gyomei’s side, but the Stone Hashira’s reaction was instantaneous. His huge arm shot out, grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist before the sword could land.

“You’re too eager,” Gyomei said softly, his grip firm but not painful. “You have strength, but you’re wasting it by rushing.”

(Y/N) bit back a growl of frustration. He didn’t want to hear that. In short— in young Tokitō‘s mind he done heard “SIKE, get recked bitch.”

He wanted to prove he was capable, wanted to show he could fight like the Hashira. But Gyomei wasn’t just teaching him how to fight at the moment, no—

He was teaching him how to think mid battle…

How to be strategic mid battle… because in some cases— the enemy won’t even give you the time of day to come up with your next move.

Gyomei released him and took a step back, giving (Y/N) a moment to breathe. “Strength comes from patience. From endurance. You won’t outlast me by charging in without a plan.”

The young swordsman tried to steady his breathing, wiping the sweat that was growing from his brow. His body was sore, aching from just the first few minutes of sparring. But Gyomei wasn’t done. No, he wasn’t going to let him stop.

The next attack came without warning. Gyomei swung the axe with a terrifying speed, but this time, (Y/N) was ready. He danced to the side, using the movement Gyomei had taught him in earlier training — shifting his weight just enough to evade the strike, but not too much to lose his footing.

Gyomei watched him carefully, like a hawk observing its prey. “Better,” he rumbled, stepping forward again. “But still not enough. You need more than speed.”

(Y/N) exhaled sharply, stepping back, sweat dripping down his face. His muscles screamed for rest, but he knew this was just the beginning. There was no stopping here. Not when Gyomei was still pushing him, still making him face the overwhelming force of the Stone Hashira’s strength.

Gyomei’s voice softened a little, though there was still a challenge in it. “You have potential, Tokitō. But don’t mistake potential for strength. Strength comes when you can push past your limits, when you can keep going even when you think you can’t anymore.”

For a moment, (Y/N) stood there, processing his words. He had always thought strength was just about power, about being fast and strong. 

But Gyomei was telling him something different no— showing him something different.

Without a word, Gyomei moved again, this time slower, more deliberate. (Y/N) mirrored his movements, his body flowing with the rhythm of the battle, a dance of dodges and strikes. With every move, he could feel the exhaustion creeping in. His muscles burned, but Gyomei didn’t stop, didn’t give him a moment of rest.

Then, Gyomei swung again, and this time, (Y/N) didn’t just dodge. He parried the blow, pushing against the sheer weight of the axe. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to deflect it. For the first time, (Y/N) felt like he was taking control of the match.

Gyomei stepped back, his lips curling into a rare smile. “Not bad, kid,” he said, his voice softer now. “Not bad at all. You’ve got the basics down, but there’s still a long way to go.”

(Y/N) stood tall, chest heaving, sweat soaking through his clothes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This was what he wanted.

To grow stronger.

To learn from the best.

Gyomei’s voice echoed in his mind as he caught his breath. “Remember this, Tokitō: Strength isn’t about winning the fight. It’s about never stopping, no matter how tough it gets. Because the fight never ends.”

To protect those like him and his twin should’ve been protected.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

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.”

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 13

masterlist

The air was thick with tension as the final test of the day, the ball throw, loomed over the group.

So far, (Y/N) Tokitō had performed with unnerving precision, acing every test without breaking a sweat. From the long jump to the grip strength challenge, his movements had been calculated, almost graceful, yet carried a quiet ferocity that left his classmates speechless. 

He neither celebrated his successes nor gloated about his performances, instead standing silently at the edge of the group, as though he were watching but not truly present. In other words— he stood as stiff as a raging boner on 3 honeypacks.

Note : Something my bf did once and then told me about once I woke up from my nap and bragged about how he could now control it— it being his boner like the avatar. In short, he’s special…ed but special nonetheless.

His classmates couldn’t help but buzz with questions and curiosity about the mysterious new addition. They all had quirks, and some of them were powerful, but (Y/N) seemed to operate on a different level altogether.

Bakugo, for one, looked ready to explode, his fiery glare fixated on (Y/N) with a mix of suspicion and seething frustration. Izuku stood beside (Y/N), quietly observing, knowing better than anyone that his classmate’s abilities were not as simple as they seemed.

From within the crowd, a red-haired boy with a broad grin pushed forward. His fiery personality was as evident as the spiky hair on his head, and he approached (Y/N) with a hand outstretched, his movements full of confidence and cheer.

“Yo, that was awesome, man! I’m Eijiro Kirishima. Nice to meet you!” he said, his tone radiating friendliness. “You’ve gotta have an insane quirk to ace all these tests like that. That’s seriously manly!”

(Y/N) glanced at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He neither shook Kirishima’s hand nor offered a reply. Instead, his gaze slid past the red-haired boy as if he hadn’t spoken at all.

Kirishima’s grin faltered just slightly, though he didn’t seem offended. Before he could try again, Izuku, standing nearby, jumped in nervously. “Ah, sorry about him! He’s not really the talkative type.” Izuku offered Kirishima a nervous smile, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m Izuku Midoriya, by the way, and this is (Y/N) Tokitō. It’s nice to meet you!”

Kirishima’s grin returned at full strength, and he crossed his arms, looking at (Y/N) with newfound curiosity. “Man, you’re mysterious! What’s your quirk? I mean, the way you’ve been tearing through these tests—”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, his attention still fixed on the testing field, his posture relaxed but focused. The silence stretched for a moment before Kirishima’s gaze shifted to Izuku, waiting for an answer on his behalf. Izuku opened his mouth, stammering slightly as he tried to think of what to say without revealing too much, but before he could get the words out, Aizawa’s voice cut through the conversation.

“Tokitō. You’re up,” the teacher called, his tone as dry and unimpressed as ever. “Hurry it up, problem child. We don’t have all day.”

Before stepping up to the throwing circle, (Y/N)’s gaze briefly wandered across the training ground. Though he hadn’t been permitted to carry his sword on campus, his instincts demanded a substitute. A small glimmer caught his eye—a sturdy stick, roughly the length of a katana, lying near the edge of the testing area.

He walked over, his movements lazy and almost cat like, he picked it up with a quiet certainty. For anyone else, it was just a stick. But in his hands, it became something—a tool, an extension of his person, or in this situation a substitute weapon in place of his katana.

As he returned to the testing circle, he picked up the ball without a word, holding it loosely in his hand. His movements were measured, and though he didn’t radiate the explosive power of someone like Bakugo, there was an undeniable weight to his presence. He rested the stick casually against his shoulder, as though its presence gave him balance, and turned his focus toward the task at hand.

The group of students fell silent as (Y/N) once more stepped forward, the eyes of his classmates following him with eager anticipation. The weight of their stares didn’t seem to faze him. He moved with a calm, deliberate confidence, his sword-like focus making it clear that he was entirely in control.

He picked up the ball without a word, holding it loosely in his hand.

The class continued to watch in rapt silence as (Y/N) stood at the ready, his gaze locked on the distant horizon. Then, softly, so quietly that only those standing close by could hear, he murmured,

“Fourth Form: Blessed Mist.”

And then, nothing. The world seemed to hold its breath.

• 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 : 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 •

The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique in the Mist Breathing style, which (Y/N) has mastered through rigorous training. Mist Breathing is known for its reliance on swift, unpredictable movements and creating illusions to disorient opponents. Blessed Mist embodies these principles by blending immense speed with precise, controlled force to enhance attacks or actions.

What is the Fourth Form: Blessed Mist?

The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique designed to amplify both speed and control by cloaking the user in a dense, swirling mist that obscures their exact movements. The technique creates the illusion that the user is moving in multiple directions at once, making them difficult to track. While primarily a combat technique, it is highly adaptable and can enhance the effectiveness of various physical tasks.

Capabilities of Fourth Form : Blessed Mist :

1. Burst of Speed : The user generates a sudden surge of speed that makes their movements almost imperceptible to the naked eye. This burst is not only visually disorienting but also allows for rapid and powerful actions to be executed in an instant.

2. Control over Momentum : The swirling mist doesn’t just serve as a visual distraction—it allows the user to channel their movements with incredible precision. This ensures that every ounce of effort is directed toward the intended target, whether it’s cutting down an opponent.

 3. Illusion of Multiplicity : The mist creates afterimages of the user’s movements, making it seem as though they are striking or acting from multiple directions at once. This effect confuses opponents or observers, leaving them unsure of the user’s exact location.

4. Force Amplification : The momentum generated by the user during this technique is highly concentrated. By combining speed and precision, the user’s attacks—or in this case, the throw—carry much more force than what is physically apparent.

• 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢 : 𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

The world stilled as the words left (Y/N)’s lips, “Fourth Form: Blessed Mist.”

The stick in one hand, the ball in the other, (Y/N) moved. His motion was seamless, almost ethereal, his body flowing like mist itself.

Smooth like butter…so fucking smooth.

His classmates blinked, some rubbing their eyes, as his outline seemed to blur, like heat rippling off a summer road. Before anyone could process the shift, (Y/N) swung the stick with precision.

The motion itself was mesmerizing—effortless.

The moment the stick connected with the ball, the air cracked. 

A shockwave erupted outward, blasting a gust of wind across the field. 

Dust swirled and scattered, and the grass near his feet rippled violently under the force. 

The sound was deafening, a deep, thunderous roar that resonated through the training ground, making some students flinch and others cover their ears.

The ball didn’t fly—it disappeared into the horizon. For a moment, it seemed as though it had been swallowed by the mist (Y/N) had conjured, vanishing completely. The air itself seemed to shimmer and distort in its wake, a residual effect of the Breathing Technique.

A faint, silvery mist lingered in the atmosphere, curling and twisting in elegant patterns before dissipating.

It wasn’t just the speed or power behind the swing— the ball had been thrown with such an uncanny force that it carved a faint path through the air, mist-like energy spiraling behind it as if to brag about being the cause of such phenomena. The aftershock of his swing sent leaves from the nearby trees scattering, and the distant hum of the ball tearing through the sky felt like the final note of an unseen symphony.

The group stood frozen, wide-eyed and silent, as the distant sound of the ball finally crashing into the ground echoed faintly from beyond the testing field. For several seconds, no one moved, too stunned to even speak.

Still holding the stick loosely at his side, (Y/N) turned back toward the group with the same calm demeanor as when he’d approached. His expression betrayed nothing—no pride, no smugness— after all this was someone who had done this countless times before in the past.

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 5

masterlist

It had been a normal morning for (Y/N), that is, until he received the call from Inko. She was frantic, her voice a mixture of concern and embarrassment. Izuku had forgotten his lunch again, and with his schedule already packed, there was no way he could go home to get it. Inko, naturally, was worried that her son would be hungry for the rest of the day.

(Y/N) sighed, already knowing what was expected of him. It wasn’t like he had any personal attachment to the boy yet—he was just doing what Inko had asked. After all, it wasn’t much trouble, and the thought of Izuku going without lunch felt like a small, easily fixed problem.

But when Inko had asked him to run to the school, he hadn’t anticipated how dramatic it would turn out to be.

A few minutes later, (Y/N) was darting from rooftop to rooftop, the lunchbox in hand. The day was clear, and as he reached the school, his well-timed leap landed him smoothly on the window ledge of Izuku’s classroom. The students inside gasped, watching the maid-like figure—or rather, the feminine-looking male—gracefully land on the ledge like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Inside, the class was in session, and the teacher was in the middle of explaining something when the window suddenly creaked open. The teacher’s gaze shifted from the chalkboard to the window, where (Y/N) stood, almost casually. He knocked lightly on the glass.

With wide eyes, the teacher, still in shock, opened the window.

“Um… can I help you?” the teacher asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

(Y/N) smiled politely, his voice calm. “I’ve brought Izuku his lunch. He left it at home.”

Izuku, sitting at his desk, turned to see (Y/N) standing in the window. His eyes widened in surprise as (Y/N) passed the lunchbox to him.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” Izuku said, a bit embarrassed by the attention, but grateful.

The moment the lunchbox was handed over, the murmurs from the class began. Whispers of curiosity and judgment flooded the air, but it was one voice that cut through the noise—the unmistakable, aggressive voice of Bakugou Katsuki.

“What the hell is this?” Bakugou’s harsh tone made everyone pause. “What kind of weirdo is this?”

Katsuki’s gaze shifted between (Y/N) and Izuku, his sharp eyes narrowing at the seemingly delicate figure standing in the window. He couldn’t quite place the strange vibe about (Y/N)—there was something off, something that didn’t sit well with him. Despite the feminine features, there was a hidden strength in the way (Y/N) held himself, and it bothered Bakugou. The other students were whispering, clearly fascinated by the unusual sight of a maid-like male in their classroom, and Bakugou didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“Oi, you’re a guy, right?” Bakugou demanded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why the hell do you look like that? You some kind of freak?”

(Y/N) didn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unamused as he locked eyes with Bakugou. “Not everyone fits your idea of what ‘normal’ is,” he said coolly.

That’s when the murmurs turned into full-blown mutters of jealousy, curiosity, and mockery from the other students. Some of them laughed under their breath, while others whispered about how (Y/N) must be doing something for Izuku. Bakugou’s stare was burning, his frustration growing. The teacher, still in shock, hesitated, unsure of what to say or do.

Finally, Bakugou’s patience snapped.

“After school. You and me. Fight me,” Bakugou snarled, pointing a finger at (Y/N), his hands clenched into fists. His tone was commanding, daring (Y/N) to refuse.

(Y/N) remained silent for a moment, considering the offer. He didn’t care about Bakugou’s attitude, nor did he particularly care about showing off. But something about the kid’s anger—his constant need to assert dominance—felt almost laughable. Still, (Y/N) knew it was best to teach him a lesson.

• timeskip •

When school let out, Bakugou was already waiting by the gates, looking agitated and eager to prove himself. The other students had gathered around, eager to see the fight. They expected Bakugou to wipe the floor with (Y/N), who was still dressed in his usual maid-like uniform, his expression calm, almost uninterested in the spectacle he was about to partake in.

(Y/N) strolled over to the designated area, his steps relaxed and measured. Bakugou’s eyes burned with frustration, his hands sparking with his explosive quirk as he prepared for the fight.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you, weirdo?” Bakugou yelled, his voice grating with annoyance.

(Y/N) didn’t answer, merely taking a step back and picking up a small, toothpick-sized stick that had been lying around on the ground. The crowd’s chatter grew louder, some of them snickering, thinking this was going to be a quick show of dominance from Bakugou. After all, who would take a fight seriously when their opponent was using such a puny weapon?

Bakugou sneered, readying his hands to explode. “You think you can beat me with that?” he mocked, already feeling the fire in his hands ignite. “Pathetic!”

Without warning, Bakugou lunged at (Y/N), his quirk flaring up. He threw an explosive punch, intending to blow the smaller figure away. But (Y/N), unfazed, side-stepped with ease, the toothpick-sized stick in his hand never faltering.

Before Bakugou could even process his failed strike, (Y/N) reached out, tapping the side of his face with the stick. It wasn’t hard, but the effect was immediate. Bakugou froze in shock, his body temporarily paralyzed by the sheer speed and precision of the tap.

“Is this really all you’ve got?” (Y/N) said, his voice low and almost bored. “You’re all bark and no bite.”

Bakugou’s face flushed with rage, his fists clenched tighter as he powered up for another strike. But this time, (Y/N) didn’t move. Instead, he stood there, his posture unbothered.

With a swift movement, (Y/N) pressed the stick against Bakugou’s chest, using just the slightest amount of pressure to send the blonde boy stumbling back, his body pushed off balance by the touch. The crowd went silent, surprised by how easily (Y/N) had dominated the fight.

Bakugou, now visibly fuming and humiliated, gritted his teeth. “You… you bastard…” he spat, struggling to regain his posture.

(Y/N) simply lowered the stick, a faint smirk on his face as he stepped back. “I don’t fight for entertainment, Bakugou. You’re not worth the time or energy.” His eyes narrowed. “Next time, don’t waste my time.”

With that, (Y/N) turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Bakugou, who stood in the middle of the crowd, seething. The other students stared at (Y/N), unsure whether they should be impressed or terrified by how easily he had subdued the explosive teen.

Izuku, watching from the side, felt a small sense of relief and admiration. He never expected someone like (Y/N) to not only stick around, but to also protect him—both in and out of school.

Bakugou was left to stew in his embarrassment, but deep down, he knew better than to challenge (Y/N) again. He had just met his match—and it was a match he never saw coming.

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.

breathing forms (not a chapter)

1. First Form: Mist Bloom : The First Form, Mist Bloom, is the foundation of (Y/N)’s Mist Breathing techniques. It emphasizes precision and overwhelming speed to confuse and disorient opponents.

Description : When (Y/N) uses Mist Bloom, his movements blur, creating an illusion of multiple afterimages around him. The technique involves a flurry of swift, shallow strikes delivered in rapid succession, each strike seemingly coming from a different angle. This creates the visual effect of “blooming mist,” where his attacks are as unpredictable and ephemeral as mist itself.

Capabilities Include :

Speed and Deception : Mist Bloom leverages blinding speed to make it difficult for opponents to track (Y/N)’s movements. The afterimages confuse and distract, making it almost impossible for them to anticipate where the real attack will land.

Precision Attacks : The strikes are not random—they are carefully aimed at the opponent’s weak points or openings, ensuring maximum damage while minimizing energy expenditure.

Utility in Combat : Mist Bloom is ideal for overwhelming opponents or defending against multiple attackers. It also works well as a countermeasure, exploiting the smallest mistakes in an enemy’s defense.

•••

2. Second Form: Mist Crescent : The Second Form, Mist Crescent, is a more direct and offensive technique compared to Mist Bloom, focusing on delivering a single, devastating strike.

Description : In Mist Crescent, (Y/N) channels his breathing into a fluid, arcing swing of his weapon (or in this case, a stick). The arc of the strike generates a concentrated wave of mist-like energy that travels outward in a crescent shape. The mist created by this technique is so dense that it obscures the user’s position while simultaneously disorienting the enemy.

Capabilities Include :

Ranged Attack : The crescent-shaped wave of energy travels several meters, making this an effective mid-range attack. It is powerful enough to cut through obstacles or even strike multiple targets in its path.

Obscuring Mist : The dense mist released by the swing cloaks (Y/N)’s immediate area, making it hard for opponents to see or pinpoint his location. This mist can linger momentarily, offering both offensive and defensive utility.

Raw Power : Mist Crescent is less about speed and more about sheer destructive power. The swing carries enough force to break through defenses or knock opponents off balance.

Shockwave Effect: The strike’s force generates a shockwave that can destabilize the terrain or send debris flying, further adding to its disorienting effect.

•••

3. Third Form: Mist Flash : The Third Form: Mist Flash is a high-speed, single-target offensive technique that combines incredible agility with precise execution. It is designed for situations where (Y/N) needs to close the distance between himself and his opponent in the blink of an eye, delivering a critical strike before they even have a chance to react.

Description : When activating Mist Flash, (Y/N)’s body vanishes from view, shrouded in a sudden burst of mist. The technique allows him to move at an explosive speed toward his opponent, seemingly “flashing” from one point to another. The move is completed with a single, calculated strike aimed at a vital point, leaving behind a lingering trail of mist in his wake.

Capabilities Include :

Blinding Speed : Mist Flash allows (Y/N) to travel short distances almost instantaneously, making it difficult for enemies to track his movement. It is ideal for ambushing opponents or evading an incoming attack before countering with a precise strike.

Pinpoint Accuracy : The technique focuses on delivering a single, powerful strike to the enemy’s weak point, ensuring maximum damage with minimal effort. It is particularly effective against enemies with slower reaction times or those caught off-guard.

Disorienting Mist : The sudden burst of mist that accompanies the move not only conceals (Y/N)’s position but also disrupts the enemy’s vision and focus. The mist lingers momentarily, obscuring (Y/N)’s location even after the strike is complete, allowing him to retreat or set up another attack.

Utility in Combat : Mist Flash is excellent for one-on-one combat, especially against stronger opponents who rely on brute force. It can also be used to bypass enemy defenses or barriers, enabling (Y/N) to land a decisive blow.

•••

4. Fourth Form: Blessed Mist : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique in the Mist Breathing style, which (Y/N) has mastered through rigorous training. Mist Breathing is known for its reliance on swift, unpredictable movements and creating illusions to disorient opponents. Blessed Mist embodies these principles by blending immense speed with precise, controlled force to enhance attacks or actions.

Description : The Fourth Form: Blessed Mist is a technique designed to amplify both speed and control by cloaking the user in a dense, swirling mist that obscures their exact movements. The technique creates the illusion that the user is moving in multiple directions at once, making them difficult to track. While primarily a combat technique, it is highly adaptable and can enhance the effectiveness of various physical tasks.

Capabilities of Fourth Form: Blessed Mist:

Burst of Speed : The user generates a sudden surge of speed that makes their movements almost imperceptible to the naked eye. This burst is not only visually disorienting but also allows for rapid and powerful actions to be executed in an instant.

Control over Momentum : The swirling mist doesn’t just serve as a visual distraction—it allows the user to channel their movements with incredible precision. This ensures that every ounce of effort is directed toward the intended target, whether it’s cutting down an opponent.

Illusion of Multiplicity : The mist creates afterimages of the user’s movements, making it seem as though they are striking or acting from multiple directions at once. This effect confuses opponents or observers, leaving them unsure of the user’s exact location.

Force Amplification : The momentum generated by the user during this technique is highly concentrated. By combining speed and precision, the user’s attacks—or in this case, the throw—carry much more force than what is physically apparent.

•••

5. Fifth Form: Shrouded Tempest : Shrouded Tempest : Creates a swirling mist vortex that blinds and disorients enemies while providing (Y/N) with enhanced perception. It is both a defensive barrier and an offensive tool, overwhelming multiple enemies simultaneously.

Description : Shrouded Tempest is a defensive and offensive technique that creates a swirling vortex of mist around (Y/N). This mist obscures visibility for his enemies while enhancing his ability to perceive movements within it. The technique is particularly useful in overwhelming groups of enemies or turning the tide of battle when outnumbered.

Capabilities Include :

360-Degree Defense : The swirling mist acts as a protective barrier, deflecting weaker projectiles and disorienting enemies trying to close the distance.

Enhanced Perception : While enemies are blinded by the thick mist, (Y/N) gains heightened awareness of movements within the vortex, allowing him to predict and counter attacks.

Group Suppression : The expanding vortex spreads rapidly, enveloping multiple enemies at once and making it nearly impossible for them to pinpoint (Y/N)’s location.

 Debilitating Mist : The swirling mist is infused with high-speed strikes as (Y/N) moves unpredictably within it, landing precise cuts that slowly whittle down his opponents.

•••

6. Sixth Form: Lunar Drift : Focuses on evasive, fluid movements that allow (Y/N) to dodge and counter with precision. Its unpredictable gliding motion confuses enemies, turning their aggression into openings for devastating counterattacks.

Description : Lunar Drift focuses on evasion and counterattack. (Y/N) appears to “glide” across the battlefield like moonlight on water, moving unpredictably to dodge enemy strikes while setting up his counterattack. This form embodies the ethereal grace of Mist Breathing, allowing him to outmaneuver even the most relentless foes.

Capabilities Include :

Unpredictable Movement : (Y/N)’s movements are smooth and erratic, making it almost impossible for enemies to predict his position.

Perfect Counters : Lunar Drift creates opportunities to exploit enemy openings, as (Y/N) can flow effortlessly into precise counterattacks after dodging.

Momentum Control : The technique uses the enemy’s aggression against them by redirecting their momentum into devastating strikes.

Sustained Evasion : (Y/N) can maintain this form for extended periods, allowing him to outlast opponents who rely on stamina or brute strength.

•••

7. Seventh Form: Ethereal Shroud : Cloaks (Y/N) in a dense, luminous mist that makes him nearly invisible and silent. This form creates afterimages and illusions, allowing him to strike from hidden angles with lethal precision while evading detection.

Description : Ethereal Shroud is a high-level technique that envelops (Y/N) in a thick, luminous mist that distorts both his appearance and presence. Within the shroud, (Y/N) becomes nearly impossible to detect, allowing him to strike from unexpected angles with unparalleled precision. This form is ideal for assassinations or turning the tide in a difficult battle.

Capabilities Include :

Invisibility in Motion : The luminous mist refracts light and sound, rendering (Y/N) almost invisible and silent as he moves.

Untraceable Strikes : Attacks launched from within the shroud are nearly impossible to predict or counter, as enemies can’t locate the source.

Overwhelming Illusions : The mist creates afterimages and phantom attacks, confusing opponents and forcing them to waste energy defending against feints.

Enhanced Lethality : The form allows (Y/N) to focus all his energy into swift, precise strikes that target vital points, maximizing damage with minimal effort.

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 10

masterlist

The first day at UA was finally here, and the buzz of excitement in the air was nearly overwhelming. Students crowded the gates, some whispering in awe, others loudly boasting about their performance in the entrance exams. Izuku Midoriya was among them, his nerves bubbling over as he clutched his bag tightly. For him, this day had been a lifelong dream, but now that he was here, the sheer magnitude of it was almost too much to handle.

Standing beside him, (Y/N) was the polar opposite. His posture was relaxed, his gaze detached as if the massive gates and prestigious reputation of UA were just another backdrop in his otherwise mundane life.

“You’re doing that nervous thing with your hands again,” (Y/N) muttered, not even looking at Izuku.

Izuku immediately flinched, shoving his fidgeting hands into his pockets. “I can’t help it! I mean, this is UA! The UA! What if I mess up on the first day? What if someone—”

“Chill,” (Y/N) interrupted flatly. “No one cares as much as you think they do. You passed, didn’t you? You’re here, aren’t you? Just don’t trip over your own feet, and you’ll be fine.”

Izuku blinked at him, his mouth opening to argue but closing just as quickly. He knew (Y/N) wasn’t wrong, but the bluntness was still jarring.

The classroom for Class 1-A was huge, with desks neatly arranged and a commanding podium at the front. The moment Izuku stepped inside, his nerves spiked. Students were scattered around the room, chatting, sizing each other up, or silently observing.

“Move,” (Y/N) said, brushing past him to take a seat near the back by the window. He sank into his chair as if it had been waiting specifically for him, resting his chin on his hand with a far-off look in his eyes.

Izuku scrambled to find a seat nearby, eventually settling in the one directly in front of (Y/N). His hands gripped his bag tightly as he tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

The noise in the room grew louder as more students arrived, some conversations growing heated. A tall boy with glasses and a rigid posture was confronting someone at the front of the room—a boy with ash-blonde hair and a permanent scowl.

“You need to check your attitude!” the boy with glasses barked, his hand slicing the air dramatically.

“Shut the hell up, extra,” Bakugo snarled, his crimson eyes blazing with irritation. He leaned back in his chair, smirking arrogantly. “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to waste my time on losers like you. Go sit down before you embarrass yourself.”

The glasses-wearing boy turned red but seemed to decide it wasn’t worth pushing further. He stormed off to his seat, muttering under his breath.

Bakugo’s sharp gaze swept the room, landing on Izuku. His smirk widened into something far more menacing. “Deku,” he growled, practically spitting the nickname.

Izuku tensed in his seat, clutching his bag as if it could shield him.

Bakugo’s eyes shifted to (Y/N), who hadn’t even glanced his way. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

(Y/N) finally turned his head, his expression unreadable. “Someone who doesn’t have time for whatever daddy issues,”

The ash haired boy growls— something (Y/N) notes down, “Mommy issues it is, and childhood drama you’re trying to stir up,” he said, his voice calm but laced with a subtle edge.

Bakugo bristled, his smirk faltering for a split second. “What’d you just say, you—”

Before he could finish, the door slid open, and a disheveled man in a yellow sleeping bag shuffled into the room.

The room fell silent as the man unzipped himself and stood, his tired eyes sweeping over the class.

“It took you eight seconds to quiet down,” he said flatly. “That won’t cut it.”

Izuku whispered, “Is that… Eraser Head?”

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the man with mild curiosity.

“I’m Shota Aizawa, your homeroom teacher,” the man continued. “Put these on and meet me outside.” He dropped a pile of gym uniforms onto the podium and walked out without another word.

The quirk assessment test was going to be grueling to say the least, or at least that’s what some of the students were thinking. Aizawa didn’t waste time with pleasantries or introductions, instead throwing the students into trial after trial to gauge their abilities.

The 50-meter dash was up first, and the students lined up to showcase their speed. Bakugo, as usual, was itching to show off. When his turn came, he launched himself forward with a burst of explosions from his palms, rocketing down the track and finishing with an impressive time.

“4.13 seconds. Not bad,” Aizawa said lazily, jotting it down.

Bakugo smirked, throwing a cocky glance at the others. “Let’s see any of you extras beat that.”

(Y/N) approached the starting line, his expression as blank as always. He didn’t react to Bakugo’s words or the murmurs from the class, his body language relaxed and unhurried, almost as though he were bored.

“Let’s see what the so-called maid boy’s got,” Bakugo muttered, smirking again.

Did Bakugo remember who (Y/N) was in class? Yes— in what world would even bother to forget that maid boy who he challenged back in middle school just to get his ass handed back to him on a silver platter. It was embarrassing but it was also a lesson bakugo would never forget— so he trained.

He trained and trained, and strained his muscles. There were days he’ll pass out and his father would carry him inside and lay a cold rag on his forehead to cool him off, days when he’ll have to rest his hands in buckets of ice water to cool off as his mother yelled and berated him for being a brat and overworking himself, he’ll yell back but the argument would never go on for long.

It was simply his mother’s way of showing her love for him— though aggressive, as for him he simply wouldn’t have the energy to spare.

His only thoughts were to beat that ‘maid ass extra’ and be Number 1.

But— don’t get it twisted just because (Y/N) more or less was in the boys mind 24/7; it’s giving fanboy. He wouldn’t give that extra the satisfaction of knowing he remembered him.

When the signal went off, (Y/N) moved—and the world seemed to blur around him.

He wasn’t just fast—he was blinding. His feet didn’t pound the ground so much as skim across it, as if gravity barely applied to him. Each step was a fluid, seamless motion, too swift for the eye to fully follow. To the students, it was like he vanished, leaving only faint traces of movement in his wake. The rush of air trailing behind him felt almost deafening, as though the sound itself was trying to catch up and failing miserably.

The timer beeped sharply at the finish line. Aizawa stared at the time displayed for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly in intrigue. “0.43 seconds.”

There was dead silence. Even Bakugo, who had been smug only moments before, froze mid-sneer. The other students’ mouths hung open, their disbelief written across their faces.

“What?” Bakugo barked, his hands sparking with irritation. “No way in hell that’s right!”

(Y/N) walked back toward the group, not sparing anyone so much as a glance. His breathing was steady, his expression as calm and detached as ever. To him, it was as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

As he passed Bakugo, he lazily adjusted his gloves and muttered under his breath, “Huh. Felt slow.”

The explosive blonde’s face turned a furious shade of red. “What did you say, you damn extra?!”

But (Y/N) was already walking away, his eyes fixed on the horizon, clearly uninterested in engaging.

“Interesting,” Aizawa murmured, jotting something down. He didn’t say anything else, but his gaze lingered on (Y/N) for a moment longer than usual, as though piecing together a puzzle no one else could see.

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 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.

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 3

The city was alive with the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlights flickering to life as the sun dipped below the horizon. Shadows stretched long against the pavement, and the air held a crispness that signaled the transition from evening to night.

Izuku Midoriya walked home, his mind swirling with thoughts, emotions tangled like frayed wires. The day had been relentless. His chest still felt tight from the weight of Katsuki’s words, the sting of burnt pages lingering in his hands like ghostly remnants.

He barely noticed the shift in the air—how it grew heavier, how the streetlights flickered unnaturally.

Not until it was too late.

A gurgling, wet sound slithered into his ears.

Then—

A thick, putrid mass exploded from the shadows, lunging at him with a sickening squelch.

The world tilted.

He barely had time to react before something thick, suffocating, and vile wrapped around his body, sliding over his limbs like living tar. The smell was unbearable—rotting sewage mixed with something acrid and unnatural. His arms flailed, but his hands found no purchase, slipping uselessly through the gelatinous substance.

His lungs seized.

It was inside his mouth. His throat.

He tried to scream, but only a muffled, strangled sound escaped.

“A small fry like you will make a good cover,” the creature’s voice gurgled, words distorted as though spoken through bubbling liquid. “Just stop squirming, and this will be over soon…”

The edges of his vision blurred. His heart pounded against his ribs in rapid, panicked beats.

No—No, I can’t—!

Just as darkness began creeping at the corners of his mind—

A gust of wind exploded through the alley.

A deafening BOOM followed, like the very air had been torn apart. The pressure knocked the slime villain back, ripping it from Izuku’s body in one violent motion.

He hit the ground hard, gasping, his lungs finally dragging in air—burning, painful, glorious air.

His ears rang, his vision spun.

And then—

A figure loomed before him, silhouetted by the city lights.

“Fear not, young man!”

A voice boomed, powerful, unwavering—familiar.

Izuku’s breath hitched.

The world seemed to snap into place as his vision cleared, revealing the unmistakable figure standing tall before him.

“Because I am here!”

All Might.

A legend.

A living symbol.

He had seen this moment play out in his dreams a thousand times—All Might, standing before him, saving the day like he always did. But now? Now it was real.

His idol had just saved his life.

His vision blurred again—not from dizziness, but from the sheer weight of the moment. His body trembled with unprocessed adrenaline as he tried to push himself up, but before he could find his footing, darkness overtook him.

He fainted.

The next time his eyes opened, the world was still unsteady.

And yet—there he was.

All Might.

Standing mere feet away, larger than life, his bright grin as dazzling as ever.

Izuku scrambled to his knees, his breath catching in his throat. “A-Ah! I—!”

He reached for his notebook, fumbling for a pen, desperate—he needed an autograph, something, anything—

But when he flipped open the scorched pages—

It was already there.

All Might’s signature, scrawled across the page in bold strokes.

Izuku choked on his own breath, tears stinging at the edges of his vision.

“You’re safe now, young man,” All Might assured him, giving a thumbs-up.

And then, just like that, he turned to leave, dragging the villain’s remains with him.

No—Wait!

Panic surged in Izuku’s chest, desperation overtaking logic.

He couldn’t just let this moment end.

Before he could think, before he could stop himself—

He grabbed onto All Might’s leg.

The next thing he knew—

The ground disappeared.

Wind roared in his ears, his stomach lurched as he realized—

He was flying.

“Let go, young man!” All Might’s voice boomed, alarmed.

“I—I’ll die if I do!” Izuku clung tighter.

All Might’s face twitched, his grin straining, and then—blood.

A thick spurt of red leaked from his mouth.

Izuku’s eyes widened in horror.

Before he could react, All Might twisted in midair, scanning the cityscape before making a sharp descent.

They landed—hard—on an empty rooftop.

Izuku tumbled, rolling onto his back, gasping for breath.

All Might stood over him, looking…off.

Strange.

His body trembled slightly, his posture rigid.

And then—

He deflated.

Note : fucking balloons I tell ya. — Duolingo

Gone was the towering figure of muscle and might.

Before Izuku now stood a gaunt, sickly man, steam rising from his frail frame.

Izuku’s world cracked.

All Might sighed, wiping blood from his chin. “You had to ask something, didn’t you?”

Izuku swallowed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Can… someone without a Quirk… be a hero like you?”

Elsewhere… 

Back at the streets, the night deepened.

Katsuki Bakugo stood with his “friends,” though the term was loose at best.

“You might’ve gone too far, man.”

One of them spoke cautiously.

Katsuki scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tch. It’s his own damn fault.”

The others exchanged glances.

They had seen Izuku take a lot over the years, but today? Today was—different.

Katsuki didn’t care.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

What he didn’t notice, though—

Was the pair of eyes watching from the shadows.

Waiting.

Hunting.

“Heh. Get lost, kid. I already found me a meat suit!”

The slime villain gurgled, tightening its grip around Katsuki’s struggling form.

From the edge of the alley, a figure stepped into view.

Unbothered.

Unhurried.

(Y/N).

“Spanish or vanish.”

The villain paused.

For a moment, silence hung between them.

Then, to its credit—

“Hola?”

(Y/N) smirked.

Katsuki, however, wasn’t so lucky.

It’s not like he’s drowning in slime or anything.

Oh wait.

He is.

Imagine—lungs filled, oxygen cut off. The slow, excruciating realization that no matter how hard you struggle, no matter how much you claw, there’s no air left.

Imagine the sheer, burning agony of suffocation—not just from lack of breath, but from inside out. His skin tingles, his nerves alight with an eerie numbness as the sludge seeps into every crevice, clogging his throat, squeezing his chest, crawling behind his eyes—

He is dying.

And no one is there to save him.

Particles.

Bit by bit, Katsuki’s body began to disintegrate.

The slime villain froze.

Then—

There was nothing.

Just empty air where Katsuki once was.

The villain recoiled in confusion.

(Y/N), however—

Simply grinned.

“All in a day’s work.”

Spoken to no one in particular.

Just a statement.

A fact.

A predator’s satisfaction.

And where does that leave our lovable pomegranate dog? Gone? Vanished ? Perhaps he now resides elsewhere? Elsewhere like…

El Bosque de la Lengua Perdida.

(The Forest of the Lost Tongue.)

its a question i can't find you in quotev 😔💔

Awesomesauce, so thank you for asking such question, I’ll be happy to answer— so this is my profile right here

Link wise seedofdoubt