Bnha X Male Reader - Blog Posts

Detention

Bakugou.K x Delinquent Reader

Part 1?

You frequently found yourself in this predicament. You were currently sitting in detention, you had already finished the small worksheet they game to distract you so now you were sitting there half asleep.

You looked up at your detention teacher, Present Mic who was currently on his phone typing away. He felt your burning gaze and looked towards you.

"Don't look at me like that," Mic mumbled as he tried and avoid your stare. He was normally your partner in crime and he would help you with all your little pranks, but this time he just threw you under the bus.

But before you could answer him you heard a sound bang and you both heard a ding sound come from his phone, immediately he looked at the message before visibly relaxing and letting out an almost relieved sigh.

"I uhh gotta go!" He said as he hurried out the door leaving you alone in this room which was a terrible mistake on his part. You dusted chock powder on his seat waiting for him to return to the classroom.

About five minutes later he showed up with another student, he was ash blond with red volcanic eyes and an angry scowl across his face. The boy sat a few rows behind you his scowl never leaving his face, but you didn't care you were waiting for Mic to take his seat. But much to your dismay he started walking out of the class again, Stating he needed to write the student down.

"Damn," you mumbled upset your plan didn't work. Not wanting to think about the failed prank any longer you turned your attention to the ash-blond male.

"So what'd ya do?" You asked in a bored monotone voice, the ash-blond just glared at you before speaking in his gruff voice "why do you wanna know?" He asked annoyed by being here, you just smiled raising an eyebrow "I just wanted to know what a pretty boy like you did to get put in detention~," You replied the teasing and playful nature of your response clear in your voice and you saw his eye twitch, he opened his mouth to respond but you spoke before he could "So what did ya do pretty boy?" He was quick to retort this time "I HAVE A NAME YOU KNOW!" He shouted out his hands setting off little explosions, you lifted an eyebrow waiting for him to tell you, it took him a few seconds to realize you were waiting for his name "names Bakugo Katsuki" he stated proudly chest puffed out and head held high.

"Well then wanna tell me what ya did Suki?" You asked once more he tensed at the nickname but let it go, he huffed in annoyance "stupid shitty hair.." He grits his teeth his hand grabbing hold of the edge of the desk.

"well, what did he do?" You questioned the blond only for him to stare at his desk, the poor boy looked like he was having war flashbacks. He took a deep breath before explaining what the boy nicknamed shitty hair did to make him so angry. "The idiot learned how to keep his hardened quirk form longer, and he got the bright idea to test if he could find his own against my explosions," he then went on to explain how "shitty hair" started to just talk about things that annoyed him and just doing dumb things to piss him off.

"And when shitty hair started talking about that stupid Deku I-" he paused for a moment looking at you before continuing, "I set an explosion off in his face" he whispered looking away from you, the room went quiet for a few moments before you burst into laughter "SO- SO THAT'S WHAT T-THAT LOUD ASS BANG WAS!?" you were holding your belly laughing so hard it started to hurt. Seeing your joyful reaction to bakugo's actions he cracked a grin. "He's lucky he hardened just in time!" He announced making you laugh harder.

After that, you and bakugo's conversation shifted to all kinds of things. Like what class he is in, what kind of video games he likes to play after school, and even somehow managed to start talking about each others cooking skills, you had just finished telling him about why you were no longer allowed in the kitchen.

"You know, you're not as bad as these other extras!" He said as he wiped a tear from his eye, he had been laughing nonstop for the past five minutes, "I'm mean how the fuck does someone burn water?!" He said struggling to hold in his laughter,

"look man I don't even know-" you chuckled as covered your face with your hand.

You looked up at the clock seeing you still had half the time left. You Internationally groaned, wanting to slam your head on the desk.

However, you got a great idea and you smirked; you turned toward your new ash-blonde friend.

"Wanna get out of here Suki?" You asked him, he only side-eyed you thinking for a moment before making a decision.

"Where you wanna go?" He asked his voice was low and had a husk to it. You thought for a moment, where would you go?

You then got a bright idea and turned to the blonde, "you wanna go to my Dorm?" You asked, and the blonde smirked. He looked to a slight light pink dust covering his cheeks before looking back to you.

"Sure."

And just like that you and Katsuki stood up getting close together as you sneaked out of the classroom and slowly made your way out of school, by the end of it you two were holding hands as you walked out of the gates.

"I got some horror video games and movies we could watch and I got some snacks stashed away."

You said as you continued to walk towards your dorm room, Katsuki was still focused on your hands; your fingers intertwined fingers.

He could feel his palms getting sweaty, he needed to calm down.

"Yeah, sounds good..." He mumbled in response.

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 16

authors note : this was a Christmas special that I wrote over the course of 3 days, I know Christmas passed but I’ve been busy and having fun :)

masterlist

The warm glow of a fireplace flickered through the kitchen as the lively chatter of friends and family filled the air, blending with the heavenly aroma of baking cookies and simmering hot cocoa. Snow gently fell outside, blanketing the world in pristine white, but inside the Tokitō household, the atmosphere was a blend of warmth, cheer, and just a hint of chaos.

“Don’t forget to sift the flour, Muichiro!” (Y/N) instructed, carefully pouring brown sugar into a mixing bowl. His movements were calm and deliberate, in stark contrast to his younger brother, whose attention seemed to drift as he stared out the window, mesmerized by the falling snow.

“I know, I know,” Muichiro replied absentmindedly, though his hands mechanically sifted the flour into the bowl. He was quiet as always, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

(Y/N) shook his head, amused. “If you zone out and mix this wrong, we’ll have rocks instead of cookies.”

From across the kitchen, Tanjiro Kamado chuckled as he stirred a pot of steaming hot cocoa on the stove. “You two make a good team. Nezuko, don’t forget the marshmallows!”

Nezuko, her pink ribbon tied neatly in her hair, grinned brightly as she placed a jar of marshmallows on the counter. Though she didn’t speak, her expression radiated holiday cheer as she handed the jar to Tanjiro.

“Wow, you’re really on top of things, Nezuko,” complimented Suma, one of Tengen Uzui’s wives. Her cheerful voice cut through the bustling kitchen, where she stood alongside Makio and Hinatsuru. “Unlike Tengen, who somehow managed to burn toast this morning!”

“Hey, hey, don’t ruin my reputation in front of the kids!” Tengen retorted dramatically, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the counter. “Besides, I’m just here to supervise all this ‘flamboyant’ holiday spirit.”

Makio rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sure you are.”

“Can you all focus? These cookies won’t bake themselves,” (Y/N) said with a hint of exasperation, though his tone remained light. He passed Muichiro a whisk before moving to grab the chocolate chips.

Muichiro blinked, his gaze following his older brother. “What’s Christmas even about again?”

(Y/N) paused mid-step, turning to his brother with a rare softness in his gaze. “It’s about spending time with the people you care about and creating memories together. Like this.”

Muichiro tilted his head, pondering his brother’s words, while Tanjiro beamed. “Exactly! It’s about giving, kindness, and sharing joy.”

The door to the kitchen swung open suddenly, letting in a burst of cold air and raucous laughter. In walked Izuku Midoriya, his cheeks flushed from the cold, followed by Eijiro Kirishima and Katsuki Bakugo.

“Man, it smells amazing in here!” Kirishima exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. He immediately gravitated toward the tray of cookies waiting to go into the oven. “What are you guys making?”

“Cookies,” Muichiro said plainly, stirring the batter in the bowl.

“Hot cocoa too,” Tanjiro added with a warm smile, motioning to the pot.

“Hands off the tray, Kirishima,” (Y/N) said without looking up, his tone firm but not unkind. “They’re not done yet.”

“Aw, come on, man! You’re making it impossible not to sneak one.”

“Focus on not breaking the tray with your manly enthusiasm,” (Y/N) retorted dryly, earning a laugh from Tengen.

“Oi, quit fooling around!” Bakugo barked, scowling at the scene. “If we’re eating, we’re eating now. I didn’t come here to stand around!”

“Bakugo!” Izuku scolded, his hands flailing nervously. “Don’t be rude!”

“You guys just got here,” (Y/N) said coolly, leveling Bakugo with a sharp look. “You’ll wait like everyone else.”

The tension between the two boys was palpable until Muichiro suddenly held out a spoon covered in cookie dough to Bakugo. “Want some?”

Caught off guard, Bakugo blinked at the offering before grumbling and snatching the spoon. “Tch. Fine.”

As the laughter and chatter resumed, the kitchen once again filled with the comforting sounds of holiday preparation. Tengen clapped his hands together, his voice booming over the noise. “Alright, let’s wrap this up, people! We’ve got a feast to prepare, and it better be as flamboyant as it gets!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. For now, all was peaceful, and the warmth of the season brought everyone together, even if only for a little while.

The camaraderie in the kitchen spread like wildfire, spilling into the adjoining rooms where the rest of the guests had gathered. Snow continued to fall outside, but inside, the festive energy was unmatched. The gentle clinking of plates, the hum of cheerful conversation, and the occasional burst of laughter created an ambiance that was both comforting and nostalgic.

As (Y/N) slid a tray of freshly prepared cookies into the oven, he turned to find Nezuko holding a small tray of marshmallows toward him. She gestured to the pot of hot cocoa, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Fine, fine,” (Y/N) said, relenting to her silent request. He carefully picked up a handful of marshmallows and dropped them into the mugs Tanjiro was filling. “Happy now?”

Nezuko nodded enthusiastically before scurrying back to Tanjiro’s side.

“Man, she’s adorable,” Kirishima said, leaning against the counter. “This whole scene feels like one of those picture-perfect holiday movies. Makes me want to do this every year.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bakugo muttered, though he was still munching on the cookie dough Muichiro had handed him earlier.

Just then, a crash echoed from the living room, followed by Zenitsu’s panicked voice. “I-I swear I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Zenitsu!” Inosuke’s boisterous yell followed. “You broke the star, you idiot!”

(Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. “What did they do now?”

Tanjiro sighed but smiled apologetically. “I’ll go check.”

Before he could take a step, Tengen raised a hand. “Let me handle it. I’ve got three wives; I’m used to cleaning up chaos.” He winked, and his wives all rolled their eyes in unison.

As Tengen strode out of the kitchen to handle the mess, Muichiro turned to (Y/N), his expression as calm as ever. “Do you think they’ll actually fix it, or should we just expect more noise?”

“More noise,” (Y/N) replied without hesitation.

Meanwhile, Izuku stood awkwardly by the counter, observing the cheerful scene with a soft smile. “It’s amazing how close you all are. It’s like… you’ve always been a family.”

(Y/N) glanced at him, his expression neutral but not unkind. “That’s what happens when you fight to protect one another. Bonds are forged through fire.”

Izuku nodded thoughtfully, taking those words to heart.

“Alright, enough standing around!” Tengen’s voice boomed as he returned, dragging Zenitsu and Inosuke behind him. “The star’s fixed, and the tree looks flamboyant! Now let’s eat!”

Cheers erupted as the cookies were finally placed on a large platter, the hot cocoa poured into mugs, and everyone gathered around the table. The room was filled with a harmonious mix of voices from different walks of life—Hashira, students, and heroes alike.

As they all sat together, Tanjiro raised his mug. “To family, friends, and the bonds we share. Merry Christmas, everyone!”

A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” followed, and for that moment, all worries and struggles were forgotten.

From the corner of the room, (Y/N) quietly sipped his cocoa, a rare smile tugging at his lips. Muichiro sat beside him, leaning against his older brother, his expression peaceful.

For once, everything felt right… or maybe not.

The peace didn’t last long.

It started innocently enough—a stray spark from the fireplace, unnoticed amidst the laughter and clinking mugs. But then Inosuke, in his boundless enthusiasm, decided to show off his “decorating skills” by trying to climb the Christmas tree to hang an extra ornament at the very top.

“Get down from there, you idiot!” Zenitsu screeched, flailing his arms.

“You’re just jealous of my superior skills!” Inosuke roared back, one foot kicking wildly against the garland.

Before anyone could intervene, his reckless movement knocked over a lit candle from the nearby mantle. Time seemed to slow as the flame met the tree, the dry pine needles catching in an instant.

“FIRE!” Kaminari shouted, pointing dramatically.

The room descended into chaos. Nezuko jumped up, Tanjiro desperately fanned the flames with his hands, and Tengen shouted, “Grab the extinguisher!” But it was too late—the tree was engulfed, and the smoke alarm blared overhead.

“Everyone out!” Aizawa’s voice cut through the panic. His scarf whipped out, pulling Kaminari and Zenitsu by the backs of their shirts and dragging them toward the door.

Outside in the snow, everyone shivered as they watched the tree collapse into a smoldering heap.

“Well,” Tengen said, clapping his hands together. “There goes Christmas.”

“Not on my watch!” Kirishima said, his voice brimming with determination. “We can save this! We just need a new tree, more decorations, and maybe some extra food.”

“I’ll drive,” Tengen declared confidently, pulling out his keys.

“No, you’ll just make it worse,” Aizawa deadpanned. “We’ll split into teams. Divide and conquer.”

“Great idea!” Tanjiro agreed. “We can each take a different car and get what we need.”

The group quickly organized into teams:

           •           Team 1 (Tree Squad): Tanjiro, Inosuke, Bakugo, and Tengen. Their mission? Find the biggest and most flamboyant tree available.

           •           Team 2 (Decor Squad): Momo, Nezuko, Kirishima, and Present Mic. They were in charge of ornaments, garlands, and lights.

           •           Team 3 (Food Squad): (Y/N), Muichiro, Aizawa, and Zenitsu. Their task was to restock on snacks, hot cocoa, and anything else that had been ruined in the chaos.

The teams piled into separate cars, the adults taking the driver’s seats.

“Let’s make this the manliest Christmas ever!” Kirishima shouted, fist-pumping from the passenger seat of Present Mic’s van.

“I’LL FIND THE BEST TREE!” Inosuke bellowed from the back of Tengen’s flashy SUV.

“I don’t trust any of you,” Aizawa muttered, rubbing his temple as he turned the key in the ignition. (Y/N) sat silently beside him, arms crossed, while Muichiro leaned against the window, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos.

As the cars sped off in different directions, the snow fell heavier, and the countdown to saving Christmas officially began.

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 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 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 11

masterlist

The memory came like a fleeting shadow sweeping across (Y/N)’s mind as he stood on the UA training grounds. It wasn’t often that his thoughts wandered—his focus tended to remain in the here and now—but this time, the sensation of blinding speed brought him back to a particular moment, years before he ever set foot in this world.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The training field was alive with the sounds of movement—quick, sharp, and rhythmic. The clang of steel echoed through the air, mingling with the light chatter and occasional scolding of Tengen Uzui’s wives in the background. Tengen himself stood at the center of the chaos, the sun gleaming off his twin blades and his elaborate headpiece as he crossed his arms, smirking at the younger boy standing a few feet away.

(Y/N), younger but no less stoic, stood poised with a wooden training sword in hand, his breaths steady but shallow, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. His usually calm demeanor was disrupted by exhaustion that tugged at his limbs.

“Again,” Tengen commanded, his deep voice cutting through the soundscape like a drumbeat. “You’re fast, kid, no doubt about it. But if you’re going to make it flashy enough to keep up with me, you’ll need more than just speed. Show me precision. Show me style!”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, at least not verbally. His blank expression barely shifted as he tightened his grip on the sword, his legs shifting slightly in preparation. He was tired—bone-tired—but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not while Uzui was watching.

In a blur of motion, Tengen vanished, his speed so great that even the sound of his sandals hitting the ground was delayed. (Y/N) barely caught the movement in his peripheral vision, his instincts screaming at him to react. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the edge of Tengen’s blade, and sprang backward, his body moving purely on muscle memory.

“Not bad,” Tengen said, his voice surprisingly close, though his form was now perched on a nearby rock. “But not good enough!” He lunged again, this time faster, his movements a chaotic symphony of speed and power.

(Y/N) darted to the side, his wooden sword coming up to deflect the strike. The impact rattled through his arms, and he staggered slightly, but he managed to stay upright. The world around him was a blur—each of Tengen’s movements was a challenge to track, let alone counter.

From the sidelines, Tengen’s wives watched with varying degrees of concern and encouragement.

“Hina, look at him! He’s going to fall over any second!” Suma whined, clutching her hands to her chest. “We should stop this!”

Makio, far less sympathetic, crossed her arms with a huff. “Stop babying him, Suma. He’s fine. Right, Hina?”

Hina, ever the composed one, placed a calming hand on Suma’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Lord Tengen wouldn’t push him if he couldn’t handle it. Trust him.”

“No babying him my lovely wives!” Tengen called out without breaking stride, his voice as commanding as ever yet still respectful— because yes, tengen drinks his respect woman juice daily…especially from the breast of his wives.

“He doesn’t need your pity. What he needs is determination. Isn’t that right, young (L/N)?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, but his actions spoke for him. He took a deep breath, his form lowering slightly as he focused. This time, his movements were sharper, quicker, and more deliberate. He surged forward, his wooden sword slicing through the air in a strike aimed at Tengen’s midsection.

The Sound Hashira blocked it easily, though there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad, kid! But you’re still too slow if you want to match this!”

Tengen moved again, faster than before, his form a blur of color and sound. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, his breathing steadying as he switched tactics. His legs propelled him forward in a burst of speed that left even Tengen momentarily caught off guard. He pivoted at the last second, his sword slashing upward in a motion so fluid and quick that the air itself seemed to ripple.

For a brief moment, (Y/N) moved as if he were sound—his body a whisper of motion, too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

He landed several feet away, his sword lowered, his breaths heavy but even. The faintest hint of satisfaction flickered across his usually indifferent face.

Tengen, now standing a few paces away, let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “That’s more like it! I knew you had it in you, young (L/N)! You might even be able to keep up with me one day!”

Before the moment could sink in, the memory fractured, fading away like mist in the wind.

(Y/N)’s gaze refocused, the present coming back into sharp relief. His breathing was as steady as ever, but for the briefest moment, there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. It was gone before anyone could notice.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

“0.43 seconds,” Aizawa repeated from across the training grounds, his tone as indifferent as ever but his eyes sharp with intrigue.

And for a moment, as Bakugo’s furious sputtering filled the air, (Y/N) thought back to Uzui’s voice—“I knew you could do it.”

As the rest of the class stared at the board displaying (Y/N)’s impossible 0.43-second time, he casually walked over to stand beside Izuku, whose expression betrayed a mix of awe and nervousness. Izuku’s green eyes darted toward Bakugo, whose smug confidence had turned into a scowl, his fists clenching and crackling with small explosions.

“It’s your turn,” (Y/N) said simply, glancing at Izuku. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of expectation in his voice.

Izuku swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. “Right. My turn…” He stepped forward as Aizawa called his name, his hands trembling slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” (Y/N) added, not looking directly at him. “Ignore the brat.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Bakugo, who froze mid-sneer, his teeth grinding audibly.

Izuku glanced at (Y/N), a flicker of gratitude crossing his face, though it quickly faded as the next test began.

Izuku nodded hesitantly, the words giving him a small but noticeable boost of confidence. He stepped up to the starting line, but as the whistle blew and his legs carried him forward, it was clear he wasn’t anywhere near the speeds his classmates had achieved. His movements were clumsy, lacking the precision and strength needed to keep up with the others.

By the time he crossed the finish line, panting and red-faced, the results were as underwhelming as he’d feared. Bakugo’s barking laughter cut through the silence.

“Hah! You call that running, Deku? Even the extras here could beat that!” Bakugo sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, his confidence wavering, but before Bakugo could press further, (Y/N)’s calm voice broke through.

“Focus on yourself,” (Y/N) said coldly, his disinterest cutting deeper than any insult could. “You’re wasting energy trying to prove something to people who don’t care.”

“Who are you calling a brat, huh?! I’ll—” Bakugo started, but (Y/N) cut him off with a flat look.

“I said focus on yourself brat.”

Bakugo flinched at the cold look thrown his way, his glare sharpening, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The tests that followed were grueling, with the students pushed to their limits in various physical and quirk-based activities. Bakugo, true to his fiery nature, remained loud and aggressive, barking out challenges to the rest of the class. “Come on, you extras! I know you can do better than that—oh wait, you can’t!”

(Y/N), however, was unfazed. Every time Bakugo tried to outdo the rest of the class, (Y/N) would step in silently and match or surpass his score, his actions speaking louder than words. Whether it was the standing long jump, grip strength test, or sidesteps, (Y/N) completed them with an effortless precision that left Bakugo’s boasts hanging in the air.

Izuku, on the other hand, struggled with each test. His lack of control over One For All, coupled with his already limited physical capabilities, left him at the bottom of nearly every ranking. And yet, through it all, (Y/N) stayed close by, watching Izuku’s efforts with an analytical gaze.

“You’re relying too much on instinct,” (Y/N) said during one test, his voice low so only Izuku could hear. “You’ll never get better if you don’t train your body and mind to handle the strain. I’ll change up your training regimen next time. No more excuses.”

Izuku shivered at the thought, memories of their last training session flashing through his mind. (Y/N) had left him gasping for air, bruised but somehow inspired, and it seemed he was about to go through it all again.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Izuku stammered, more nervous than ever.

“Good.” (Y/N)’s faint smirk was the only sign he was pleased.

By the time the pitching test—the final event—rolled around, Izuku was already dreading the outcome. As expected, Bakugo was the first to land an impressive throw, his explosion-boosted pitch soaring far into the distance.

“Beat that, extras!” he shouted, grinning wickedly as the rest of the class took their turns.

When it was Izuku’s turn, the murmurs of doubt began almost immediately. “He’s going to fail again,” someone whispered.

Izuku held the ball nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of everyone’s expectations—or lack thereof—felt heavier than the ball itself.

“You’re useless, Deku!” Bakugo shouted from the sidelines, his voice sharp and cutting. “What’re you even doing here? Just throw it and get it over with!”

Izuku hesitated, the familiar sting of Bakugo’s words settling deep in his chest. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught (Y/N)’s gaze.

“You know what to do,” (Y/N) said calmly, his arms crossed as he stood watching.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku channeled the small amount of One For All he had access to into his arm, careful not to let the power spread too far. His grip tightened on the ball as he raised it. This is it.

With a determined shout, Izuku threw the ball, the sheer force of One For All sending it flying further than anyone expected. The class went silent as the ball finally landed, the distance displayed on the screen.

Even Bakugo’s usual commentary was replaced by stunned silence, though it didn’t last long.

“WHAT THE HELL, DEKU?!” Bakugo roared, his explosions crackling violently in his palms. “You’ve been lying this whole time?! You’ve got a Quirk?!”

Izuku barely had time to stammer out a response before Bakugo lunged at him, explosions lighting up his path. Before he could reach Izuku, Aizawa’s scarf shot out, wrapping around Bakugo and pinning him in place.

“Enough,” Aizawa said flatly, his Quirk already erasing Bakugo’s. “Control yourself, or you’ll be expelled before the day’s over.”

Bakugo growled in frustration, but he stopped struggling, his glare never leaving Izuku.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) stepped up beside Izuku, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

Izuku nodded quickly, allowing (Y/N) to guide him back toward the rest of the class. His heart was still pounding, but for the first time, it wasn’t entirely out of fear.

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.

⬐ 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

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

breathing forms (not a chapter more so information)

chapter 16

chapter 17

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 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.

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 7

masterlist

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its silvery glow through the partially open window of Izuku’s room. The sounds of the city outside were faint, muffled by the gentle breeze that swayed the curtains. Inside, the room was quiet, save for the scratching of a pencil against paper as Izuku jotted down notes in his hero analysis notebook.

(Y/N) was sprawled out on the floor, leaning against the bedframe with a book in hand, though his focus wasn’t entirely on the pages. He wasn’t much of a reader, but he didn’t mind accompanying Izuku in these late-night study sessions. It was a routine by now—Izuku doing his best to prepare for the future, and (Y/N) being… well, (Y/N).

“Hey, (Y/N)?” Izuku’s voice broke the silence, tentative and soft.

(Y/N) didn’t look up from his book, his gaze still fixed on the words he wasn’t really reading. “Hm?”

Izuku hesitated, tapping his pencil against his notebook. “The UA entrance exams… they’re coming up soon.”

(Y/N) gave a vague grunt in response, neither encouraging nor dismissive. It was just enough to show he was listening.

Izuku took a deep breath, the weight of his nerves evident in the way his voice wavered. “I mean… this is it. UA is the first step toward becoming a real hero. I’ve been working so hard for this, and I know Toshinori believes in me, but…” He trailed off, his hand tightening around the pencil.

(Y/N) finally glanced up, his expression unreadable.

Izuku continued, his words spilling out in a rush. “But what if I mess up? What if all this training wasn’t enough? What if—”

“Stop.” (Y/N)’s voice was firm, cutting through Izuku’s rambling. He didn’t say more, but the single word was enough to make Izuku pause and take a shaky breath.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that felt heavier than words. Then Izuku spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “It’s just… it’s scary, you know? Going alone. I mean, I know I’ll be surrounded by other people, but it’s not the same. You’ve always been there, even when I didn’t ask you to be. So…” He hesitated, then looked up, meeting (Y/N)’s gaze. “Would you… maybe want to come with me?”

A few moments of silence goes by, “For old time’s sake?” Izuku adds rather awkwardly. 

(Y/N) didn’t respond right away. He leaned his head back against the bedframe, staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Izuku fidgeted, his fingers tapping nervously against the notebook.

After what felt like an eternity, (Y/N) finally spoke. “For old time’s sake, huh?” His tone was unreadable, but there was a hint of something softer beneath his usual indifference.

Izuku nodded quickly. “Yeah. I mean, you don’t have to do anything. Just… be there. Like always.”

(Y/N) closed his book with a soft thud and stood up, stretching lazily. “Fine,” he said, his tone casual as if agreeing to something much smaller than accompanying Izuku to one of the most significant moments of his life. “But if you think I’m gonna hold your hand the whole time, you’re out of your mind.”

Izuku let out a nervous laugh, relief washing over him. “I wasn’t going to ask that! Just having you there is enough.”

(Y/N) smirked faintly, grabbing his sword from where it leaned against the wall. “Good. Because I’ve got better things to do than babysit.”

But as (Y/N) turned away, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Izuku didn’t see it, but it was there—a subtle acknowledgment of their bond.

• timeskip •

The gates of UA were even more imposing in person than they were in the pictures. The massive archway loomed over the crowd of prospective students, each one brimming with a mix of excitement and nerves. Izuku and (Y/N) stood just outside the entrance, taking it all in.

Izuku was practically vibrating with nervous energy, clutching his notebook tightly to his chest. “This is it,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “The start of everything…”

(Y/N), on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed. He had his hands in the pockets of his maid uniform, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“You’re gonna wear yourself out before you even get inside,” (Y/N) said, glancing at Izuku.

Izuku gave a sheepish laugh. “I can’t help it. This is UA! The number one hero school! I just… I don’t want to mess up.”

“You won’t,” (Y/N) said simply.

Before Izuku could respond, the crowd began to move, and the two of them followed the flow of students through the gates. The atmosphere inside was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation.

As they entered the main hall, a booming voice echoed through the space, drawing everyone’s attention. Present Mic stood at the front of the room, his energetic demeanor instantly filling the room with excitement. He explained the rules of the practical exam, detailing how students would earn points by taking down villain bots while avoiding penalties for harming “civilians.”

Izuku listened intently, scribbling notes in his notebook, while (Y/N) leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he scanned the room. His gaze lingered on a few students who stood out to him but other than that he made no move to interact with them.

When the briefing ended, the students were led to the testing grounds. The large, sprawling cityscape was an impressive sight, with towering buildings and narrow alleyways designed to test the students’ abilities.

(Y/N) and Izuku stood side by side at the starting line, surrounded by other examinees. Izuku was practically shaking, his eyes darting around as he tried to come up with a strategy.

“Relax,” (Y/N) said, his voice calm. “You’ve got this. Just remember what we’ve been training for.”

Izuku nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Then the signal blared, and chaos erupted.

The students scattered, each one sprinting into the city to hunt down villain bots. Izuku hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the exam, but (Y/N) gave him a light shove.

“Go,” he said. “Don’t waste time.”

Izuku nodded again and took off, determination replacing his nerves. (Y/N) watched him go, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He didn’t move right away, instead taking his time to assess the situation. The other students were focused on taking down as many bots as possible, but (Y/N) noticed something they didn’t—the subtle patterns in how the bots moved, the way they seemed to respond to the students’ actions.

“Amateurs,” he muttered under his breath, drawing his sword.

With a single swift motion, he launched himself into the fray, his blade slicing through a group of villain bots with precision and ease. He moved like a shadow, his movements almost too fast to follow as he cut through the bots one by one.

Despite the chaos around him, (Y/N) remained calm, his focus unwavering. He didn’t go after the bots for points—he was here for one reason only: to watch over Izuku. And as he moved through the city, taking down any bot that got too close to his friend, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.

Izuku was doing well, well as well as someone who hasn’t run into any boys And though (Y/N) would never admit it out loud, he was glad he had decided to tag along.

After all, some habits were hard to break.

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.

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.

chapter 4

masterlist

For the past few weeks, (Y/N) had been following Izuku around at Inko’s request. He didn’t mind; it wasn’t like it was an inconvenience. Izuku, unlike most kids (Y/N) had seen, seemed to have a deep drive to train, to push himself harder each day. (Y/N) wasn’t exactly sure what the boy’s goal was, but he was doing what Inko had asked—keeping an eye on him and making sure he didn’t push himself too far.

Izuku was dedicated to his training, even though no one knew about his secret sessions with All Might. The boy didn’t seem to let anything stop him. Most days, (Y/N) just watched from a distance, staying on the sidelines. He didn’t train, didn’t offer advice, and didn’t try to get involved. He simply observed, letting Izuku do his thing, as the task requested of him. It was simple enough.

Today was no different. Izuku was pushing himself hard, sweat dripping down his face, his breath coming in heavy gasps. (Y/N) remained quiet, watching the boy stretch and catch his breath. It wasn’t until Izuku stopped, his brow furrowing, that (Y/N) took notice. The boy looked over his shoulder, a mix of curiosity and suspicion in his eyes.

“Hey,” Izuku called out. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Why do you always follow me around? You don’t train, you just watch me. Why do you keep tagging along like this?”

(Y/N) didn’t show any signs of surprise, as though the question had been expected. He tilted his head slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Inko asked me to keep an eye on you,” (Y/N) answered, his tone calm and steady, though there was no real warmth to it. “She’s worried you don’t have enough people your age around, so I’m here to make sure you’re alright.”

Izuku blinked, his face a little confused. “So… You’re here just because my mom asked you to? Like, as a favor?”

(Y/N) could sense the hurt starting to settle in Izuku’s voice. There was an undertone of disappointment in the boy’s words that wasn’t hard to miss. Still, (Y/N) didn’t react to it. This was just the way things were, wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” (Y/N) replied, not sugar-coating anything. “She’s just worried about your social life, or the lack of one. Thought it’d be good if you had someone around.”

Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, and he stared down at the ground, not saying anything for a moment. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “So… you’re only here because my mom asked you to? You’re just… a babysitter, huh?”

(Y/N) didn’t respond immediately. He could see Izuku’s discomfort, the hurt settling over him like a heavy blanket. But there was something about the way Izuku asked that made (Y/N) pause. The boy seemed so vulnerable in that moment, even though he was still trying to keep his usual determination intact.

“I guess you could say that,” (Y/N) said, his voice neutral. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. He couldn’t exactly explain the real reason he’d agreed to stay around. It was too complicated for words, and besides, what good would it do to burden Izuku with the details?

Izuku’s eyes were glistening with tears now, his expression wobbling between confusion and sadness. “So… you’re not really here because you want to be my friend? You’re just doing this because my mom told you to?”

The raw emotion in Izuku’s voice almost caught (Y/N) off guard. His instincts told him to brush it off, to not get involved. But he couldn’t ignore the way Izuku’s words cut through the calm exterior.

(Y/N) exhaled sharply, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “Inko asked me to keep an eye on you because… well, you’re the first kid my age I’ve seen in a while. Most people I work for don’t have kids my age, so when she mentioned you, I thought… why not? It seemed interesting to me, is all.”

Izuku stared at him, blinking through the tears now falling freely. “You mean… you wanted to hang out with me because… you don’t have anyone else your age around?”

(Y/N) nodded, his gaze shifting away from Izuku for a moment, briefly distracted by the changing clouds in the sky. There was a strange, almost peaceful quality to the moment, but he quickly snapped his attention back to Izuku. “Yeah. Maybe. I thought… it might be good to have someone around my age to talk to.”

Izuku’s breath hitched, and he took a shaky step forward, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “That… that would be really nice, you know? I don’t really have any friends. I thought… maybe I was just too weird, too different for anyone to want to be friends with me.” His voice cracked slightly, his tears flowing faster.

(Y/N) was silent, watching the boy’s tears fall in a steady stream. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything that would make it better. Izuku was so open, so vulnerable in that moment. And yet, (Y/N) couldn’t bring himself to be the one to comfort him.

“Are you sure?” Izuku whispered, his eyes wide, as if searching for any trace of sincerity. “You really want to be my friend?”

(Y/N) didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t want to lie outright, but he also didn’t want to hurt the boy. So, instead, he said nothing, merely giving him a small nod, as if it would somehow be enough.

Izuku’s expression softened slightly, his tears still coming, but this time it seemed like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked up at (Y/N), his lips quivering as a small smile formed. “I’d really like that… I really would.”

(Y/N) blinked, an odd sensation settling in his chest. The smile on Izuku’s face was so genuine, so filled with hope that for a moment, he found himself unsure of how to react. There was a tug in his heart, something unfamiliar. It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before.

Izuku continued to cry, but now, it wasn’t out of sadness—it was a relief, a sense of something real, finally. And for the briefest of moments, (Y/N) almost felt the need to pat him on the back, to say something reassuring. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t good at that.

Instead, his gaze drifted upward, and he saw a cloud drifting lazily through the sky. It was a peaceful, slow-moving thing, white and fluffy. “Huh,” (Y/N) muttered, almost to himself, “I wonder what kind of cloud that is.”

Izuku, still sniffling, didn’t respond immediately, as he was lost in his own thoughts. (Y/N) looked at him for a moment longer, his eyes softening just a little, but he quickly turned his attention back to the sky. The cloud had already moved past, leaving nothing but a small memory of its presence.

“Maybe… maybe it’s a sign,” Izuku whispered, his voice still shaky but filled with a small flicker of hope.

(Y/N) didn’t reply. Instead, he just looked at the sky, his mind drifting along with the cloud, unsure of what the future held, but for once, his thoughts weren’t entirely clouded with indifference.

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.

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 2

masterlist

The quiet of the early morning was broken only by the sound of Izuku Midoriya’s footsteps as he trudged home, sweat dripping from his brow and his legs aching after another grueling training session with All Might. His hoodie clung to him, damp with effort, and his mind buzzed with thoughts of how to improve his techniques.

As he reached his front door, he paused. From inside, he could hear the warm, melodic sound of his mother’s laughter. It was rare for her to laugh so freely, given how much she worried about him and his hero dreams. Curious and slightly confused, Izuku pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Mom?” he called out, slipping off his shoes and setting his bag by the door.

“In here, sweetie!” Inko’s voice chimed from the kitchen, her tone light and cheerful.

Izuku followed the sound, the ache in his legs forgotten for the moment. As he stepped into the kitchen, he stopped short, his green eyes widening at the sight before him.

Seated at the table with his mother was someone he didn’t recognize. At first glance, he thought it was a girl—long, flowing black-and-teal hair framed their face, and they wore a perfectly fitted maid dress that flared out slightly at the knees. Their delicate features were smooth and symmetrical, with porcelain skin that almost seemed to glow in the soft light.

“Oh, Izuku!” Inko said, turning to him with a bright smile. “You’re back early! Did training go okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” Izuku replied automatically, his gaze flickering back to the stranger sitting at the table.

Inko followed his gaze, then gestured toward the person beside her. “Izuku, this is (Y/N). He’s our new maid!” she said brightly.

The word “he” made Izuku’s brain screech to a halt. His jaw slackened as he blinked at the figure sitting across from his mother.

“Huh?” he muttered, unable to process what she’d just said.

The stranger—(Y/N)—turned his head slightly to meet Izuku’s gaze. His movements were slow, deliberate, and calm. Cool teal eyes framed by impossibly long lashes locked onto Izuku’s green ones.

“Hello,” (Y/N) said softly, his tone even and composed.

The voice hit Izuku like a punch to the gut. Low, smooth, and unmistakably masculine. He blinked again, his gaze darting back to the maid dress, then to the delicate face, and back again. His mind struggled to reconcile what he was seeing with what he was hearing.

“Wait,” Izuku began slowly, his voice rising an octave as he pointed at (Y/N). “He… he’s a boy?”

(Y/N) tilted his head slightly, his expression calm and unreadable. “Yes,” he replied simply.

“HUH?!” Izuku squealed, the sound echoing through the small house.

Inko jumped slightly, startled by his outburst. “Izuku, calm down!” she said, though she couldn’t help but laugh softly.

Izuku’s face burned a bright red as he pointed frantically at (Y/N). “But—he—he’s wearing a maid dress!”

(Y/N) blinked slowly, his teal eyes never leaving Izuku’s. “It’s comfortable,” he said, his voice steady and unbothered.

Izuku gawked, his mind still short-circuiting. The calmness in (Y/N)’s voice and demeanor only made the situation feel more surreal.

“See?” Inko said, smiling at her son. “He’s been so helpful already! I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

Izuku’s gaze flicked back to his mother, his face still bright red. “M-mom,” he stammered, lowering his voice, “we need to talk about this later.”

Inko chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Izuku. You’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to—” Izuku cut himself off with a groan, running a hand through his messy hair. He turned back to (Y/N), who was now calmly sipping tea as though none of this chaos involved him.

(Y/N) met Izuku’s gaze again, his expression as calm and unreadable as before. “Do you need something?” he asked, his tone polite but detached.

“N-no!” Izuku squeaked, shaking his head furiously. “I-I’m fine!”

“Good,” (Y/N) replied, setting his teacup down with precise care.

Izuku groaned again and stomped out of the kitchen, his face still burning. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to “get used to” this, but one thing was certain: this was going to be weird.

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.

Hello..!

may God bless you. I am the father of a family of 3 people, the oldest of whom is 4 years old and the youngest of whom is 1 year and 3 months old.

We live in very difficult conditions in Gaza and there is a wave of displacement from one place to another. I hope you will help me, if you please, even with the very least, because things in Gaza are difficult and life and living are very expensive.

gofundme.com

Spende für Support Oudah Family, organisiert von Hamd Oudah

Hello, I am Hamed from Gaza, a father of two. My family and I are enduring a life marked by… Hamd Oudah braucht deine Unterstützung für Su

Please help my family from the war

You guessed it guys. Another idea. I just got black myth: wukong (great game btw been wanting to play it) and I thought of what about a various marvel or DC (or bnha) x male sun wukong reader. Like he's a mischievous easygoing blunt monkey man cuz honestly despite him being a monkey in the game he be looking great. And he used the staff and can shape shift into literally anything and I guess see the dead or something and control clouds and stuff. Heck you can do a monster poly tf 141 au x him too (like maybe he's an experiment or something or made half monkey or maybe he's a guy who found the staff artifact and became sun wukong overnight or maybe he was buried in ice and discovered by the Russians deep in the tundra or permafrost and they put a collar on him forcing him to be a mercenary or they had him in a tube and the tf 141 was sent to recover him or something idk) also I feel like he'd be a power bottom or a switch. This probably isn't one of my best ideas and I kinda just somewhat thought this one out. Ooo also god of war x him would work to or even record of Ragnarok x him because honestly I love Buddha from that show and Jack and Hermes and other characters or even jjk x him like he's a spirit or casted from wherever he's from (don't know enough about sun wukong) and the energy blast alerted everyone and he meets gojo because of that or sukuna goes wild in Yuji trying to go find him or some sorcerers uncovered his shrine somewhere and they're sent out all beat up and gojo is sent or something

Here's a gif of the man because why not

Someone please write this and tag me in it or something like please and I would die if you based his appearance on the pic. Cod idea version is below two parts. Please continue reading.

Ugh I wanna read a MHA blharem fanfic where the MC is suicidal (in a funny but also like dark way) but he has stupidly good luck that keeps anything bad from happening to him, like to the point bullets dodge him and hit the opponent type luck or a bird will come outta nowhere and take a hit for him, or the knife he uses to try to kill himself with breaks or is super dull, or the pills suddenly expire, or a hero always swoops in when he jumps and that's how he meets heros or something. Just stupidly good luck but bad in his opinion and he keeps on stumbling into villain attacks and his luck makes it like he did something to stop it like a villains attack will suddenly cancel or malfunction or a large gust of wind will blow the villain down, successfully making it look like the MC has multiple quirks or something. Other than his suicide attempts drawing attention to himself, he trys his best to be completely invisible. I seriously need more books rn, MHA has such cool characters and there's so much potential for inserts but almost none are to my style. Also preferably a power bottom or uke mc

I feel like he'd listen to songs by Glass Animals or Two Feet. Like the beat and vibe of take a slice would fit him well especially if he's thinking about committing in his room. I imagine he's laying in his bed lights off, broken knife or ripped rope in hand or expired pills scattered around him while he's staring at the ceiling in annoyance or with a somber look while take a slice plays or or go fuck yourself by two feet plays while stuck in his thoughts or just blank minded. I feel if you use the second pic he'd like to listen to songs like too sweet by Hozier and artists like Two Feet, Arctic Monkeys, Glass Animals, Hozier, Des Rocs, MISSIO, Lund, Son Lux, The Neighborhood, David Kushner, Steve Lacy, Red Leather, Cigarettes After Sex, Troy Boi, d4vd, Tsunami J. (Die Young for ex), Mac Miller (for ex. Self Care), ThxSoMch, alt-j, FKJ, etc

This could also work with literally any fandom. Like for example in a cod fanfic he could be the bastard son of a rich family (who had a lot of enemies) who they don't care about (but should cuz his luck could take them places ;)) and they, because despite everything he's the only child and they can't have him die from an enemy because itd ruin their image, hire taskforce 141 to protect him in a lone warehouse (the big rich apartment things I forgot the name of) while they're gone for a year. Tf 141 wouldn't be happy of course but they grow on our mc and take it as a vacation or something. He secretly tries to commit when they can't notice and they don't for a while but they finally find out when he finds one of their guns and tries to shoot himself just for it to literally break which shouldn't happen because they take care of their guns or something or they catch him about to hang himself with one of the rope, brand new btw, they literally use to climb into a helicopter so they know it's sturdy, and it immediately breaks (rips? Tears?) which also shouldn't happen because they know the rope is able to literally carry like 5 men at once, and that's how they discover his good luck and suicidal tendencies. The mc immediately gives up trying to commit in secret and goes to do it in the open now. They come up with a compromise, he can only attempt one time a die and they just gotta watch him till he does try, not that it'll work anyway, his luck prevents it. Or he could be a marine or Merc or something who joined just so he could get into danger so he could die but to their horror and his own, nothing will kill him. Like he'd run out of ammo and everything and be in front of an enemy just for the enemy's gun to suddenly jam or for the enemy to step on a mine or get hit by a stray bullet or something. His call sign would be clover 😂. Like he'd be known for being in or a part of the most dangerous missions that go to crap or something and come out unscathed. Like if he's a Merc he'd deliberately choose dangerous missions that other mercs avoid and go in alone and not even try, just walk right into an enemy's base and start shooting with the hopes of dying himself. Like even as he's doing a cool takedown move the only thought in his mind is ugh I wish a bullet would just hit me already or I wonder if this guy can kill me or I wonder if this guy is strong enough to choke me or I wonder if my luck can stop a grenade or something. Like don't give this guy explosives he'd probably tape an active one on himself. His handler refuses to give him explosives when he's alone because they've had to stop him from activating it on the spot and shoving it in a pocket. I was thinking poly 141 x male oc/reader (plus like Alejandro and his buddy and some of kortac or other hot cod characters). I'd expect him to be like silent and brooding but it looks cute to others. I'd also imagine he's incredibly short like 5'4. He also wears his hair like that in hopes it would help with him getting shot or something. His power of only good luck make him usable for any fandom just let me know if you use him cuz it's like to read it. Prefer if he's used for long fics with chapters or something but do what you want

He could also be a bartender in Gotham in the middle of an area between all the territories of the villains or something.

Also this is how'd I think he looked, art not mine at all. Probably found on Pinterest

Feel like he'd look like this too, especially for cod. Art not mine I'm pretty sure I found it on DeviantArt. Love their art tho

sub Tamaki

sub tamaki who love dick slaps and you love the way he squirms under your touch

as much as it hurts , he actually is a fucking whore for overstimulation

the vibrator and your kitten lick on his tip its just so good he can't fucking explain it

the cuffs on his hands just make him needy but its fulfilled when you stoke his pretty dick

little slutty tamaki is just a absolute whore for strap he loves it so fucking much

mha incorrect #4

Shigaraki : i have your student

Aizawa : which one???

Shigaraki : A angry rat that wont stop screaming "DEKU"

Aizawa : OMG HE HAS BAKUHOU

(BNHA)

hey there! i'd like to request a story about a male/gn vigilante reader (teen), and they eventually get caught by the pro heroes. from there, they are basically forced into UA, class 1-A (reader has been a vigilante for a few years back and has quite the skills to become a hero, and reader does relatively well academically). everything from there will be up to you!

this is actually my first time requesting, so im not exactly sure if this will go through, I've read the guide and everything. no pressure, I hope you have a great year, bye!!

Little Rebel

CLASS 1A x Male!Vigilante!Reader Summary: Y/N, also known as his vigilante name, V/N, was sadly caught by Eraserhead. His punishment, due to him still being a minor, was to attend U.A as a student for his rehabilitation, with Eraserhead as his supervisor.

★☽A/N: I see! It’s your first request! Not to worry, your request is perfect and it aligns with my guide! I really appreciate that you read my guide first! I hope this is a nice first time!

Contents: FLUFF

Quirk: Similar to Inumaki from JJK, the user has the ability to make anything happen according to what he says. But unlike Inumaki, the user is able to control when he uses his Quirk.

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“Y/N L/N, is it?” A massive mutant dog read. He looked away from the papers and down at a young boy, frowning as he sat crossed on his chair from across the room. He scoffed and turned his head. “Considering you’re still a minor, your punishment won’t be severe. According to your records, your Quirk is quite controlled and your academics are actually quite impressive for a drop out…” The mutant read off the papers for the boy, who didn’t care at all.

“Very well, I decided your punishment.” Y/N couldn’t help but scoff and smirked. He dealt with worse when he started at the age of 13. What could possibly be so bad about this “punishment” ?

“You will be joining U.A as a full-time student.”

“Huh?”

“HUH?!”

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From that day forward, he became a student at U.A. He didn’t expect himself to be in the hero course, especially Class 1A. He had only heard rumors about them, about how they were attacked by villains during their trip to the USJ and a few mentions of some 1A students on internships.

To be honest, he was a bit nervous. He dealt with people, but not in a friendly way. He was scared, slightly, at the thought of being in the same class as some hero in training students.

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During his first meeting, he was still pissed by the punishment, especially the fact that Eraserhead, the one who “captured” him, was his supervisor. He stood outside of the class, his waist tied to a part of Eraser’s scarf to prevent him from running away.

After waiting for a while, he heard his name getting called out, but he didn’t respond. There is no way in hell I’m standing in front of a bunch of hero trainees! He thought to himself.

He didn’t have much of a choice, as he was pulled by the waist by the scarf into the classroom, his whole figure on display to 20 students. They all looked at him with curiosity, except a blonde boy.

“Are you saying a damn weak villain is going to study with us?! Fuck no!”

“That’s enough, Bakugou.” Aizawa groaned. Bakugou was ready to say something, an insult, but was stopped by one word.

“Shut up.”

His mouth suddenly closed up. He clawed at his own mouth, trying to get it open, panicking and angry at the situation. Y/N had to cover up his snicker with a cough. “How pathetic,” he commented with a smirk. Another struggle of words came from the blonde who was ready to throw a bunch of insults but couldn’t due to his forced closed mouth.

Y/N’s snickers couldn’t be stopped. His snickers were clearly heard by the blonde. He suddenly stood up and walked over to the H/C with heavy stomps. Before he could get his hands on him, he was stopped by Aizawa’s scarf.

His growls were like an angry dog, a chihuahua. He eventually got back to his chair and sat with a grumpy look on his face.

“As I was saying, Y/N L/N is going to be your classmate for this remaining semester. Please treat him with respect.”

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Now, how does this work out for Y/N?

I’m going to be honest, readers, it did not go well in the beginning!

Y/N, during times he wasn’t supervised thoroughly, would tease Bakugou into attacking him. He thought that if a hero trainee would harm him, he could act his way out of his rehab. Unfortunately, it did not work. Aizawa, being the smart hero he is, figured out his little act, and did not let him off the hook. (Lectured him for hours).

With time, he eventually got to know the students well. They were some he greatly disliked, (A certain purple grape boy..), some who he respected, and those he enjoyed spending time with.

It’s mostly believed that he respected Yaomomo, Tenya Iida, and Todoroki for their smart brains and analytical thinking. He mostly spends time with Jirou, Tokoyami, and Ojirou, who seems to be fine with him and didn’t care that he was only in U.A for rehab.

He would listen to music with Jirou, read poems with Tokoyami, and combat training with Ojirou. He truly enjoys his time with those three.

As for his academics and “hero training,” he has been doing well, almost excellently, with his academics, usually marking A’s and B’s and the occasional C’s, but his grades were much better than some students in Class 1A.

In terms of his “hero training,” he already has some experience of his own which helped him greatly when it comes to situations where he had to fight against other students. He was actually much more advanced than his “peers.” He was smarter, faster, and powerful in terms of Quirk use and combat.

Although he hoped for the principal to realize that he doesn’t need this rehabilitation, he knew the stubborn smiling “mouse” wouldn’t agree to his suggestions. Not to mention, he was a bit afraid of the rat… Something in his eyes just— creeps him out.

A lot of the students respect him greatly! Like Tenya Iida, Yaomomo, and Midoriya, who recognize his great skills and quick thinking! Of course, Katsuki Bakugou was the only one who seemed bothered by the vigilante. You could feel the anger radiating off him! Honestly, it’s hilarious to see his grumpy face whenever Y/N walks by him. After the amount of teasing Y/N did, it was without a doubt that Katsuki Bakugou hated him with all his guts! (But secretly respects Y/N, hehe)

Overall, I can say that Y/N L/N is having a nice time at U.A in Class 1A.

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