It's been two years exactly since the last time you saw him. Two years since your life was turned upside down in the best way possible. But he never knew, you never told him Now, faced with the reality the life threw you back together again, how will he react to the news that took you months to full grasp?
Or, after a one night stand with Izuku at a New Years party, you end up pregnant. After seeing an interview with him saying he wasn't ready to settle down and wanted to focus on his career, you never told him. But what happens when he finds out?
Tags: ProHero!Izuku x F!Reader, smut, NSFW, MDNI, slight angst, fluff, soft Izuku, domestic Izuku, he's a really good dad guys, background KiriBaku, if I missed anything please let me know!
w/c: 10.9k
Masterlist
You heard him before you saw him - a bright full-bodied laugh that seemed to bounce around the spacious apartment. Music thumped low in the background, enough to add a pleasant atmosphere, but not so loud as to make conversation impossible. It had been two years since you'd last been here - two eventful years. Uraraka squealed beside you, running off in excitement to chat with someone she spotted across the room.
A soft smile played on your lips at your friend's excitement. You'd known her for most of your life at this point, she hadn't changed much. The thought had you chuckling while you took a small sip from your drink - the alcohol burning slightly on the way down, warming your cheeks.
"I didn't think I'd see you again," a voice you'd only heard in person once before spoke softly from beside you.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turned to the one person you had dreaded - and secretly hoped - to see.
Vibrant green eyes and a shock of pine green hair accompanied the warm smile he gave you. Not unlike the smile he'd given you that night two years ago...
MDNI Below the cut
You'd only been in the city for a few months - finally settled into your apartment and job while you finished your final year of university. It took longer than most, you couldn't help feeling a little behind peers your own age. Yet you couldn't be more proud of yourself. Everything you'd been working for was finally paying off and you'd been able to reconnect with your best friend from childhood.
Which is how you ended up in this massive apartment - the bass throbbing through your bones and a pleasant buzz of alcohol at the back of your head. Not enough to impair your judgement, but enough to help you relax in a room full of people you'd never met.
"C'mon! I promise you'll love them!" Ochaco had begged you to go with her, claiming you needed to meet more people than just the old ladies at the daycare where you worked.
You didn't bother correcting her, not all your coworkers were old ladies... just most of them.
Now you held a cup to your lips, taking another sip as you scanned the room. The space was full of unnecessarily attractive people. It really wasn't fair that everyone here seemed to be magazine cover worthy, though you shouldn’t be surprised considering most of Uraraka's friends were Pro Heroes.
"I don't think I've seen you here before?"
The quiet voice to your left made you jump, his low chuckle cutting through the music to skate along your skin, sending a tingle up your spine.
What started as pleasant conversation, quickly morphed into heavy flirting. His dark green curls hung in front of his forehead, highlighting the emerald green eyes that seemed to dance in the low light of the apartment. Freckles dotted along his nose and cheeks gave him an innocent look that was quickly contradicted by the way his eyes swept up and down your body, lingering at your hips and chest before settling on your lips.
It was that look that snapped your own self-control, between his sweet compliments and the comfortable atmosphere of the party, you found yourself leaning forward - pressing hot, hungry kisses to his mouth, jaw and neck. A low grown rumbled out of him when you lightly dragged your teeth against a sensitive spot on his neck, that sent heat pooling low in your belly.
Before you could continue with your teasing kisses, he gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his hungry gaze.
"Wanna get outta here?"
Next thing you knew, he had you pressed to the door of your apartment, the heavy wood barely closing before his mouth was back on yours. One of his legs slid between yours, thick thigh pressing against your core with the most delicious pressure. Your hands drifted lower across his chest, finding the hem of his shirt before sliding underneath and trailing across his warm skin.
He pulled his mouth from yours with a shudder, tongue darting out to lick his kiss-swollen lips.
"Are you sure?"
He'd already asked twice before; once at the party and once before he got out of his car to follow you up. You appreciated that he got consent, but you hadn't changed your mind. Between the hard planes of muscle, you could feel beneath his clothes and the genuine kindness he'd shown you, and everyone else, the whole night, you had no doubts.
"I'm sure," you stood on your toes to capture his mouth again, lips parting almost immediately to deepen the kiss and slid your tongue across his.
Another groan echoed lowly at the action, his hands moving to grip your hips, pushing your core against the thigh still situated between your own. A soft whimper escaped you at the pressure when he lightly ground you down against him.
Clothes were scattered in a trail from the front door to your bedroom, his own finding homes on the floor beside your own; until he had you naked and sprawled beneath him across the comforter - your legs already spread wide and lightly wrapped around his waist.
"Damn, you're beautiful," he sat back on his heels to look at you, green eyes drifting slowly over your feverish frame. You felt desire reignite in your chest at the hunger in his eyes, sending another wave of heat to your core that clenched tight around nothing.
Another soft whimper left you at his words, bringing a smug little smirk to his face, "You like it when I compliment you?"
An embarrassed chuckle bubbled up for your chest as you covered your face with your hands, "Ugh, you're impossible."
He laughed this time, genuine and full of warmth, "Don't hide from me, baby." Large gentle hands wrapped around your wrists, lightly tugging them away from your face. "I'll make it up to you, 'kay? Promise."
Bringing both of your wrists to one large hand, he held them softly above your head while the other skimmed along your skin with feather-light touches, until it brushed the heat of your core.
Your hips jerked involuntarily at the faint touch, craving more.
"So sensitive for me," the words barely left his lips before his mouth found yours again.
Just as his fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles against the sensitive bud. He swallowed down your moan like he'd been starving for it. Keeping up his ministrations, you noticed immediately when the pressure switched from his fingers to his thumb as one thick finger dragged through the wet slick that had gathered between your pussy lips.
"Fuck. You're so wet."
You didn't have a chance to respond before one of his fingers slid into your tight heat. Your head pressed back against the bed as your eyes fluttered shut. He continued like that for a minute, gentle thrusts with his finger while his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. The pleasure of it wound you tighter and tighter with each moment of added pressure.
He slid another finger in beside the first, the pleasant stretch drawing another moan from your lips.
"That's it, pretty girl. Gotta make sure you're ready for me."
Between the pressure of his thumb and the stretch of his fingers pushing within you, you could feel your peak building quickly. Your pussy clenched down around him, drawing a pleased groan from him when he felt it.
Curling his fingers to press against that sensitive spot within you - your hips jerked as you gasped, mind going blank as your orgasm teetered right on the edge.
"Cum for me, baby."
You couldn't ignore him if you tried. Pleasure coursed through you, making you clamp down on his fingers as you came. A wave of bliss washed over you, making your arms go limp and your hips grind back into his touch. He continued his movements, dragging out your high until it bordered on painful overstimulation.
Only when you let out a low whimper did he stop. You earned a chuckle when he withdrew his fingers and you couldn't stop a disappointed moan, before he met your eyes and licked his fingers clean, sending fresh slick to gather at your already soaked pussy.
Still panting, you watched him with a whispered, "Holy shit."
He just smirked, gone was the shy boy you'd met at the party. This man hovering over you now was something else entirely. Your eyes drifted to see he was gripping his hard cock, giving it a couple firm tugs.
"Condom?" He looked away from you, trying to find where his pants ended up in the scattered piles of clothes.
"I'm clean, and on birth control," your breath was finally coming back to you, though your mouth had gone dry at the sheer size of him. No wonder he'd taken the time to make sure you were prepared.
"You sure?" There was that question again.
You laughed lightly, "I'm sure."
His gaze refocused on you, fresh hunger burning in his emerald irises. Sitting up on your elbows, you watched him drag the thick tip of his cock through your slick folds, spreading the wetness to make it easier on your both.
"Ready?"
You couldn't pull your eyes away, giving him a nod as you watched him line his hard member up.
"Baby, look at me."
Dragging your gaze from where his cock rested against you, you felt a fresh wave of heat crash through you when your eyes met. Capturing your lips with his, the growl he let out as he sank into you was nothing short of primal - until he was fully sheathed in your pulsing cunt.
"Fuck, you're so tight."
With a chuckle, you looked to where his hips were pressed flush to your own, "Maybe you're too big."
He withdrew slightly before pushing back in, earning a low moan from you.
"I don't see you complaining," the smug smirk flashing across his face again.
He continued thrusting into you, starting with slow even pushes until he could move through your tightness with ease. Your head fell back as pleasure overtook you again, building faster than you expected after your last earth-shattering orgasm.
"God, you feel so good. I'm not gonna last, love."
His forehead fell forward to rest between your breasts, one hand gripped your thigh to push it wider, letting him drive that much deeper.
"Oh my god," the breathless exclamation left without warning as your hips moved to meet his. "Please. Feels so good!"
Another growl rumbled out as he lifted his head to kiss your neck, moving upward along your jaw until he recaptured your mouth. His hips slammed into you over and over, drawing sounds out of you no one had before. It didn't take long for your peak to hit.
"G-gonna cum," you pulled away from his mouth to speak, only for him to chase after your lips, recapturing them in a searing kiss.
"Me too, baby. Cum for me."
His breath against your lips, the faltering rhythm of his cock plunging into you, hitting that sweet spot over and over finally tipped you over the edge.
With a cry he swallowed down, your vision went white as another orgasm crashed through you. He let out a choked groan into your mouth, his thrusts stuttering until he pressed tight to your hips. You could feel the twitching of his cock inside as your cunt throbbed and pulsed around him. A warmth spread inside you when he came, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
"Fuck, you feel so good."
"Hey? Are you okay?"
A gentle shake on your arm snapped you back to reality, heat immediately rushing up the back of your neck and into your face.
"Y-yes. Sorry, just zoned out for a minute," you forced a smile to your face - hoping he doesn't see past it to the turmoil clouding your mind and turning your stomach.
"Yeah," a small chuckle followed the word. "Do you want to step out on the balcony for a minute? Maybe the fresh air will help?"
The genuine concern in his eyes only added to the flood of emotions threatening to knock you off your feet.
Clutching your drink with both hands, you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You followed him through the crowded apartment; admiring how, even with his impressive build, he managed to gracefully weave through without jostling anyone.
Cool air kissed your cheeks once you stepped out - the noise of the party quieting as he slid the glass door closed behind you. The fresh air filled your lungs as you took a deep breath, settling the slight tremble in your fingertips.
"Thank you," you closed your eyes, listening to his footsteps come to a rest beside you.
"For what?"
Giving a breathy laugh, you turned to see genuine confusion on his face, "For being kind."
His cheeks flushed as he looked away, a scarred hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you for a few minutes, giving you time to get your racing thoughts put back together. You hated that even two years later, and still hardly knowing him, he still had a dizzying effect on you.
In the time after your night together, you'd done as much research on him as possible... you had to. At first you were just trying to figure out who he was. You were new to the city, barely having enough time to eat and sleep between work and finishing your degree. So, it took a couple months before you finally learned his name, Midoriya Izuku or the Hero known as Deku.
You felt a little stupid not having put those pieces together. Of course, you knew who Deku was, he saved the world. But being from a small town, and having your head shoved into your studies all the time meant that you didn't have a chance to watch the news much. Or... you had the time but you'd rather watch something you were actually interested in after a long day.
The day you learned it was one of your rare days off. You hadn't been feeling well for the last few weeks, when you showed up to work looking like you'd been run over by a truck, your boss insisted you take the day off to stay home. You didn't go straight home though; you stopped at the pharmacy first. Dread had been threatening to overtake your mind since the first morning you woke up only to immediately rush to the toilet.
While your period had never been super consistent, it had also never been this late.
That day you sat wrapped in blankets on your couch; a mug of warm tea held delicately in your hands as you let the heat seep into your terrified body. Four little plastic tests all rested on the coffee table in front of you - all four with the same answer: Pregnant.
Hoping for a distraction, you'd flipped on some random gossip show. It didn't help much, but at least it gave you something else to think about while your life spiraled out of control.
Until he appeared.
Dressed in his hero costume, curly green hair only slightly more controlled than the last time you saw it. You hadn't realized how far forward you were leaning until you nearly dropped your cup. Giving yourself a shake, you were about to get a refill of the comforting liquid when the interviewer's next question caught your attention.
"So, tell us, Deku! What about romance? Surely some lucky person must have snagged the most eligible Pro on the market by now?!"
The audience laughed at the question, a faint flush lit up his cheeks at the reaction.
He gave an uncomfortable laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, "No. No relationship here. Don't really have a lot of time for that right now anyway. I'm still teaching part-time. Between that and my hero work, I'm focusing on my career right now."
The audience gave a good-natured applause while the host beamed.
"Well, I know I speak for those of us in the studio today when I say how much we appreciate your dedication to Japan's safety!"
Another round of cheers and applause had you turning off the tv. Guess that answers the question on if I should tell him or not...
"Are you sure you're alright?"
His voice brought you back to the present again.
"Yea, I'm alright Midoriya. It's just been a long week."
You try again with the same smile you gave him earlier, but you can tell he doesn't buy it.
Relief has your shoulders relaxing when he changes the subject again, bringing up something he had earlier, "You know, I didn't think you'd be here."
It wasn't quite a question, but you knew he meant it as one, "Why's that?"
"We do this party every year and you didn't come last year."
Last year your daughter was four months old when Uraraka invited you. It was too soon for either of you to be apart for an entire evening.
"Oh, yeah. Ochaco invited me, but I was already busy," not a lie but not quite the truth either.
"I thought maybe you were avoiding me," you looked up to see a sheepish expression on his face.
That made you laugh, seeing the look on the face of one of Japan's top heroes. He was tall, around six foot probably, his shoulders were strong and broad. Scars covered his arms, and you knew from experience the rest of him was littered with them too. The one on his cheek gave his proud face a strong appearance.
And yet, in this moment, he looks like a teenager waiting for his crush to reject his invitation to the dance.
"No," a little giggle bubbling up again. "I wasn't avoiding you. Just busy."
You took another sip of your drink, trying to calm your racing heart.
"Oh," he paused. "We didn't really get a chance to talk much last time you were here."
Another blush lit his face.
"What do you do for work?"
You gave him a knowing smile, enjoying the way his brows shot up in surprise, "I'm a teacher."
"No way! That's so cool! What level do you teach? Is your school in the city? Do you have to travel far to get there? How long have you been teaching..."
He would have kept going had you not held up your hand with another laugh, "Maybe let me answer the first few questions?"
"Right," an embarrassed laugh reverberated out of his chest. "Sorry, I don't get to discuss teaching as much as I used to. I kinda miss it sometimes."
"I understand. It's the most rewarding job I've ever done," you took another sip from your drink, frowning at the nearly empty cup. "I've only been a teacher for a little less than a year now. I was still finishing my degree the last time we saw each other..."
From there, the conversation flowed easily. You worked at one of the middle schools in the city not too far from your home. It was only a 15-minute walk most days, which gave you plenty of time in the morning before school to keep an eye on the students. Even though you were new, many of the students had come to view you almost like a big sister. They would come to you for advice or help on a subject they couldn’t figure out or even just a safe space.
The world was changing for the better thanks to all the work the newest generation of heroes was putting in. But it wasn't perfect yet, and until that happened, your door would always be open to any student who asked.
Izuku cried when you told him that - not heaving sobs, but proud tears that traced down his cheeks.
A slight pang went through your chest when you remembered what he said in that interview. He had no interest in a relationship or settling down. There's no point in getting your hopes up.
What had been a night of fun to blow off steam for him, had turned your world upside down. At the time you weren't sure it was worth it. Everything was so difficult and you couldn't afford to slow down on your studies or work. Even six months after your daughter was born you felt like such a failure.
Things had settled since, but money was still tight, and you rarely got a night off like this one.
Midoriya was part way through telling you a story from one of the classes he taught when your phone went off. Glancing at the screen, your heart plummeted when you saw who was calling.
"Excuse me," you cut him off, not realizing how much your worry showed on your face. "I need to take this."
Turning your back on him and walking to the other side of the balcony, you answered, "Sano-san, what's wrong?"
"I'm so sorry to be calling, but Nagisa took a tumble at home. She's alright, but she hit her head pretty hard so I thought it best to bring her to the hospital."
You tried to swallow, only to realize your mouth had gone dry.
"Which hospital? I'll be there as soon as I can."
Without looking at the green-haired hero again, you walked back into the over-warm apartment. Your eyes darted around the room trying to find Uraraka; she's promised to be your ride home. After getting all the information you could from Sano, you began scouring the apartment looking for your friend.
When you finally found her, she was tucked into a corner laughing with a handful of other heroes.
"Ochaco!" Her eyes widened when she took in your panicked expression, "I need you to take me to the hospital. Sano-san had to take Nagisa and I need to be there."
Your throat began to tighten, making it hard to talk. Tears gathered along your waterline, causing your vision to blur slightly while you waited for your friend.
"I- I'm so sorry," tears filled your friends’ eyes while she spoke. "I can't drive. I'm so sorry. I thought we would be here longer!"
Anger swelled in your chest alongside the fear. Without a word, you gave her a nod, grabbed your jacket from the hook in the entry and slammed the door behind you. You can't cry now. You have to get to her. Later. At home. Then you can lose it.
The tap of your foot on the tile floor echoed down the hall while you waited for the elevator. You were so wrapped up in your worry that you didn't hear him come up behind you.
"Can I give you a ride?"
You jumped, throwing a hand to your chest in surprise. That familiar head of green hair watched you with concern, a frown pulling at his mouth.
"I-" you wanted to turn him down - wanted to tell him it was fine and you'd figure it out. But your baby was alone and scared. Fighting (and failing) against the tremble in your voice, you nodded, "Could you?"
The ride to the hospital was tense. Izuku could see how upset you were, worry laced every muscle in your body. He'd become accustomed to how different people reacted to moments of stress - yet you were something else. Throughout it all you'd remained (mostly) calm and kept a level head. It was admirable.
He didn't push or ask any questions, other than to verify which hospital you needed to go to. From the corner of his eye, he could see you wringing your hands, trying to keep the fear from overwhelming you. When your fingers started to turn red from the repetitive friction, he reached over and gently grabbed one.
You went rigid at his touch, and for a moment he thought he'd overstepped. But you didn't pull away. Instead, you gripped his hand in both of yours, holding tight to the quiet reassurance he was offering.
The lights outside slid past at a steady rhythm, the occasional car passing him going the other direction. His mind was racing with possibilities on what could have happened. He'd seen the true devastation on Ochaco's face when she couldn't help you. He also hadn't missed the fury that flashed through your eyes when your friend let you down. Uraraka wasn't the kind of person to make a mistake like this normally, but when the whole group got together like that, sometimes it was easy to lose yourself.
Heat rushed to his cheeks for the umpteenth time that night when he thought back to the night, you'd shared just two years ago - a night he had also lost himself. He would never consider it a mistake; though he had beaten himself up for months afterward for not leaving his number when he had to rush out on an emergency call while you were sleeping.
It didn't take long to reach the parking garage for the hospital. Thanks to his status as a Pro, he was able to park in one of the spaces designated for heroes, which made getting into and out of the hospital much easier. The moment he put the car in park you were unbuckled and rushing through the sliding doors.
Even with all his training he had trouble keeping up with you. Though, part of that was due to his size and notoriety as Deku. Trying to be as polite as he could, while also keeping track of you, he fell behind - still close enough to track which halls you went down and finally, which door you raced into.
He'd just reached the doorway when he heard you speak.
"Nacchi!!"
There was a soft cry that sounded a lot like a child, followed by a muffled, "Mama!"
Mama?
Confusion crashed over him like a wave. He'd been talking to you most of the night and you never once mentioned a kid. That was something most parents talked about non-stop. At least, the parents in his friend group did. Between Mirio, Iida and Kirishima, he just assumed that was part of being a parent. Although Kacchan was as smitten with his kid as Eijiro, he just wasn't as loud about it.
Someone cleared their throat beside him.
"Oh, I'm sorry." He took a step back, turning to see he'd been blocking the doctor from entering.
"It's no problem. Actually, I need to speak with the girl's parents anyway. If you could retrieve her mother, I can tell you both at the same time."
"Oh. NO NO. There's been some misunderstanding! I'm just a friend! She just needed a ride!" He reflexively rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened at the thought.
The doctor hummed, giving him a quick once-over with a raised eyebrow, "Very well."
As he stepped into the room, Izuku's mind went quiet. Instead of the mile-a-minute thoughts he was used to, there was a stillness that surprised him. He'd never really considered having kids, figuring that would be something he could think of once he was settled as a pro and in a relationship. He didn't hate the idea though - with the right partner, of course.
Quiet voices drew his attention to the room again. You were thanking the doctor for his help, assuring him that nothing like this would happen again. He just chuckled, reminding you that "kids will be kids," and "not to worry so much."
When the doctor came back, he looked at Izuku one more time with that strange somewhat knowing expression before walking away. A young woman soon followed looking frazzled but otherwise fine - not sparing him a glance when she called over her shoulder to let you know she would grab you something from the cafeteria.
After she left, he took a breath before stepping through the doorway, wanting to make sure you were alright before he headed home. He'd only taken a few steps into the room when he froze.
There, sitting on your lap was a sniffling little girl, her head buried in your chest while you held her and hummed softly. That wasn't what caused him to stop short though.
No. What had him rooted to the spot was the head of messy green curls covering your daughter's head.
Nagisa's head was tucked against your chest as you held her - rocking gently back and forth while you hummed the same lullaby your mother used to sing to you. For most of your life, you and your family assumed you were Quirkless. It wouldn't have been surprising, considering neither of your parents had one.
But that changed in middle school. You tried out for the school theater program and were accepted. It wasn't that you were exceptionally talented by any means, but it was middle school and the educators wanted to encourage the students to build their creativity. The department was putting on a musical that term, and you'd auditioned for a role. Though you didn't get the part, it was during your audition that you learned what your Quirk was.
It turned out, your voice - through song or even just humming - had the ability to calm people, soothe emotions.
Being a hero had never been your dream. You grew up wanting to be like the teachers who had encouraged and supported you through some of the most difficult times of your life. Now you rarely used your Quirk; except in times like these, when your little girl needed comforting.
You hadn't realized Midoriya followed you through the hospital. Part of you knew he would, but a larger part had hoped he wouldn't. You saw the recognition flash through his features when he saw your daughter. Saw the panic, fear, stress, confusion - every emotion you'd grappled with in the months leading up to your daughter’s birth and the nearly 16 months since.
A tense silence filled the room while you watched the gears in his head work, until he managed to get his face under control - allowing a smooth mask of neutrality to fall into place just before Tokiko returned.
"How is she?" Sano-san's soft voice broke through the tension still thick in the air.
"She's alright. The doctor said she'll have a nasty bruise but no lasting damage and no concussion," you gave the worried young woman a smile.
"I'm so glad," she paused, a faint wobble starting on her lower lip. Bowing suddenly, Tokiko spoke again, her voice thick with emotion and unshed tears. "I am so sorry! I turned around for a moment to find her stuffy before bed. It's not an excuse I know! Truly I am so so sorry."
A choked sob escaped as her long dark hair covered her face.
"Tokiko-san. It's alright. She's fine. Accidents happen," you gave her another soft smile when she straightened, her cheeks wet with tears.
Dragging your bag to you, you retrieved your wallet, pulling a few bills free to hand to her.
"I'm not upset with you. If I didn't trust you with her by now, you'd know," a little chuckle left you as Nagisa settled into you, sleep finally overtaking her tired body. "Here's what I owe you for tonight. Please go home and get some rest. We'll talk soon, okay?"
Tears still ran down her cheeks when she stepped forward to give you and Nagisa a gentle hug. She placed a soft kiss to the dark curls you loved so much, before bowing again and leaving.
It was only once she walked past Izuku that you remembered he was there. That same neutral expression looked out at you with eyes full of emotion.
"I don't- um," he took a couple steps closer to where you sat. "How, uh, how old is she?"
"Almost 16 months. She was too eager to meet the world and came a little early," standing from the bed, your daughter a solid weight in your arms, you looked him in the eye before speaking again. "Yes. She's yours. I'm sure you have a million questions, and I'd be glad to answer them. Tomorrow. Tonight, I need to get her home to bed."
Grabbing a pen from your bag, you found a sticky note and wrote down your phone number and address before handing the scrap of paper to him.
He swallowed hard, like he was still in shock. Honestly, you couldn't blame him. It took you months to come to terms with it. You didn't expect him to in a matter of hours.
"Just send me a message before you stop by so I can make sure we’re home."
Izuku didn't sleep that night. Instead, he spent the hours after he returned to his apartment pacing his living room trying to wrap his head around the fact that the woman he had slept with for one night - who had assured him she was on birth control - was the mother of his child. You were right, he wanted answers.
He wanted to know why you hadn't reached out. Why you hadn't said anything in the two years after the party. He wanted to know everything about the little girl he'd seen wrapped in your arms, about the strange calming presence he felt radiating out from you, about how you managed to hold such grace and kindness after someone you trusted failed to protect your- his child.
It hit him like a ton of bricks, with such an enormous weight that he fell back onto his couch with a groan.
Out of pure instinct, he pulled his phone out and called the one person he thought might be able to shed some light in the swirling chaos of his mind.
"What the hell, nerd! 'S fuckin' 4 in the mornin'," Kacchan's sleep heavy voice made him chuckle - the sound slowly warpping into a somewhat manic warbling sob.
"Kacchan..." he couldn't get another word out before the voice on the other side interrupted.
"We'll be right there."
The call went dead with a sharp beep, leaving the apartment silent, save for the sobs now crashing over him.
It didn't take long for the loud knock at the door to pull him from his thoughts. A quick glance at the clock showed just over 30 minutes, which had to be a record considering Kacchan said "we," meaning he would have brought Kirishima and their son.
Pulling the door open, he was greeted with a sight that never failed to make him smile. Bakugo stood in front, a deep scowl forming creases between his eyebrows, while Eijiro held their sleeping son, his normally spiked hair relaxed and falling slightly across his face. Without a word, Izuku stepped back, ushering them in.
"The guest room still has the pack-n-play set up if you need it," the crying made his throat raw.
The redhead noticed immediately, a concerned look pulling his eyebrows low as he made eye contact with his partner.
Izuku watched as Kacchan rolled his eyes and waved him off, "C'mon, nerd. 'M makin' tea."
"Kacchan, you hate tea..."
"Tch. 'S not like you'd have the coffee I like anyway."
He couldn't help the smile pulling at his lips. It was a very Bakugo way of saying he cared.
Once the tea was made, and their son was asleep in the guest room, the three pros sat at the dining table. Steaming mugs clasped between hands while Bakugo and Kirishima stared at him with wide shocked eyes.
"Fuck, dude," Kirishima was the first to speak. Though they seemed at as much a loss as he was.
"I don't know what to do. Or how I'm supposed to feel. I have so many questions. But..." he stopped, a heaviness in his chest weighing down... something, though he just wasn't sure what.
"Shocks, prolly a good place ta start, Izuku." It was still a little strange hearing Katsuki refer to him by name instead of literally anything else. "She say why she didn't tell ya?"
"No. To be fair we didn't really have a chance to talk at the hospital... I honestly don't know if she would have told me if I hadn't followed her."
He dropped his head into his hands, carding his fingers through the thick curls that matched his daughters... His daughters. Did he have any right to even think that way?
"Midoriya. Is this something you want? I'm not trying to be insensitive, but do you even wanna be in the kids' life?" Eijiro kept his tone soft, but there was worry there too. Of all his friends, these two knew the best what it was like to have a family as Pro Heroes.
A breathy laugh escaped him as he spoke, "Until a few hours ago, I didn't even know she existed... But now? I- I don't know. I feel like just knowing she exists makes me feel like I'm missing out on something important."
The blond beside him softened at his words, leaning back in his chair, he leveled a firm look at Izuku, "Ya know havin' a kid is a huge responsibility. 'F'ya wanna be in 'er life, it's gonna take work. Won't be able ta go runnin' off the second somethin' bad happens."
Something tender passes between the red-eyed couple. Izuku knew they had made sacrifices when they had their son. He remembered Katsuki talking about how they had to set up a schedule for emergencies, as well as an extensive list of people to call if both of them were needed.
"I know. But I don't think I can walk away either. Not now that I know," a familiar resolve settled in his chest. It was the same feeling he had when he decided to be a hero, the same feeling he got competing with Kacchan for the top. "She’s a part of me, even if I didn’t know before. Should we both have a chance to see what happens?"
The day after the party, and subsequent visit to the hospital, you called the school informing them of the situation and let them know you'd need to take the week off to keep an eye on your daughter. They were very understanding, and told you to call if you needed anything. It was the polite thing to do, but you wouldn't call.
It had been three days since Midoriya Izuku finally learned about his daughter and you hadn't heard from him since. You knew what he said in all those interviews, he wasn't ready to be a father, wasn't ready to settle down. So why did the pit in your stomach refuse to leave?
A small, stupid, selfish part of you had hoped that maybe he'd want to be involved. But clearly that wasn't the case. It was fine, of course. You were fine before he knew, and you'd be fine after too. Sure, money was tight, of course sometimes you went without to make sure Nagisa had everything she could possibly need. You didn't need a full meal everyday anyway. As long as your daughter was loved and cared for, that was all that mattered.
Slow tears slipped from your eyes as you picked up some of the toys scattered around the small living room. Nagisa was down for a nap, the dark purple bruise on her cheek a constant reminder of your failure to keep her safe.
A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. With a confused scowl, you looked through the peephole to see who could possibly be visiting without warning.
You're sure your heart stopped for a moment when the broad shoulders and green hair of Midoriya came into view.
"H-hey! Are you home? Sorry, I forgot to call. I meant to. But then I went for a walk and the next thing I-"
He stopped when you opened the door, quickly wiping your eyes to try and hide the tears you're certain he noticed. Emerald green eyes scan you quickly from head to toe, as if looking to make sure you aren't injured, before a shy smile dances across his lips.
"Hi... sorry I meant to call..."
It was still hard to swallow past the lump in your throat, but you tried before speaking anyway, "It's alright. Did you want to come in?"
With a quick nod of his head, he stepped into your small apartment. His mere presence seemed to almost suck the air from the space - the aura coming off him larger than life in a way you hadn't noticed before.
"Sorry about the mess. Nagisa is down for a nap, I was trying to clean..." You hurry to throw the pile of toys you'd gathered into the basket in the corner of the living space.
"No no, don't worry about it! I showed up unexpectedly. Besides," he paused to look around, taking in the cozy atmosphere you'd created for yourself and your daughter. “You have a- a kid. Your home should be full of mess and love.”
A bookshelf was packed with more books than it really should have been able to hold. A tiny dining table had been shoved against the wall to make more room in the living space for a small couch. The tv was mounted on the wall to keep it out of Nagisa's reach. From where he stood in the entry, Izuku could see down the hall to where the bedrooms would be, though it seemed both doors were closed. While small, the apartment reminded him of the one he lived in growing up with his mom. It felt warm and safe, everything a child needed to feel comfortable at home.
"I guess I should have asked. Do you have time to talk?"
Your heart ached at the look on his face. Behind the confident front he was attempting to show, you could see the fear he was trying to hide.
"Of course. I'll put on some tea. Please make yourself comfortable."
Shutting the door behind him, your heart raced as adrenaline coursed through you. What if he thought you were doing a bad job? What if he wants to take her away? That thought stops you cold. For a moment soul crushing grief threatens to overwhelm you. He could probably give her a better life...
You shut the thought down with a slightly too hard slam of the kettle on the stove. From the corner of your eye, you could see Izuku flinch at the action. Taking a deep breath, you tried to settle your nerves, moving more slowly as you gathered two mismatched mugs from the cabinet, humming to yourself.
The soothing aura of your Quirk seeped out into the air around you. Your shoulders settled as the quiet tune relaxed the tense muscles. In your peripherals, you even saw some of the tension seep out of the tall hero - the small fidgeting of his fingers going still as he settled.
Now sitting across from each other at the too small dining table, you waited for him to speak. The soft smell of jasmine curled up from the mugs in front of you, painting the room with the warm floral fragrance.
"I guess I have one question that is at the top of my list," the timid smile he gave you helped with some of the anxiety tightening your chest. "Why didn't you reach out?"
Of course. Start with the easiest and hardest question.
"At first, it was because I didn't know who you were," you breathed a soft chuckle. "Then, the day I found out learned who you were, I saw an interview you did. The host asked you about a relationship and settling down."
You caught the blush that tinted his cheeks.
"I'm sure you know how that went. After that it seemed like any time I saw an interview with you, you said the same thing. 'You weren't ready to settle down. You were focusing on your career.' I know I should have told you," you couldn't meet his eyes, instead looking down at the steam still trailing from your cup. "But part of me felt selfish. I know how much being a hero must mean to you. You've saved the country - hell, the world - countless times, I didn't think you'd want to risk losing that."
He was quiet for a long moment after you finished speaking. Your gaze was so focused on the table in front of you that you didn't notice his hand until it wrapped around yours still clutching the mug.
Finally lifting your eyes to meet his, you saw nothing but kindness on his face. His expression was so open and honest, it made your heart stutter in its sincerity.
"I don't blame you. I can't imagine how hard this all must have been to go through alone. From what I can see," he gestured to the collection of children's objects scattered around the living space. "You're doing a great job with her."
You watched his throat bob when he swallowed, the pause lasting long enough for your eyes to drift up to see him staring into his own mug now, pink tinting his cheeks while he contemplated what he wanted to say.
Finally clearing his throat, he looked up to meet your gaze. Emerald eyes shining with the weight of his next words, "I know we don't really know each other that well. But if you'd allow it... I'd really like the chance to be there for her? And you, in whatever way you'll let me."
Tears burned your eyes at the genuine longing in his tone, "She'll be up from her nap soon. Would you like to meet her?"
Izuku thought his heart might beat out of his chest when you rose from the table to go get Nagisa. Your love for your daughter was obvious in the way you spoke about her over the last 20 minutes or so. Every question he asked you had a clear considerate answer for. It was apparent to him that you hadn't kept Nagisa from him out of spite, but out of a deep devotion to do what you felt was best for your little girl.
He couldn't help but admire that, it reminded him of his own mother.
A few minutes later, you reappeared with a sleepy toddler in your arms. Dark green curls stood on end as her little fist rubbed sleep from her eyes. You were murmuring quietly against her head, pressing a soft kiss to her soft temple.
Now that he had a chance to see her more fully, he understood why the doctor looked at him the way he did. There was no doubt in Izuku's mind that she was his. If it hadn't been for the color of her eyes and the slight difference in nose shape, she would be identical to his own baby pictures.
She turned her little head to burrow into your neck, a sleepy little whimper escaping her as you rubbed her back.
"Nacchi, someone's here to see you, love," the way your gentle voice immediately seemed to soothe the tired toddler had his heart giving a squeeze he hadn't expected. When she turned her head, blinking wide eyes up at him, his breath caught in his chest. So much of her looked like him, but those eyes, they were a perfect copy of your own - reflecting all the love and devotion you'd poured into her for her entire short life.
"Do you want to hold her? She's still sleepy, so you might even get a snuggle if you're lucky."
The way you said it, the proud smile on your face. Izuku knew he was here to meet his daughter, but damn if he didn't already feel himself falling for you too.
Passing the tired girl to him, he was surprised at the weight of her. He hadn't spent a lot of time around kids this young, except for Bakugo and Kirishima's son; but as he held her, something in him settled. Like a piece of himself he didn't know he was missing fell into place.
Nagisa looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, her fist coming up to rub them again before she broke into a yawn. When her mouth finally closed again, he watched her eyes flutter shut as her head came forward to rest against his chest. He. Melted.
By the time he looked up again, he caught you staring with a misty look in your eyes, your phone clutched in your hands while you watched them.
The days slowly bled into weeks, the weeks into months, until Izuku became a fixture in your life that you'd never expected. It started small, little trips to the park or museums, and grew until it was odd to when you didn't see him every day. On the days you knew he was working, you'd gotten in the habit of having the news on at home - muted of course - just so you knew he was safe.
It wasn't uncommon for him to stop by to see Nagisa after a long shift of patrolling either, claiming he needed a squish from his girl before he could sleep. It also wasn't uncommon for him to linger after saying goodnight. He'd ask about your day, how work went, if anything exciting happened. Pretty soon it was late enough that you worried about him driving back to his own apartment when he was already so tired.
So, you'd hand him an extra pillow and blanket, and wake up in the morning to find him sprawled half on your tiny couch and half on the floor - one leg stuck out at an odd angle, his mouth open with an arm across his eyes to block the morning sun. You'd never tell him how many of those pictures you secretly saved to your phone.
It was the third Sunday of June and you'd decided to surprise Izuku with breakfast and a visit from Nagisa. You knew he liked to sleep in on his days off, so you made sure you didn't get to his apartment too early.
Nagisa was wiggling by the time the elevator reached his floor - squealing with delight when you set her down, she ran straight to her papa's door. Tiny fists banged against the solid wood, while she waited impatiently for him to open up.
You reached her just as the door opened. He must not have been up for long, because the look on his face and the way his hair stuck up looked exactly like Nagisa when she first woke up.
With another squealed, "Papa!" She threw herself at his legs, wrapping her small arms around the front of them.
"Hey there, Nacchi!" He hoisted her into his arms, nuzzling her cheek with his nose until she broke into a fit of giggles.
"Down, Papa!" Pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, he set her down watching her sprint to the living room to hunt for her toys.
Satisfied she was content, he turned back to where you stood in the hall, a soft smile on his sleepy face, "What are you two doing here so early?"
You laughed at the yawn he tried to stifle, "It's Father's Day, Izuku. We wanted to stop by and bring you breakfast."
Holding up a bag from his favorite breakfast place, he beamed when you stepped inside. Try as he might, you didn’t miss the look of surprise that crossed his face when you mentioned Father’s Day either.
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know, but I wanted to. And Nacchi wanted to wish her papa a happy Father's Day," you both turned to look at where the toddler was playing on the rug in his living room. The sun streamed through the wall of windows that overlooked the city below, cascading across Nagisa's cheeks, highlighting the faint freckles just starting to show.
The two of you sat at his dining table, watching your daughter play quietly with a few of the toys he made sure to keep for when she visited. It had only been a couple weeks since he informed you that he'd converted his office into a room for her. "In case you ever want a night off or need a break."
The way your stomach did somersaults when he told you still made you giddy when you thought about it. While you hadn't needed a break since then, you'd still let Nagisa sleep at her Papa's a handful of times. The pair always returned beaming with joy and exhausted.
"I never thought I'd be celebrating Father's Day," he said quietly. There was a wistful note to his voice that drew your attention from the little girl in front of you.
He must have felt your stare, because when he turned to meet your eyes, you could see tears along his lash-line. From what you'd been told by a few of your (now) mutual friends, he used to be a big crier, though it seems he's grown out of that some as an adult.
"I know what you mean," you gave his shoulder a playful push, making both of you giggle. "I have something for you too."
Pulling the small gift bag from where you'd kept it under the table, you set it in front of him.
"You really didn't have to do all this. Getting to see Nagisa... and you. That's enough for me."
Damn this man and his ability to be so sweet all the time. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered anew at his words, warming your chest with the sincerity that seemed to seep from his very bones.
"It's not a lot, Izuku. But it is from Nacchi and I." You nodded your head toward the bag, silently asking him to open it.
He pondered you for a moment, emerald eyes flashing in the morning light. Reaching for the small gift he pulled it toward him, carefully removing the tissue paper before pulling out the contents.
Izuku's breath caught when he saw the small book. The exterior, once white, had been meticulously scribbled with a variety of colored inks. There was nothing distinguishable within the mess of marker, yet every line and curve spoke of the little girl who’d stolen his heart.
Flipping it open, the tears he had been trying to fight back slipped free. There, carefully centered in the middle of the first page, was a picture you must have taken the day he visited your apartment for the first time. Nagisa was smaller then, not by much, but enough that he noticed. He had one arm wrapped around her back, the other holding her awkwardly at his hip. Yet, she still found comfort in his grip, falling asleep with her head against his chest. He was gazing down at her with a look of wonder and love he'd never felt before that moment. It was enough to bring every emotion from that day rushing back to the surface.
Blinking furiously, he flipped through the pages. Moments he hadn't even realized you'd been watching were captured in perfect, messy images telling the story of their budding relationship. Pictures from trips to the park and beach overlapped with snapshots you'd taken of the two of them laying on the floor playing. Only to be followed by a picture of them both asleep on the tiny couch in your apartment, his head thrown back while Nagisa slept on his chest, one of his arms draped protectively across her back.
You'd only been in his life a handful of months; yet somehow, you'd managed to fill the entire book with precious moments he had with his daughter.
"I don't... I don't know what to say," his voice was thick with tears, even after trying to clear his throat.
"You don't have to say anything, Izuku. You're her Papa, and you're here. That's enough."
The last picture was one from a recent trip you'd taken to the zoo. Nagisa was perched on Izuku's shoulders, one little hand pointing at something in the distance, the other wrapped tightly around his own outstretched hand. Beside him, you were looking up at the two of them, a peaceful smile lighting your face in a way that had his heart stuttering all over again
He didn't give you a chance to react before he wrapped his arms around you, nearly pulling you into his lap. Your breath fanned across his neck and shoulder as you laughed, returning his hug with your own, despite the awkward position his hold put your arms in.
"Thank you," he whispered into your neck, pressing a soft sweet kiss to your skin.
Your murmured, "You're welcome," was barely loud enough for him to hear. Fearing he may have overstepped, he pulled back, mouth already open to apologize - until he saw the look on your face.
Moving to gently hold your face in his hands, he leaned forward slowly, giving you time to pull away. Instead, you leaned in to meet him halfway - his mouth colliding with yours in a tender, heated kiss. The way your lips moved against his made that night from two years ago come flooding back. Your soft moans and quiet whimpers, the way you looked up at him like he put the stars in the sky after hanging the moon.
He broke away, breath already coming in gasps. Resting his forehead against yours, he didn't fight the warmth blooming in his chest while he held you. A little smile pulled at his lips when his daughter giggled at something in her game of pretend.
"Nacchi! Please put your sweater on so we can meet Sobo Inko at the park."
You were putting the finishing touches on the cupcakes you'd made for the party. Brightly colored in shades of green and blue, your daughter requested a 'dinosaur princess' party. Thick arms wrapped around your waist from behind - a soft chuckle sent his warm breath skating along your neck, raising goosebumps on your arms.
"Those look good, love."
A scarred hand reached out to swipe a bit of frosting off one before you could stop him.
"Izuku!" Turning in his hold, you swatted his chest with a playful smile while he licked the frosting off his finger, staining his tongue a pale green. "Those are for the party! I don't have a lot of extras. If there's not enough, you can be the one to tell Nacchi and Kouki why there aren't."
The green-haired hero cringed thinking of trying to explain to Bakugo and Kirishima's son why there weren't enough cupcakes. He'd certainly inherited the blonds temper, even if he usually had a temperament closer to his soft-spoken father.
"Sorry, I'll be good," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Promise."
You hummed in response, kissing his cheek before turning back around to continue with your very important job - adding dinosaur sprinkles and decorations to the swirled frosting.
A delighted squeal pulled your concentration away just as you placed the final sugary tiara on a cupcake.
"Mama!"
Nagisa darted into the kitchen, her arms spread wide. Scooping her into a hug, you kissed all over the toddler's face.
"Mama! Stop it!" She burst into a fit of giggles, lightly pushing your face away from hers.
Holding her close, you made sure to keep her out of arms reach of the cupcakes littering the counter of Izuku's - your - apartment, "Look baby. Dinosaur princess cakes."
When she didn't react, you turned to look at her face to see a familiar expression lighting up her features.
As she'd grown and spent more time with her doting father, there was no denying the resemblance between the two. Your own eyes were reflected back at you, her nose a cute combination of both. But in moments like these, when her eyes were wide with fascination and excitement, she looked identical to her proud papa who was currently stooped in the entry tying his shoes.
"Pretty, Mama," her voice was soft with wonder. "Park with Kouki now?!"
And just like that, her two-year-old mind had already moved on from the sugary sweets to excitement to see her friend. Kouki was only a couple months older than she was, which had the pair becoming fast friends - much to Bakugo's feigned irritation. But even the hotheaded blond had been wrapped around her finger from the moment they met.
He'd picked her, balancing her easily on his hip while he continued whatever conversation he was having with Izuku. Thankfully, she had her father's gentle personality, because instead of speaking, she reached up and softly traced a hand down the scar on his cheek.
Katsuki froze midsentence, his crimson eyes sliding to meet your daughters. The softness that overtook his face in that moment would have made you laugh, had it not been for the tender smile that barely turned the corners of his mouth.
"Matching Papa," she'd said quietly, a hint of that rare maturity she occasionally showed.
You'd lost track of the number of times she'd managed to free herself from her bed, only to find you anxiously watching the tv - tears running down your face in worry. Sometimes she'd ask questions, sometimes she'd grab a few toys and play quietly nearby, but sometimes she'd climb into your lap asking for cuddles. You'd begin absentmindedly humming, your Quirk coming to life to soothe you both.
It was on nights like those that she'd been watching. She saw how you'd rush to Izuku when he walked through the door, sometimes still covered in the dirt and blood of his job. Her keen eyes tracked how you softly traced the scar on his own cheek, running your thumb along the tender skin before kissing him.
That day she met Katsuki for the first time; the room fell silent at the same time he did. Kirishima watched from the other side of the room with pride as his partner gave in to a softness few got to see.
After that, the explosive blond became one of her favorite people. Often demanding Oji Kacchan. The first time he heard her say that, his face burned bright red as he sent a glare to a sheepish Izuku. When he turned his gaze to you, you just raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something he didn't actually mean. He just huffed and looked away.
"Are my girls almost ready?" Izuku stood in front of the door to the apartment. He'd already made a few trips to the car to load up the presents and decorations you'd been stockpiling for weeks in preparation for today.
"Papa, look! Dinosaurs!"
The delighted cries of children echoed through the park as Nagisa led the group of feral toddlers like a general leading her troops into combat. Even the hotheaded Kouki followed her without question.
"Tch," Izuku turned to see Katsuki watching the group with barely disguised pride. "That kid a'your's is trouble, Deku."
He couldn't help but chuckle, "She's braver than I ever was, that's for sure."
Nagisa broke off from the mass of children to bolt at full speed in the other direction screeching, "SOFU MIGHT!!!"
The little girl ran headlong into the aging hero, his tall thin body lifting her easily to give her a squeeze. Pride filled his chest at the way she managed to bring so many of his aspects of his life together. He watched his mother approach, her hair beginning to grey with age, but the joy and love on her face when her granddaughter reached for her nearly made his heart stop.
"Never thought I'd see the great Deku settle down," Bakugo spoke softly beside him. There was no judgement in his tone, just calm acceptance.
Izuku laughed, "I'm sure I'm not the only one who thought the same about you."
A light flush colored Kacchan's cheeks just before a massive redhead wrapped his arms around the blond from behind, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek.
"Get off, Shitty Hair!" Katsuki gave a half-hearted shove at his partner's arm, not actually trying to disentangle himself.
"Nah," Kirishima's low chuckle seemed to almost vibrate through the air. "Look at 'em, babe."
Izuku followed his friends' eyes, smiling broadly when he saw their toddlers’ holding hands as they led their pack of friends. Katsuki hummed proudly, a little smirk turning one side of his mouth upward.
From beside him, he felt your warm hand wrap around his, your head leaning against the firm muscle of his shoulder.
This was everything he wanted - his friends by his side, the woman he loved and his daughter close. This, right here, was everything he'd been fighting for all these years, and he hadn't even realized it until today. Joy and love and pride made his chest swell and tears line his eyes as he squeezed your hand a little tighter, watching his daughter run and laugh with the other kids.
Yeah, this was everything he'd ever need.
Surprise! I got it done before Sunday! This fic was SOOO much fun to write. I've never written for Izuku before, so I really hope you all enjoy it. I had this idea bouncing around in my head and could not for the life of me figure out which boy to use. So HUGE thank you to @bnha-universe for helping me decide. Anyway! I hope you enjoy! This is much longer than any other oneshot I have written… by a lot 😅
Asks are open!
**Please do not copy, modify, translate, or steal etc. Feel free to like, comment, and reblog
Part of the Passing Peonies Universe - A decade after bringing down All for One, Shimura Tenko, formerly known as Shigaraki Tomura, has gone through enough rehabilitation programs to turn him into a somewhat functioning human. Well, at least on paper. Now, with his first proper job and a prickly shopkeeper by his side, he's forced to venture out in the world of adults, bills, and bookstores, gaining more than just a paycheck at the end of the month.
Part 1 - Masterlist
“I don’t have time for this,” you declare pointedly, swiping an open book from under Naomasa’s anxious hands and stuffing it back where it belongs. “Can’t you see?”
“This could help-”
“Honestly,” you cut him off again, waving at the whole store around you, “does it look like I need your help?”
“Yes,” he breathes out, and you glare at him.
“Listen,” he pulls something out of his coat pocket. It crinkles loudly, and you know, just from the sight of the silvery package, what that means.
“You’re kidding me.”
“I’m not.” He deposits the package onto the counter where it sits, oh so innocently and yet so obviously. It could be screaming, really.
“You mean it?”
“Yes.”
You huff and dust off another corner, hoping it will distract you from the package. It doesn’t. It’s almost as if you can smell them, though that should be impossible.
“Did you get Makoto to buy them?”
“Hell no, she has no clue.”
You sigh, finally turning. “Fine,” you glare at your cousin. “I’ll take your bribe.”
“Don’t call it that.”
You scoff and grab the package, rip it open at the seam, and look inside. He didn’t spare any expense. Dozens upon dozens of fancy, very expensive, and toe-curlingly delicious licorice bonbons are looking back at you. You take one and pop it into your mouth, sighing at the taste. Yes. You deserve that.
“It’s important that you don’t call it that, okay?” Naomasa repeats again, with more emphasis this time.
“Fine,” you roll your eyes. “Send your guy over. I’ll allow him to work here for a week. If he doesn’t want to quit by then, he can stay.”
“You’re not going to make this harder for him than it already is, right?”
You snort. “For what do you take me?”
“I know you.”
“Boo.”
Naomasa sighs but puts his hat back on, moving toward the door. “Just try to be nice.”
- - -
His skin is itching. Right on top of his collarbone, too.
Annoyed, Tenko rubs over the skin. It does not get better.
“Don’t scratch yourself,” he tells himself quietly when he hears no one else say it. It’s weird, doing this alone, without Yagi or Kurogiri or Spinner or maybe even this Tsukauchi guy.
It’s not that far, he’s figured out. If he’s doing a quick pace, he can get there in less than thirty minutes on foot, or take two different buses and be there in ten.
Just like the clinic he lives in, this place is situated on the outskirts of the city, and he looks up at the trees as he passes them, surprised to see this much green at this time of the year. It has been a warm March.
Tenko stops at the corner of the street, staring across.
“Happy End,” the little sign above the door says. Ducking into the hood of his jacket, he walks over and spies into the windows.
So many books. He doubts they have pictures inside them.
“Dosto- Dostoye- What the hell is that name?” He mutters to himself, trying to get it out. Is that a magic spell?
“Can I help you?” A face on the other side of the window asks, and he flinches back, hands pulled up.
It’s a woman. You look annoyed and tired, like you haven’t slept in a while.
“I- Uh, I-” He gestures.
You walk away, and Tenko thinks he’s safe until you open the door just a few feet away from him. “You’ve been staring at Crime and Punishment for a while. Can I help you?”
“What’s this guy’s deal?” He scuffs his shoe across the pavement. “Was he a villain?”
“Who? Dostoyevsky? I don’t think so. He was sentenced to death, but they commuted the sentence at the last minute.”
“Really?” He eyes the book for a minute. It looks really thick. Ugh. “Weird name.”
“Mhm.” There’s a pause. Then. “Are you Shimura?”
He pulls his shoulders up. “What if I am?”
“You’d be early.”
Panicked, Tenko checks his watch. True, he’s still got five minutes before he’s supposed to be here.
“So?”
“You wanna come inside, or do you want to look into the other windows as well?”
“No, they’re boring.”
Something flashes over your face, too fast to catch it. “Are you trying to get hired or-?”
“I’m just telling the truth.”
“Well, you can come in and tell the truth, too, Mister. It’s cold out.”
“It’s not.”
Annoyed, you cross your arms over your chest. The skin on your forearms is prickly, a million goosebumps rising. Maybe it is cold.
“Can I come in?”
You step to the side without another word, and he shuffles inside, awkward and uncomfortable and so ready to get lost again.
He hates looking for jobs. Hates it, hates it, hates it.
Something pink skitters over the floor right in front of him. It looks like an uncooked chicken, and he freaks, stepping back.
“What?” You ask from behind him.
“A chicken!”
“That’s Pollo,” you snarl. “Don’t step on her.”
“You’ve got a naked chicken as a pet?”
“What? No. That’s my cat.”
“That’s a cat?!”
“Yes,” you step around him. It’s almost impossible in the tight space. There are a few tables with chairs, but every spare inch of this room seems to be stuffed with books. He’s getting overwhelmed just being in here.
Suddenly, you’re back in his face, the uncooked chicken thing in your arms. It does have a cat face, though it doesn’t look happy to see him.
“This is Pollo. If you work here, you need to know that she’s not allowed to go outside, because it’s too cold outside.”
Pollo mewls loudly.
“Offer her your hand.”
“What?”
“Offer her your hand,” you repeat again, nodding to his hands. “She wants to sniff it, so she knows who you are. This is how you introduce yourself to a cat.”
“What if she bites me?”
“She just ate, you’ll be fine.”
Hesitating, he stretches out his hand. Pollo sniffs it, her nose tapping his finger at some point. It’s weirdly cold and moist. Then, almost too suddenly, she pulls back and vibrates, the sound loud and foreign in this quiet room.
“She likes you,” you sound surprised. “That’s a good sign.”
“She’s vibrating.”
“That means she likes you. You’ve never had a Sphinx Cat?”
“I’ve never had a cat.”
You hesitate for a second. “Do you wanna hold her? She’s a princess, but since she likes you, she might.”
“Uh,” you’ve already dropped the cat into his arms. Now, on closer inspection, he can tell that the cat is wearing a knitted sweater. It’s almost as pink as her skin, which is a weird choice, but maybe she needs it to camouflage, who knows?
Pollo continues to vibrate loudly, pressing her naked head into his arm. She’s warm. And soft.
“Why did you name her Pollo?” Tenko asks, still a little confused. You turn back to him, surprise on your face.
“Oh, well, I got her… I got her from a shelter, and they thought she looked like a chicken, so they named her Chicken. Pollo means Chicken in Mexican, I think.”
“Why not name her Chicken then?”
“I didn’t ask. She responds to the name, so I kept it.”
-
For the next hour, he follows you around, Pollo vibrating in his arms. She’s loud and she’s persistent, mewling when he walks a little too fast or digging her claws into his arms when he bends forward to look at something.
“We don’t have that many sales this time of year,” you admit. “Well, at least not direct sales. We supply a few schools, which helps to keep us alive, but it’s mostly quiet in here. You can use your time to read when no one’s here and your other duties are done.”
“Do you have Manga?”
Your face scrunches up. “What?”
“Manga. Do you have any?”
“We’re a bookstore.”
“I know,” Tenko looks at you like you’re stupid. “A Manga is a book, no?”
“No, we don’t have Manga,” you tell him. “We have the classics.”
“And no one buys that.”
You flinch. “Look,” you say, your voice tense, “you don’t have to work here.”
“I kinda do.”
“What?”
“I kinda do have to work here. No one else is hiring.”
“Maybe because you’re shitting all over my business and you’re not even hired yet.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“You could be less honest.”
“Oh, so now I’m supposed to lie?”
“Forget it,” you pinch your nose. “Do you only read Manga?”
“Well, yeah. If I read something, it’s Manga.”
You scoff. “Tell you what. You get to pick one Manga for the store to sell at the end of each week. Does that sound good?”
“Sure,” Tenko responds. Now he really knows you’re stupid. One Manga. That’s like a hundred books each. How many does One Piece have?
“And I get to pick one book you read at the beginning of the week. It’s going to be quiet here, so you might as well try my selection.”
“Do I have to?”
“Would you rather stare at the wall instead for eight hours a day?”
He considers this. “What book are you thinking?”
-
Kurogiri blinks back at him from the stove when he returns, something smelling like curry bubbling in the pot.
“How was it?”
“Exhausting.” Tenko drops like a log onto their Couch, hoping sleep will take him away until Dinner is ready. But no, not today.
“You got the job?”
“Hm?” He turns to squint at Kurogiri. “What?”
“Did you get the job?”
Tenko thinks back. You didn’t say he didn’t.
“Yeah, I… I guess I did.”
Kurogiri claps his hands. “That is exciting news. I will make us a special dessert. Do you want to call Yagi-san while I cook?”
“Sure, why not?” He yawns, getting up again.
Despite his “excellent behavior” since helping to bring All For One down and his even better behavior since moving in with Kurogiri and Spinner in this assisted living facility, he still hasn’t gotten a phone. Well, he has one, he just never brings it outside.
It’s useless anyway. If he ever gets lost, he can walk up to any police officer and tell them who he is and where he’s supposed to go, not to mention that he’s rarely alone outside anyway. Well, today was an exception.
It’s one of those really old phones with buttons for numbers, one that doesn’t connect to the internet, and whose number only a few people have. Like Kurogiri, Spinner or Yagi-san.
“I am here!” Yagi-san greets him over the phone, and Tenko scoffs, like he always does.
“I got the job.”
“Congratulations! I knew you could do it!”
“Mhm,” he bites down on the edge of his thumb, nibbling on the skin there. “It’s a weird bookstore. They have no Manga.”
“Well, it’s a great chance for you. I’ll come by this week and purchase something.”
“No, don’t.” He groans. “My boss will know you’re coming because of me. That’s so cringe.”
“But I want to support you.”
Tenko considers that. It would be nice to show what a good worker he is.
“You could come and mention how much you’d like to purchase some Manga. That would show them that they need to order some.”
Yagi-san sighs. “I do not know any Manga.”
“Fine,” Tenko huffs out a sigh. “I’ll ask Midoriya to order Manga. He knows some. You can order… something different.” And then, just like that, he remembers something. “They have a cat.”
“Who?”
“My boss. The store owner, I think. It looks like an uncooked chicken.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and it wears sweaters. Oh,” Tenko sits up a little straighter. “Does Inko know how to knit?”
-
They celebrate quietly that night.
Midoriya calls after Dinner, almost crying on the phone from how happy he is.
Tenko knows he shouldn’t worry about it too much, not with a baby on the way and all the other stuff he has to do, but it’s nice, kinda, to know people care about him so much.
“Mario Kart?” Spinner offers after the Dishes are done, stretching a little. “I could smoke you, for sure.”
They don’t play for too long.
They all have to get up early tomorrow. Leave for work.
Tenko too. It’s the first time in his life, and he thinks about that for a long time before he falls asleep
I'll let engagement decide how soon the next chapter is posted.
a feel like the new generation of fanfic readers NEED to understand that clicking on a fic (interaction) does nothing. ao3 has no algorithm. your private discord discussions of fic do not reach the authors. if you do not actively engage with writers they will stop posting. this isn’t social media this is community.
osamu has an instinctive response to your tears thanks to growing up with atsumu. the first time you cry in front of him, you don’t even know what it was even for. stubbing your toe? a movie? something so trivial because it’s osamu’s reaction that you remember.
immediately, a single slip of your sorrow, osamu’s towering over you. his shadow engulfs yours, his scent swallowing the salt of your tears. a gentle touch gathers your hand, but his voice, though soft, is harried.
“oh shit, fuck, what’s wrong?” osamu rushes through words like he’s not even thinking. “don’t tell ma. i swear i didn’t make ya cry.”
and it’s that out of place comment that proves he’s not. you look at him completely bewildered. he doesn’t even realize it, questioning you with an open gaze. another thirty seconds follow for him to actually process what he’s said but you’re already full blown laughing at him, crying for a different reason.
now, every time you cry, you always threaten to tell his ma on him.
“Ariel sold her voice for legs just because of a guy“
Meanwhile Ariel with legs;
Ariel already loved the human world long before meeting Eric (you don’t get a collection like hers overnight) and when she finally got a chance to explore it, she took it.
Ursula made it more about Eric than Ariel ever did.
and i mean hell this has been talked about before in more depth than i can, but when people complain about how the ending was changed (the original fairytale does not give ariel a happy ending, she dies trying to protect the prince), i think about the fact that this was written by a gay man in the 1980s
and i think it’s entirely valid (and gives her an extremely strong connection to the queer community) to change the story so she doesn’t die because of who she loves
Triton made escape a necessity. Once someone goes to the point of destroying your possessions in a violent rampage, there is no staying and sticking it out, there’s no safety. (And Ariel, even in Ursula’s lair, gave Triton more thought than he deserved at the time.) Nowhere in the ocean she could go and be safe. Everyone’s always ‘why don’t they just leave :|’ in abusive situations until the leaving is not something they find 100% worthy of approval.
Ursula made it about Eric. She didn’t have to. Ariel had to get out from under Triton’s thumb, it could have been literally anything. Ursula took advantage of a desperate victim for her own agenda. Realistic predatory behavior toward a vulnerable person.
And also
There’s always the ‘Eric didn’t want her until she was silent and meek’ criticism - FIRST OF ALL he started out looking for a woman who wasn’t silent, and second of all what part of the carriage driving bit (or any of her other actions on land) is meek, exactly?
People above have noted the queer subtext. Now, on the subject of Ariel being willing to leave her family, aside from the baseline ‘this is an abusive environment and she was not safe there’ angle I already mentioned, consider: Ariel’s father made it clear he would stop at nothing to crush and tear down who she was and replace it with what he wanted her to be. Now - what demographic might that resonate with? And given Ashman’s involvement, do you think that was a coincidence?
there has been scholarly discussion about the idea that the og little mermaid story, where she dies at the end, was written as a queer allegory.
so taking that into account… there is something very touching about taking this story from hans christian andersen from beyond the grave and being like “things are different now. they get to be happy. she gets to live.”
also in re: “Eric didn’t want her until she was silent and meek” the meek part’s been discussed but can we please talk about how when he first met her he thought she wasn’t the girl with the voice that he was trying to find and was disappointed, but that he slowly fell for her anyway? He’d explicitly wanted Ariel WITH her voice, but came to love her without it.
The bit about Howard Ashman being queer is finally giving me some glimmer of understanding of why the teenaged girl mermaid is named “Ariel.” Because, although the Disney movie single-handedly changed popular perception thereafter, Ariel is a boy’s name. Howard Ashman absolutely knew that.
(Ariel in Shakespeare’s The Tempest also has male pronouns, in case anyone was struggling to remember.)
college tsukki reluctantly asking akiteru for advice because he's so in love with his best friend that it's actively killing him —but he doesn't know how to tell you because he hates being vulnerable/can't stand the thought of not having you in his life if he fucks it up—and aki's just like ...
you have to.
you have to be vulnerable and express your feelings or you'll lose them.
and so tsukki awkwardly confesses the next day, acting so uncharacteristically tentative, even shy, as he asks if you'd like to get coffee. in his head, you've said no fourteen different ways, so he's speechless when you take his hand and cozy up to his side with the biggest grin on your face.
"where are we goin', handsome?"
"you wanna go right now?"
you roll your eyes. "duh. or do you wanna waste more time?"
during his wedding toast, aki swears that the only reason you two are getting married is because of his sage brotherly advice.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: a snippet of vulcan medican officer shouto x starfleet captain reader, inspired by all the star trek au brainrot i had going on a couple weeks ago lmao. shouto is our handsome chief medical officer who just wants captain reader to stop getting herself so grievously injured every time the ship makes port, trying to prove to herself that she is worthy of the ship's command. (6.1k)
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: afab fem reader (she/her pronouns), hurt/comfort, self-worth issues, implied child neglect, unreliable narrator, pre-relationship, some gore (reader sustains significant physical injury), sfw.
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: tos is the only star trek i have seen all the way through, and the last time i watched any star trek was when i was down with the flu for a week in college lmao. i did some wiki digging and some googling but i did take some notable liberties with their comms units and other details are probably hella inaccurate to canon so my apologies to the trekkies!!
It was the crackling of your comms unit that roused you, the ping of an incoming call slicing through the fog of your sleep. You blinked awake, realizing you’d fallen asleep huddled in the corner of your cell, your neck stiff from being wedged awkwardly against the wall as you dozed.
You hurriedly accepted the comm, smiling blearily as First Officer Iida’s anxious expression filled the piece of your wrist unit’s screen that wasn’t obscured by your manacles.
“Captain,” he said solemnly, inclining his head.
You gave him a nod, suppressing a wince as the motion jarred your shoulder, pulling at the wound and sending a wave of hot pain radiating down to your fingers. You suspected it was dislocated, although that was immaterial at this point. You’d figure it out later in the privacy of your own quarters, when the rest of your crew had been seen to.
“Tenya,” you said, pulling on a grin. “It’s a relief to see you—what have you been able to pull together?”
Iida’s eyes slipped sideways to what you could tell was an inventory, a list of items you intended for the UA to present to your Xentauri captors. “Midoriya was able to put together a translator based on the audio snippets you took with your wrist unit. It’s calibrated for their language, so we should be able to communicate effectively.”
You nodded again, pleased with your crew’s progress. You suspected you were only in this mess in the first place because of your communication gap.
Xentauri-II.1ba, as it was officially charted on Federation mapping, was a newly discovered life-supporting planet that had yet to be thoroughly investigated. The Federation had first deployed a small science team to research conditions, but only weeks in, the unit had dispatched an emergency signal. Your ship, the UA had the closest to receive it, and once decoded by Comms Officer Midoriya, the signal had pointed to the team being in severe danger, possibly under attack.
You’d immediately rerouted for Xentauri-II.1ba, and taken a small shuttle down to the research base with a few handpicked officers to investigate. Whereupon you’d of course been attacked by the planet’s inhabitants yourself.
You’d attempted to negotiate, but without a mapping of their language to yours yet established, your efforts were in vain. The Xentauri had taken your rescue crew prisoner too, hauled you back to what you guessed to be their capital city, and thrown you in with the research team.
They hadn’t seemed to want to kill you after the fight deescalated. Or known enough, for that matter, to relieve your crew of your communicators. Which pointed to a possible diplomatic solution still at hand.
“Perfect. What else?” you prompted Iida.
“Records of Federation history reworked to suit their level of technological advancement, a few non-invasive crop samples Ibara thinks will work well in their arid soil, some textiles and worked metals that roughly match their own dress that Midoriya thinks they may like, blankets, and—well, Shouto hasn’t given them up yet but we’re asking him for some species-agnostic hyposprays to represent our intention to help.”
Your stomach flipped at the mention of your Chief Medical Officer. You were going to be giving him a wide berth for the foreseeable future until you were certain he wouldn’t be able to note your injuries. He was the last person who needed to catch on to your weakness.
“He doesn’t want to give them over?” you asked.
Iida frowned. “He has not said as much, but I am getting the distinct impression he does not look well upon the Xentauri.”
You tossed Iida another tired grin. “How can he dislike them when we’ve never encountered them before? He’s just mad about the cleanup he’s gonna have to do on the crew. Tell Shouto it’s Captain’s orders and I want at least five.”
Iida made a noise of assent, pushing up his glasses. “I will. We should be there in precisely twenty Galactic standard minutes. Is there anything else you wish me to assemble before the podship departs?”
You shook your head. “You’ve done a good job, thank you, Tenya. Let’s see how the negotiation goes now that we have Izuku’s translator. If we have to do it in phases, please prioritize the return of the research team first, then the crew. I will go last—is that understood?”
Iida looked like he’d swallowed a lemon, but predictably, he nodded. He was loyal to your command, reliable to a fault. You were so often thankful for it.
“Understood, Captain. I will see you shortly,” he replied.
“Thank you, Tenya,” you said, before ending the comm.
Mina perked up in her own cell, a few yards away from yours. “Party bus incoming?”
You laughed, giving the xenobiologist a wink. She’d been good company the last day or so, easily able to keep her spirits up despite your capture and able to help you reassure the rest of your crew that things were well in hand. You were especially thankful, as she had been inches away from not being here. You’d moved in front of the knife meant for her without thinking, catching it in your own shoulder instead of her throat. It super sucked for you, but it was better a shoulder wound than a dead friend.
“Your shower and breakfast beckon, m’lady,” you joked.
Mina groaned appreciatively, scrubbing a manacled hand through her candy-pink hair. “I think I’m gonna take an old fashioned one. Real water and everything.”
You made a sympathetic sound. A water shower sounded luxurious, and some part of you desperately craved one too. But hot water was not good for most injuries, particularly a dislocated shoulder and what you were also certain was a broken ankle. Not to mention the stinging effect it might have on your stab wound and the litany of cuts and bruises that banded the rest of your body.
You were going to have to wait a little longer until you’d healed up to partake.
“We should wake the rest of the crew,” you said, motioning to the couple of uniformed lumps in Mina’s cell and the few beyond.
Mina nodded, and set about poking your teammates awake, calling excitedly to the next couple of cells down.
Both your crew and the Federation research team were awake by the time the Xentauri guard came to fetch you, exactly 20 minutes on the dot, as Iida had promised. They said something in their twining, sinuous tones, shuffling to the doors of your cells. They were humanoid but strange to look at, their skin waxen grey and necks elongated like Earthen giraffes, sprouting into wide, ridged faces almost like the Ferengi. A set of eight fingers—as long and spindly as their necks—protruded from the cuffs of their shirts, made from a light material like a linen, though their thinness belied a ferocious strength.
It reminded you a little of looking at Shouto, his terrifying Vulcan strength buried under a deceptively beautiful visage.
The Xentauri’s strength was on full display as a guard reached out and hauled you unceremoniously to your feet. They shepherded you impatiently out of the prison, into the harsh blue cast of the Xentauri sun.You stumbled along with them, swearing under your breath every time you took a step with your right foot. Pain lanced up your leg, lodging in your throat, and you grit your teeth, sweat building quickly beneath your uniform.
It was almost a relief to be forced down when you finally reached your destination—a sandy expanse of earth outside or a huddle of buildings erected from a purplish, glittering rock. Your head swam, and your vision whited out for a moment as you hit your knees.
When you recovered, you could see the crew of the UA was already assembled in the lot. Iida stood at ease in front of a small group of expedition officers, flanked by Izuku, Tokoyami, and—you paled to see it—Shouto.
Your Chief Medical Officer looked predictably perfect in the light of the Xentauri sun, the blue catching in the silver of his hair, fading into the blue of his uniform. It played over his broad shoulders and glinted off of the cool metal of the phaser strapped to his thigh. It also underscored his expression, which was pissed—or as pissed as a Vulcan could look, anyway.
It was undetectable if you weren’t already intimately familiar with their baseline expressions. But you were familiar enough with Shouto’s—had been his schoolmate once—and so you caught the tiniest narrowing of his eyes at the corners, the barest hint of a scrunch between his perfect eyebrows as that heterochromatic gaze flicked over you.
Oh yeah. Pissed big time.
You tried to project an air of strength and confidence as he looked you over, though you imagined your stay in Xentauri prison had not been kind to you. You knew you were covered in dust and debris, and you watched Shouto’s gaze snag on the rend in your uniform over your stab wound. It was a mess of dried blood surrounded by some very heavy and very gross bruising.
Dignity and command, you told yourself as your vision fuzzed a little again. You could totally still project dignity and command.
Izuku stepped forward with the translator, offering some opening words that, on this side of the lot, came out in the Xentauri language, sibilant and twisting. One of the Xentauri, dressed in a purple linen that nearly matched the stone of the buildings around you, stepped forward, replying in a hiss of words.
You listened with half an ear as negotiations commenced, trying to keep your focus on staying upright. The Xentauri sun burned through the fabric of your uniform, and the air was biting and dry. You pointedly did not look at Shouto again, keeping your eyes trained on Izuku and Iida as they produced the bargaining chips you’d ordered.
You were pleased when, as you expected, the Xentauri accepted with little delay. You could only just catch snatches of Federation Standard as Izuku and Iida spoke between the translated layers of Xentauri, but you were able to gather that the Federation’s arrival was perceived as an attempt to undermine Xentauri territorial sovereignty.
Once it was made clear that you were not on any sort of political venture, however, you were ceded back into Federation custody with no more ceremony than a box of pastries. They seemed eager to receive the gifts you had pulled together, and not very interested in further violence.
You watched, relieved, as your crew were set free of their restraints and helped back towards the podship by their teammates. You shook out your own hands happily as a Xentauri guard freed you from your manacles as well.
You clambered to your feet, biting back a small scream as you put weight on your right leg. And then you forced yourself to pace evenly over to where Iida stood with the remaining crew, inclining your head gratefully. You waved away the rest of the crew, huddling up with your First and Communications Officers.
“Well handled,” you told them. Izuku flushed beneath his freckles, always pleased, and Iida saluted you. “I’d like ten minutes for a sonic shower and a change of uniform, then I’d like all heads of departments at the bridge for a debrief.”
Iida nodded. “I will arrange it.”
“Thank you,” you said, ignoring the way your head throbbed. “I’m certain you have also already drafted a report to Star Fleet. I’d like to review it collectively to ensure the Xentauri are fairly represented and to request permission for continued negotiation with them for Federation Science re-access to their planet.”
Iida saluted.
“After that, please consider yourself off duty,” you said. “Thank you for your overtime to get the crew back. We can transition ship command back to me and I will cover your remaining shift into my upcoming—-”
“You will not,” Shouto’s low tone cut through your order.
You startled at his proximity, the statement issued from just above your right temple. When you titled your head to look back at him, your shoulder lanced with pain and your vision swam faintly again. You forced it all down, shooting Shouto an impatient look.
“Respectfully—”
“You are not cleared for duty,” Shouto said.
It was lucky the rest of the crew had already hastened towards the podship or you might have strangled him for his lack of deference. But Shouto had a knack for timing—he never disobeyed you in front of the crew, never even came close to a whisper of undeferential behavior unless it was with Tenya and Izuku, both of whom you knew he trusted completely. He was too canny.
“I don’t need to be cleared, it’s just a couple of scratches,” you informed him archly.
“I believe I am qualified to make that assessment on my own,” Shouto told you, his heterochromatic gaze fastening to your face as he stepped around you to join the circle of your officers. You were altogether too aware of the breadth and height of him as he moved, a tiny thrill of fear zipping down your spine.
Shouto was the only person on the ship with the authority to strip you of command should he see fit. And you were determined for him to never see fit.
“What luck there is no need for you to,” you said, sweetly.
A scarlet eyebrow rose a scant millimeter, which to Vulcans amounted to a look of polite incredulity. “That would be in violation of Regulation 8.667-f of the Medical Standard. Which requires a medical officer to clear return for all officers sustaining injury on duty, including command. Especially when you have clearly been stabbed.”
Damn him.
“Details,” you told him. “Plus I’m sure you’ll be busy clearing all your other patients. I can duck in a little later to see if Hagakure—”
“My staff will see to the other crew,” Shouto said. “You are my priority, Captain.”
A little thrill zinged through your veins again, fear and something else you did not care to examine.
Iida and Izuku did not help matters by nodding in agreement, Iida giving you a short bow. “We will see to the situation on the bridge, Captain, until you are cleared for return. Please make sure you are in good health.”
You valiantly fought down a scowl as you dismissed them. “My gratitude.”
Izuku and Iida saluted and turned for the podship, leaving you alone with the most annoying Vulcan in the galaxy. You watched them go, not turning to Shouto until they had cleared most of the way.
“You first, doctor,” you motioned him towards the ship as well, determined to walk behind him so he wouldn’t catch any sign of a limp in your step.
Shouto didn’t move, however, blinking down at you. His handsome face was impassive, the strong line of his jaw and plush mouth perfectly, deceptively at ease.
“Do you so object to walking with me, Captain?” he asked.
You shook your head. “I will cover the rear.”
Shouto blinked again. “I am the only one with a phaser between us.”
If you didn’t feel on the verge of passing out, you could have torn out your own hair. Did he need to be so difficult!
“I insist,” you said, trying your best to look polite and innocent.
Shouto’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Either you are deliberately avoiding mention of another injury or you are injured so badly as to have forgotten it. In which case a mandate of relief from the captainship would almost certainly be required while you recover your memory—”
You reached out and slapped a hand over his mouth, hissing, “I did not forget an injury.”
“Then you must inform me,” he said into your fingers. His tone sounded more entreating than commanding, and for some reason that annoyed you. There was no reason to be concerned.
“Nothing confirmed, possible dislocation,” you said vaguely, pulling your hand away. It tingled a little with the echo of how his mouth had moved against it.
Shouto’s gaze dropped from your face down your body, his mouth pursing in a sweet little downturn. “Where?”
You gritted your teeth. “Shoulder. Possibly one ankle.”
Shouto immediately dropped to his knees in front of you, startling you. You took a reflexive step backwards, letting out a cry when it jostled your right foot. You just barely managed not to go down hard, recovering yourself only by the sudden grip Shouto had on your waist, supporting you.
He was, of course, immediately able to tell which ankle had pained you. His long, elegant fingers reached for the hem of your right leg, rolling it up in a gentle motion. You watched the top of that red-and-white head tilt, and heard the soft intake of his breath as he caught the swelling that had reached the edges of your boot.
His expression could almost be termed thunderous, even on a human, when he looked back up at you. “You were going to walk on a broken ankle,” he said accusingly.
“Oh? Is it broken?” you tried, pasting on an expression of surprise.
Which immediately turned to a yelp of genuine surprise when Shouto rolled nimbly back to his feet, sweeping his arms under you, avoiding your right shoulder.
“Shouto—!” you squeaked, your voice strangled.
“You knew,” he said firmly, tucking you close to his chest. Your face heated at the press of him along your side, warm and firm and harder with muscle than a medical officer should have been allowed. He smelled like sterilants and some warm, expensive cologne, a little unearthly in profile. Possibly composed of Vulcan plants.
It made your lightheadedness somehow even worse, and if he didn’t put you down now you were afraid you might pass out for real.
“It’s probably just a minor fracture,” you insisted, as he carried you towards the podship. You shifted, ignoring the flare of pain in your shoulder as you did, trying to clamber out of his arms. He refused to be dislodged, ducking deftly through the door of the podship and nodding at a crewman as the officer closed it behind the two of you.
You couldn’t bear to look at the crewman’s face, burning with embarrassment at being carried over the threshold like a fucking princess.
Then Shouto had the audacity to buckle you into the podship seat himself, like your arms were broken too, and arranged himself stiffly in the seat next to you.
His mouth was turned down in a frown when you glanced at him, and the expression did not so much as flicker the entire flight back to the UA. It was only when you tried to insist you could walk to medbay yourself that Shouto gave you the flattest, most flinty-eyed look you’d ever seen from him. He knelt before you again, helping you unfasten your jumpseat buckle, and ignored your protests as he pulled your uninjured arm up over a strong shoulder, gathering you up in his arms again.
You squeezed your eyes as he moved through the halls, both to avoid seeing the judgment on your crew’s faces and because the way the walls were starting to spin in front of your eyes was making you a little nauseous.
You appeared to be the first of the captured crew to make into medbay, so it was blessedly empty of people as Shouto bore you through it. He carried you right into his office and set you on the gently medbed in the corner, your least favorite spot on the entire ship.
Then he stood in front of you, and put hands on his hips. You ignored the way it made his biceps pull and flex under the fabric of his uniform.
“I am going to have to cut your boot off of you,” Shouto informed you. “Your shirt as well. It’s stuck in your wounds and I will need to reopen them a little to cut it out.”
Your cheeks heated with the idea of being bare before him, but he was a medical professional. And also that was disgusting—you wanted to get your shirt out of your own body as fast as possible. “Sure—that’s fine.”
Shouto hummed to himself, a low, soft tone in the back of his throat as he moved to a drawer of equipment beside the med bed. “Thank you,” he said, drawing out a device with a wickedly thin, circular blade attached.
You did not like the look of it, and hoped that famous Vulcan precision was everything it was cracked up to be.
Shouto knelt before you again, carefully applying the saw and pulling the fabric of your boot gently away from your skin. It whirred softly, and in a matter of moments you felt the loosening of the fabric, and your boot thunked heavily to the floor.
“I will do your shirt now,” Shouto told you.
You nodded, breath catching in your chest as he leaned over you. Those long fingers slid under the collar of your uniform, easing it away from the fragile skin of your neck. You flushed hotly when Shouto’s fingers met the edge of your bra strap, too, and he paused, going strangely still.
You thought you caught the hint of a blue flush at the top of one high cheekbone, and you quickly bit out a “sorry” at him, cheeks burning.
Then the saw whirred to life again, and Shouto angled it down until it had cut a clean line down your shirt. He pulled it off of you, very gently inching it away from where it had stuck into your stab wound and various other cuts with your dried blood. He murmured a warning before each, and you bit back a groan as it re-tore open the skin in those spots, determined not to look like a little baby.
Shouto tossed your shirt in the biohazard bin with perfect aim, his eyelashes sweeping down across his cheeks as he took stock of all the injuries that had collected across your torso.
You looked down at yourself, noting several deep cuts you hadn’t noticed before and a contusion in the shape of one of the Xentauri’s feet. You also noted how much blood had soaked into the cups and straps of your bra from your stab wound, and chalked it up to a lost cause. When you looked back up, Shouto looked kind of angry again.
“I will administer painkillers via hypospray and a topical antibacterial to your stab wound first,” he said, his low voice flat.
You nodded your assent, and Shouto went to the drawer again, gathering up the things he’d need for you. “Then I will assess your remaining injuries via tricorder. I may need to manually reset your shoulder. Your ankle should be healable with the osteogenic stimulator. Is this acceptable?”
You nodded again tiredly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
Shouto fumbled the hypospray, whipping around to stare at you. A blue flush crawled all the way up his pointed ears.
You could almost hear the rush of your own blood to your ears when you realized how you’d just sounded. “I mean—uhhhhh. That wasn’t to imply—”
“If I did what I wanted with you,” Shouto said, drawing himself up. “You would never leave medbay again.”
You blinked, unsure if that was the threat it sounded like. Meaning, he wouldn’t let you go back to command for your own good? Or he wanted to murder you himself? Or—?
You burned with embarrassment. You had long wanted Shouto’s approval, or at the very least to avoid him seeing right through you to the poor little wretch you’d been before Starfleet, unable to take care of your own mother, surrendered into state care for your uselessness.
You’d wanted it even back at the academy, realizing how smart he was, how straightforward and empathetic. You trusted his judgment more than anyone else on this ship. And so you wanted him to think you were a capable captain, someone worthy of his respect, too. Not some idiot who could barely handle herself who needed to be kept from command to protect the rest of the crew.
You stayed silent, shame burning through you. You would just have to try harder in the future, make him see that you could be relied on to take care of this crew, including him. You would prove yourself capable.
Shouto moved around you with the ease of long practice, pressing the hypospray to the back of your neck. Then he held the tricorder over you, his mismatched gaze tracking across the screen, that microscopic scrunch appearing between his brows again.
“You have been stabbed, dislocated your shoulder, fractured a finger, broken your ankle, torn your MCL. You have also sustained significant bruising on your right torso, left thigh, and right shin,” he said. “You have a variety of small cuts and other abrasions across roughly five percent of your epidermis.”
His voice sounded kind of funny, and his handsome face waved in front of you like a flag in the wind. A weird feeling of giddiness and relief swept over you, and you realized the painkillers he’d just given you were starting to hit.
“Ohhhhh that feels so good,” you said, stupidly, feeling yourself slip forward. Your head lolled onto Shouto’s shoulder.
You could feel his inhale, and then his arms came around you. “I—Yes, I can do it from this position, then. I will need to reset your shoulder. I need to apply a local anesthetic.”
“Do your thing,” you said into his neck. He smelled really good.
Shouto’s next breath was uneven, and long fingers grasped you just above your bicep, the cold touch of the hypospray at your shoulder joint. “I will proceed.”
You closed your eyes. “Whatever you want.”
A feeling of numbness overtook your shoulder, and then the hypospray disappeared. A large hand braced against your back and Shouto said, “I am going to reset it now.”
You nodded. “Sounds nice.”
There was a strange feeling of pressure, a slide that you did not like, and then—a sense of relief. “Oh, it’s back in!”
“Yes,” Shouto confirmed. Then, hesitantly, “I will need to move you to work on your stab wound and fractures.”
You heard yourself make a grunt of disapproval. You did not like the sound of that. Moving sounded like the worst thing anyone had ever asked of you, actually. “Y’ can ignore them, ‘ll get ‘m later.”
Shouto paused. “I would be professionally negligent not to fix them.”
You frowned. “Doesn’t matter, I’ll get ‘m. Thank you.”
“They…matter to me,” Shouto said. There was something in his voice you didn’t like, something a little dark like you had displeased him. You didn’t want to displease him.
You were interrupted from responding, however, by a soft knock at the door. Shouto hesitated, then called for whoever it was to come in, and you heard Hagakure’s bright tone from over his shoulder.
“Oh! Is that the captain—?” she said. “Is she—?”
“I gave her Metorapan,” Shouto said. “Please close the door behind you.”
“Oh nothing but the top shelf for our captain, huh,” Hagakure laughed. “Explains why she’s all over you right now. She say anything crazy yet?”
It took an inhuman amount of effort to lift your head from Shouto’s chest to glare over his shoulder at her. Only to find she was missing from view, the chameleon skin of her alien species picking up the light reflections in the ship’s environment. She had to consciously remember to be visible sometimes.
“I am not all over him,” you said. “And as I was just explaining, I am done an’ ready to debrief now.”
Hagakure shimmered into view, her mouth turned up into a grin. “With an open stab wound?”
You blinked. Shouto covered you almost completely from view. How could she—?
“Mina says it was meant for her but Captain took it right in the shoulder instead. Didn’t even go down, just tried to negotiate with the Xentauri right through it,” Hagakure reported.
Shouto’s sigh ruffled your hair. “I am unsurprised to hear it.”
You felt another frown pull at your mouth. He probably thought you were an idiot for almost getting one of your crew injured. You hated how incapable you were, too, but you’d at least saved her from the worst of it, and you’d learn the lesson for next time. Next time, you would prove yourself for sure. You would earn the command of this ship, not just on paper but in practice too.
“How is the crew?” you managed, forcing the feelings down.
“None so injured as you,” Hagakure said. “They said you took the worst of it for them, and kept things from escalating. A couple of minor fractures here and there and some bruising but otherwise everyone is safe. The research crew on the other hand, is a little worse for wear—bet they wish you had been there for their arrest too.”
You snorted. Nobody wished that.
“Nothing we can’t fix though,” Hagakure said. “I’ll send you the report Mina gave, Shouto, on Cap’s injury so you have it, and send the treatment records for your review when we’re done.”
“Thank you,” Shouto said.
“I wanted to check if there’s any help you need from me, before I go back to supervise?” she asked.
Shouto shook his head.
You shook your head also, detaching from Shouto reluctantly. The room was cold without him against you. “Thank you for the report on the crew. Can you comm Tenya on the way out to let him know I will be there shortly to debrief?”
Hagakure stared at you. “You’re still stabbed, Captain.”
You blinked and looked down, noting your lack of shirt as well. When had that—? “Oh. That.”
Hagakure made a noise like she was suppressing a laugh and let herself out, the door closing firmly behind her.
Before you could make your excuses to Shouto, he’d eased an arm behind your shoulder and was tipping you over to lay on the cot.
“You cannot be cleared to return to duty until your injuries are addressed and the Metorapan wears off,” he told you. “You will need to sleep it off for a few hours after we are done.”
As he had anticipated it, his hand flew to your shoulder as you tried to sit up, pressing you back down. “I don’t need a few hours,” you said.
“You will have them regardless,” Shouto replied.
“I’ve already taken too much time,” you said, giving him a quick smile. See how ready you were to return to work?
Shouto’s perfect mouth pulled downwards a scant inch, and your eyes tracked the movement. “You are a very bad patient, as usual,” he said.
You rolled your eyes. You were a very bad everything. You didn’t also want to be a bad captain.
Shouto’s mouth opened, his eyelashes fluttering in surprise. “Is that what you think?” he asked, and you realized you’d maybe said that last bit aloud. “You believe you are a bad captain?”
A sudden flicker of fear flared to life in your chest.
To admit doubt was also to be a bad captain. You could not show hesitation, not when you were meant to be the leader of this starship. Shouto himself could not trust you if he knew you were not perfectly sure of yourself at all times.
“No,” you said.
Shouto watched your face. “No?”
Your head throbbed, and a bone deep exhaustion settled over you, tugging at your eyelids. But you watched him back, trying to blink through the feeling.
“I,” you started, then stopped yourself when you realized it wouldn’t be quite true to say you were a good captain. Shouto wasn’t stupid. “I do my best to protect th’ crew. Will always do my best to protect every member of th’ UA.”
A tiny little frown marred the perfection of Shouto’s face again. You reached up, smoothing it, and watched as a bluish green flush overtook his features again.
Vulcans blushed blue. You were probably grossing him out. You took your hand away.
“You take care of most of the crew,” Shouto allowed. “Every single member of the crew but one. There is a notable exception.”
Shit. Who had you failed? How had you failed? Normally you knew, were perfectly and objectively aware of every single time a strategy of yours had not gone as intended, had worked to make up the learning after and never make the mistake again.
But it was Shouto’s job to pull you from command if you were unfit. And if you were negligent enough in your duties like this, not even see the the things you were missing—
“D’you plan to relieve me of command?” you asked. Your face burned again, the question having slipped out before you were ready.
Shouto looked shocked—surprise taking over more of his features than you had ever seen on a Vulcan before.
“What?” he asked.
“Because I let them get hurt. Who is it?” you asked.
Shouto appeared speechless for a long moment. “People will always get hurt on missions like ours. You have protected the crew better than anyone I could think of. Your strategic thinking in times of crises is your area of expertise, and I have no doubt in your abilities. If I were to relieve you of command, I would see double the numbers of crew members in here after every mission.”
Your head swam, and you flushed with embarrassment, squirming uncomfortably with the praise. It didn’t answer your question. Why was he being so hard to understand?
“But you said there was someone I don’t protect. Like a routine failure.”
Shouto raised a hand, his long fingers skirting around the edge of your stab wound. “The only person you do not look after is yourself.”
You blinked, subsiding under his hand. Yourself? That was his problem?
Shouto’s handsome face spasmed again and you could tell you’d said that aloud too.
“Yes, that is my problem,” he said.
“Oh well that’s fine then,” you answered, although you were a little mystified.
Look after yourself? What was there even to look after? You had a good job, and your own sonic shower, and hot food whenever you wanted it, provided you weren’t temporarily behind bars on some backwater planet. You had the chance to earn the trust of people you respected, some of the best in the galaxy in their professions, and—many months into your mission—several blossoming friendships with Iida, Izuku, Mina, and Hagakure. You had a literal starship at your command, a place you were beginning to belong.
The only thing you could want for was Shouto’s respect too.
But you would earn that in time. You would.
“You already have it,” Shouto said, his voice low and intimate. It made you flush again, your heart beating kicking up somewhere into your throat.
“I do?” you asked.
Shouto inclined his head, looking you in the face.
“I will make it clear to you more in the future,” he said, then leaned over you, reaching for some device. You reveled in his warmth and closeness for a moment, until he pulled back with something you recognized as an osteogenic stimulator. “As well as other areas of my regard.”
You blinked, wondering what that meant.
“It is not a conversation that is right to have when you are not in possession of your faculties,” Shouto said. “But perhaps it will convince you to take better care of yourself.”
You blinked again sleepily, having trouble thinking straight now that the immediate problem had been addressed and you’d been horizontal for so long. Shouto did not think you needed to be relieved of duty. Shouto respected you.
You watched him work blearily, his long fingers fiddling with some of the settings on the simulator. It was strangely hypnotic to observe, and another wave of exhaustion washed through you, weighing you down to the table.
“In the interim I will take care of you. Until, and even after, you are able,” Shouto promised.
“That…sounds really nice,” you said absently, wondering if maybe you could just catch a couple minutes’ rest while he worked.
“You can sleep. I will be here when you wake up,” Shouto said, trailing the simulator down to your ankle.
His touch was sure and gentle, and his voice was too.
Maybe it would be fine then, to just take a short respite.
You closed your eyes. And under Shouto’s careful watch, you let yourself rest.
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