thinnking abt how aizawa and shinsou's convo would go after he finds out his father figure has been flogging his little sister's teacher/babysitter!!!!
night shift // shouta aizawa
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messages between shinsou and aizawa bc it made me laugh thinking abt it:
this was a request! Hope you enjoy! It’s an Aizawa x reader where healer!user finds injured!aizawa
It was a surprise, seeing him wounded. He was a pro hero, EraserHead. He was curled up on the ground, a concrete pillar on his legs. You suck in a breath, the way his legs were crumpled. Your eyes dart around, no one was going to help him, everyone was helping the more popular heroes.
You rush to him, ripping off your overshirt, leaving yourself in your undershirt. You weren’t even worried about that for now. You had other shirts.
“Sir, are you okay?” You ask the hero, you could smell the blood off of him.
He mumbles a gentle, “Yeah. I’m fine.” He chuckles dryly.
“You okay if I take you to my home to patch you up?” He nods gently. You wrap the ripped portion of the shirt around his legs. You struggle to pick the man up, carrying him to your small car. It was awkward trying to shove a tall man into a car.
“Can you please try and sit, and get in there?” You ask, you wanted to be kind. Plus he was a hero, and no one else was looking to help him.
Your small, light cyan smart box car that you could barely fit in comfortably, Aizawa was barely able to fit in the snug backseat. You speed, trying your best not to get in trouble with the law but he was not doing well.
——————————————————————
Once you return to your small apartment you set Shouta down on your green loveseat. “Hold on, I’m going to grab water for you, do you need anything else?”
The injured hero shakes his head, you grab a random glass cup from your mismatched cubboard. His hand reaches out and he drinks it in two long sips.
“So uhh, Mr. Eraser Head-“ You say, not knowing what else to call him.
“Shouta or Aizawa is fine. You don’t need to be all fancy about it.” He replies, his normal monotone voice but a little bit of something else you can’t tell what it is.
“Oh cool, my name’s Y/N. So, I have a healing quirk, so I’ll do that. It takes a lot of my energy though.” You place your hand on his crumpled bones, and slowly and painfully the bones reform themself. His whimper pierces the air. You’ve seen him on TV before, of course since he is a hero. And you’ve never expected this man to whimper.
“It’s okay, you okay? I can take a break. It’s almost done anyway.” You explain, you didn’t want him in pain, even though it was sort of his profession. You never liked seeing people in pain.
“No, it’s fine,” He brushes it off, even though the feeling of every little crack in his bones forming back together wasn’t the greatest.
“So, what villain were you fighting?” You question as his bones morph together and you grab a glass of water for yourself.
“Dabi, he’s part of the LOV, he set some shit on fire and it fell.” He explains it like it’s an everyday occurrence for heroes like him, and it probably is.
“Do you want to stay here for a bit and rest up?” You ask gently. He probably needed a little rest before you brought him home anyways.
———————————————————-
“So, what made you want to go into heroing?” Your curiousity gets the best of you and you tilt your head.
“I… I had a friend, and we were going to start an agency together, but we couldn’t.”
You look at him and realize you shouldn’t press any farther. “Oh, uhm. I-I work at a hospital nearby. It’s hard to get any other job with a healing quirk, ya know?”
“We could probably use another healer at the school I teach at. The main class I teach is a wreck when it comes to getting hurt.” He explains casually.
“I didn’t realize you were also a teacher, that’s cool. I’m guessing it’s at one of those cool fancy hero schools?”
He nods. You both make your way to the bed. You lay in bed together talking for a little longer. You both fall asleep.
Prompt: villain!ReaderxAizawa. Reader is a prisoner of Tartarus. Aizawa needs Reader’s help solving an ongoing crime.
masterlist
“You have visitors.” The guard’s voice made you jump from your place at the corner of the cell –a small room of white walls, ten steps wide and twelve steps in length counting the space that took the metal bed. You put down the pen and paper you were fidgeting with and looked straight at the narrow horizontal slit close to the top of the barricaded door.
“What do you mean visitors?” You asked in a condescending tone. Who on Earth can be out there coming all the way to Tartarus for a visit? Your family was never that dedicated and most of your friends wouldn’t step on this place for dear life.
“What I just said. Now get up, we have to move you to the next quarters.”
You racked your brain, thinking about who this one person might be. It was useless to ask anything to the guard, they either didn’t have the information or would never give it willingly.
“Step back.” He said, and you sat up from your place at the end of the mattress and walked to the wall opposite to the door. You stayed there with both arms raised up to show that you were empty handed.
“Don’t try anything funny.” The guard warned before you could hear the cling of keys and the sound of admission followed by the heavy noise of the door unlocking.
The guard pulled the door open and gave a step back, one hand over his weapon in his waist. You stepped out of your cell and were signaled to stop. The first guard motioned to the side where two other guards held open a white shirt with long sleeves and leather straps. A strait-jacket.
“Put it on.” The guard ordered and you complied –not that you had the chance to say ‘no’.
Guards number two and three wrapped the sleeves around you, crossing your arm at the front of your chest and tying the end of the sleeves to the back of the jacket. The effect was claustrophobic.
Once they had you restrained, guard number one pushed you from behind with one hand to order you to walk down the hall. You almost tripped, and resisted the urge to send them a poisonous look over your shoulder.
The halls of Tartarus were covered in steel, in all walls, floor and ceiling. The metal of the corridors seemed to suck all the lights of the bulbs, a dark hole at the end of every hallway. Without the need of a trained eye, one could see the lasers of the ever present sensor and cameras in every corner above.
In the distance you could hear the cacophony of voices of those that conversed with their neighbour. Most ended up reaching out to the cells near and the people inside of them to avoid losing their minds.
One of the cellmates screamed to ask where they were taking you, another screamed to curse at the guards, but mostly they stayed quiet when they saw you passed, escorted by your three new friends.
You saw a few of them taking a sneak peek at the hall through the slit on their doors.
They didn’t worry you. Yes, Tartarus was a prison made for those who the system labeled as a high security risk and who pose a serious threat to both national and international security. However, even inside the premises the prisoners were distributed according to their crimes. Ones, such as yourself, were in the outer rings of the ground floor of the prison, still heavily guarded but nothing like the deps of the prison.
Like the seven rings of hell, one would have to be… extremely careful with what they could find at the very center of it, five hundred meters below sea level.
You shook your head, placing the thought of those other prisoners in the back of your head. It wasn’t thrilling to think about what other things you were trapped in with inside this metal tumb in the middle of the ocean.
“Move.” The guard behind you ordered and pushed you to keep going forward, making you trip with your toes. You held back a curse on the tip of your tongue and picked up your pace.
You walked all the way to the common area and the next block, to fall into a section of the prison you hadn’t seen since the last visit of your lawyer almost a year and a half ago. The guards seemed to have deemed it funny to push you again every few steps or every time your pace seemed to linger for a fraction of a second.
After you passed the living areas flooded by inmates, the halls became painfully quiet and the sound of your steps over the metal floors echoed heavily with the sounds of the iron boots of the guards.
With every push to your back you felt the constraints more and more with the wish of being able to turn around and give back to the idiot behind you.
Finally, the guard signaled you to stop in front of a double door and walked to be in front of you. He picked up a card from his belt and slid it through a sensor, to then press his right palm over a small screen to the side. The door bipped in acknowledgment and a small red light turned green.
“Get in.” Guard number two order, getting a voice of his own.
You entered the visitors room. It was just as you remembered it. Small, with white tile on the walls and marble-like floors. In the middle of it there was a big dark metal chair in front of a glass panel, and to the side there was what you guess should be a two-way mirror, replicating your image on one side but see through on the other opposite to you.
Number Three held you by the shoulder moving you forwards while Number Two pushed you downwards so you’ll sit on the chair. They both work on the leader straps that would tie you to the chair while Number One waited for them at the door.
Once you were in place, both guards left the room and you heard the metal door locking behind your back and the rustling of those people stepping away.
Then, quiet.
You tested the strength of the jacket again to find no improvement. The wait was long, maybe too long. The jacket became itchy and your muscles sore. You moved your neck around in an attempt to get rid of some of the pain. You used the dead time to wander about who this secret visitor might be. Other than your lawyer, there was no one who had set a foot in this place just to see you, but your lawyer would have contacted you beforehand.
The wait stretched to what felt for –tortuously boring– hours, to the point you were about to start smashing your head against the back of the metal chair just to do something.
Finally, the door at the other side of the glass opened.
The image of the person on the other side wasn’t clear at first. The person seemed to be entertaining themselves with a conversation with someone behind the door, yet the microphone that connected both rooms was off so you couldn’t hear what they were discussing.
A moment later, the person entered the room carrying a folder with a stack of papers inside in one hand. Tall and haggard, dressed in all black clothes and a ragged scarf with messy hair that passed his shoulders and a two or three days beard, looking like the world had naked him in the face relentlessly since that very morning.
He sat in front of you in the middle of the room on the other side, letting the folder rest on top of his lap.
You stared, because what else were for you to do?
Then a flicker of noise let you know that the microphone had been turned on. You waited.
“I’ll go straight to the point,” said the man, “The band you were a part of, one of the members you used to work with started working for an organization that calls themselves ‘the league of villains.’” He used both hands to grab the folder and slid away one of the sheets of paper from within. He held a picture towards you and you recognized the person immediately: blond hair, big teeth, small frame.
“We need to know where to find this person,” the man continued, “what are his habits, who is he friends with.” He lowered the picture and looked straight into the eyes, “Every member of your former group is either in prison for robbery or dead by now, except for him. This person,” he said motioning to the folder in his lap, “has been out of the map for two weeks. We have already searched every location that had been linked to him that we know. We got nothing.”
“So…” you said, straightening your back to get some more movement to take away some of the soreness in your body, “I am your only clue.”
The man ran his gaze across your features, probably trying to analyse your reactions and trying to determine if you would cooperate willingly or if he would have to make you cooperate unwillingly. His words were slow, almost dragging his words when he said,
“Unfortunately, yes.”
‘Unfortunately’, why? Was he trying to tell you you weren't nice company? A little bit rude, to be honest.
“Then–” You cocked your head to the side and returned that look, “What is in it for me?” You asked the obvious question.
“Do you recognize the person in the picture?” He asked instead.
Recognize the person? Minato was hard to forget. Ruthless, sour, and dangerously quick-witted. Minato was a man that you wouldn’t like as your enemy, nor your friend, knowed to pull up tricks with everybody. You had reluctantly accepted his presence in the team back then, because like him or not, he was smart. But truth be told, he wasn’t someone you missed on a day to day basis.
“I do.” You offered as a free sample. You needed to play your cards right. Every bit of information they’d get out of you would have to come with a price.
You didn’t struggle with things like camaraderie or long forged trust for having worked together. You knew if it were Minato the one sitting in this chair, he would sell you in a heartbeat. Most of the band would, after all the whole thing had torn apart because of situations similar to this one.
“Where can we find him?”
“Answer my question first.”
“If you give us information about the subject,” the man said with a dead voice, “we can give you the chance to review your sentence.”
“By how much?”
“That’s for the judge to decide.”
“I walk out of here by the end of the mission.” You intended for it to be a statement more than a question. You looked at the man, dark bags under blood shotted eyes. His demeanor a walking mess, his clothes wrinkled. He looked tired as hell. Whatever the case that had him like this was clearly important and you needed to use that in your favor.
“As I said—”
“I won’t say a word until—”
“You might think,” he interrupted you, “that you have an upper hand because I had to come all the way here, but it had to be that way precisely because you’re trapped in here without a way out for the next couple of years.” The man bent closer just slightly while maintaining eye contact and added, “If you don’t give me this information there are other ways for me to find it, while this might be your only opportunity for something like this.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, rage creeping up your throat and a wakening desire to tell that man to go to hell with that deal of his. You licked your lips with the tip of your tongue and tried again.
“I just want to make sure you’re not gonna screw me over with false promises.”
“The deal can be arranged with your lawyer.”
“And what do you plan to do with the guy you are looking for?”
“Do you even care?”
“I’m just asking because I might also be of use for that too. Useful for something bigger, even.”
“How so?” Despite the question, he didn’t look interested in the slightest.
“You need that guy for information, but you have no way to know if he’s going to collaborate with you then. I can be the one pulling the information out of him.”
The man stared, and you came to feel the weight of his dead eyes over you. It was hard to tell what he was thinking by his lack of expressions. You stopped for a moment and considered your words.
“Imagine this,” you said, “I escape this place and come back to the city and I look for refuge with an old colleague...”
“Who is going to believe you escaped the most secure prison in the entire country?” He stopped you.
“All that I need is a small mistake from the guards that I can make into an exit. I am smart, as part of the gang I was the one in charge of the ‘slipping out’. If we do it right he won’t question it.” The statement wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like you had already started to think and plot something of an escape. It had just been a tiny bit hard for you to find that small slip that could take you out of here, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You want to stage an escape.”
“Or let me out through the door and make up some rumors.” You tried to move forward to mimic the man at the other side but the straps of the chair kept you in place. You fidget with the clothes of one of the sleeves from the inside and wondered if you’d be able to pick a hole in it if you played with it enough with your nails. Now that a golden ticket out of here sat at the other side of the screen waiting for you, you couldn’t stop thinking of how much of a relief it would be to get out of here and not having to use this dam constraint anymore.
Maybe the man was right, maybe there would be other ways to get that guy’s location and habits, damn, there were two other members of the band that were imprisoned and wouldn’t hesitate to sell the information they had. But no one knew Minato as you knew –no one that was still alive. So maybe you weren’t the only option, but you were without a doubt the best option.
“Have you already asked the others?” You inquired. ‘The others’ were the other two newbies that had fallen into the hands of the police at the same time you did during that night at the underground pub.
The expression on the man’s face flinched slightly, a sign of discontent.
“I assumed they jumped at the opportunity, but nothing they had was of value.” You ventured to guess.
“All information we can collect now is valuable.” He bit back.
“But not as valuable as the details I can provide.”
Silence.
“I’m offering to be your pawn, how is that not tempting to you?”
“How is it not tempting to trust a person with a criminal record two times the size of the average prisoner?”
“You said the key word,” you lifted your nose at the man, “trust. I am the one who has more to lose here, as you already pointed out. If I don’t do you this favor, I’m going to rot in this hole. C’mon, I’m not a dangerous citizen, life forced me into some odd habits, that’s all.”
Yet another long silence. The man seemed to be studying you, running his eyes over you from head to toe, probably trying to shake some information out of you somewhere. You attempted a poker face.
The man suddenly stood up from the chair, file in hand.
“I will consider your offer,” he said, and you felt a rush of adrenaline filling your system. He moved to the door behind him and you couldn’t help but bend closer, as if you could stop him from leaving the room until he told you his final answer.
“Wait—” You tried to speak.“Until then,” he interrupted you, “have a good day.” He said before slipping out of the room and leaving you with the words in your mouth. The door at the other side closed with a deep tud and you were left with the itchy sensation of the jacket over your skin.
The alarm blared the annoying beep started to really piss you off. But before you could do anything you saw his veiny hand slam down on the alarm clock. He let his hand flop over you as he pushed his nose in your hair groned "why do I have a job?" He grumbled and he pulled you impossibly closer.
It was Friday and he was burnt out from all the bullshit his class has pulled, Bakugo exploding Kirishima or trying and Kirishima hardening and everything is destroyed around them, Mineta grabbed Mina the other day, and at this point, he was ready to break Izuku's hands and legs so the boy didn't have to do it himself every time he used his damn quirk.
He loosened his grip to move but then you turned around and pulled him in. "I have to go," he said but you weren't listening "Mine" you mumbled "yes, I know but-" you cut him off "mine." He lightly tugged away but you didn't let go. He could pull away if he wanted to.
He kissed your forehead and just laid there with you and he grabbed his phone and started typing rapidly "What'cha doin'?" You asked your voice slightly muffled from being pressed into his chest. "Texting Zashi that I can't make it to work today." He replied, "I'm gonna tell him im sick and can't make it." You thought nothing of it until you remember something "your class isn't gonna fall for that lie." He raised an eyebrow "I mean you still came into work when you were wrapped up in bandages and still recovering remember" he then looked at his phone giving it a dead stare... "Quite be happy im canceling for you," he said with a small chuckle.
You eventually fell asleep and he looked down at you. He thought you were the most precious thing on this earth he loved you a lot.
He looks over to his bag that holds a small black box and within it a small diamond ring. He was gonna ask today but he'll just do it tomorrow.
He stared out the window, the sun was high in the bluest sky he had seen in a while.
The view was nice, despite the atrocities that were currently happening. Despite all the pain and suffering he had undergone. Despite the sacrificies that were made.
Sacrifices, he had made.
That you had made.
Despite everything, the view was still nice.
He sat and stared out the hospital window because he couldn’t bare the view that awaited him once he turned towards the other side of this uncomfortable bed. To think that with a turn of his head he could bare witness to the most beautiful view of his life.
And yet...
He couldn’t bare it.
He had been so close to death this time; he kept his promise to you but at what cost?
He came back, right?
Did he?
Sleepless nights, rivers of tears. You probably shed some years as you sat in this room, waiting for him to wake up.
The constant stress you face because of his bravado was an endless storm of heartache and sorrow.
He feared so much that you would drown, but somehow you kept both his and your feet on solid ground. Through the failures, through the horrors. Through the loneliness and the pain.
Aizawa didn’t understand how you remained here beside him despite all the time and patience you’ve dedicated to explain.
“I am nothing without you.”
“We are one and the same.”
“You take my heart with you every time you go.”
“Your lips set every inch of me aflame.”
Aizawa stopped your words from continuing their war path against his.
Because no matter how much he loved you and you loved him.
He wasn’t actually expecting you to keep making love to this broken, fucked up version of him. For what could you see in someone like this?
Before these thoughts were bad; now they were consuming him.
You didn’t deserve any of this, you deserved so much more.
Sunsets and kittens running through your bedroom door. A house full of laughter and love and care.
Not this living hell, not this bitter nightmare.
The dark cloud of thoughts was interrumpted, the light sound of the rustling of sheets hitting the cold tile made him tense. Since when was he a coward, this didn’t make sense.
The dip of the bed, the heat of your touch. The warm trail of kisses you left on the nape of his sore neck as you brushed his hair away with practiced gentleness.
Aizawa sank into your warmth as your arms pulled him in and back into your orbit. Selfishly he surrendered and didn’t think to pull away for a second.
Despite all the suffering and fear and pain he still recognized your love and your healing embrace. He relinquished himself to sleep, finally feeling safe.
Nowhere in the world was he treated with such care, except within the embrace of the one his heart he shared.
And despite every horror, every monster he faced.
Despite everything, you remained right there.
Despite everything, the view was really nice with your arm draped over his side and the sun high in the sky.
A/N : This is my first actually posted piece, please be nice to me. Just testing the waters, enjoy the Daddy Zawa c:
“Skipping?” The voice rang behind you, deep and smooth like honey freshly cut from the comb. You freeze in your tracks and quickly close your book. Maybe hiding in the library wasn’t the best idea. Sheepishly, you look up to see who had caught you, You stare into two very tired looking eyes, Mr. Aizawa. The teacher that happened to be your homeroom teacher in high school. You shudder a little and slowly stand up, now that you were in college it was way different, you were an adult now, that was the problem though.. You were so fucking tired from classes too early and then trying to cram all night.
“I um.. I was just taking a slight break” You said in a soft tone, attempting to walk away from the situation but a muscled arm blocked your path. Stopping in your tracks, you would look up to see a rather smug expression on his face “You think.. I’m just going to let you go?” he asked with a mischievous smirk on his face.
There had always been tension between you and Shouta. There was no denying that you had been crushing on him since that fateful day you got assigned to his class. Also, there was no hiding the fact that he had an.. Interest in you.
“I wouldn’t expect you to, no.. But couldn’t I get just.. A warning?” You ask with a sheepish smile, but rather than an answer, you get the feeling of his broad chest press against yours, pinning you against the wall “I don’t think that’s an option, sweetheart” he would say quietly, his deep tone sporting a hint of growl as the words dripped from his maw slowly.
You couldn’t resist the urge, your hands would slowly reach forward and rest against his waist, which made him cock a brow “That’s telling me you’re ready to receive your punishment” he would say softly, his lower half pressing more firmly against your shaking thighs.
You didn’t say anything, you were mostly in shock- but more so nervous, you dreamt of this day since you first saw him and now it was happening.
“Yes” you say breathlessly, your cheeks igniting into a vibrant rose color, which made his free hand reach up stroke “Such a lovely shade on you, now, on your knees” he instructed, taking a step back so you could obey.
Looking around, the library was empty, the only beings inside was you two.. So you obeyed. Slowly slinking down to your knees, you feel slender digits in your tresses, massaging your scalp.
Reaching up, you would grab for his belt and hastily pull it from the loops and tossed it to the floor next to you.
“That’s a good girl, don’t keep me waiting too long” he cooed quietly, which alone.. Made your pussy quiver with excitement. Biting your lip you would quickly shrug his pants down, his cock springing to life and lightly tapping your cheek.
Just like you imagined.
You didn’t waste time, you were already in trouble and you wanted to taste him so badly. Parting your lips, you would take in the head of his cock and slather it with saliva, earning a quiet groan from the Hero.
“Quiet now, you wouldn’t want to get caught.. Would you? I bet you would, you seem like someone who likes dangerous situations” he teased, which brought back the pink hue to your cheeks.
Slurping quietly, your tongue would lap at every inch of him you could fit past your lips, his veiny cock twitching in your mouth, making you moan out quietly. You could feel his hand tangle into your hair, holding you firmly, but that only made it even better. Closing your eyes now, you would work him further past your lips, until the tip of his dick was teasing and prodding the back of your throat, but that’s when you felt his hand tug your hair a little “Eyes open, I want you to look at me” he grunted quietly.
Quickly obeying, your eyes would flutter open and you would be met with a pair of lustful orbs in return.
Bobbing your head, you would work his thick cock the best you can, and it seemed to be working. Soft growls and grunt would escape his lips and it only drove you to do more. Lapping your tongue down along the bottom of his shaft, you would bob your head even faster, eager to taste the creamy treat waiting for you once this was all over.
“That’s right, sweetheart.. Work your former teachers cock” he growled out before throwing his head back. Before you could even think on it, ribbons of cum slathered your tongue and began to drip down your throat. Eagerly swallowing it up, his grip on your hair would loosen and you were able to pull away, panting out heavily and looking at him with hopeful look, it was your turn now right? You were practically dripping through your panties.
Crouching down, he would smirk some and kiss your cheek “What a good girl you are.. Come to my classroom after classes are over, and you’ll get your reward for being such a good cock sucker” he purred, which made you whimper, but at least you were getting something right?
Giving you one last swift kiss, he would stand and fix his pants before giving you a slight wink and walking off, leaving you a panting, flustered mess.
Genre: comedy, lil floofy (if you squint, I promise), and a lil dramatic - mostly comedic, though.
Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader
Notes: This is, yet again, an idea that was pitched to me by one of my friends over Snapchat. I did take some liberties, contrary to their idea, but I read it and I just HAD to do it.
Frankly, it made me so happy! I thought that I’d split this, maybe not, but if you want another character (or characters) for this prompt - please let me know!
Some warnings, though; there will be plenty of swearing, so proceed with caution! The reader is also aged up, 21+ purely for the comfort of the writer. I imagine them to be around 24-25, but go about it however you like!
Below the cut!
“You really need to stop watching that childish garbage, y’know. You’re too old for that.”
“Grow up already! People your age don’t watch shit like that!”
“None of that will help you get by in life; stop watching that and get your life together already!”
AKA, things I, (Y/n) (L/n) hear on a daily basis.
Hello, dear reader! I’m (Y/n), as you’ve already presumed, and according to my family and friends, I waste my time watching what they call ‘immature junk’. I like to call it anime, but whatever floats their boat.
I have graduated from college, but I still live with a couple of roommates. My diploma has been sitting on the stack of boxes in the corner of my junk, and no matter how hard I’ve tried, the degree has never seemed to win over anybody in the field.
I’ve struggled with a job hunt for a while now, and I’m getting tired of trying to find something that can tie me over for a little while. I know that the job wouldn’t last, something that has followed me around for the longest time no matter how well I completed any given tasks, but I need something to pitch to the split rent.
I like to think that my roommates haven’t thought of kicking me to the curb as well, but frankly, they’ve probably found a way to do that or leave my ass sat on the empty apartment floor. Whatever the case, things haven’t been working out well for me at all.
I’ve been broke on and off as of late, and the only things I have managed to keep consistent was my laptop ownership, my phone ownership, and my clothing and personal items. I’ve been making sure that I have cut back on using many things, but it was starting to bite me now.
Today, of all days, was the one day that everything was seemingly coming to a head. My roommates were both at each other’s throats and took their frustration out on me (for no reason, honestly - I had already paid my portion of the utilities for the the month and had stayed quiet), my mom had just been admitted to the hospital, and my sibling has been taunting me from her fancy-schmancy upscale home by calling me a loser, deadbeat, etc. - all in all, a shitty day.
Normally, things like this wouldn’t bother me that much (aside from the pandemic confirmation), but this has been a long time coming and I was at my breaking point.
That night, I had just let everything be. Not a good thing considering the note that they were left on, but I can’t deal with the presence of people that are immature assholes that haven’t been taught to face your issues head-first, and I am too tired to put up with it anymore.
I grabbed my laptop and opened up my Funimation account. If I could trust no one in the physical world, then I could trust someone in the fictional world instead.
I had scrolled through, but when I saw that I had watched everything I planned to, I made the final decision to rewatch one - that anime being Boku No Hero Academia, I was pretty content to watch these teenagers grow in a way that I was unable to - nostalgic value in the anime can be spotted, but you have to look closely.
The opening narration by Deku had started, and as the episodes continued, I got tired. I don’t remember when this happened, but I think I actually fell asleep around episode 5. No matter, things started to blur and I slept.
...
Everything felt warm and windy, my clothes were brushing against my hands, and I felt extremely groggy. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Well, except for the fact that I felt like I was sleeping on a literal rock, and it was seemingly moving.
The rocking of whatever it was I was laying on was what woke me up completely, all the sleep forgotten in favor of figuring out what the object was. Looking down, it seemed to be a sheet of metal, and my god - did it stink. ‘Am I laying down in a dumpster?’
After looking down, I did indeed find out that I was sleeping near one. Or in one. Whatever fits, I guess.
Everything about this situation seemed like I had, somehow, fallen into a blackout drunk stupor. The likelihood of that happening, though, is very low - I have actively avoided any alcohol intake following my 21st birthday. And I had apparently decided to become an emotional drunk when I did reach that point, so that was even more unlikely.
With that knowledge, this seemed especially fishy. I had to get to the bottom of it.
I had slipped out of the area slowly, making sure to not accidentally cut my leg or arm on a raw metallic edge, and tread down the alley that I had been sleeping in.
I didn’t recognize the buildings around me, everything seemed to be a lot more colorful and definitely an extremely far departure from the decrepit, run-down shithole that I had to call a ‘house’. The sky was also so much bluer than what I was used to.
My parents and other family lived in better areas than I did, but that sky wasn’t what got me - it was the commotion that was coming from around the corner. The sound was so familiar, and I just couldn’t help but assume something crazy: did I land in the world of My Hero?
‘No, no, no - that’s not possible. That can’t be possible. Your roommates have just lost their shit and threw you out on the street.’ That had to be it, it had to be. There was no other possible situation, though they would have just thrown my ass to the curb and not a dumpster in a generally clean city.
Yeah, they couldn’t have done that. Or, maybe they did want to kick me out but realized that throwing me out in the dumpster would warrant some legal claims against them, so they decided to inform a family member that actually gave a damn. Then again, the one that was closest lived over two states away, so that also wouldn’t happen so quick.
“Ugh, my head hurts...”
A crash sounded through the alleyway, and I had made the conclusion that if I don’t leave now, I would get crushed under debris. That being decided, I made a mad dash out of said alley to the opposite end of the sound.
As soon as I left, the obnoxious technicolor of it all made me do a double take. What the hell is with this color palette?
“Are you lost?”
I jumped from the question. It wasn’t until I turned around that something hit me: yeah, this is most definitely N O T my world.
The person that had inquired my direction status had a huge spike sticking out of either hand. Their head was shaped normally, their eyes were a dark blue color, and they had short hair. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female, or even non-binary, but I was too freaked out to care. Best bet for this situation, though, was to go with the flow no matter what happens. I refuse to risk my safety any further.
“I, uh...um, yeah. Yeah, I am lost - but may I ask who wants to know?”
They breathed a sigh of relief, and their hands transformed into regular ones. The only explanation for this was that I was going crazy, or that I really landed in the world of My Hero. “Oh, thank god. I thought you were a villain for a second. Follow me before you get hit,” they said before they directed me further away from the soon-to-be-destroyed building.
We had made some small talk - if you could even call it that - as we evacuated, and I found out that their name was Dylan. They were apparently an off-duty hero, though that could be left up to debate considering no hero would voluntarily reveal their identity to someone on the street. Though they could have also assumed that I was a regular citizen, as well.
Didn’t help that I was still completely and utterly fucked on the front of knowledge - still confused, for a shorter explanation.
The commotion was still very prevalent as I continued walking with Dylan, and when we finally reached the town, the volume was so much more deafening. The sight was as well.
Two people were fighting in mid-air, one with a dark jacket and leather pants. Gloves were on their hands, but the big kicker was their mouth - it was almost warped into a joker smile, cuts and all, but it was full of teeth. Their eyes, from what I could see from my spot on the ground, were very large and red. I wish I could have seen more, though.
The other one was wearing some garb that mimicked Deadpool, though it was very obviously not him since there were some very obvious legs that were protruding from each side of their body. If I was observing them correctly, too, there were eight legs and multiple eyes. A spider hero? Like, a literal spider hero?
“(Y/n), I’m sure that you’re curious and a little freaked out, but I’m going to ask that you stay here with the crowd,” Dylan said. They laid their hand on my shoulder as I stared at the view in front of me. I absently nodded, muttering a small and measly, “Got it,” as the realization of everything sunk in.
I really am in the My Hero world. I really landed in a fictional world.
Holy shit, I’m completely and totally screwed.
There are so many things that could go wrong, so many things that would warrant a worry. Besides that, though, the thing that’s just hit me now that I know that I’m in their world is the most worrying.
Whose quirk got so screwed that I got transported here? Do I have to find that person to return to my world? Even then, was this done on purpose? In that case, would they want to send me back? What if it’s a villain and they want something? So many things can go so severely wrong.
I couldn’t leave my head now. I could, quite literally, die here and no one would notice.
My blank stare didn’t go unnoticed by certain citizens around me, but their attention was soon diverted - as was mine - at the newest occurrence on the scene. The spider hero was dropping lower, the (supposed) villain was falling quickly to the floor, and another hero stood above the two on top of a nearby building. Cheers erupted through the crowd as the commotion was met with flashing lights, news reporters, and gossip writers.
It took a second for me to notice, but the other hero on the building was Kamui Woods. Though I would later find this out, too, Mt. Lady was taking care of the runaway villain - she blew up larger with said villain in her hands a bit away from the scene with a triumphant smirk.
Though there was some slight commotion from the shaken media reporters, they quickly fell back into their goals and started to plow through the crowd. People were being pushed left, right, and forward.
Through this chaos, though, I noticed Dylan pushing against the people looking winded. Eventually, they made it to me while panting. “Okay, so,” they began, “We should probably leave now, but I want to ask you some questions.”
I shrugged, taking a deep breath. “You need to ask, fire away. I need some answers anyway.”
We settled on a nearby restaurant, Dylan offering to pay for whatever food I ordered, and got down to the questions.
“I noticed that you were stiff when you saw the fight. It wasn’t the normal kind of stiff, either.”
Dylan’s words seemed off. How could they see a difference in shock between me and the citizens? A villain attack is a villain attack, right?
“It was more...upset, for lack of a better word. What’s going on with that?” they inquired, making me stiffen. I didn’t realize that I was that odd in the crowd.
I wasn’t sure how to phrase my answer, but I had to say something. Unless I said it straight out, this would probably be a failure to explain. And people may look at me like I’ve lost it.
“Well...I...”
Dammit.
I’ve just gotta say it.
“I think I’ve been transported between realities. This one isn’t mine, I fell asleep in a dingy apartment, woke up here, and I’m-”
“Okay, I think I have an idea of what’s going on. I could help you, but it may take some time. Until then, let’s find a way to make sure that you don’t get screwed while you’re here, sound good?”
I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful. Then the thought hit me.
“Wait, how would you know? How can I trust you? Prove that you’re a hero, and then I’ll think about that offer.”
They chuckled a little, seemingly nonplussed, and reached for their hero license. After taking a look at it, I determined that this was a real license. You can’t get one unless you passed the exam, and even then, there are very few circumstances in which you can get one and not be a hero.
“Getting closer, but still not there. I need more proof.”
Nodding again, they grabbed their cell and opened their messages in front of me. Their phone screen was face up, and they turned it to face me. I saw messages between Kamui and Dylan. I scrolled through the messages to make sure that they weren’t faked, and the image moved.
“One more thing. If that’s the case, then tell me what your quirk is.”
“Well, my quirk is body morphing, or shape shifting. I can’t shift into anything that’s living, though - and I can’t keep up form for too long of a time. That enough for you?”
I paused, weighing the options - they’ve shown enough awareness, and they do have proof for what I provided, but how can I be sure that this isn’t just a ploy to trap a citizen and get the attention of the heroes?
“Okay, here’s what I am gonna do - I’m going to trust you. I have nowhere else to go, nor do I have any idea as to why I’m here, and I can’t go about life here without some help,” I uttered, urgency (and possibly a little fear) in my tone of voice.
With a nod, their bouncy curls following the action. They seemed satisfied, and I had finally found some sense of stability.
