*He hated support meetings.* *Too many people talking. Too many idiots pretending they understood combat because they could build gadgets in a lab.* *So when he got called into the support division after destroying another pair of gauntlets during patrol, he was already irritated.* “The cooling system failed because you overworked the ignition points,” *one technician explained nervously.* “No,” *he snapped.* “It failed because you made weak crap.” *Silence filled the room.* *Then came a voice from the back.* “No,” *she said calmly.* “It failed because the pressure vents were designed for your actual combat output instead of the average.” *He turned.* *She stood near one of the worktables in an oversized white coat, holographic schematics floating beside her tablet. She didn’t look intimidated.* *Actually, she looked annoyed with him.* *That was new.* “Your explosions spike when your adrenaline rises,” *she continued.* “Whoever designed this compensator was stupid.” *He blinked.* *Then laughed.* *Finally.* *Someone with a damn brain.* *From that day on, she became the only support scientist he trusted touching his gear.* *Not that he made it easy for her.* “These gloves are garbage.” “You said that about the last six prototypes.” “Because they were.” “You blew up three during testing.” “Skill issue.” “You are the skill issue.” *He stared at her for five whole seconds before laughing so hard he nearly fell backward.* *Somewhere between midnight redesign sessions and emergency repairs after missions, he realized he looked for her first every time he entered the agency.* *He noticed everything.* *The way she chewed on her pen while thinking.* *How her eyes lit up whenever a prototype worked.* *How she shoved her glasses up with her wrist when her hands were dirty.* *And worst of all?* *She wasn’t scared of him.* *Not once.* *He fell hard.* *Fast too.* ——————————☆—————————— *Years later, she told him she was pregnant.* *His brain stopped working entirely.* “You’re joking,” *he said weakly.* “I’m not.” *Then he pulled her into his arms so fast she yelped at him for being reckless.* *After that, he cried.* *Quietly.* *Face buried against her shoulder while holding her like she might disappear.* *Because suddenly he wasn’t just a Pro Hero anymore.* *He was somebody’s husband.* *Somebody’s future father.* *And that terrified him more than any villain ever had.* *Not because he didn’t want it.* *Because he wanted it too much.* ——————————☆—————————— *Now, seven months later, he was downstairs in the reinforced basement gym trying to burn the restless energy out of his system.* *Explosions thundered against the concrete walls.* *Sweat slid down his temple as another blast erupted from his palms hard enough to shake the ceiling.* *Again.* *Blast.* *Turn.* *Blast.* *Faster.* *Harder.* *But his attention kept drifting upstairs.* *To her.* *Every damn time.* “You’re distracted.” *Her voice floated down the staircase softly.* *He turned too quickly, crimson eyes locking onto her instantly.* *His chest tightened painfully.* *God, she was beautiful.* *Especially now.* *She wore one of his old hoodies over comfortable shorts, one hand resting beneath the curve of her stomach while the other carried a tablet.* *Unfairly perfect.* “Tch,” *he muttered immediately.* “You shouldn’t be down here.” “You reinforced this basement to survive your explosions,” *she replied.* “I think I’ll survive sitting in the corner.” *He clicked his tongue and grabbed the water bottle from her hands before she could carry it herself.* “I could hold that.” “Yeah? And you can blast through concrete. Doesn’t mean you should do it every second.” *She laughed softly.* *Victory.* *Still his favorite sound in the world.* *He guided her carefully toward the padded bench, one hand hovering near her lower back the entire time.* “You’ve become overprotective,” *she teased.* “I’ve become smart.” “You threatened a microwave because it beeped too loudly near me.” “It sounded aggressive.” *That made her laugh harder.* *Damn it.* *He loved making her laugh.* “You should sit with me for a minute,” *she said quietly.* *His first instinct was to refuse.* *Training mattered.* *Protecting them mattered.* *But then she reached for him.* *And Katsuki Bakugo had never been capable of denying her anything she truly wanted.* *Tch. Fine.* *He sat beside her carefully while she leaned against him.* *Then the baby kicked beneath his hand.* *He froze instantly.* *Every single time it happened, it completely destroyed him.* “There,” *she whispered softly.* “They always get active when they hear you training.” *He stared at her stomach like it held the secrets of the universe before lowering his forehead gently against it.* “Oi,” *he muttered toward the bump.* “Stop giving your mom a hard time.” *Another kick answered him.* *She burst into laughter.* “It’s not funny,” *he grumbled.* “You’re talking to my stomach.” “It’s my kid too, dumbass.” *The words slipped out naturally.* *Possessive.* *Protective.* *Certain.* *He wrapped one arm around her shoulders carefully, pulling her closer while resting his other hand over her stomach.* *For once, the basement was quiet.* *No explosions.* *No pressure.* *Just his wife in his arms and the tiny future they created together.* “Go back to training,”*she said quietly.*“I like watching you.”

*You were sitting at home with your family, wearing casual clothes, when the explosion happened, rocking your whole building, the walls cracking.* Daniel (You're dad): What the?! Boka (Your mom): ?!?!? Kanji (Your older brother): What's going on? Takami (Your little sister): I'm scared!

*Aizawa was on his night patrol in the city, watching the dark, empty streets from a rooftop, when he noticed you walking down the street* Aizawa: Huh? Some girl walking around alone at night? *He mutters to himself in his usual monotone voice*

}... Go away..." *His eyes are narrowing, adrenaline coursing through his body.*

*All might and Aizawa are your teacher and they are taking Class 1-A on there first mission and you are the new student in class* *They wait for you to come in*

} needed friends. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

*You where 1 of 7 Pro hero’s called to Japan as backup for the war of All for on and U.A high school.* (AT LEAST ITS SHORT)

*class 1-A bustle into their new classroom* Deku: Wow, I can't wait to learn Bakugo: More extras... great. Kirishima: I bet people here are super manly Mina: I saw a cute kitten on the way here! Kaminari: I hope the girls are cute Iida: *Trynna get them to sit down (cue the rapid up and down arm movements)* *the rest (Arranged by seating arrangement: v • eClass 1-A Yuga Aoyama Tsuyu Asui Tenya Ida Ochaco Uraraka Mashirao Ojiro Koji Koda Rikido Sato Mezo Shoji Kyoka Jiro Hanta Sero Fumikage Tokoyami Shoto Todoroki Toru Hagakure Minoru Mineta, Momo Yaoyorozu) are just wandering around, they haven't noticed you yet, because you didn't want them to*

*(You, Shoto and Hawks encounter Dabi, Shoto's older sister, who still hates Hawks with a BURNING passion)* DABI: Oh look, it's the big birdy Hero.. Ready to get burnt..? *(Hawks steps between you and Dabi)* HAWKS: This isn't the time, Touya! *(Shoto steps forward a bit, as Dabi hears that name and gets a bit angry)* DABI: NO ONE CALLS ME THAT NAME ANYMORE!!

*You were the traitor for your own reasons. You thought everything was going well. Until...they found out. You were in class until suddenly you were pushed down and the class loomed over you. Uraraka spoke first....* Uraraka: How could you?! You're the traitor?! Izuku: We *trusted* you. Bakugo: Of course this idiot is the traitor. *The rest of the class was silent...including Aizawa.*