#it’s so obvious that i’m outta place why keep trying to incorporate me

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

French Kiss (Skam - Chris x OC) Part 5

Synopsis : Life is a show and Nissen was Christoffer’s stage. He owned the place, people cheered for him, he brought life to the parties and good looks to his group of friends. But after high school he wasn’t so much of a star boy anymore and he found himself being terribly alone. Who really knew the real him? Only the people who got a backstage pass to his life could claim to do. But amidst all the turmoil of his young years, a strange girl is going to stumbled in his life - neither of them will be prepared for this.

Word Count: 3.3k

Part 4 <<< >>> Part 6

MASTERLIST

A/N: Longest chapter so far (and believe me it could have been longer had I not restained myself) I try to incorporate a bit more French now, but I won’t put any translation. Either the meaning is explained in the text, not relevant enough to need a translation in order to understand what’s going on, or obvious enough for you to guess. Enjoy (and leave a reveiw, pretty please :3)

Rule number five: Fake it 'til you make it.

“So, how are things going with your little Frenchie?” Andreas asked before his ass even touched the couch.

            That was what he always did when he arrived at Chris' place, he kicked off his shoes and jumped on the couch. His lanky figure took all the space and that left only the chair for Chris to sit on. This time the cat was on the couch though, and it wasn't too happy to be disturbed. A loud mewl was heard from behind the cushions and suddenly an angry ball of fur jumped out and ran out of the living room.

“Shit, your cat scared me!” Andre cursed and replaced the cushions. “Now tell me, I want to know everything and Astrid too! You know she really had a hard time finding you a girl, I hope you didn't blow her off for nothing!”

“Stop playing match-maker, I don't want or need one, besides you suck at it. It's going fine, peachy,” Chris blatantly lied to his friend's face.

            He hadn't seen Helen in over ten days and when he tried to text her, she always sounded busy. A blow to his ego. But as long as he pretended that everything was alright, then it would be.

“In my experience when you use two different adjectives to say the same thing, it means you're lying,” his friend argued and made himself home. He grabbed his phone charger out of his bag and plugged it in. “You got beer?”

            Chris sighed and stood up. It was only four in the afternoon but he has learned not to question his friend's longing for beer at any hour of the day. He made a quick loop by the kitchen and checked on his cat – he called him William just so he could keep pretending his best friend was here. Pathetic, right?

“I'm not lying, you're just annoying the hell outta me, dude,” Chris replied as he set the beer on the coffee table. “She's trying to find her bearings, I can't just harass her 24/7, the girl's got a job!”

“What kinda job?”

“I don't know,” Chris answered with a shrug.

            He realized now that he hadn't asked her. He hadn't asked her anything apart from a couple futile questions. Maybe that was why she didn't seem to want to see him again. He tried to get rid of this bad habit of never actively taking interest in what the others had to say but it was a long journey – he came from very far.

“Girls like to be asked lots of questions,” Andre said before taking a sip of his beer and sighing in content. It was more of a neutral observation than a direct advice but Chris took note anyway.

“I know, but she's not too keen on talking about herself. She's a bit shy about speaking, period. Her Norwegian lacks a bit of... flow? And she's self-conscious about her accent. She mostly tries to have me talk.”

            His friend's thinking face made a brief appearance and suddenly he sat up, elbows resting on his knees. Chris knew what was coming: the rant.

            Andreas dived head first in a series of friendly pieces of advice that would – in his opinion – help Chris get in the lovely French girl's pants. While Chris appreciated his friend's concern – scratch that, his friend's obsession – with his love life, he was also hell bent on not letting him influence his choices in this matter. Chris let Andreas talk and he zoned out. Suddenly the sound of Andre's voice was drowned out by all the other sounds. His cat scratching the cat tree; the faint music he forgot to turn off coming from his bedroom; the clock hanging above the TV; the rain hitting the window.

            Oh, he realized, it was raining. And not just the quiet afternoon rain, no. It poured. Drops of water hit the window like they wanted to break it and the sky turned dark gray within minutes. A storm. How appropriate.

“Wait a sec-” Andreas interrupted his monologue to check his phone. “It's Astrid, she wants to meet up and work on our chemistry assignment. Fuck, it's a downpour out there, I gotta go now or I'll be stuck in the storm.”

“You know where the door is,” Chris told him in a sort of absent-mindedness.

“You're hurting my feelings man, sometimes it feels like you're happy to see me leave,” he said in a mock-hurting voice.

“Hate to see you leave but love to watch you walk away,” Chris joked and Andreas slapped his own ass on his way out, his beer still in hand.

            How could Chris even begin to explain Andreas? He shook his head with a small smile and stood up to turn off the music. He wasn't in the mood. He wasn't in the mood for anything. Actually, the only thing he wanted to do was... Helen. No, that sounded gross. Though not entirely wrong, what he wanted first and foremost was to see her again. Or maybe just to talk to her over texts. It was half past four and she should be back from work.

“Hva...?” Chris frowned when he heard a loud banging on his front door. Andreas must have forgotten his phone charger as per usual. He took his sweet time to walk out of his room and open the door. “Forgot someth-”

“Chris!” A very soaked and shivering Helen exclaimed as soon as she saw him. Her nose was bright red from the cold.

            Chris had the reflex to swing the door open although his mouth remained open and no words came out as she stepped in. In this single word – his name – he could hear her accent and he once again wondered why she would be embarrassed by it.

“I'm sorry, I don't know where to go, I don't find my key and it's raining so hard,” she explained haphazardly as she hugged herself and tried not to put water everywhere.

“It's okay, it's fine,” Chris immediately told her. “It's just water, come in.”

            Helen and her wet hair and clothes hesitantly walked in his living room. She looked terribly embarrassed for this and not at ease at all even though it was practically the spitting image of her own apartment.

“Shansa is not home and I can't put my hands on my key,” she explained, apologizing profusely as she made herself as small as possible.

“Shansa?”

“My roommate,” Helen said.

            Chris' brain finally unfroze and he reacted quickly when he saw her trembling from the cold.

“Wait, we need to get you some dry clothes before you get pneumonia or something, come with me,” Chris said and put his hand on her shoulder to guide her towards his bathroom. “I'll get you something, you can take a warm shower and I'll put the clothes right behind the door, yeah?”

            She nodded gratefully and jumped in the shower no sooner Chris turned around. Ten minutes later she opened the door and a pile of messily folded clothes laid on the other side. She put them on, caring little that they were boys clothing and didn't fit her. They were dry, nothing else mattered.

“Chris?”

“In the kitchen,” he called her. “Making coffee.”

“You don't have to,” Helen said shyly and stepped in.

            A large smile fought its way on Chris' face but he tried to conceal it just in case it might further embarrass her. She rolled up the sleeves on his hoodie and the legs of his sweat pants. The clothes actually kind of fit, if not for how long the sleeves and legs were – and he found himself loving it.

“You look nice in these,” he said before he could think about it.

“C'est vrai ce mensonge?” she asked in a giggle. That was all Chris got from the sentence – that it was a question.

“What does it mean?” he asked with a little smirk that made his left dimple pop out.

“It means that I don't believe you but the lie is appreciated,” she laughed and accepted the cup of coffee he handed her. He only made one for her. “It's a French expression, I don't think there's an equivalent in other languages.”

“Is it weird that I think it's hot when you speak French?” he blurted out. If he was going to make a fool of himself – which is what he seemed to be doing right now – he might as well do it right. Go big or go home they say.

“I get that a lot and I don't know why.” Helen blushed slightly and tried to hide it by taking a sip of her beverage as casually as she could. “But it's normal that I don't understand it, it's my first language, it's boring to me.”

“How do I explain this?” Chris wondered out loud. “French words are long and you speak in this articulate manner with a deep voice. Or maybe your voice is just different when you speak Norwegian? Anyway, it's sensual.”

            She snorted loudly – the last reaction Chris hoped to elicit with his open flirting.

“Sensual? T'as de la merde dans les yeux, mon pauvre! I'm literally wearing clothes two times my size and my hair's still wet from the shower, this-“ She gestured wildly at herself. “-is the opposite of sensual.”

            Without any warning, Chris closed the space separating them. He saw how her laugh turned into a hiccup when she realized how close he suddenly was. He looked down at her with his signature half smile, his way to reclaim control over the situation. One moment she was the one embarrassed then it was him and now it was Helen again.

“That was really good, I couldn't tell you weren't native for a second,” he told her in an attempt to change the topic. “Except for the French bit of course.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a timid smile.

“So, what are you going to do now? You don't remember where you put your keys?”

“I think I left them on my desk. I can go back through the fire escape, I think my window is not locked,” she told him and followed him in the living room.

            She took a deep breath once Chris had stepped away from her – he really was close and she was afraid to breathe in too deep. Pretty boys tended to smell good too and she was already wearing his clothes, she couldn't afford to be any more star struck by this boy.

“Well then-” Chris began and Helen could tell that she was going to like what he was about to say as soon as she spotted his growing smirk. “-I guess you're stuck with me until the storm passes.”

“Whatever will I do?” Helen asked in a mock-dramatic voice and she plopped down on the couch next to Chris. Maybe a little too close, she thought too late.

            She must appear like an innocent little girl to him. Chris radiated confidence, and she was the awkward new girl who couldn't string words together in the right order if her life depended on it. The delicate flower that bows under the weight of a rain drop – that was what people thought of her, she knew it. She felt the way they tiptoed around her as though she were some fragile thing ready to break any given moment.

            What could he want from her? Score a French girl? That was the only reason she could think of. Helen wasn't stupid – in fact, she was very intelligent in French, but it was hard to prove when she barely managed to stutter out a few words in public. With Chris it was weirdly okay. With waiters who distractedly jotted down her order it was fine too. But as soon as someone came up to her to ask her something unexpected, she lost her composure and blushed and mumbled.

            What would Chris think of her if he saw that?

“Feeling better?” Chris asked her and thus burst her little bubble.

“Yes, good. I'm more warm now,” Helen smiled and placed her empty cup on the coffee table.   Then she sat Indian style on the couch. She wore her socks – the only thing apart from her underwear that hasn't suffered too much from the downpour. Chris briefly thought that he still had no idea how long her hair really was because she had it tied up yet again.

“Hey, I need to ask: what is this about?” Helen pointed at the 'Penetrators 2016' printed on the hoodie she was currently wearing. “And why is your name on red?”

“In red,” Chris corrected her. “It's a long story,” he warned her. “Goes back to high school. And you probably won't like it.”

            God knew why he kept this sweater at all. It didn’t even fit him anymore. But it fit Helen. He was kind of hoping she wouldn’t look at it too closely.

“You are doing it again,” she accused him. “Don’t say you know how I react, let me decide.”

She shifted position slightly. Her entire upper body was turned towards him and all of a sudden Chris was struck mute – he was once again in the grip of his anxiety. With her full attention on him he was unable to string so much as two words together.

“I- euh- I guarantee you it's not pretty,” he told her in a pointless attempt to dodge this conversation.

            Suddenly, he wondered why he chose to give her this hoodie – he had others, completely neutral ones or even the University of Oslo hoodie. But when he saw it, abandoned at the back in his closet, Chris couldn't resist. It used to boost his confidence to see a girl – many girls – walk around with the Penetrators' hoodie on and his name in red letters on the back. It was intoxicating.

            And wrong – oh so wrong to brand girls like that. And he did it to Helen, and now he felt bad. What seemed like an innocent gesture minutes ago was now a huge mistake.

            Her smile wavered a bit when she saw Chris' expression.

“What is it?”

“I was a real douche in high school and maybe I haven't totally out-grown being a douche yet,” he said to himself – mostly. “It's a long story.”

“It's okay. The day is still young,” she said ever so candidly.

            She mustn't realize that some of her sentences were nearly poetical or outdated or childlike. She just couldn't tell the different yet. Chris could add this to the list of things he found endearing about her. The way she looked at him though wasn't endearing. The way she moved and the way she leaned against the back of the couch, a little bit too close to him, was not endearing – there must be another adjective to describe it.

“You make it difficult for me, you know? To tell you these things,” he confessed.

            She seemed confused now, and burrowed her brows.

“Why?”

“Because nobody has looked at me the way you do in a long time, and I’m afraid that you’ll stop if you get to know me,” he simply said, feeling absolutely and completely naked now.

He regretted saying it as soon as the words came out, but also felt relieved. Relieved to have said something real and something meaningful for once. It was all fun and games to joke around and flirt with her, but he knew it wasn’t enough for her. He realized she could see through him like very few people could, and every time she asked more of him, he felt the urge to bare himself. He didn’t want to expose himself like this, but he couldn’t stop either. Well, he had done it again, hadn’t he? He’d ruined the mood, so might as well come clean now. At least, it’ll be over with, and next time she didn’t answer his texts, he’ll know why.

“I was part of this very subtly named group called the Penetrators-” he started and Helen huffed in amusement at his self-derision. “-You can guess where the name came from, I suppose.”

            He went on to explain that it was a pun with Terminator and, well, penetrating. His lengthy explanation was scattered with embarrassed sighs and apologies that he didn't know who he was addressing to. There were many names on the long list of people Chris owed an apology to – and surprisingly, in the little more than two weeks he has known Helen, he hadn't managed to fuck things up yet. Possibly because he hadn't seen her as often as he wished he had.

            He told her that all of the Penetrators had several copies of their hoodie with their name in red on the back and that they handed them around to all the girls they slept with. Never twice the same – with the notable exception of Eva, whom he never gave the hoodie to and slept with regularly throughout his last year of high school. He didn't mention Eva to Helen, there was no point since he hadn't spoken to her in two years now.

            Chris had to tell her that it was a way to show everyone who they were, to prove to everyone that no girl could resist the Penetrators, and especially not to Chris. This he told her. He owned the fact that he was the worst of them all. When he was over, it still hadn't stopped raining, but Helen hadn't run away.

“It's equally disturbing and cool,” was the first thing she told him when he was finished, and if Chris wasn't already sitting, he would have fallen over. “I mean- it was pretty disgusting to treat girls like that and I'm glad you do not anymore-” she paused. “-You don't do it now, do you?”

“No,” Chris answered and vehemently shook his head no.

“Good. At the same time, I wish my friends and me had, like, matching hoodies, that is insane! But still, it's bad.” She bit on her lip. “I guess telling me this is an act of good faith. I can understand that you do stupid things during high school. I did drugs for a while – and it's worse than you in a sense, right?”

“Well, I don't know, I smoked weed too during parties. I still do,” Chris said, unsure of what she meant.

“No, no, not weed. I did medicine. Studying was difficult sometimes and I started taking drugs to concentrate and sleep less, it became bad. Being an asshole to girls is damage to their self-esteem maybe but no one got hurt in the process. Don't be too harsh on yourself.”

“Too hard,” Chris instinctively said. “The expression is 'don't be too hard on yourself'.”

“Tak,” Helen said with a reassuring smile and Chris' eyes darted down when he felt her hand on his knee. She squeezed it lightly.

            And the adjective Chris was looking for a little earlier suddenly hit him in the face like a truck going full speed on the highway. Seductive. She was flirting with him; this whole time he thought it was the other way around, that he was the one running after her and trying to win her over, but maybe he had it all wrong. Helen exuded confidence when you looked past her shy speech – and Chris found that extremely alluring.

            Before long, it stopped raining, and the clock struck eleven in the evening.

“I should go back. I work tomorrow and I need to prepare my lunch,” she said as a goodbye.      They had talked the whole evening away, ate some pasta Chris made for them and watched a silly Norwegian sitcom whose jokes Chris had to explain to her, and suddenly it was late and they were tired.

            After grabbing her still wet clothes and promising to bring him back his as soon as she can, Helen climbed out of Chris' window to go join her apartment – and probably scare the living shit out of her roommate if she was there. She didn't see her very often these days, she was a bit of a party animal and Helen suspected she had a regular hookup and slept at his place.

“God natt,” Chris whispered as he leaned on the window's edge. He didn't know why he had lowered his voice but it seemed appropriate to whisper in the quiet, post-rain night.

“Bonne nuit,” she replied right before reaching her story.   

            Tonight, Chris would go to bed with a weight off his chest and the feeling that he had just recovered a part of himself that he thought was lost forever. The part that could open up and enjoy a quiet night in with a girl without having to make things sexual – his innocence.

Taglist: @bathshebaa @noyellie @malfoygasmic @dizzyowly

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[blacknovelist]

A Place to Be - BNHA Fic (Ch. 3)

As promised, here’s the third chapter, one day later!! Actually, I scheduled this to post at like, nine or ten in the morning along with a reblog of chapter 2 so y’all could see them at a relatively reasonable time instead of like, one or six in the morning or midnight. You’re welcome. Though as a result, chapters 1 and 2 might not have the proper links to chapter 3 for a while. Sorry.

Anyway, this is the first chapter outta two that I was really, really ready to fuckin’ write when I started this fic in the first place, since it was one of the scenes/parts me ‘n’ @guardianlioness​ actually talked about back when the concept happened. Though, since I made plot changes, I ended up shifting the dynamic of the chapter a lot from the original plan. There’s a throwaway or two to the old concepts I’m not actively incorporating in this chapter though. 

I’m still a little ‘eh’ on Hisashi, but much less in this chapter than in the last one.  Partway through writing this, it became really cathartic. I guess I’ve got a lot more feelings on all of this than I thought I did, haha. I hope I did everything alright in the end.

[AO3] [ffnet]

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Epilogue]

Chapter 3: Infelicity

To act or speak in an inapt, awkward, or inappropriate manner.

Aizawa sighed, sliding into his desk chair. He rubbed his eyes, a glance at the clock telling him it was already 9:00pm. As he reached for his eye drops, a name at the top of one of the documents caught his attention.

Surname: Midor Given name: Hisa

He frowned, pausing as his mind flew to the innocuous man who had accompanied his students to the impromptu evening lesson earlier. Why would an ordinary business man, and the father of one of his students, have a file on his desk...?

"Oh!" Aizawa's head shot up at the cry, along with the heads of the few teachers still in the office.

"The sensors picked up unauthorized use of an unfamiliar quirk down on the grounds," one of the faculty said. Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "I'm trying to track it now, but it only happened for a moment. I think it came from by one of the training-"

"Call security and send them down to delta gym immediately. I'm going to investigate."

They looked up, and only caught a glimpse of the white scarf trailing as he darted out the door. There was silence as the empty chair slowly spun and struck the table with a gentle 'thud'.

"I guess we know where he was earlier and what his students are doing, I guess," one of the teachers piped up. "Man, he's completely taken by those kids and he doesn't even know it."

"Absolutely."

"That's been obvious from the start."

"Security's on their way, but they probably already have everything handled down there anyway."

1-A stared, Izuku was more startled than a rabbit, Toshinori's face was stone, and Hisashi went pale. His hand clamped against his mouth like it just caused the ultimate betrayal, and in a way, it kind of had.

"I'm sorry," Hisashi said, after a moment. His hand dropped to his side. "Losing my temper like that was uncalled for, and my quirk coming out like that was even more so. I, I guess the long day's gotten to me more than I thought." He shifted from foot to foot, eyes darting from face to face. "It's important, but I can wait until the dorms before I talk to you, Izuku."

"Honestly, I think after that, it might be better if you come back another day," Tsuyu said. Hisashi's face twisted.

"Are you still-"

"I'm afraid," Toshinori interrupted, "that young Tsuyu is correct. As a member of the UA faculty, I cannot allow a breach in regulation from a visitor to be tolerated. Even if this was a burst of passion and emotion on your part, unless you're willing to impart your important message to young Izuku right here and within my sight I must ask that you leave campus for tonight at the very least. My apologies, Midoriya-san."

"Are you telling me I can't talk to my son properly before I leave?" He looked disgruntled, a contrast to the faint relief barely visible on Izuku's face. "I understand your rules are important, but isn't that a little harsh?"

"It's a necessary precaution in light of events as recent as a few months ago."

"Besides!" Sero sauntered up. "Not to accuse you of anything, Midoriya-san, but it wouldn't be hard for someone to impersonate a family member we're unfamiliar with."

"Plus Midoriya's told us about how he hasn't met you before. Or at least, not for a really long time," Kaminari spoke up.

"You already showed your judgement is impaired since you used your fire breath," Tokoyami said. "Forgive us for saying so, but many of us here are hesitant to put our trust in you after that display."

"A matter of trust?" Hisashi narrowed his eyes at them. "Well if that's the case we're talking, why should parents like me put trust in UA and it's rules? I can't be sure your school can look after my child sufficiently, or keep them safe when you're training them for one of the most dangerous careers in the world."

Izuku stepped up to the plate. "If you can't even keep a promise to make time to tell me important things and answer important questions, how can I trust you?"

"Of course you can and should trust me, I'm your father!"

Toshinori coughed. "UA has the best systems available to keep our students and staff safe. While I can understand you have doubts, given past inexcusable incidents, it's important that we believe in one another during this critical time."

"I wasn't even consulted when you pulled my son from home to live in these dorms. Isn't it your job to inform the parents of these kinds of changes?"

"You haven't so much as set foot in Japan for years. I know, because I accidentally asked Inko-san about it once and she told me herself." Uraraka frowned. "You didn't even call about the Sports Festival! Deku wasn't top three, but he put up a good fight the whole time."

"The Sports Festival is the reason I had to come back in the first place. I watched the footage - a quirk out of nowhere, ten years after it should have developed? It's unbelievable after the doctor reports, but now I can't deny it. Still." Hisashi turned to Izuku. "Fighting with something so damaging was reckless of you, but not as reckless as the people who let it happen." He whirled on Toshinori. "Being left in the dark is one thing, but letting my son scar himself permanently is another thing entirely!"

"That's why I'm here, to learn how to use it properly," Izuku said.

"What happened then was wrong on our parts," Toshinori said, hands held up. "We failed to be diligent, and young Izuku paid the price at that time. It-"

"You will not fail my son any longer," Hisashi growled. "That's why I'm here, to tell you that I want to pull him from UA."

Izuku froze along with the rest of the class, but Hisashi didn't. "Do you realize what it was like, for a father to watch his son, who he last saw as a small weak child, destroy himself on public television? He's lived what, fourteen years of his life without a quirk of any kind? It's not like he can't live without using it. Quirks aren't always needed for a good full life."

"Wait." Izuku's heart hammered. "Hold on, I-"

"What made you think someone who has less than a year's experience with their own quirk could be a hero in the first place? Isn't that kind of thing just cruel?"

Izuku flinched and, like the tide, his friends surged around him. Toshinori stepped between them and Hisashi, assured that his students would take care of each other. He said nothing as they clamored, scrambling to let their thoughts be known, and stood ready to intervene.

"That's not true at all!" Ashido yelled, waving an arm in Izuku's direction. "Midoriya is a great hero already!"

"Midoriya has proved time and time again that he belongs here as much as the rest of us," Iida said, glasses glinting.

Kirishima stepped in. "He's one of the stronger guys in our class too, with and without his quirk."

"And he's really really smart. He's like, fourth in class! I learned half our lessons by listening to him mumble while he's studying."

"Midoriya's our friend and classmate, you can't just take him away!"

"That's why I was going to talk to you, Izuku." Hisashi sighed. "I’m sure Inko will agree with getting you out. There's plenty of other places to go, things to do. You've always been sharp, surely you already know that UA isn't the best school for you."

"That's your own opinion, not to mention it isn't your call to make on anyone's behalf. Don't go putting words into Inko-san’s mouth, or Midoriya’s for that matter." If his quirk was sight-based, Todoroki's gaze would be a blizzard. "It's not your wishes or dreams resting on Midoriya's shoulders, it's his own. You don't have a right to come in here and try to take that away from him when he's come this far already, and not when you've spent this much time not here to witness that growth."

If Todoroki's look was cold, Hisashi's was blistering. "Even when it's what would be best for him? He's a teenager who was born quirkless and got into school because of some freak mutation that gave him one. That gap isn't something you can just forget about or change."

"Like fuck that's ever mattered to fucking Deku," Bakugou snapped. "Deku, who never shut up about quirks and his hero shit. Deku who fucking made into goddamn UA in the first place! Even if he's a fuckin moron who can't use his quirk for shit yet, he's here, isn't he?!"

"Midoriya's come incredibly far since school began," Shouji said. "Just like everyone else. You can't ignore that, either."

"He's smart enough to know better than to pick what you think over his dreams."

"That's enough." He moved to push through their ranks. "Who are you to stand between me and my son? This has nothing to do with you kids."

"I think, that is a question that needs to be asked of you."

Hisashi stopped, gaze locked with Toshinori's. The class stopped and stared, all but humming with anticipation. Unnoticed, Izuku snapped out of his shock and whirling thoughts (hethinksicantbuttheythinkicantheyremyfriendsbuthesmyfatherwhatdoidowhatdoido), looked up at the two figures in front of them, and felt understanding sweep over him.

"Who are you to come back into your child's life after years of being absent?" Toshinori asked, face impassive. "To call him son and take him away from his hopes and dreams? Young Izuku is here to learn and be a hero, like all these students here. What right do you have to claim that you know best when you barely know him?"

"I think I have more claim than their teacher, the retired shell of a man that's standing right in front of me!" Hisashi snarled. Heat twisted the air in front of his face, but not fire. "You've only known him for how long, two years? A year and a half?"

"Longer than he's known you, his birth father off overseas for work almost as long as he's been alive." Toshinori stepped forward. "Young Izuku is one of the most determined, heroic young men I've ever had the honor of knowing. I and his other teachers, at least, were able to be here for him when he needed us. The fact that you can't see how much he's thriving here tells me everything I need to know."

Hisashi regarded Toshinori for a moment, then spun on his heel to Izuku. "My son," Hisashi said. "Do you want to throw away your future so much? For the belief that your fledgling quirk will bring you anywhere in the little time you've had it?"

"Don't call me that." Izuku's expression was set. "I'm not yours, and I'm not the same son you left with Mom when you went overseas for the first time."

"Of course you're my son, don't say that. Honestly, I don't know why your mother let you stay."

"At least mom was here to decide in the first place," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You're really convinced by all this?" Hisashi's eyebrows furrowed. "Honestly, Izuku, what made you think you could ever belong here, with people have been working with their Quirks for years? All the experience in the world, the things they want to teach you, they're worthless in the wake of how little time they actually have before hero society expects you to be forced out into the world! Just come back home, find something to do with your life that won't get you killed!"

There was silence, for just a moment.

The surprise faded from Izuku's face. "If you think I can't find my own way or place to be a hero or, or anything else at so all here at UA, you're wrong." He stepped towards Hisashi, and the rest of them shifted out of his way. "No one here is worthless-" like a quirkless boy, like me- "and the fact that my power manifested late doesn't mean I'm worth any less, or don't belong where everyone else does."

Hisashi blanched. "No, I, no, Izuku, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant-"

"Going home isn't going to make you happy with me, either," Izuku pushed forward. "Home isn't our old house, it's right here. It's this campus, these buildings, where I get to come back to my friends and teachers and mom every single day while I work towards my goals. I might not need to be at UA to be a hero, but at this moment in time? I feel like I'm exactly where I need to be." He rubbed the rough skin and dips of his right hand. "Somebody told me once, that, all of this, it's is what I've earned, with my own power and hard work. It's not much, but it's not something you can convince me to leave behind."

"I… You won't even hear me out as your father, concerned for your well-being?"

"That doesn't matter! Mom was worried, but she let me go, didn't she? I spent such a long time wondering about who you are, wishing I could meet you once in my life, but... There's more to being family than being related to each other. You might be my dad by blood, but we're as good as strangers right now. If you think I'll listen and leave with you after half a day, you don't know me at all."

The worry and underlying anger sank into hurt and incredulity. "You trust your classmates and teacher more than me."

"Toshinori-san's been there for me more than you have," Izuku said softly. "And so has everyone else. That's what's important."

“Izuku… I…”

Hisashi reached out, but Toshinori shook his head, stepping between them and next to his student. "Pardon me, Midoriya-san. I cannot speak for young Izuku, but... I think you would do well to come back another time. Talk to Inko, relearn your home, understand the differences in your family that came to be while you were gone." Toshinori put a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "Until you can tell me with confidence that you're willing and ready to  be an ally and friend to my son before you make him see you as his father again, I'd like to ask you to wait before you think about coming back."

Hisashi’s lips thinned, but he said nothing.

"Yagi!" They both turned. "Security is on its way. What's going on here?"

"Ah, Aizawa." Toshinori blinked. "Just explaining a few things to Midoriya-san, and... Talking about a possible second visit date. He simply wanted to say something to young Izuku before he left."

"I, ah, that's...... yes. That's correct." He took a deep breath, and bowed. "I apologize for the trouble I've caused. I suppose the stress of travel before today might have had something to do with it!" He gave a weak chuckle. "Thank you for having me. I will see you around... Yagi-san. Izuku."

Hisashi brushed past Aizawa, who glanced at the trembling face of Izuku, the hand on his shoulder and the slowly dawning realization on Toshinori's face, and turned to follow him to the gates.

#Boku no Hero Academia #BNHA #My Hero Academia #MHA #BNHA Fic #Blacknovelist Writes #Dorm Life Series #Team 1A #Izuku #Hisashi Midoriya #Toshinori #in which hisashi gets fuckiin wrecked #nah I like this one tho #the next chapter is going to be a solid chunk of dad might and fam1-a at the end i hope y'all are ready