Chapter Text
You couldn’t resist. The woman wearing designer clothes that you had seen in magazines held her phone up to her ear, showing off what must be an eighty-dollar nail job. Yes, exactly your “type”.
You watched her passionately “speaking” to some poor soul end on the other line- not really listening because your eyes were on the prize.
Her purse.
She had put it down on a public bench, teasingly close to the alleyway you were peering from. It was nighttime. Perfect. An easy score that would keep you fed for days. Or so you thought...
You were supposed to be laying low. But your stomach and thinly layered clothes were beginning to protest. Making ends meet off of stealing from the wealthy: purses, shopping bags, etc. settled well with your conscience. They were just petty crimes; not smashing bridges or bank robbing banks. Not anything "bad enough" to attract a lot of attention from heroes, right?
Everything went perfectly up until a couple weeks ago... Your quirk was perfectly suited for guerilla tactics. You could make yourself and anything you happened to exclusively touch that isn’t alive (like your clothes and loot) turn translucent. All that would appear to onlookers was your shadow.
But there’s barely any shadows at night… only those that appear from artificial light. There’s a time limit on how long you can remain “hidden” of course, but you’re fast and never seem to need the full time. Besides, no one has seen your face and you only work at night.
You have earned the nickname “Nightshade". Most people who are stolen from, or are “lucky enough” to see your shadow, as you make your escape, think they are hallucinating. Their belongings disappear into thin air, and “demon-like figures” appear on the walls.
But it turns out stealing from the rich isn’t a great idea in today’s ever-corrupt society....
It had been a one-two punch.
Some influential wealthy people began to become paranoid over tales of you, and whined to some big-time hero agencies. You even heard they had left some “incentives” for your capture.
Second, you were once careless and released your quirk while a hero had been silently tailing you. Thankfully you were as paranoid as ever and wearing all black, including a hood, and a scarf wrapped the lower part of your face. So, all anyone really saw from that stolen picture was your intense (e/c) eyes and the fact that you’re a woman. Stealthy clothes are kind of known to be tight-fighting.
But that picture had gained you some major publicity, as the police, heroes, and media now had a lead on “Nightshade”. Their predictions of your quirk gave them ideas of just how powerful it made you. You could be a true villain instead of just a pretty good pickpocket. But you didn’t hate the world that much to lose all of your morals.
You’ve been forced into taking a break- but your money is running out. You have to pay rent for your dingy studio apartment and for things like casual clothes and makeup so you can be presentable, and pass as a normal person with a day job (when you weren’t sleeping, that is).
You decided today was finally your day to go out again, and man were you lucky that you caught a sucker in the first five minutes of your prowl.
She turned her back to you and-
*SNATCH*
The purse was gone and you were translucent, and almost two streets away! You kept running- you wouldn’t run back home immediately in case someone was trailing you again and-
Suddenly you could SEE YOUR FEET!
Oh no- oh fuck- what the!-?
*SLAM*
You were on the ground with something wrapped around your left ankle, the purse knocked out of your hands. You scrambled to your feet; simultaneously trying to turn translucent again, while grabbing your hidden switchblade and to try to cut off what you could now see, in the dim light of the alleyway, was thick grey fabric attached to something or someone hidden in darkness.
Before you could try either, a man with swept back raven hair, bright yellow goggles, and what could have been a grey scarf (except some of it was wrapped around your ankle), stepped around the corner.
ERASER HEAD … I got caught by him, of all heroes!?
There was no mistaking it... It was the pro quirk-eraser. Your past research told you he had made his debut spectacularly as a pro, with such a simple, yet powerful quirk, mixed with excellent combat skills. He had then gone straight into teaching and still worked as a hero, but underground and in his free time.
You have always had a good amount of respect for heroes like Eraser Head who actually stopped villains for the sake of good. It was the cooperate pros that pissed you off-and who you thought would come after you- a petty criminal.
He couldn’t have sold out to the cooperates… no... not him.
Shouta Aizawa… that was his name. You remembered.
And he’s famous for catching the worst of the worst… why the hell would he go after someone like me!?
“Better put that down before you hurt yourself.” Eraser Head casually flicked the fabric and it went towards your arm. With another fluid movement, you lurched backwards and the back of your head slammed against a brick wall; your wrists were wrapped and above your head... All before you even heard your knife clatter against the ground.
Your head hurt. Screw it, so did the rest of your body. You were reeling in panic and cursed yourself for putting all your training into stealth and none into combat. Well, you never thought you’d get caught, let alone by a pro hero! Your head hung in defeat.
This is it… isn’t it?
Your head hung low, and you could blurrily make out the black-clothed man coming to stand right in front of you. You realized you were panting from the exertion and your anxiety.
“So… you’re the infamous… what do they call you? Nightshade…” he accused. It wasn’t a question.
You didn’t bother to look up or answer, you were screwed anyway. Even if you could use your quirk, you were still trapped and completely out of your league.
“No answer, huh?” You heard bootsteps come closer and a fingers pressed into your chin, tilting your face to meet Aizawa’s blazing red eyes. You stared and wondered why he had taken off his goggles. The intensity of his eyes was simultaneously amazing and terrifying. But the more you stared, the more you leaned towards amazing. As you watched his eyes move, you realized your scarf had fallen to your neck and your hood had gotten pushed back from when you got your ass kicked in the “fight”. Now, with your face completely exposed, you began to shake and struggle against your binds reflexively as you panicked. His eyes lingered on your tattered black clothes, and when they met yours again, they seemed… softer?
“I think I overdid it… sorry about that” you barely heard him say.
The great Eraser Head took a handkerchief from his jacket and used it to wipe the blood (that you hadn’t even realized was trickling from your nose down to the ground) off of your face. You must have faceplanted when you’d tripped earlier. You don't even remember.
You made a strangled noise from the surprise and of him just touching you in a strangely intimate way.
What the hell? Isn’t he supposed to beat me up more and give me some speech about how I’m a disgrace to society? Like all heroes like to spout? Why is he apologizing and holding this weird look? Also why did I take notice of exactly how his hands felt? He nearly killed me! He still can!
“…They had your quirk listed as ‘highly dangerous’” he muttered, “I expected you to put up more of a fight… but it looks like you really are just a low-class thief...” he continued as he turned to take a glance at the purse laying sideways and forgotten on the ground.
“Gee… thanks….” you sputtered out, the sarcasm barely detectable, before your built up tears started to trickle down your face. You didn’t care that you were making a weakling out of yourself in front of a hero. Fear and confusion got the best of you.
What does he want!? Why is he toying with me? Just bring me to the police to rot in jail already!
“W-wait… don’t…” Izowa stuttered. You feel both of his hands on your face now, thumbs wiping away the tears streaming from your closed eyes. You feel a soft pair of lips press lightly on your own.
You freeze.
You head spins even more than you think physically possible at this point, as the you ride an adrenaline high from your steal, the fight, and your mind doing circles.
Yet somehow in the mix, you register stubble lightly scraping at your skin and soft long locks brushing against you.
He pulled back abruptly, eyes wide, ending the kiss and ripping his hands off of you. He seemed almost as startled as you by what he had just done. You were busy freaking out because you knew you were blushing and how could this day get any weirder!?
Normally if a stranger had tried to kiss you, you would be disgusted. But… well… there’s a reason you know so much about Erasure Head.
“I’m not going to hurt you... You don’t have to be afraid of me, Nightshade.” You raised your gaze to look him in the eyes again, which had lost all sharpness but were still completely serious.
Aizawa moved closer again, and whispered in your ear, as you shivered,“I’m not even going to take you to the station, okay? But I am going to bring you somewhere else. So, you better not try to run away on me, alright?”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. After all you weren’t really processing anything after a maybe-kind-of-attractive pro hero had just kissed you.
I’m not going to jail!? That’s impossible! There has to be a catch…
“W-where are you going to t-take me then?” you asked after your heartbeat slowed down and were able to catch your breath.
Eraser Head loosened his grip on your wrists so you were still bound but more comfortable, and were able to move your arms down from above your head to in front of you. The dark-haired man gently pulled you from the wall and took ahold of you, just above the elbow as he began to walk, and you had no choice but to follow.
“My apartment.”
…WHAT!?