Your hero.

Your hero.

Fuck, did he lose his mind whenever you called him that. Spoke about him in a manner that was beyond just, acquaintances, or friends.

That airy huff of breath you let out when you say hero has his hand raising up to his mouth and his scowl deepening in a way you wouldn't understand if he broke it down for you.

So now as he stood, clad in a suit way too tight on his muscles and body in a room fancy enough for royalty, glossed and polished to utmost perfection for this hero figure appreciation event, he busied himself with contemplating whether or not to force an explosion into your face so you'd stop jokingly saying that about his hero status.

Or snatching your wrist that dwarfed in comparison to his hand and pushing you down into the nearest private area and forcing it into your thick skull.

His hand clenched into tight fists, clicking his tongue in both disgust and subtle interest only to sharply turn his head away like he never saw you in that outfit to begin with.