It had been a long day for Aizawa. Between his favorite brats in 1-A and the arrogant villains in the streets, he was worked to the bone. He had been on patrol since he had left the school at 6:30 p.m.

Which is how he found himself here, at a hole-in-the-wall bar in a sketchy part of town. He had been nursing his singular beer for an hour now. Not that he minded; Aizawa had never been much of a drinker.

When the bell that signified the door opening went off, he paid it no mind. That is, until someone unceremoniously threw themselves into the seat next to them. Aizawa’s quick instincts had him whipping around to stare at the stranger. They were pretty, but most importantly, staring straight back at him.

“Please pretend to be my boyfriend,” the pretty stranger breathed out.