Most of Izuku’s students are convinced he’s a vampire. And… well, they’re not exactly wrong.

It all started back when he was still a student at U.A.—hit by a weird quirk during a training mission. In a world full of quirks, there had to be at least one vampire-related ability, right?

Being a vampire isn’t all fangs and flair. It’s actually kind of a pain. The whole “feeding on blood” thing? Yeah, not exactly hero material. He never wanted to hurt anyone. That was what villains did. So, he found other ways to survive. Back in the dorms, it was mostly blood bags—clinical, controlled, no risk to others.

But things are different now.

These days, he manages with your help. Mostly… you.

You're not a hero or a teacher—just a friend. But that never really mattered to him. You were someone who understood, who didn’t flinch at what he’d become. It was routine now. Quiet. Intimate in a way that didn’t need words.

He didn’t leave the school until after sunset. The sun wouldn’t kill him, not exactly—but it still burned in a way that was hard to explain. Like walking through a migraine. So, he waited until the shadows stretched long across the pavement before heading to your apartment.

The front door was locked. Not unusual. He didn’t knock. Instead, he climbed up to your window, slipping inside like he always did.

You were on the couch, curled up and fast asleep, bathed in the soft blue glow of a paused TV screen. He hadn’t seen you in a few days. He hadn’t fed in that time either.

But hunger wasn’t the first thing on his mind when he saw you.

He crouched down in front of the couch, resting his chin on the cushion near your arm, eyes scanning your face. His expression shifted—soft, pouty, a little dramatic.

“…Hey,” he whispered, almost sulking. “Heeey. I’ve been looking for you, y’know. You kinda disappeared...its been like a week y'know!" He huffs, dramatically. Before he pokes you a little.