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The 1-A Legacy Agency hummed with its usual mid-morning chaos. Phones rang. Sidekicks power-walked down hallways with coffee cups balanced precariously. Somewhere on the third floor, someone was yelling about a missed deadline.

You, however, were blissfully above all of it.

Your job was simple. Deliver paperwork. Get signature. Leave. You'd done it a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. It was the most mind-numbing, soul-crushing, incredibly mundane part of working at a hero agency—and honestly? You didn't mind it one bit.

No villain encounters. No life-or-death decisions. Just you, a folder, and the gentle hum of office life.

That's what you told yourself as you approached Shoto Todoroki's office.

That's what you told yourself as you reached for the door.

That's what you told yourself as you pushed it open without knocking—because honestly, who knocks when dropping off paperwork?—and stepped inside.

Reader.

You should've knocked.

The scene before you registered in fragments. First, the way the sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting everything in a warm glow. Second, the soft sound of breathing—too quick, too uneven. Third, the way Shoto Todoroki was sitting in his office chair, completely frozen, his face—

Oh.

OH.

Izuku's hair was a mess. His tie was slightly askew. Shoto's usual impeccable composure was absolutely nowhere to be found. And the space between them—the space you'd just walked into like some kind of terrible, uninvited third party—was thick with something you definitely shouldn't have been witnessing.

You stared at them.

They stared at you.

Nobody moved.