I wonder how long it was before Midoriya realised he shouldn’t go to hero cons without wearing a disguise/mask of some sort. You KNOW he was cruising through the con hall bare-faced during his years at school high, even though he would get asked every 15 minutes or so, “Hey, aren’t you one of the Class 1-A kids?”
Which MEANS he was probably out there post-graduation too, when he finally finds the time for a day off. And he’s surprised by other people’s surprise. A rookie hero at a con? It’s not that weird, is it?
At what point does he realise he needs to wear a disguise?? What rank does he get to before he thinks, “Maybe I’m not Just Another Fan.” Imagine those poor con goers. You’re there to check out hero merch and attend a few panels, and there’s Actual UA Graduate and Pro Hero, Deku, rifling through a tub of posters right next to you
SOMEBODY WRITE A FIC
Screw it I’ll write the fic just gimme a hot second
Izuku is a fanboy.
He always has been; he always will be. He’s been to more cons than he can count and he’s spent more money on hero merch than is probably wise, but he just can’t shake the habit. Even now, when he’s met most of the heroes of his childhood in person, he continues to buy every limited edition comic book, every rare collectible. His All Might t-shirts are washed with the same care as his hero suit, and every day he dusts off the figurines that line every shelf space in his bedroom.
Nothing’s changed since he’s become a hero, except that it has.
The security guard gapes at him when he walks in. The woman scanning tickets blushes furiously and mumbles something about it being an honor. Izuku frowns, confused, and glances down at his Captain America cosplay to make sure nothing’s out of place.
Everything seems to be in order, and that just puzzles Izuku even more. Why is everyone staring?
He shakes his head. Just ignore them, he tells himself. You’re imagining things.
Is he getting paranoid?
The day passes quickly. The con is as enjoyable as ever, and as the sunlight grows dim through the large windows up above, Izuku finds himself laden down with bags of hero merch. He’s happy, he’s tired, and he’s excited to come back tomorrow for day two.
And that’s when he finds the stall.
In many ways, it’s like all the other stalls. It’s boundaried by cloth walls and there’s a table in front, a sign on printer paper taped to it declaring the vendor name and stall number. Every surface is lined with items for sale, everything from plushies to posters to t-shirts.
The difference is that it’s forest green and bright red, the color of his hero costume and his shoes. The difference is the bright paper letters cut out and hanging on the back wall, signifying this stall as The Unofficial Deku Merchandise Depot.
Izuku stops dead in his tracks and stares.
“What,” leaves his mouth, and then he forgets how to speak.
The person managing the stall looks up with a smile and then freezes. Their eyes meet and Izuku can see it on her face as she registers his distinctive mess of curls and the freckles dotting his cheeks.
Her jaw drops.
“Oh, oh wow,” says the vendor. “Oh my. D-Deku. Oh, it’s an honor, I—can I help you?”
Izuku just gapes at her.
“Um. Deku? Deku-san? Are you…are you alright?”
His mouth closes and then opens again. This action repeats several times before he finally approaches the booth and picks up a plushie with numb fingers.
It’s a plushie of him, red boots and green curls and all.
“Uh, do you want to buy that? Oh, well, I guess you shouldn’t have to—it’s on the house, you can have it! Free of charge. Oh, and, of course I’m your biggest fan, it’s such an honor and—are you here for a panel?”
“No,” says Izuku, still blinking down at the plushie in his hand. “I’m not.”
“Oh,” says the vendor, and then fumbles for a pen and paper. “Could I maybe get your autograph?”
“Uh. Sure.” Izuku feels lightheaded as he scribbles his name in black ink on the back of what must be the woman’s entry pass.
“Thank you! Thank you so much, Deku-san, I really admire you so much and—”
“You’re welcome,” says Izuku mechanically, and then drifts away before he can pass out from shock.
He heads for the bathroom for some privacy after that, juggling his bags as he searches for his phone. The looks he’s getting from the people around him are even more noticeable, now; it’s surreal. He almost feels like he’s in a dream.
Somehow he manages to pull up his contacts and press the familiar name. The phone rings three times before she answers.
“Deku-kun! How are you?! You’re at a con this weekend, right? Are you having fun?”
“Uraraka-chan,” says Izuku dumbly. “Did you know I have a fanbase?”
Uraraka laughs, the sound coming through as static over the phone line. “Of course, silly!” she says. “We’ve all had fans since the first year sports festival!”
“What?” asks Izuku, mouth dry. “Really?”
“Yeah! Deku-kun, did you not know?”
A little boy pulls on Izuku’s pant leg and smiles up at him. He’s dressed in a familiar forest-green costume and he’s holding out a notepad and a pen.
“No,” says Izuku. “I didn’t.”
Published
Don0303 