Never meet your heroes.
It's an age old saying, but straight to the point. As it should be. In a world of sugarcoating and social media, it's nice that honest statements like this still exist to keep us sane.
Anddd, now I already sound like I'm a hundred years old...
We don't have to dive into the specifics, yet. It's fine if you don't believe me. A hero has many jobs and 'saving' is only a very small part of it, believe it or not. They're also meant to be teachers. Doctors. 'Friends.' And most of all...
Actors.
Ah. I'm already getting ahead of myself though.
Just trust that I know what I'm talking about. You'll see.
Enough about that though. Let's skip thirty chapters of slow burn and get right to the exciting stuff...
So, anyways, where was I? Oh yeah—the air was hot and heavy from the scene before me, intense enough to send a shiver down my spine.
Pulsing desire. Tangled tongues. Bare skin. If someone doesn't move this moment along soon, it's gonna get real messy in here.
"Make a move already." I murmured under my breath impatiently, feeling the palms of my hands starting to sweat. "I can't wait any longer to feel you."
His red hair sparkled in the moonlight, rippling muscles tensing against his skin like a beautiful painting. The blue in his eyes glowed deeper than the ocean behind us. With a growl, he walked over and...
And....
"And....hmmm..." My voice echoed throughout my empty apartment, interrupting the sexy imagery going on in my head.
I stared at the white pages of my laptop in thought, groaning slightly at the writing inspiration that just flickered out of me like a candle.
No. Come on. This is an important part of the story. I can't mess it up...
I take my smutty fanfictions very seriously after all.
Of all the parts, I didn't think this part would be hard. The main character's a misunderstood, stubborn redhead with daddy issues and a scar on his face. How much hotter can he get?
I just don't have any inspiration when it comes to writing attraction. Romance is dead. But, it's also overrated, so whatever, right?
Oh well, I'll just throw in some random uses of the word 'cock' and have him call her a 'good girl' or something. The hoes will love it either way.
It's me. I'm 'hoes.'
My fingers clacked back onto the keyboard, watching the obscene filth pour out of me like lava now.
However, the dreaded ding of my phone didn't allow me to get very far, blowing a stray hair out of my vision line to look at the notification on the screen.
Text Message From: work
Thought you'd be getting to work an hour early to rehearse your presentation. A promotion is on the line after all.
7:34am.
Why do we have to live in a world where work is more important than writing smut? Can't we all just be horny and happy?
"Ahh. Promotion." I dismissed the message on my phone, mistaking my horniness for confidence. "Please. I've already got that promotion in the bag."
I turned my phone upside down and gave the attention back to my laptop, trying to get my thoughts back as my fingers paused on the keys.
Once again, where was I? Oh, right. The important stuff.
Pressing my lips together in focus, I picked up the typing where I left it off.
"Ah, here we go—his hard, throbbing member pulsed inside her—so big and girthy..." I murmured aloud as I typed. "'Bodyguard,' The secret princess moaned as he pounded her deep into the mattress. 'This is soooo forbidden, and stuff-"
DING!
"No." I grumbled at the interruption, switching my phone to vibrate. "Her bodyguard squeezed her plump ass passionately, growling heated sin past her lips-"
Vibrate-
"Shh, I'm not done. Her—hm—lady garden? Third eye? Honey pot?-"
Vibrate.
"Really blue balling the moment here-"
Vibrate. Vibrate. Vibrate-
Slumping my head between my shoulders, I sighed and decided to give up writing my beloved, smutty fanfictions for now, mentally preparing myself for the worst thing a person ever has to do in this life...
Adulting.
Picking up my phone, I saw one of the messages was a reminder I set for myself last night:
REMINDER:
(U better not be writing smut rn u stupid hoe)
Download presentation onto flash drive.
"Ohhh, I almost forgot." I gasped, hopping out of my computer chair to grab the drive.
My possible promotion depends on the contents of that presentation. Honestly, my entire life does too, but god, I don't even care anymore.
No, I'm lying. I care a lot about being able to pay my rent and survive. I promise. No, it's not sarcasm. I mean it. I really do.....
I stuck the flash drive into the port of my laptop with a content sigh, hovering down in front of my fishbowl while I waited for the presentation to transfer.
The familiar, little red goldfish twirling around in the bowl made me smile, gently pressing my finger to the glass as if to pet him.
"This promotion is gonna be mine, Ziggy." I murmured to the creature as if he cared. "When I get home today, you are gonna be one rich fish."
In response, a little squirt of stringy brown came from his behind, causing me to press my lips together with a nod. "Glad we're on the same page, little guy."
A chime from my laptop alerted me that the presentation was officially on the hard drive, causing me to pull the little device from the port and grab my bag.
Today is where everything changes.
****
The humid air of the cramped subway would usually have me dissociating and contemplating my entire existence. Again. After a few years of taking it to work everyday, I never did get used to the smell—or, the dried vomit permanently stained onto that window seat.
But, as you know, today was a special day. After all, it's been almost a century since The Hero Commission gave out promotions—and the first time they decided to put second year interns in the running for it as well.
In case you can't tell from my inability to find joy in life other than fictional dick, I work in their publicity department—specifically, in—wait for it—journalism.
Look, as much as I love writing articles about Best Jeanist's new denim collection, or Midnight's latest TrueFans After Dark promotion deal—yes, it's worth the price—this is not what I hoped my college degree in journalism would be used for...
'Heroes' this. 'Heroes' that. Blah, blah, blah. If it's not about 'heroes' no one cares anymore.
Remember that thing from the beginning about not meeting your heroes? I told you we'd get to it later and here we are.
Heroes are so cool—on the surface. If I've learned anything in the year I've written for them, the whole thing is more a publicity stunt than anything else.
But, nothing's actually about justice or virtue anymore. It's about who can get the highest views on KickTok while dancing in their suits—the answer is Hawks in case you're wondering.
Ahh, Hawks. It's always Hawks. Him and his slutty, little waist—I got that line from one of his KickTok edits. Not gonna lie, I kinda dig the saying.
There's a certain type of favoritism that come with being a popular hero. The HPSC Publishing Company is a big reason why heroes either become successful or unknown failures. Even if they've got talent, if they don't have charisma and a fan base, they'll never make it.
Show biz. It's a bitch.
The top ten are only in the top ten because of people like me. The ones behind the scenes, pumping out article after article...social media post after social media post...anything that gets them to be the apple of the public's eye.
They're nothing more than celebrities. In tights.
It's pretty shallow work for me, but hey—in order to get to the top, it's only natural to start at the bottom. Get a job at HPSC Publishing Co. on my résumé, and I'm guaranteed a job at any other place in the country with a simple snap of my fingers.
Except...
That's the gag. It's not technically a job yet—I've only barely weaseled my way into the intern/coffee runner. I'm hoping today will be the day that I finally claim that spot of an official HPSC writer.
A soft breath of nerves puffed past my lips as I mentally ran through my presentation in my head, quickly becoming distracted by one of the ads on the overhead of the subway.
WANT LUSCIOUS LOCKS LIKE YOUR FAVORITE HERO EDGESHOT?
USE THE PROMOTION CODE: EDGE TO GET 50% OFF YOUR FIRST ORDER OF 'EDGE HAIR PRODUCTS'
"Hey, Edgeshot. I wrote an article on him, you know." I sighed contently to the snotty kid smushed at my hip. "Yup. The benefits of flat tummy tea to get the 'paper thin' look. Get it? Cause his quirk makes him thin?"
The kid coughed obnoxiously in response, effectively staining my work skirt with his slime. "My mommy says if old ladies like you try to talk to me, it means they want to steal me."
A few passengers on the subway glanced our way now, looking at me like some sort of creep.
I scrunched my nose and barely shot the kid a glare. "Since when is twenty-three old..."
He didn't care enough to respond, already losing interest and turning his attention back to his sticky iPad.
A bump from the group of teenage girls next to me caught my attention, pricking my ears with their topic of interest.
"Hey, did you see the latest post from the Hero Commission? It finally announced this year's top young heroes to watch out for." One of them said, showing her phone screen to her friends.
Oh? I didn't write that article. If it's not about KickTok or Miruko crushing a watermelon with her thighs—I was blessed to witness that one live for 'research'—it's considered out of my scope.
"Really? Who's on the list?" Her friend asked eagerly, quickly snatching the phone.
"Hmm. Someone named Deku—eh, not into green hair. Uh, Dynamight—ew, nope, he looks so angry. Another named Shouto—ohhh, he's cute-"
"What? Lemme see!-"
"Does Shouto have KickTok? I wanna follow him!"
"But, is he single?!"
"It says he's twenty years old. He's too old for you—but, not for me!!-"
"What's his star sign??"
I felt a migraine forming from the fangirling squeals that erupted on the subway. A new year of 'heroes to watch out for' means it's officially that time of year again...
Hero Season. The season that always breaks the poor spirit of every intern.
The HPSC always works their staff overtime during Hero Season to promote them to the public. That means more articles, social media posts, and just a bunch of pampered bullshit to build them up.
Usually, interns bear the brunt of Hero Season. Hah. But, after I get that promotion today, it won't be me.
Thank goodness, too. Fresh, young heroes are always the worst kinds of divas...
****
Nerves settled in my stomach at the audience in the conference room.
All twenty of the HPSC executives decided to sit in on the presentation, along with the CEO himself. Talk about wanting to shit yourself. It's why I skipped my morning coffee.
The five interns competing for the position were sat formally in the corner, glaring cutthroat daggers at each other as they mentally rehearsed their own presentations in their head.
Thank goodness I'm going first.
Giving the room a stiff smile filled with nerves, I quickly scurried to the front, setting my briefcase down on the oak table.
My boss forced a chuckle as everyone watched me set up my laptop a little informally—as if there's a formal way to do that—sliding the legs of her rolling chair my way.
"What did I say about getting here early?" She grumbled in a hushed whisper, causing me to type on the keyboard quicker.
"Sorry. I was in the middle of something...very important." I muttered, keeping my eyes focused on the screen.
"What could be more important than a promotion that could change your entire life?"
"A princess and her bodyguard."
"What did you just say?"
"Nothing. Anyways, I'm ready to get started." I quickly averted the subject, sticking the flash drive into my computer before standing up to face the room.
I didn't show the screen yet. Dramatic effect. I've got a plan here.
My boss pressed her lips in a thin line, forced to overlook my tardiness—aka—right-on-time-ness, and introduce me to the room.
"Okay then, let's get started." She smiled dryly, gesturing to my frame. "Our first intern, doing her presentation on The Effects of The Hero Industry On Mental Health—Keilani Hidaka."
I walked to the front of the room with a bow, waiting for the courtesy claps to die down before starting.
Typical nerves began to settle in my stomach. But, I quickly shrugged them away, flashing the room the typical, charming smile I'd spent years perfecting.
You know the drill...
"One can't ever be seen if they look shy."
I blinked the words out of my brain, staring down each person in the room with enough poised cockiness to make Hawks jealous.
"Ladies and gentleman," I began, folding my hands behind my back, "For years we've painted heroes as gods to the public. Because of this, they've become so unattainable, no one—not even themselves are able to keep up with such an impossible persona."
Apart from a random cough in the audience, the room was quiet.
Ah. Is this already boring? I hope not...
I cleared my throat and kept going anyways. It'll get better in a second when I get to the PowerPoint. Trust.
"Statistical studies show the heroes seeking mental health counseling in recent years have had a sharp uprise. I've compiled a sample of evidence from heroes explaining how they feel trapped in their role and experience burnout only a year after debuting. Lesser known heroes lose their purpose as they won't ever have a chance to catch up, no matter what they do."
My heels clacked against the marble tiles as I slowly made my way back to my laptop now, preparing to display my presentation.
A pause to build the tension. A sigh to tug at the heartstrings...
"My proposal, is to make heroes relatable. Show their more realistic side. Their everyday activities when they aren't working. They're habits—even they're bad ones." I said, finally tapping the button of my laptop to project the screen.
Wanting to prove I'd memorized the presentation, I didn't look at it once it was on display, watching every eye in the room zero in on the spot.
"If you look at the screen behind me, you'll see I'm starting with a statistical model of heroes and their performance decline in the first five years after debuting-"
The actions of one of the interns in the corner caught my attention, watching her eyes widen at the screen before slapping a hand over her mouth dramatically.
My speech faltered, but I quickly shook it off. These interns are ruthless, they'll use any tactics they can to get in your head. Everyone wants that promotion after all.
"Uh, anyways..." I started, hearing a few chuckles in the audience. "Where was I—oh, the decline of-"
"Lani." My boss interrupted me calmly, skin paling under her poker face as she kept her eyes on my PowerPoint.
Furrowing my brows in confusion, I quickly turned around to face the screen, expecting to see the graph I spent seven hours creating last night.
What I didn't expect...was to see something else entirely...
Their sweaty skins slapped together. The moans of the princess echoed through the castle walls, as the bodyguard sunk his teeth into her neck. His potent, slicked ba-
My jaw dropped in blank horror, unable to bring myself to read the rest.
I don't need to read it. I wrote it. I know what comes next—it's actually a good part. This is not the point.
So, I transferred my smut story onto the flash drive instead of my presentation? Nice. It's the kind of shit you read about in fanfictions honestly....
A soft whistle in the room caused me to grimace slightly, tossing my notes back on the table with accepted defeat.
"Lani." My boss repeated, radiating so much calmness, I knew she was furious. "Can you please tell me what we're looking at here?"
I nodded and folded my hands behind my back, deciding there was no use trying to hide it.
"Balls, ma'am. Lots of balls."
"And boobies, too." The creepy janitor in the corner grinned, gesturing to paragraph five specifically.
Wait until he gets to paragraph eight.
"Yes. Thank you, Frank."
So much for that promotion. Goodbye, everyone. I'll remember you all in therapy.
******
A/N: welcome to the story! Here's some other books of mine on my page you can read:
The Year 2006 - Satoru Gojo x OC
Ordinary - Dabi x OC
Angel Of The Sky - Hawks x OC (it just hit 2 million reads on wattpad)
I hope you guys like it. Comments and votes are so greatly appreciated. I try to respond to as many as I can <3