My Lovely Maid Oh Wait That’s A Boy Chapter 11 - Blog Posts

Ｍｙ Ｌｏｖｅｌｙ Ｍａｉｄ— Ｏｈ Ｗａｉｔ… Ｔｈａｔ’ｓ Ａ Ｂｏｙ

⬐ After losing his job and with nowhere else to go, (Y/N) ends up working as a maid for the Midoriya family. His soft features and quiet nature make everyone assume he’s a girl, and honestly, he doesn’t bother correcting them—it’s just easier that way. Everything seems fine until Izuku comes home and meets their new “maid,” and things get awkward fast. What starts as a simple job quickly turns into a tangle of misunderstandings that neither of them saw coming.

chapter 11

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The memory came like a fleeting shadow sweeping across (Y/N)’s mind as he stood on the UA training grounds. It wasn’t often that his thoughts wandered—his focus tended to remain in the here and now—but this time, the sensation of blinding speed brought him back to a particular moment, years before he ever set foot in this world.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 •

The training field was alive with the sounds of movement—quick, sharp, and rhythmic. The clang of steel echoed through the air, mingling with the light chatter and occasional scolding of Tengen Uzui’s wives in the background. Tengen himself stood at the center of the chaos, the sun gleaming off his twin blades and his elaborate headpiece as he crossed his arms, smirking at the younger boy standing a few feet away.

(Y/N), younger but no less stoic, stood poised with a wooden training sword in hand, his breaths steady but shallow, a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his forehead. His usually calm demeanor was disrupted by exhaustion that tugged at his limbs.

“Again,” Tengen commanded, his deep voice cutting through the soundscape like a drumbeat. “You’re fast, kid, no doubt about it. But if you’re going to make it flashy enough to keep up with me, you’ll need more than just speed. Show me precision. Show me style!”

(Y/N) didn’t respond, at least not verbally. His blank expression barely shifted as he tightened his grip on the sword, his legs shifting slightly in preparation. He was tired—bone-tired—but he wasn’t about to stop now. Not while Uzui was watching.

In a blur of motion, Tengen vanished, his speed so great that even the sound of his sandals hitting the ground was delayed. (Y/N) barely caught the movement in his peripheral vision, his instincts screaming at him to react. He ducked low, narrowly avoiding the edge of Tengen’s blade, and sprang backward, his body moving purely on muscle memory.

“Not bad,” Tengen said, his voice surprisingly close, though his form was now perched on a nearby rock. “But not good enough!” He lunged again, this time faster, his movements a chaotic symphony of speed and power.

(Y/N) darted to the side, his wooden sword coming up to deflect the strike. The impact rattled through his arms, and he staggered slightly, but he managed to stay upright. The world around him was a blur—each of Tengen’s movements was a challenge to track, let alone counter.

From the sidelines, Tengen’s wives watched with varying degrees of concern and encouragement.

“Hina, look at him! He’s going to fall over any second!” Suma whined, clutching her hands to her chest. “We should stop this!”

Makio, far less sympathetic, crossed her arms with a huff. “Stop babying him, Suma. He’s fine. Right, Hina?”

Hina, ever the composed one, placed a calming hand on Suma’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Lord Tengen wouldn’t push him if he couldn’t handle it. Trust him.”

“No babying him my lovely wives!” Tengen called out without breaking stride, his voice as commanding as ever yet still respectful— because yes, tengen drinks his respect woman juice daily…especially from the breast of his wives.

“He doesn’t need your pity. What he needs is determination. Isn’t that right, young (L/N)?”

(Y/N) didn’t answer, but his actions spoke for him. He took a deep breath, his form lowering slightly as he focused. This time, his movements were sharper, quicker, and more deliberate. He surged forward, his wooden sword slicing through the air in a strike aimed at Tengen’s midsection.

The Sound Hashira blocked it easily, though there was a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad, kid! But you’re still too slow if you want to match this!”

Tengen moved again, faster than before, his form a blur of color and sound. (Y/N) clenched his jaw, his breathing steadying as he switched tactics. His legs propelled him forward in a burst of speed that left even Tengen momentarily caught off guard. He pivoted at the last second, his sword slashing upward in a motion so fluid and quick that the air itself seemed to ripple.

For a brief moment, (Y/N) moved as if he were sound—his body a whisper of motion, too fast for the untrained eye to follow.

He landed several feet away, his sword lowered, his breaths heavy but even. The faintest hint of satisfaction flickered across his usually indifferent face.

Tengen, now standing a few paces away, let out a loud, boisterous laugh. “That’s more like it! I knew you had it in you, young (L/N)! You might even be able to keep up with me one day!”

Before the moment could sink in, the memory fractured, fading away like mist in the wind.

(Y/N)’s gaze refocused, the present coming back into sharp relief. His breathing was as steady as ever, but for the briefest moment, there was the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips. It was gone before anyone could notice.

• 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙚𝙣𝙙 •

“0.43 seconds,” Aizawa repeated from across the training grounds, his tone as indifferent as ever but his eyes sharp with intrigue.

And for a moment, as Bakugo’s furious sputtering filled the air, (Y/N) thought back to Uzui’s voice—“I knew you could do it.”

As the rest of the class stared at the board displaying (Y/N)’s impossible 0.43-second time, he casually walked over to stand beside Izuku, whose expression betrayed a mix of awe and nervousness. Izuku’s green eyes darted toward Bakugo, whose smug confidence had turned into a scowl, his fists clenching and crackling with small explosions.

“It’s your turn,” (Y/N) said simply, glancing at Izuku. His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was an edge of expectation in his voice.

Izuku swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath. “Right. My turn…” He stepped forward as Aizawa called his name, his hands trembling slightly.

“You’ll be fine,” (Y/N) added, not looking directly at him. “Ignore the brat.” His gaze flickered briefly toward Bakugo, who froze mid-sneer, his teeth grinding audibly.

Izuku glanced at (Y/N), a flicker of gratitude crossing his face, though it quickly faded as the next test began.

Izuku nodded hesitantly, the words giving him a small but noticeable boost of confidence. He stepped up to the starting line, but as the whistle blew and his legs carried him forward, it was clear he wasn’t anywhere near the speeds his classmates had achieved. His movements were clumsy, lacking the precision and strength needed to keep up with the others.

By the time he crossed the finish line, panting and red-faced, the results were as underwhelming as he’d feared. Bakugo’s barking laughter cut through the silence.

“Hah! You call that running, Deku? Even the extras here could beat that!” Bakugo sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Izuku’s shoulders sagged slightly, his confidence wavering, but before Bakugo could press further, (Y/N)’s calm voice broke through.

“Focus on yourself,” (Y/N) said coldly, his disinterest cutting deeper than any insult could. “You’re wasting energy trying to prove something to people who don’t care.”

“Who are you calling a brat, huh?! I’ll—” Bakugo started, but (Y/N) cut him off with a flat look.

“I said focus on yourself brat.”

Bakugo flinched at the cold look thrown his way, his glare sharpening, but he doesn’t say anything else.

The tests that followed were grueling, with the students pushed to their limits in various physical and quirk-based activities. Bakugo, true to his fiery nature, remained loud and aggressive, barking out challenges to the rest of the class. “Come on, you extras! I know you can do better than that—oh wait, you can’t!”

(Y/N), however, was unfazed. Every time Bakugo tried to outdo the rest of the class, (Y/N) would step in silently and match or surpass his score, his actions speaking louder than words. Whether it was the standing long jump, grip strength test, or sidesteps, (Y/N) completed them with an effortless precision that left Bakugo’s boasts hanging in the air.

Izuku, on the other hand, struggled with each test. His lack of control over One For All, coupled with his already limited physical capabilities, left him at the bottom of nearly every ranking. And yet, through it all, (Y/N) stayed close by, watching Izuku’s efforts with an analytical gaze.

“You’re relying too much on instinct,” (Y/N) said during one test, his voice low so only Izuku could hear. “You’ll never get better if you don’t train your body and mind to handle the strain. I’ll change up your training regimen next time. No more excuses.”

Izuku shivered at the thought, memories of their last training session flashing through his mind. (Y/N) had left him gasping for air, bruised but somehow inspired, and it seemed he was about to go through it all again.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Izuku stammered, more nervous than ever.

“Good.” (Y/N)’s faint smirk was the only sign he was pleased.

By the time the pitching test—the final event—rolled around, Izuku was already dreading the outcome. As expected, Bakugo was the first to land an impressive throw, his explosion-boosted pitch soaring far into the distance.

“Beat that, extras!” he shouted, grinning wickedly as the rest of the class took their turns.

When it was Izuku’s turn, the murmurs of doubt began almost immediately. “He’s going to fail again,” someone whispered.

Izuku held the ball nervously, his heart hammering in his chest. The weight of everyone’s expectations—or lack thereof—felt heavier than the ball itself.

“You’re useless, Deku!” Bakugo shouted from the sidelines, his voice sharp and cutting. “What’re you even doing here? Just throw it and get it over with!”

Izuku hesitated, the familiar sting of Bakugo’s words settling deep in his chest. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught (Y/N)’s gaze.

“You know what to do,” (Y/N) said calmly, his arms crossed as he stood watching.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku channeled the small amount of One For All he had access to into his arm, careful not to let the power spread too far. His grip tightened on the ball as he raised it. This is it.

With a determined shout, Izuku threw the ball, the sheer force of One For All sending it flying further than anyone expected. The class went silent as the ball finally landed, the distance displayed on the screen.

Even Bakugo’s usual commentary was replaced by stunned silence, though it didn’t last long.

“WHAT THE HELL, DEKU?!” Bakugo roared, his explosions crackling violently in his palms. “You’ve been lying this whole time?! You’ve got a Quirk?!”

Izuku barely had time to stammer out a response before Bakugo lunged at him, explosions lighting up his path. Before he could reach Izuku, Aizawa’s scarf shot out, wrapping around Bakugo and pinning him in place.

“Enough,” Aizawa said flatly, his Quirk already erasing Bakugo’s. “Control yourself, or you’ll be expelled before the day’s over.”

Bakugo growled in frustration, but he stopped struggling, his glare never leaving Izuku.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) stepped up beside Izuku, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

Izuku nodded quickly, allowing (Y/N) to guide him back toward the rest of the class. His heart was still pounding, but for the first time, it wasn’t entirely out of fear.