Ultra Responsibility (My Hero Academia X Spider-Man Reader)

Issue 35 - Y/N Parker: Origins

I remember the day Uncle Ben died like it was yesterday.

It plays on my mind quite often when I'm left with my thoughts, nagging, eating away. I play it through my head at every possible angle.

It began like any other day. Upstairs, my room is a battlefield and also a rescue mission and also the greatest film ever made in human history. Captain America is in my left hand. Stars and Stripes is in my right. They're teaming up because obviously they are. That's what heroes do.

I've built a burning building out of LEGO, which means it's half skyscraper, half crime scene, and the top floor is currently "on fire" because I've stuck orange pieces everywhere and declared it a disaster. I make siren noises under my breath and then louder because heroes don't whisper. They announce.

"WEE-OOO WEE-OOO," I go, smashing the figures together in the air like they're flying. "Don't worry, citizens! We got you! We got you!"

Captain America punches an invisible bad guy. Stars and Stripes lifts a LEGO beam like it weighs nothing. I make explosion noises with my mouth because apparently I'm a sound effects department now.

Then Aunt May calls from downstairs, her voice floating up like a warm smell.

"Dinner will be ready soon! And you need to set the table. Ben will be home any minute!"

My cape, which is actually my blanket clipped around my shoulders like I'm the coolest person alive, flutters as I leap off the bed. I drop the action figures onto the carpet, mid rescue, because heroes have duties.

I race down the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping moving too fast.

"Aunt May!" I shout before I even reach the kitchen. "Uncle Ben stopped a bus full of school kids falling off a cliff and he took down the dreaded Hydro Man together with Endeavour and they were like this, like BAM and WHOOSH and then the water guy went SPLASH and everyone cheered!"

May looks over her shoulder with that amused face she gets, like she's trying not to laugh but failing in slow motion.

"You can let your Uncle tell all during dinner," she says, pointing a spoon at me like it's a teacher's ruler. "Now go and set the table."

"Yes ma'am!" I say, because I'm dramatic even when I'm obedient.

I grab the knives and forks from the drawer, a little too many because more is better, and a roll of kitchen paper because I once saw Ben do it and now it's part of the ritual. I lay everything out as neatly as my small hands will allow, lining up the cutlery like it's an army. I pour three cups of water, proud of myself for not spilling a single drop. I even do that thing where you step back and admire your work like a professional.

Then I hear keys at the front door.

My whole body lights up.

Uncle Ben's home.

I bolt.

I don't walk. I don't run. I launch. I'm at the door before the lock clicks all the way, already grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.

The door swings open and there he is.

Ben in his hero outfit. Basic spandex, a cape that actually fits properly, and the mask around his eyes that makes him look like he stepped out of my comics and decided to live in our flat. He smells like night air and city smoke and the kind of tired that doesn't mean sad, just... earned.

He opens his arms.

"How's the man of the house doing?" he asks, voice warm and teasing. "Looking after your Aunt?"