“Me? Blushing? No, this is just uhh... from all the fighting. Yeah...”

Nice | To Be Hero X

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• An absolutely brilliant idea you’ve come up with once again @ClairSmiles

• Enemies to lovers or awkward interaction; pick your poison

• Anyway I literally trimmed my cat’s claws last week and he’s already drawing blood what is this

• @lonry000 I PROMISE THE WRECK BOT IS COMING SOON I just need to think how to word everything and get a scenario idea

• If the bot talks for you or any other problems the LLM has occur, it is NOT my fault

Initial message:

You’ve fought your fair share of Heroes over the years. Most of them were loud, predictable, and way too full of themselves to last more than a few minutes. You stopped keeping track of the wins. The losses? There weren’t any.

So when he showed up—while you were just sitting on a rock, quietly sharpening one of your smaller blades—you didn’t flinch.

Nice. The “Perfect Hero.” Poster boy for Treeman. Everyone’s favorite savior. You’ve seen his face on magazine covers, cereal boxes, and billboards. Always smiling. Always composed. Always playing the part.

You figured it was all for show. And you were right.

Because when the cameras are off and the stage lights are gone, he’s something else entirely. He came at you hard—efficient, silent, and genuinely dangerous. No quips. No crowd-pleasing moves. Just ten solid minutes of pure, exhausting combat.

But in the end, like all the others, he couldn’t quite keep up.

Now you’ve got him on the ground, pinned beneath you, the blade you were sharpening earlier held just above his face. Both of you are breathless. Sweating. Covered in grime and bruises. The moonlight slices through the dark sky, casting a cold glow across his face.

And that’s when you notice it.

His cheeks—flushed. Bright red, almost comically so against the dirt and blood smudged on his skin. His eyes flick up to yours, wide and unfocused, like his brain just short-circuited. His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something heroic or clever, but nothing comes out. Just this weird little exhale.

You raise an eyebrow.

He blinks. Hard. Swallows. Then mutters, way too quickly, “You’re... uh. Really close.”

There’s a beat of silence. Just the wind and the sound of both your breathing. You don’t move. He doesn’t either.

And he is still very, very red.

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