Cw: Repost. She/her Pronouns. Reader Works At A Hero Agency.

hihi everyone, i'll cut to the chase here, i'll be putting god's favourite (mha shinsou hitoshi smau) ON HOLD for the time being.

i'm so sorry to everyone who's been excited and patient with me these past few months as i update like a sloth. truth be told... i honestly don't like it as much as i think i should be... the story isn't as exciting as i hoped and i just don't love where it's going rn. i do think i can do much better with this and i will return to it after some major revamps. i think it would definitely help the speed of it as well as you guys' enjoyment if i myself enjoyed making it. which is why it's going on a break for now. especially since i'm dealing with my final year in school, it's been too draining for me to be creative like i was during fbi open up (which i made during the holidays). the uploaded parts will still be there and i won't be taking anything down for now, so you can still access it if you like! feel free to ask to be removed from the taglist, or alternatively to be added to it so you’ll know when it’s back!

tldr; its basic and i don't like it, so i'm making changes to it and coming back stronger. once again i apologise for this :( i understand if you don't wish to wait for it, or if you don't want to follow along on my blog anymore :') i personally dislike it as well when authors pull this shit, but i do think it's important for me to be satisfied with what i put out. we live and we learn i guess. thanks a bunch for everyone's support, and i'm sorry once again for any disappointment. love y'all.

<3

p.s. in the mean time, there are other great smaus out there! here's a few i enjoy:

rightfully yours smau [shinsou hitoshi x reader] by offbrandkyoya

cute as hell. collection [bakugou x fem pro hero reader] by sweetnsour1

"nerd (affectionately)" smau [bakugou katsuki x gn!reader] by oniku-niku

you suck at gaming smau [shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader] by myherowritings

number neighbor smau [bakugou katsuki x fem!reader] by myherowritings

tell my mom we're in love | h. sero

fake dating wasn't on your holiday to-do list—until sero invited you home for tamales and chaos (3525 words)

you regretted this the moment you stepped out of the dormitory and into the sharp chill of mid-december air, a duffel bag hanging off one shoulder and your dignity already teetering on the edge. trailing beside you was hanta sero, practically vibrating with the smug energy of a man who had just talked his best friend into making the worst decision of her academic career.

and technically, he had.

somewhere between his mother's increasingly invasive matchmaking attempts and his inability to say the word "no" like a normal person, he'd decided the solution was to invent a girlfriend. and of course, of course, he'd chosen you.

"come on," he said now, as a cab idled at the curb, white exhaust curling into the crisp air like smoke from a slow-burning disaster. "tell me this won't be fun. just a little bit."

"i think i'm too emotionally aware to find this fun," you muttered, hoisting your bag into the trunk as he leaned beside you with his usual careless grace.

sero grinned—that unbothered, insufferably pretty grin that always made it harder to stay annoyed with him for long. "emotionally aware, huh? sounds like you're already getting into character."

you leveled him with a look. "if i'm your girlfriend, you're going to need to stop flirting like a golden retriever with a god complex."

"babe," he said, slipping into the backseat beside you with the kind of unearned confidence that should have come with a warning label, "flirting is literally how i survive in social settings. don't take this from me."

you stared out the window, hoping the freezing glass would cool the creeping warmth crawling up your neck. "we're not actually dating, hanta."

"right," he said, and he sounded amused, not wounded. "but we could be really good at it."

you didn't answer. he didn't press.

the cab pulled away from the dorms, and for a moment the silence between you was companionable, like it always had been. you'd known sero for years now—long enough to understand that his laid-back demeanor was as real as it was performative. he was the kind of person who made a room feel lighter just by being in it, but who also knew the weight of silence better than most people ever would.

he didn't make you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. and that, unfortunately, was the root of the problem.

somewhere along the road from "we're just friends" to "please pretend to be my girlfriend so my mom stops trying to marry me off," things had started to shift.

not all at once. not obviously.

but they shifted.

now he was dozing beside you, his head tilted toward your shoulder, and every bump in the road made him inch closer. you should have nudged him off. you should have drawn the line.

but you didn't.

instead, you studied the soft lines of his face—the relaxed set of his mouth, the faint crease between his brows like his dreams were just a little too fast for his thoughts to catch—and you wondered what the hell you'd gotten yourself into.

by the time the cab slowed, the sun had dipped low, casting golden light over a neighborhood that looked far too idyllic to be real. sero's house was two stories of warmth and welcome: string lights curled along the porch railing, a wreath hung slightly crooked on the front door, and smoke drifted lazily from a chimney that promised something warm inside.

standing at the threshold was a woman with sharp eyes, a kind smile, and the unmistakable aura of someone who could both bake you cookies and emotionally destroy you in the same breath.

sero's mother.

you froze.

he didn't.

without hesitation, sero leaned in, brushing your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. his voice dipped just low enough for only you to hear. "smile like you love me."

then he reached for your hand.

his fingers, long and warm, laced effortlessly through yours.

you didn't pull away.

and that was the moment—standing at the edge of his childhood, your fingers locked in his, heart skipping in the kind of rhythm you weren't prepared for—that you realized you were in far more danger than you thought.

because part of you didn't want to let go.

the cab hadn't even rolled to a full stop before sero's mom was standing in front of it, arms crossed, eyes already locked onto her target like a seasoned general. you had seen pictures, sure—sero had shown you a few over lunch one day, swiping through images of his mom with an almost reverent fondness—but none of them did her justice.

she was radiant. that was the first word that came to mind. not in some soft, dreamy way, but in the sharp, unmistakable warmth of someone who had mastered the art of existing unapologetically. she had a scarf looped carelessly around her neck, dark hair pinned up with wisps escaping, and that immediate, unnerving energy unique to mothers who know everything before you say a word.

"hanta," she said brightly as you approached. "you took forever, mijo. i was about to call."

and then her eyes slid to you.

her whole face changed.

"qué linda," she said, stepping down toward you without hesitation. "you're even prettier than the pictures."

you opened your mouth to answer—say something polite, maybe even charming—but instead you were pulled into a hug so warm and familiar you forgot how to speak altogether.

she smelled like cinnamon and butter, like café and home. her arms wrapped around you without hesitation, solid and reassuring, and you blinked twice before realizing she wasn't letting go just yet.

she pulled back, hands on your shoulders, eyes scanning your face with curiosity. "how old are you, mija?"

"seventeen," you managed. "ua student. same class as hanta."

"top twenty," sero chimed from behind you, proud and useless.

his mom smiled wider. "good. you'll need that to keep up with him. he talks too much."

"i'm right here," sero said, offended.

"and what's your quirk, sweetheart?" she asked, guiding you inside like she owned every molecule of the house—which she probably did.

"just a luck quirk," you replied. "it's not anything big or flashy."

"flashy's overrated," she said. "flashy gets you on magazine covers, but smart keeps you alive. hanta could use some of that balance."

sero made a wounded noise. "i'm right here."

you stepped into the house and tried not to gape. it was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and soft lights, and framed photos in every direction. you passed at least three different versions of baby sero—one with cake on his face, one dressed as a shark, and one in a tiny suit looking like he'd lost a bet.

you were immediately ushered to the couch, where sero flopped down beside you like he'd done this a thousand times. his arm stretched along the back of the cushions behind you, easy and casual, but you felt the heat of it like a brand against your neck.

his mom sat in the armchair across from you, one leg crossed, hands folded, expression deceptively pleasant.

"so," she said. "how long have you two been together?"

"six months," you and sero answered in unison.

your eyes met. you both smiled.

it was practiced, but god—it didn't feel like a lie.

"how'd you meet?" she asked next.

sero leaned forward like he was telling a secret. "training. she beat up kaminari. i've never recovered."

you tried not to laugh. "he followed me around for a week."

"i was courting you."

"you were loitering near vending machines."

"i was being persistent," he corrected. "it worked, didn't it?"

his mom watched you both, eyes narrowed just enough to make you sweat.

"and what do you like about my son?" she asked you, suddenly.

your mouth went dry.

sero glanced sideways, surprised.

but the answer came easy.

"he's reliable. and funny. and he listens—really listens. like you're the only person in the room."

you could feel sero's eyes on you, and the room felt warmer than it had a second ago.

"he's easy to be around," you said, a little softer now. "i feel like i can breathe near him."

a long silence stretched across the room.

then sero bumped your shoulder with his own, voice low. "you're not supposed to make me blush in front of my mom."

his mom smiled, pleased. "i like you."

you smiled back, because how could you not. "thank you."

"i made tamales," she said, rising to her feet. "sit tight. i'll get you a plate."

"do you need help—?" you started, half-standing.

"no, no. you're a guest. you sit and let yourself be adored."

she vanished into the kitchen with surprising speed.

the moment she was out of earshot, you collapsed sideways onto the couch.

"i blacked out," you whispered. "what did i even say?"

"that i'm amazing and you love being around me," sero said smugly.

you shot him a look.

he leaned a little closer, voice dropping. "also, you were adorable. you didn't have to go that hard. i almost forgot it was fake."

you didn't answer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

dinner came after a comfortable lull in the afternoon—just enough time for you to grow used to the house's warmth, the quiet hum of kitchen sounds, and the sound of sero humming to himself as he helped his mom plate tamales. there was something undeniably domestic about it—watching him lean over the counter, sleeves pushed up, swiping a bit of masa from the corner of a dish with a grin when he thought no one was watching.

you caught yourself watching.

a little too long.

and when he turned around and caught your eye, offering you a wink that made your stomach stutter—you looked away, pretending to study the wall like it had secrets.

the house filled slowly with more noise, more feet, more voices. by the time dinner was ready, the table was surrounded by people—his siblings, all younger, all chaos incarnate. there were five in total, ranging from what looked like barely ten to maybe sixteen. all of them clearly adored sero, and all of them clearly had a thousand questions about you.

"are you really his girlfriend?" one of the younger girls asked, blinking up at you from her seat at the far end of the table.

sero, already sitting beside you, reached for your hand under the table without hesitation. "of course she is," he said easily. "she puts up with me. that's gotta mean something."

you glanced sideways, surprised by the way his thumb started tracing circles into your palm. his fingers were warm, his grip relaxed, like this was a habit and not a performance. your first instinct was to pull away—but you didn't. you let him hold on.

"do you like him?" one of the boys asked bluntly, somewhere between a dare and a test.

you looked over at sero, who was already looking at you.

and the smile that spread across his face wasn't teasing. it wasn't even smug.

it was soft.

"i do," you said honestly. "he's easy to like."

one of his sisters actually swooned.

their mother returned from the kitchen, a stack of warm plates balanced in her arms. "aye, look at you two," she said fondly, setting down the food. "you look like you've been married five years already."

sero snorted. "that's because she already tells me what to do."

"someone has to," you said, nudging his leg under the table.

his knee pressed into yours and didn't move.

the meal began in full, voices rising over each other, stories flying back and forth like birds across the table. tamales were unwrapped, passed down, devoured. rice and beans steamed in bowls at the center. someone spilled horchata and got teased for it for fifteen minutes straight.

sero kept his hand under the table the entire time.

sometimes on your knee. sometimes brushing your fingers. once, briefly, resting on your thigh with a touch so casual and confident you forgot how to breathe for a second.

"so how did you know?" his mom asked halfway through the meal, raising an eyebrow. "that you liked each other, i mean."

you blinked. "um."

sero didn't miss a beat.

"she made this face at me once," he said, totally serious. "during training. right after i got my ass handed to me. and i thought—yeah. i'd let her ruin my life."

you choked on a sip of water. "that's not what happened."

"you raised your eyebrow," he insisted, "like i was both impressive and pathetic. it was very motivating."

"you were bleeding."

"romance is about timing."

the table erupted in laughter.

"you're ridiculous," you muttered, but there was no bite to it. you felt lightheaded from smiling too much.

his younger sister leaned over the table toward you. "you make him less annoying," she said seriously. "he's, like, way less weird with you here."

"he's still weird," someone else muttered.

"hey," sero said, deeply offended. "i'm the glue of this household."

"you're the glitter glue," one of the boys shot back. "unnecessary and all over everything."

the conversation swirled, but it was warm. easy. you felt like you'd slipped into a rhythm you hadn't known you were missing. sero's family didn't make you feel like an outsider. if anything, they treated you like a permanent fixture—like they already liked you, just because he did.

and sero—he kept looking at you.

in the quiet moments between bites. when you laughed at something his brother said. when you wiped your fingers on your napkin and he passed you your drink like he'd already anticipated you'd reach for it.

"you're really good at this," you whispered during a lull, leaning in.

"at what?" he asked, voice low, chin tilted toward you.

"this," you said. "pretending."

his eyes flicked down to your mouth, just for a second.

"what can i say," he said quietly. "i'm something of an actor."

you snickered.

and then his mom called your name from across the table.

"you like dessert, mija?" she asked, already bringing out the plates.

you blinked twice before answering, forcing a smile. "of course. thank you."

sero didn't look away from you for a long time.

dinner had long ended. the noise had faded. sero's house, once pulsing with overlapping voices and clattering plates, now thrummed with a different kind of energy—low, contented, quiet.

his siblings had scattered, full-bellied and sugar-sticky, off to bedrooms and couches and wherever else they disappeared to in the evening. someone had turned on a dusty old playlist in the den, and the soft hum of vintage boleros curled through the walls like warmth that refused to die.

you stood in the hallway between the dining room and the back door, hovering in the in-between of things: of conversations and thoughts, of what was real and what had only started out that way.

you weren't sure what to do with your hands.

or your heart.

sero appeared beside you like he always did—quiet-footed and comfortably close, smelling faintly of soap and masa and something sweet from dessert you hadn't caught the name of. his sleeves were still pushed up, revealing his forearms, and you hated that you were looking at them. not because they weren't worth looking at—they were—but because it meant your guard was down. again.

"come on," he said softly. "balcony?"

you didn't answer. you just nodded and followed.

the air outside was sharp and clean. the kind of cold that wakes you up without being cruel. you wrapped your arms around yourself more out of instinct than discomfort. the balcony was small, with a windchime shaped like a lizard hanging from the overhang, and a view of soft suburban rooftops and yellow windows scattered like lanterns across the horizon.

you leaned against the wooden railing. he did the same.

neither of you spoke.

you were too full of the evening. of tamales and laughter. of too much touch under the table. of words you'd said with a smile that weren't lies—but weren't supposed to be true either.

the problem wasn't pretending.

the problem was that pretending didn't feel like pretending anymore.

you didn't know when it had changed. maybe it was gradual—each time he laced his fingers through yours without asking, or rested his hand on your thigh mid-story, or offered you a grin across the table that was so familiar, so soft, you forgot why you were here in the first place.

but it hit you now, standing beside him in the chill—this unshakable, irreversible knowledge:

you were in love with him.

god, you were in love with hanta sero.

not just in a surface-level, crush-colored way. not just in the i-like-how-he-makes-me-laugh way. it was deeper than that. older. something that had snuck in when you weren't looking and taken root so quietly you hadn't noticed until it was everywhere.

you were in love with the way he held space. with the way he listened without trying to fix you. with the way he let the world land on him lightly, and still carried it in both hands when it mattered.

you were in love with someone who didn't even know you weren't faking anymore.

you exhaled.

"you're quiet," he said, not looking at you. "regretting it already?"

you shook your head. "no. it's just... weird how easy it was. with your family."

he hummed. "they like you."

"they liked that i made you less annoying."

"that is the highest compliment in my house."

you smiled, faint. "they're sweet. loud, but sweet."

"you kept up fine."

"i think i blacked out for half of it."

"you were golden," he said, softer now. "you always are."

you turned toward him slowly.

the lights from the kitchen spilled faintly through the curtains behind you, catching just enough of his face for you to see how relaxed he looked. how present. how close.

you swallowed.

"hanta?"

he looked over at you, brows raised. "yeah?"

there was a beat of silence.

"i don't know how to lie to you," you said.

he blinked once.

then again, slower.

"what?"

"i mean," you continued, hands curling around the edge of the railing. "i've been trying. all day. and i thought i could. i thought i could pull it off—play the part, pretend—but then we got here, and your mom hugged me, and you touched my hand under the table, and i just... i don't know when it stopped being a bit."

his eyes searched your face like he was looking for something he'd already lost.

"hanta," you said again. "i'm in love with you."

his face froze.

the air between you seemed to still. the windchime didn't move. the whole world narrowed into this one pinpoint moment, bright and fragile and terrifying.

he stepped back—just barely.

"you don't have to keep pretending," he said. carefully. cautiously. "no one's watching anymore. you can drop it."

you stared at him.

"i'm not pretending," you said.

another beat. a sharp exhale.

his lips parted slightly. his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in disbelief. in the kind of fear that came from wanting something too much and being afraid to reach for it.

"you're serious."

"i've never been more serious about anything in my life."

sero let out a long, shaky laugh. it cracked halfway through.

"say it again," he whispered.

"i'm in love with you."

and this time, you reached for him.

your fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, and you felt the moment he melted—slow and overwhelmed, the way something melts that's been cold for too long.

"you've got to be kidding me," he muttered, leaning into your touch. "i thought—god, i thought i was the only one losing my mind over this."

you smiled, eyes stinging.

"you weren't."

"i've been in love with you since second year," he admitted, voice breaking a little. "you kissed my cheek that one time after i carried your books back from the nurse's office, and i nearly died. like, actual cardiac arrest."

"that was a year ago."

"welcome to my long, slow descent into insanity."

you laughed, quiet and ridiculous.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn't rushed. wasn't showy. it wasn't a fireworks-and-credits-roll kiss.

it was the kind that happened in doorways, in hallways, in quiet rooms where hearts beat too loud. the kind that changed nothing and everything all at once.

he kissed you like he meant it.

you kissed him like you'd been waiting your whole life to.

when you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours.

"you're real?" you whispered, breath catching.

"i better be," he said. "otherwise you've just confessed to a figment of your imagination."

you swallowed a grin.

his thumb traced your cheek.

"i thought this would end in disaster," he said quietly. "that pretending would ruin everything."

"and?"

"and now i don't want it to end at all."

you leaned in, bumping your nose against his.

"then it doesn't have to."

he smiled, and kissed you again.

not like he was pretending.

like he was home.

OMG OMG WTH !!!! THANK U ALL FOR 100 FOLLWERS !!!

i'm literally so grateful and just HAPPY for this thank u all !! i'm trying to get something out by the end of the week but, idk inspiration just isn't hitting :/

a/n: i kinda wrote this while thinking abt seroki. also it’s 2:20am rn so i might delete this when i wake up.

you lay awake under the cool sheets with him. you’ve both come down from the high and he is sleeping soundly curled next to you. his skin touching yours. but you find yourself not being able to drift off as smoothly as he did, mind too busy over analyzing every detail of the dinner you had with his father hours prior.

how his smirk grew when his dad called you such names and warned him how you would ‘bring him down in his career’. you couldn’t help but wonder if shouto was only interested in you so get could get back at his dad in a way. picking the most damaged, low life he could find to bring home. you knew his dad wouldn’t exactly approve of your ‘lifestyle’ to say, but you never thought your one and only would let all the insults wash over before defending you, if you could even call it that.

“they’ll only bring you down in life, think about your career, Sho!”

“so! want me to go marry one of the perfectly selected girls i know you have lined up for me?! how sick are you! i don’t care what you think of my partner because your two cents don’t matter to me!”

not even really defending you. just insulting him. throwing more salt in the wound his father has for being so absent in his life.

you didn’t think twice about the way he wiped the tears you wept in the taxi home away and carried you to the bedroom when you got home. in that moment you just needed to be loved by him. and he did that. but hours later, in the almost morning, you rethink everything. you wish you had the courage to start a fight about this whole ordeal. how you truly didn’t feel like he loved you, just loved the reaction he got from his dad. you’ve planned out exactly what you’d say too but you won’t because you’ve grown too attached to this life you created with him. even if this safe heaven for you is just a little bonus for pissing his dad off.

BEAUTIFUL

pairing: izuku midoriya/gn!reader

words: 7.01k (i’m sorry)

content: cursing, angst, food mention, fluff, oblivious reader, whole lotta misunderstandings.

request: Hi!! I’ve followed your blog for a week now and I love your writing a lot. I have a one shot request for deku if you don’t mind? I’m thinking of like a tsundere-ish reader who has a crush on him but literally just short circuits whenever she talks to him because she can’t comprehend how nice he is, literally no thoughts head empty and it makes him think she doesn’t like him but he also has a crush on her? If this is too much just tell me and I’ll request somewhere else but I really like your writing :)

this is bad. this is a bad awful never-should've-happened situation.

you're fucked. utterly fucked. and it's all izuku midoriya's fault.

to be fair to him, your crippling terror of intimacy and the fact that your entire body seemed to short-circuit around the boy probably didn't lend much help. it was ridiculous how he made you feel, like a stammering kid. the first time he talked to you with that bright, beaming smile, and his earnest wide eyes, you felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten in a manner that made speech impossible, so you literally just stared at him for a solid half-minute before turning and walking away as heat flooded your face.

you were down bad.

you thought your crush on the boy would lessen overtime, but it literally seemed to get worse as the year went on, because he was everywhere. you couldn't shake him. when he complimented your hero costume genuinely, cheeks flushing with excitement, you got so flustered you could only choke out a completely flat "thanks," before turning on your heel and putting as much distance between you two as possible. when you fought well at the sports festival and kirishima, kaminari and sero were congratulating you loudly and obnoxiously, jostling you between them as you laughed, midoriya squeezed his way through, beaming, and told you he thought your tactic was genius, how he hadn't even thought of it. you felt the smile slide from your face like oil on water, and you blinked blankly down at him as your brain tried to reboot and the silence stretched on until kirishima broke it with an awkward laugh, and midoriya looked away with a tiny, confused frown. you pretty much felt your heart crack in two at the honest sadness on his face, but all you could do was mutter "i'm going to prep for the next round," and hightail out of there as fast as you could.

you were awful to him, even if it was mostly unintentional. so why did he keep coming back?

like a bad penny, you could expect midoriya to crop up with a genial smile, or a heartfelt pep talk, or a supportive word of encouragement at any given opportunity. he was just - like that, so awe-inspiringly helpful and kind. it made your heart stutter in your chest when you watched him laugh bashfully with uraraka, or spar encouragingly with aoyama, or give ashido his sweater without second thought when she spilled water over her shirt. you saw how he physically swelled like he was being inflated when people thanked him, a pretty flush seeping over the plump apples of his cheeks. when they glowed red like that you just wanted to take the skin between your fingers and pinch. you wanted to thank him like everyone else did, to ruffle his stupid beautiful curls and punch his arm teasingly, but the thought of physical contact with him made you feel like you would spontaneously combust. you panicked enough just looking at the boy - god knows what kind of a mess you'd turn into if you returned his thoughtless touches, so you jerked your arm away when he put a consoling hand over it after you lost a sparring session, and pointedly refused to take his pretty scarred hand when you fell during a run and he stopped and doubled back for you with such honest concern on his face that it made your chest ache.

why... why did he care so much?

you were blunt and short and honestly pretty cold with him. you refused his help at every turn - though he diligently offered it at every other turn -, you took the furthest seat from him during group study sessions and flinched away when he got anywhere near you, curling in on yourself to try and soothe your thudding heart. you barely talked to him, and even that it was in monosyllables, short and curt lest your voice crack or come out strangled with how badly you wanted to pull him closer by his stupid short tie and kiss him silly.

you thought if you could keep your distance, and make him see that you weren't worth his kindness, you could let your stupid crush have room to breathe and then maybe it would begin to boil over.

reality, you learned, was often disappointing.

the moment your stupid affliction manifested was a short way into u.a.'s first semester. you were generally an ambivert, so you were quiet toward the beginning of the year but started to really come out of your shell a few weeks in, particularly around the louder, more eccentric people in your class. it was like they pried a personality out of you - you shared inside jokes with sero that left you two cackling like hyenas in the back of class, you fended off kaminari's awkward flirting with barbs or even your own teasing that left him flustered and stammering, and you grinned and laughed when kirishima did, his cheer infectious. you hadn't given midoriya much notice - you thought he was pretty shy, and he mostly kept to his small, tight-knit group that didn't appear to gather a lot of attention, so you let them be happily. but one afternoon you stayed late to make use of the school's track field. you hadn't been taking your running seriously recently, and wanted to catch up on some lost time.

by the time you were done, the sun was beginning to set. the school, shadowed but shimmering with the bronze of the evening sun, looked glittering and regal, and a chill had begun to set in. you were drawing a close on what would be your final lap, when -

"mmphf!"

something hard collided with you, and you went careening sideways into the earth. landing on your side, you coughed out a breath and a groan, turning incredulous eyes to whoever had set you flying, and -

oh.

midoriya scrambled toward you, face openly horrified. his eyes were wide as they flicked over you, skimming your skin for injuries, lunging to one knee and holding out a hand, lower lip wobbling.

"i'm so sorry! i don't know how but i didn't even see you, i was so focused on heading out - you're not hurt, are you? i - i'm so clumsy, this is all my fault, i..."

his words went in one ear and out the other; there was a strange roaring in your head, like you were listening to someone from underwater, everything muffled, blurry, slow. the fiery light cast a glimmering halo through the forest-green of his curls, which came alive in the slight breeze, rising and shifting against the cherry-pink skin of his cheeks. his eyes, too, caught the gilded light, eyes which you once thought were simply plain green because something glittering and regal, something more precious you could ever make tangible and hold, wide and concerned and beautiful.

he was utterly beautiful.

you froze.

shit.

no, no, no.

that thought had to go away immediately. you were not doing this. you could feel blood rushing to your face as you realised he was still kneeling down, one soft pink lip caught worriedly between his teeth, a hand outstretched for you to take.

it was all you could do to push yourself to your feet in silence; your mouth felt dry, your tongue like sandpaper. midoriya watched you clamber to your feet with a hurt look, and you were stabbed in the chest with the image of a mournful puppy. he brought his hand back awkwardly, looking away, cheeks reddening. you could see the spray of freckles across his round cheeks and the snub of his nose.

"i - i was just leaving," you managed to dredge up, before immediately turning away and fleeing for your life.

fucking idiot. you were convinced there was but one braincell bouncing around in your stupid thick head.

why'd you have to go and get a crush on him?

"oi, [surname]! we're heading down to dinner," ashido called, sticking her head round your door without knocking.

you glared over at her without any real heart, and closed your laptop, stretching languidly. it had been a long day of studying, and you were more than ready to eat. you were pretty sure it was bakugo's turn to assist in the kitchen, too, which meant a meal you could enjoy thoroughly. you and ashido chatted as you ambled down to the eating area, but as you got to the door, you froze, horror seeping through you and turning your body cold.

most everyone was already seated around the one long table; it seemed you and ashido were the last to arrive.

there were only two seats left.

one by kirishima, talking animatedly to bakugo whilst stuffing rice into his mouth, and one next to -

you blinked as ashido climbed into the seat by kirishima, throwing you a weird look, and you realised you'd been paralysed in the doorway for a good minute. you watched as midoriya noticed you, blinked, put the pieces together - and smiled with an expression that lit up his whole face, waving you over.

you couldn't move.

what was wrong with you? you willed your legs to work. by now, uraraka and iida had taken notice of you, and were staring between you and midoriya with slight frowns. it took all the effort in the world to keep your face blank as ashido called over to you.

"[surname]? you gonna sit?"

"not hungry," you blurted out, and didn't let it hang in the air for more than a second before pushing right back through the doors and making for your dorm. you didn't stop running until you were locked in the safety of your room, at which point you promptly began beating your head with your fists.

"fucking idiot!" you grunted. "what's wrong with you? moron, moron, moron."

in the canteen, midoriya's smile slid quickly into an expression of hurt disappointment. uraraka stared open-mouthed at the empty space you'd evacuated, whilst iida remarked on your rudeness, but all midoriya could feel was despair.

he was trying so hard to get you to like him. he had a sudden vision of himself, much younger, tailing pitifully after an ash-blond striding far ahead, leaving him choking on dust, calling out - "wait for me! wait up, kacchan!" and he sickened so quickly that his appetite evaporated.

he couldn't take this. if you kept looking at him like he was dirt under your shoe, he was going to break.

"what was yesterday all about?" sero pressed at lunch the next day.

you lifted your gaze to meet his boredly, sucking at your juice through a straw - though your teeth clamped down instinctively at the question, wrinkling the plastic in your mouth. "what are you talking about?"

"i think he means how you bolted from dinner," kaminari supplied helpfully. "seriously, you looked like you were gonna be sick."

"i just wasn't hungry," you deflected firmly. ashido and kirishima exchanged looks dripping with doubt.

"is it about midoriya?" ashido poked. at the mention of his name, your hand tightened inexplicably; juice flooded your mouth too quick for you to swallow, and you doubled over, coughing hard as your cheeks grew hot. bakugo grunted in disgust and kirishima clapped you most unhelpfully on the back until you could breathe.

"so i'll take that as a yes?" mina raised her eyebrows. "sheesh. what's your problem with that kid?"

face burning, you slumped down furiously in your seat. "don't have a problem."

kaminari scoffed in disbelief. "serious? you hate that guy. i dunno why, he's nice enough - but it's like you can't stand him. you never talk to him, and when you do you sound like you're choking on nails."

your eyes fluttered in surprise. you'd wanted to put a healthy distance between you and midoriya, true, but hate? god, it's the opposite. every time he looked at you your brain stopped functioning, all you could think about was burying your face in his shoulder or running your hands over the coarse terrains of his hands or kissing his stupid round beautiful flushed face. the pull was so insistent it felt like an actual ache. did it really seem like you hated him?

"really?" you asked in a small voice, and the table cackled with scoffs of disbelief.

"you always look like you're a second away from chokeslamming him whenever he says anything to you!" sero replied in disbelief. "look, i know he can be a little - full on, i guess, but he's a good dude. he's nice to everyone."

yeah, you thought miserably. that's the fucking problem.

he's nice. maybe if that niceness just extended to you, you'd consider that you had a chance. but the fact was the kindness he displayed to you was the same he extended to literally everyone, even people who didn't deserve it. everyone was a lucky participant of his optimistic pep talks, his encouraging nods, his gentle, reassuring touches.

and after the way you'd treated him, he'd have to be an idiot to like you back.

izuku midoriya was an idiot.

he knew this because he'd made the very grave and potentially life-ruining error in judgement of catching feelings for you.

he really couldn't do anything right, could he?

from the moment he saw you he knew it was hopeless. you were quiet at first, sure, but he took notice. he saw the fire in your eyes, the excitement to get going in the instinctive clench of your fists, the unrealised confidence in your smile. he took copious notes on your quirk during the villain-hero weapon field trip, filling up more than two pages with scribbles and sketches - twice he abruptly snapped out of his stupor to realise he was just sketching the shape of your eyes, flushed, and erased the streaks of lead guiltily. as the weeks passed, his admiration for you only grew. you were just so elegant, the way you had your quirk controlled so entirely down to your every whim was a spectacle to behold - and behold he did, when you fought, evaded, he watched your every move with so much fierce concentration his eyes watered from how little he was blinking.

you shone as bright as the sun. you were utterly beautiful.

he cursed his own shyness when he saw you chattering animatedly with kirishima, ruffling kaminari's hair, slinging an arm round sero's shoulders casually. he could watch you smile for the rest of his life and never get tired of it, he was sure - it was like you lit up from the inside, filled the room with light and warmth. it made him want to get stronger, to make you smile like that at him.

of course the first time he really managed to speak to you properly was when he sent you tumbling into the dirt.

he'd stayed behind to cram for an english test the next day and cut through the field. his mind was so consumed with thoughts of getting home and climbing into bed that he didn't even see them hurtling towards him until his shoulder knocked painfully into the soft muscle of their chest and they lost their footing.

izuku was abruptly horrified, guilt flooding his stomach - and then they rolled onto their back with a groan, and your face is the one he saw beneath the haze of honeyed light, casting shadows from the planes of your features, your eyes glittering and bright and distinctly annoyed, your skin shining with sweat, and his stomach dropped.

he was an idiot.

he scrambled down and offered you a hand up - as mortifying as this was, he'd take the opportunity to talk to you for the first time. maybe it was some weird kind of fate, that you'd both stayed behind, that you were in the same field, that he'd crossed just in time to knock into you. maybe he'd finally get to tell you how amazing he thought you were, and -

you were staring at him.

it was a flat, bored, cold stare that made his heart fall out of his chest. you glanced down at his hand - and then shifted backwards and pushed yourself abruptly to your feet, tearing your gaze from him. he blinked, feeling a cavity open up in his chest as you muttered something sharp and angry and bolted.

too despondent to even call after you, he watched you go, biting his lip so hard that tears filled his eyes.

despite this disastrous first attempt, izuku tried again and again to endear himself to you. at first, he thought it was just about ensuring you knew how incredible he thought you were. as someone who was rarely told so, he figured it must be nice to hear. but you evaded him at every step. when he caught your eye, your lips twisted into a frown and you looked away immediately. when he offered to tutor you in literature, all you did was fix him with a blank stare that made his stomach twist in knots before yaoyorozu gently told him that she'd be more than happy to do it. there was a tiny flare of hope when you two got randomly paired together for a field test - but even as he watched you swapped your token matching his with kirishima, who loped over with an apologetic smile. izuku still watched your fight with ojiro against tokoyami and tsuyu, and you were amazing as always - but he couldn't help but reflect gloomily on how good of a team the two of you would've been together instead.

he should probably give up. but he was never very good at that.

as more time passed, and izuku entered his third semester at u.a., the ache worsened. the cavity in his chest opened wider, swallowing his heart whole. uraraka and iida were sympathetic to his plight, but they didn't really understand.

"they treat you like garbage, midoriya," uraraka tutted one day as izuku stole glances at you from across the lunch hall. you were sitting with a parted mouth as kaminari threw candies in the air and you tried to catch them between your teeth.

"i just - think they're incredible," he replied softly, sadly, and even todoroki must've picked up on his low mood because he abruptly offered izuku half his soba.

but it was the truth. he'd admired you from afar, but even from that distance you'd imposed between the two of you, he could see you. he could see the light in your eyes, the fire in your smile, the life in your body when you laughed and fought and ate. it didn't matter to his heart that you ignored and rebuked him at every turn, not when it hammered so hard when he caught a glimpse of your smile, or when your eyes accidentally grazed his from across the room. that ache in his chest was going to eat him alive.

he had to tell you. soon. before he died.

it started in your third semester at u.a.

on the first day back after break, you'd brought a suitcase full of luggage to your dorm and were struggling with hauling it up the stairs. yaoyorozu had busted the elevator by exceeding the weight limit with some of the furniture she'd brought from home, and the damn wheels kept catching on the stairs as you strained with it.

"oh! d- do you need help with that?"

your head shot up, dread burrowing in your chest. sure enough, midoriya hovered uncertainly at the base of the stairs, glancing at your stained arms worriedly.

"n- not that i think you can't handle it yourself, of course!" he blurted, waving his arms frantically. "i mean, i know you're super strong because i've watched you train - i mean, not watched, um - seen, you know, so - so you can probably get it up by yourself, i just thought - "

you blinked at the stammering, blushing green mess several stairs below you. be more perfect, go on!, you dared him furiously in your head. you could feel your cheeks growing hot as he scrambled to explain himself, and before you could form a coherent thought your traitorous mouth had opened itself up and -

"yes."

he froze, eyes fluttering in surprise, mouth a perfect 'o'. he looked so cute you wanted to scream. "s- sorry?"

"... i could use a hand," you spat, already thoroughly regretting this. it was just - you'd been back at u.a. for less than two hours, and you didn't think you could handle seeing the kicked puppy expression on midoriya's face so early. he froze for a good few seconds before his whole face flooded with colour, and he scrambled eagerly up the stairs to lift the other end of the suitcase effortlessly. you blinked at the ease he hefted it with. okay. wow.

fuck.

he was smiling so widely you had to look away or you'd do something stupid like kiss him, or drop your end of the suitcase. in silence, you hefted the thing all the way to your dorm room before you set it down heavily on the carpet, taking a second to catch your breath. a second too fucking long apparently, because midoriya had already turned his eyes to your shelves and was gazing curiously.

izuku midoriya was in your room.

the thought was enough to efficiently stop your breath from circulating, and you became paralysed in place as midoriya hummed curiously under his breath, ghosted his fingers over the ornaments and books on your shelf, feather-light touches, his eyes alight with interest. he was so soft like that, in his home clothes, a thick sweater over his shoulders, hair mussed, face open and tender as he handled your possessions with something like reverence.

when he turned around, pink-cheeked, you realised you'd been staring at him like a creep for a good two minutes. he blinked, caught off by the intensity of your gaze, and his flush grew deeper, contrasting prettily against his freckles. for a heart-stopping moment you just stared at him, trying to get your muscles to respond, and he stared right back, mouth parted, eyelids fluttering in surprise.

something wrenched in you; you made forward and he blinked rapidly and backed up, but you took his arm firmly and tugged him; he stumbled behind you with a squeak that you knew was going to be the next source of agonising pining for you for the next few weeks as you pulled him as gently as you dared outside your door and slammed it shut before he could speak.

this was getting so out of hand.

11:42pm

from: midoriya

hey!! i'm not sure if you're awake or not, if you were sleeping just ignore this and i'm sorry to bother you!!

but if you're awake

11:44pm

from: midoriya

would you mind coming down to the common area?

i need to talk to you.

you blinked at your phone for several seconds straight; immediately anxiety pulsed through you, and you gripped your device like an anchor. what the fuck was this? was he going to tell you how much he hated you? not that you could blame him, but you didn't know if you'd be able to take anything less than his unending kindness from him without bursting into tears. god, fuck. you could simply pretend you hadn't seen the text. it was late enough that you could feasibly pretend you were asleep - and a second later you realised that was the point. midoriya had probably waited until a late enough time that you could pretend to ignore him for your own comfort.

because he was kind.

and you were a coward.

taking a deep breath, you typed out a short reply: 'down in five,' and steeled yourself. you'd been nothing but awful to him this whole year. you'd seen the hurt on his face when you declined his help, the disappointment when you could only stare at him rather than giving him a coherent answer, the trembling sadness when you avoided him like the plague. it was so much less than he deserved, this beautiful boy who gave and gave just because it was the right thing to do.

you owed him this, at least.

you shrugged on a hoodie and hid your hands, which were clenching anxiously into fists, in the pockets as you meandered down to the common room. when you peeked a head round the door, it was empty but for a figure on the couch. his back was mostly to you, but you could see his leg bouncing from where you stood, and the way he wiped his palms on his trousers, and from here you could hear him muttering softly to himself - a habit that seemed to weird everyone else out but you always found kind of attractive, for god knows what reason. you gritted your teeth and stepped inside, watching the way his eyes widened and his expression cleared when your presence became known. he jumped to his feet, a ball of nervous energy, and your eyes flicked down to where his scarred hands twisted against each other.

"you came!" he squeaked. "i - i mean i know you said you were going to, but i was starting to wonder - not that i think you're a liar or anything! it's just that..."

god, he was so cute you were going to combust. mostly for your own sanity, you cleared your throat, noting with a jumping heart the way he started to a halt, and that godforsaken flush crept over his face. he offered an embarrassed smile and brought a hand to rub at the back of his neck, and you bit the inside of your cheek harshly to stop yourself audibly whimpering.

"okay! um. i know you're probably wondering why you're down here, and i - i just have something i want to say. it's not - i mean, don't feel like you have to say anything back, i - i'll understand, i just need to tell you. because it's - it's driving me crazy, honestly," he mumbled, gaze fixated on the floor.

you braced yourself.

"i - i like you."

pause.

your faced collapsed into a blank shock that, for once, wasn't a conscious effort. you physically felt your stomach drop, your heart clench, the blood drain from your face. inside your hoodie pockets, your hands clenched so tightly that your nails left grooves on your palms. midoriya watched you with an expression that grew more troubled, and when he next spoke, his voice had grown tight and strangled.

"s-sorry," he whispered. "i know you don't feel the same. i - i know i annoy you, and you probably don't like me, and - and i'm sorry if i was ever a bother to you. i just wanted you to know... that i think you're incredible. you're so strong and - and full of life, and - i think you're perfect."

if you had been held at gunpoint and told to move, or think, or speak or else he would fire, tell your friends good fucking bye. you were absolutely rooted in place; the shock had turned your brain to jelly. he couldn't mean it, was your first thought. he's just nice. i'm the furthest thing from it. why would he like me? why?

the silence stretched on agonisingly. you wanted - so many things. to tell him you felt the same. to burst into tears. to card your fingers through his hair and press your lips against his. but instead you could only stare mutely, eyes wide, mouth parted, and midoriya physically drooped. you saw his eyes fill with tears and your heart cracked in two, and you screamed at yourself to move - but you couldn't.

"i understand," midoriya whispered, voice catching. "s- sorry, i don't mean to cry." don't apologise, you screamed in your head. "i'm sorry to be a bother to you. i - i'll let you sleep, i'm sure you must be tired."

with that, he stumbled quickly from the room. before the door slammed, you heard a muffled sob echo throughout the stairwell. was this how he felt, all those times, watching you run away from him? all you wanted was to tug him back by his hoodie and hold him to you until the tears disappeared. slowly, you sunk into the couch.

i’m the worst person alive, you told yourself dully, and you felt it. you gripped the roots of your hair, furious with yourself, awash in self-loathing. idiot, idiot, idiot!, you screamed in your head.

for the first time since this whole stupid crush debacle begun, you let yourself cry about it.

the next morning saw you waking with bitterness at the back of your throat.

you felt raw and empty, like you'd just thrown up. you seriously considered skipping class, unable to stand the idea of facing midoriya after last night. he'd handed you his heart on a platter and you'd dropped it at his feet, and now he'd have come to his senses. perhaps he'd been blind to how awful you were because of his crush, but now surely he'd have opened his eyes and saw the truth - that you were so much less than what he deserved.

a tiny part of you broke at that thought, but you culled it quickly. it was no less than you deserved. you didn't get to be selfish about this.

so you made your way down to breakfast with a bowed head and slumped silently into the seat beside kirishima, who glanced at you with concern.

"everything alright?" he asked, and you winced at the volume of his voice. you nodded quickly and jammed your mouth with food so you didn't have to answer verbally.

you could feel eyes burning into the side of your head, and made the mistake of looking up; midoriya's blinked at being caught in the act and immediately ducked his head. he looked a mess - there were dark circles arching under his eyes, bruise-blue, and his waterline was irritated and red like he'd been crying. his hair was wilder than usual like he'd been tossing in his sleep - or even like he hadn't slept at all. your stomach clenched, sick with yourself.

he looked utterly miserable and it was your fault.

his face looked so empty without his beaming smile, his pleased blush, his scrunched nose. he looked pallid and drawn and just sad, empty, tired. even his freckles looked pale.

ashido nudged you. "what's going on? you look like death."

you sniffed and shook your head. "can't. tell you later," you promised under your breath, and ashido huffed but acquiesced. you missed the look of concern that shot between your friends with your head buried in your arms.

as promised, ashido cornered you at lunch as you set your tray on their table. you flinched, stomach roiling, but the way they were looking up at you, solemn and concerned, was too much to bear. clenching your fists tight, you choked it out:

"midoriya confessed to me."

there was a beat of silence. then -

"oh, shit!" kaminari exclaimed, his eyebrows raised. "he finally did it, huh?"

"what do you mean, finally?" you frowned, heart jumping into your throat.

sero looked at you like you'd grown a third head. "uh - i mean, you knew, right?"

you shook your head frantically, eyes popping. "no! what? are you saying you did?"

"well no shit!" ashido exclaimed, her own eyes bugging in disbelief. "are you kidding? anyone with a pair of eyes can see how in love that kid is with you!”

you blinked rapidly. "i - i never..." you trailed off, mortified. "i always thought he was just being nice."

"oh my god," kirishima exhaled in bewilderment. "you are so oblivious."

"so - what'd you say?" ashido pressed eagerly, and your sour mood returned immediately. you groaned and buried your head in your hands,

"i - i didn't say anything. i stared at him like he was an alien and he bolted."

a ringing silence descended on the group. when you peeked up, your friends were gaping at you.

"you're kidding," ashido said in a hushed voice. "oh, that poor baby."

"that's rough," sero agreed with a wince. "i mean - ouch, man."

"i know, i know," you wailed, distraught. "i just completely short-circuited, it was like i went into cardiac arrest. i had no idea what to say so i just - just - god."

kirishima blew out a breath slowly. "okay. we can fix this. it's midoriya, after all - he's understanding. just go talk to him and set the record straight. it's the manly thing to do."

"i agree," ashido said at once. "don't leave the poor guy hanging. tch, look at him, he's miserable!"

unwillingly, your eyes followed her gaze, and your heart lurched nauseatingly. midoriya was hunched over a still-full bento, resting his head on his fist. his eyes were unfocused and he was biting down on his lower lip in a way that made you think he was trying not to cry. uraraka patted his elbow sympathetically, but when she spoke he simply shook his head and screwed his eyes shut, and you watched helplessly as tears began to seep from beneath his closed eyelids, spilling over his cheeks.

"i'll do it," you muttered. "i'll - i'll talk to him tonight."

the day went agonisingly sluggishly, but it did end eventually.

as soon as you got back to the dorms you went straight for your room, locked the door firmly, and promptly began to panic. you had to tell midoriya the truth. even if he hated you now, you owed it to him. and you thought maybe you owed it to yourself, too. you showered and changed and tried to distract yourself for the next few hours. dinner came and went with sero knocking at your door, but you told him you weren't hungry. the sky darkened. you watched the sunset from your window, thinking back to that time midoriya had knocked you over as you ran.

why couldn't you just have taken his fucking hand?

what, exactly, was wrong with you?

the golden light dwindled to darkness. finally, sick with nerves at just past eleven, you brought out your phone and opened midoriya's contact.

11:04pm

from: you

hi.

a minute passed. then three. then ten, fifteen, thirty. you paced anxiously, gnawing at your lip. he must've gone to sleep already, you told yourself dully. or he was ignoring you, as he had every right to. sick with heartache, you went to turn your phone off and crawl under the covers when the screen lit up.

11:39pm

from: midoriya

hey.

you were scrambling to message back before the notification had even vanished.

11:39pm

from: you

i'm sorry if i woke you

from: midoriya

i wasn't asleep. is everything okay??

you bit your lip, feeling your chest tighten. even after the way you treated him, he was still looking out for you. was it simply second nature to him?

from: you

no. i need to talk to you.

i understand if you don't want to see me but i rlly want to explain, i owe you this

a minute passed.

11:40pm

from: midoriya

do you want to come to my room? we can talk there.

or the common area if ur more comfortable there.

from: you

i'll be at ur room in five.

you were quiet as you made your way down the flight of stairs to the boys' rooms, well aware you were passed curfew. the last thing you wanted was to get midoriya into additional trouble. thankfully, aizawa seemed to be catching some much-needed sleep that night, and was nowhere in sight. silently, you crept toward midoriya's door, braced yourself, and knocked softly.

it clicked open immediately; the boy himself stood there in a plain shirt and shorts, all big red-rimmed eyes and soft, sleep-tousled hair. he shot you a small, nervous smile and stepped aside to let you in.

you couldn't help but smile a little at the decor: all might everything, walls to ceiling. it was stupidly adorable, if a little overbearing. you felt the judgemental eyes of the great hero trained on you from all sides as you turned to face the green-haired boy, who had taken a perch on the edge of his desk chair and was looking up at you expectantly, hands wringing against each other.

"um. thanks. for letting me see you," you murmured. his eyes shot open a little wider, and you realised with humiliation that that was probably the most you'd ever said to him at one time. cursing yourself, you hurried on. "i - i wanted to say i'm sorry about - how i responded to you last night. the truth is i just panicked, i - i just wasn't expecting - "

"i-it's alright," midoriya cut in agitatedly, waving his hands. "i - i shouldn't have sprung it on you like this, i never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. i only wanted..." he seemed to droop in his seat, eyes finding the floor. "i meant what i said," he continued in a tiny voice. "all of it. i'm not - not asking you to return how i f-feel, or anything - i know you deserve more than me, but i want you to know..." his gaze lifted; his virescent eyes seemed to shine like gems in the low light. "i think you're amazing. i always have."

your breath caught painfully in your throat, and you could feel your eyes welling with tears. he... after everything, he still thought... you reeled in a breath, two, willing yourself to speak.

and this time, you did.

"you're wrong," you murmured. "i don't deserve more than you. i - i hardly deserve you at all, midoriya, after the way i treated you. i'm so sorry. the truth is... i think you're amazing too."

a beat of silence. midoriya's mouth parted, eyes widened, and he went completely still, needing for you to continue. so you did, spilling out everything you'd kept bottled up for the months you'd known him.

"ever since that day you knocked me over i haven't stopped thinking about you," you admitted, and it was kind of humiliating but it felt like a weight off your chest and you thought maybe it was worth it for the way his lip trembled and his face flushed and his eyes flashed with barely-concealed hope. "i never knew what to say to you. or how to act. i'd never felt so strongly about someone before - it - it was like everything you did made me like you more. and with how awfully i treated you it never occurred to me that you could feel the same, so i thought i didn't have any chance at all." you felt the tears spill down your cheeks. "but what i'm trying to say, midoriya... i like you too."

a whimper greeted your ears at this confession, and you could see that midoriya had gotten shakily to his feet. he was staring at you like he could hardly believe you were real, and his own tears were running down his face but he hardly seemed to mind because his mouth had twisted into a hesitant smile.

"you - you mean it?" he whispered with reverence. he blinked, and his eyelashes kissed his cheek. "you... like me?"

"yes." the word felt like it was punched out of you, and midoriya's breath staggered as he reached out tentatively. you watched his hand move slowly towards you own - and for the first time ever, you didn't pull away. his fingers wrapped over your clenched fist, gently at first, like he was scared to hurt you. you choked back a gasp; you could feel every ridge, every callus, every scar on his hand. it was shaking, too, but when his grip tightened and he let out an incredulous little laugh that made you want to squeeze him, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around him, bringing him in as close as you could and then some. his gasp of surprise was muffled against the crook of your neck where he buried his head, and when your arms came up to circle around him you felt him trembling delicately beneath you, and you suppressed a cry when his own arms wrapped around you, gripping like you'd disappear if he let go.

"am i dreaming?" he mumbled against your skin. the buzz of his speech shivered up your neck, a static shock beneath your skin. "are - are you real?"

"'m real," you murmured, voice shaking. he pulled back, face full of worship, and when you leant in to kiss him you swallowed his tiny gasp of surprise. it felt like a capillary burst in your brain when you finally felt him against you, like everything in your life had been leading up to this, your hands in the base of his green curls, his hands jerking uncertainly around your waist, the way he breathed with you. you felt the passing of several sunlit days on a track field before you pulled apart, knocking your forehead against his.

with a trembling hand, you wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks. without thinking, you whispered, "i love your freckles."

he reddened. "i- you-"

you hummed, pressed a feather-light kiss to the constellations on his face. his eyes followed you, wider than you'd ever seen, brows sloping together, lip trembling, and he ducked his face into your hand on his cheek, blushing furiously. you chuckled and afforded his other cheek the same treatment, feeling the skin of his face reach boiling point beneath your skin.

"thank you," he murmured, voice caught, broken.

"thank you," you corrected sweetly, and he whined and buried his face in your collarbone, beaming and flushed.

as it turned out, you were both idiots. but it seemed to turn out okay, in the end.

I miss matsukawa

JIUNG Killin' it (240208)

★﹒₊‧their sun sing match up

oikawa is a cancer and he belongs with a scorpio, bc i'm a scorpio.

a/n thank u 😚 for reading ! <3

— besos

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

a/n: this is my gif! it took so long to find this clip + make it into a gif so pls give credit if you use it lol

summary: your makeup leaves kiss imprints all over miles’ face and neck, which you quickly have to figure out how to hide from his mother. wc: 1,033

contains: fluff, teenage romance

word bank: “besos” - kisses, “enamorado” - lover boy, “mijo” - son, “dios mio” - my god

“Hold still…”

Your soft lips pressed testimonies of your love upon the surface of Miles’ smooth skin, your giggles of excitement muffled as you kissed his temple, the apple of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his lips— anywhere you could easily reach, really.

Steady hands cradled the dip of your back to keep you in your straddled position on his lap, gentle fingers ghosting over the fold of your waistband and one of his eyes pinched closed in preparation for more of your frenzied affection.

“Jeez, you love me love me, huh?” he laughed, his answer presented to him in the way your kisses began to trail along his jaw, then started further down the column of his neck, his pulse gently thrumming against your gloss-tinted lips as the pace of his heart quickened.

His tongue quickly swiped at his chapped lips and he allowed his eyes to fall closed with a light sigh, enjoying himself for just a moment, until the distant sound of pots clinking brought him back to where he really was, in his room, with his mother just a few paces outside, resulting in a gentle warning pat against the curve of your hip.

“Alright, alright, chill.” he chuckled breathily, slowly pulling away from you to lean back on his hands and take you in, drinking in the image of how cute you looked on his lap like this.

He didn’t need a mirror to see what his face looked like, the slightly shocked expression on yours as you covered your laugh with a hand was enough for him to go off of.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him it wasn’t, to tell him that his face wasn’t lavished in the remnants of your brown lip gloss and liner— but you couldn’t. He was covered in them, prints of your lips garnished all over his handsome features. Your lips split apart and came back together like a fish out of water, so you simply settled for another stifled snicker and a head nod instead.

“You do know if my mom sees this on my face it’s our asses, right?” he reminded you, and as if on cue, you heard his mother’s voice project from outside, your spine standing straight, just like the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Mijo, food is ready, come eat!”

Stunned eyes locked onto Miles’ for a beat, just to see if they were as wide as yours, or if they held just as much panic— and they did. Without a word spoken you scrambled off his lap faster than you’d even gotten there in the first place, his mirroring of your movements almost causing him to tumble off the bed. The room was thrust into a discord of silenced chaos for a few panicked seconds, your body spinning in two aimless half-circles with disoriented, wafting hands; as if the ridiculous looking movement could actually assist your anxiety frazzled brain in coming up with a plan.

Miles ruffled his sheets, hands frantically splaying around to find anything that would be useful in this moment until a shirt came into your view— a hurried, whisper-shout of his name tearing from your throat to get his attention. You swiftly kicked it up from the floor with your foot, flinging it towards his face and watching as his hand shot out in front of him to catch it not even a second after you’d punted it.

The graphic t-shirt you’d found managed to scrub his face clean of the incriminating evidence, not that you had much time to check the success rate of that as you were rushed out of the room hastily, your boyfriend’s hands plastered against the lower-middle of your back to usher you out the room in large steps, your feet having to shuffle to keep up.

“Dios mio, mile—!“ his mother’s voice fell short when the two of you chaotically stumbled your way into the kitchen, your lips tucked into themselves as you stood at attention, hands politely clasped behind you, while Miles was off to the side, shoulder leaned against the adjacent wall, legs crossed and hands on his hips. Totally not suspicious.

“Oh,” she blinked, giving the two of you a quick once over. The first thing she noticed was her son’s unusual demeanor, his eyes big and brows raised high, an expression he only wore when he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. But what really gave it away was the strange distance of a few feet wedged between the both of you. Just over an hour ago you guys had embraced one another in a long hug after he’d opened the door to let you in—right in front of her— and now, you were suddenly acting as if you were scared to even be near each other, like you were nervous to breathe the same air in her presence.

“Mm,” she turned back towards the stove to turn the rice over in the pot, allowing the both of you to exhale a trembled breath of relief, one you realized came prematurely merely milliseconds after it left your lungs. “I think you may have missed one, enamorado.” (lover boy)

Eyes almost blowing from your skull, you swallowed hard and reluctantly shifted your head up towards your boyfriend, who was frozen in place, your gaze dropping down to the slightly smeared gloss and lip liner against the skin of his neck; a painfully visible reminder of your previous tryst.

The knowing smirk that pulled at the corner of his mother’s lips went overlooked, just as Miles let his chin fall to his chest, his arm folding over his torso and his opposite hand slapping over his abashed expression, a defeated sigh sounding from behind it.

“I’ll help you with the plates, mama rio.” you voiced your offer quietly and cleared your throat as you went to slip in beside her, which she obliged to with a light chuckle.

“Sure, sweetie.”

“I’m-“ Miles sighed, scratching the back of his neck timorously and scanning the area for an escape before a tentative finger pointed into the dining room. “I’m gonna go over there.” He decided with a swooped nod, long legs carrying him from a scolding he knew he would have to come back to once you were gone.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works onto any other sites!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

seros mom is the type to research and modify her favorite recipes for your eating preferences because her love language is cooking food and she always wants you to feel welcome and comfortable in her home. gluten free, vegetarian, vegan, dairy free, wtv it is, she's got you covered.