Mha Iida - Blog Posts

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New Beginnings?

So this story is inspired by gglitch1dd’s post about Small town My Hero Academia. Honestly go read her story Sweet-bee if you like Kiribaku x reader; it’s amazing! I’ve reread it so many times.

So my story is loosely inspired (I made some changes but barely) and involves an OC. After reading her post and remembering the first season of Once upon a Time, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and decided to write it. Very much just for fun and considering continuing it; I just don’t have the ending figured out.

Mostly fluff. Let me know if there is anything; triggers or errors.

Italics are thoughts.

Enjoy!

Summary: an unknown quirk sends all of UA and some others to a small town... in an alternate reality! No memories of their real lives and no quirks. A calm, peaceful life where everything is perfect. A bit too perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 A new life?

Lizelle holds Eri close under the desk as a villain rant and raves through the school’s PA system. The red feather necklace around Lizelle’s neck shake as Hawks sends his feathers throughout the building to find the villain.

Class 1A and 1B had gathered for a joint training session with most of their mentors also there to see the progress. Lizelle was there to keep watch over the students’ emotional states as they go through the course because of her quirk ‘Colourful Emotions’.

While she is Hawks’ personal assistant, she is a family friend of Present Mic and had been living with him and Aizawa since she was a teenager until she was old enough to care for herself. She had become close to the 1A class and Eri. And ever since working with Hawks, Mirko had become a good friend.

Everybody had gathered for the training session when something shook the building and a bunch of goons invaded the premises. Lizelle had grabbed Eri who was sitting with her and took cover under Present Mic’s desk while he went down from the presenter booth to join the fight. Then who they assume is the main boss started making threats over the announcement system.

Lizelle focused on the villain’s voice to hear the last part of his speech. He chuckled darkly:

“Aren’t you heroes tired of it all? Don’t you wanna live a normal life…?”

Lizelle gasped as she noticed a strange mist filling the room and everywhere else.

“… and leave the rest of us alone?”

Lizelle peeked over the over desk to notice all the heroes starting to faint. Her necklace stills and she knows it got to Hawks as well. She coughed trying to get the mist out. She heard Eri cough as well.

“Eri-berry, hold your breath.”

Both she and Eri hold their breaths but then a blinding light fills everybody’s vision before it went pitch black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lizelle groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. She looked around the bedroom while reaching for her phone to shut off her alarm. She yawns, stretches and runs a brush through her long golden blonde hair before making her way out, down the stairs and into the kitchen where Hizashi Yamada otherwise known by his radio show personality, Present Mic is busy cooking breakfast.

“Morning Uncle Zashi.”

“Morning Lizzy. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well. One thing is for sure. The bed was not the reason for Shinso’s insomnia.”

Hizashi chuckled: “Glad to hear it’s not that at least.”

She smiled as she sat down.

“Thanks for letting me stay in Hitoshi’s old room for now.”

Hizashi smiled at her from the stove: “No problem. You know you are like my own daughter. I’ll always help.”

Lizelle smiled: “Why couldn’t you be my real dad?”

“Then I would to have had you when I was 9.”

“Well you were a flirt since you were young if Aunt Nem is to be believed.”

The two laugh at that.

“Yet I met my soulmate in high school and won him over,” He pressed a hand to his heart.

“More like you didn’t leave me alone.”

The two turn to see Shouta Aizawa walk into the kitchen carrying a very sleepy Eri.

“You didn’t exactly try to get rid of me. C’mon admit it, deep down you liked me.”

Aizawa shakes his head at his husband. He put Eri adjacent to Lizelle’s left before walking to kiss Hizashi.

“Zashi, the pancakes.”

Hizashi looked over to see the pancakes starting to look a little too brown. He quickly moved the finished pancake to a plate. Lizelle smiled at the cute scene before turning her head to the tired girl rubbing her eyes.

She gave a quick tickle to the little girl’s sides: “Morning Eri-berry.”

Eri gave a small shriek of laughter. Lizelle giggled.

“Morning Uncle Shou.”

“Morning Lizzy,” he sits down adjacent to Lizelle’s right.

Hizashi places the food down and greets his daughter with a kiss to her head.

“So what is your plan for today?” Aizawa asks Lizelle as they start to eat.

Lizelle shrugs: “Explore the town, look at living places, look for a job, maybe even visit Shinso on his break.”

“Y’know, if you can’t find anything, you are more than welcome to come help me or Shouta at our jobs.”

“Thanks Uncle Zashi but I don’t see how much help I’ll be at the Sheriff or Radio station. Thanks for the offer; I’ll definitely keep it as a back up.”

“Daddy, Papa, can I show Lizzy around town?” Eri asks with her mouth full pancakes.

“Eri, swallow before you talk,” Aizawa gently said while Hizashi jokingly presses her chin up, “I don’t know.”

“Oh come one Dadzawa,” Lizelle grinned, “Eri knows the town better than me and I can keep her safe.”

Aizawa sighed but looked doubtful.

“Babe this whole town knows Eri is the sheriff’s daughter and not to mess with her. Eri will actually keep Lizelle safe, especially if the League decide to be annoying today. They know not to mess with your family,” Hizashi reasons, “Besides Lizelle is right. Eri knows the town better and this way Lizelle won’t get lost.”

Aizawa sighs again, knowing Hizashi is right and that he is fighting a losing battle.

“Fine, you can show Lizzy around.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep each other safe,” Lizelle gave the little girl a side squeeze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eri kisses and hugs her dads goodbye.

“See you two later.” Hizashi waves.

“Be safe,” Aizawa calls after them.

“We will,” Eri giggles.

“Bye Dadzawa. Bye Papa Mic.”

“Bye girls.”

The two girls set off down the street to the right in the direction of what looked like a school. Currently mostly empty since it was Saturday. Maybe some overtime teachers or sport teams, other than that a ghost place.

“That’s my school!” Eri excitedly points.

“Oh really? Remind me what grade are you in?”

“Grade 2. Mr. Togata is my teacher.”

“Wow you’re getting big,” Lizelle squeezes Eri’s left hand.

As they turn the corner, Eri spots something that makes her squeal. Lizelle tightens her grips when she feels the little girl wants to run. Standing outside the gates are two men who turn in their direction upon hearing Eri. Seeing Eri, the two men wave. Lizelle makes sure they get safely across the street. Only then does she let the little girl run to them.

“Hi Eri!”

The tall blond picks up the girl as she happily squeals.

“Hi Mr. Togata! Hi Mr. Deku!”

The green haired man next to them gently pats Eri on the head: “Hi Eri.”

The man Eri calls Deku turns to Lizelle. He greets her with small nervous smile.

“Hi I’m Izuku Midoriya, understudy to Mayor All Might.”

Lizelle shakes his hand.

“So Deku?” She asks curiously.

He shrugged: “A mean nickname I was given when I was younger. I’m trying to put a more positive spin on it.”

Lizelle nodded in understanding: “I get that.”

The taller blond shook her hand: “Hi My name is Mirio Togata. I’m Eri’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lizelle. I’m a family friend of Hizashi Yamada. I just moved to town and I’m staying with them till I find a job and my own place. Eri is busy showing me around town.”

“Well welcome to Yuuie,” Mirio says with smile.

“And if you’re looking for a job just to keep busy, there is always the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar and B&B and the library are always looking for volunteers,” Izuku suggest, “If it’s more a specific profession, Yuuie has a lot of businesses. Sure you’ll find something.”

Lizelle nods gratefully: “Thank you. I shall look into those places,” she looks to Eri, “C’mon sweetie we still got a lot to see. Maybe we can even go visit your brother if we are there on his break.”

“Yay!” Mirio gently puts her down.

She grabs Lizelle’s hand again and they continue walking down the street waving goodbye to Mirio and Izuku.

Walking across the street they pass a park and start passing some houses. About halfway Eri points out the Mayor’s House with trees surrounding it. They cross the street and tree line into the second main street where by the looks of it, is the most action. People walk up and down, doorbells constantly clinging as people enter and leave.

Eri quickly tugs Lizelle to cross to the right of the street while throwing slightly nervous looks to the biggest building on the corner of the left block.

“Everything okay Eri-berry?”

“Daddy always says to avoid that place and be careful here.”

Lizelle looks at the building. Two shops occupy it; Shigaraki’s bar and Dabi’s tattoo parlour. It’s a little rundown but otherwise okay. Lizelle can’t help the negative feeling that reaches her, making her feel on edge. The place definitely looks like trouble. Or at least definitely not the place for a little girl to be.

A man walks out of the parlour. He leans against the outside wall and lights a cigarette. She can only see the tattoos under his eyes, jaw, neck and wrists but Lizelle is positive he is probably covered in them as well as multiple piercings.

Was the flame from his lighter blue?

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and releases a puff of smoke. Through the smoke he catches Lizelle’s eye. He looks her up and down with his piercing blue eyes before giving a nod. Lizelle gives friendly smile in return and then focuses back on helping Eri across the street.

“New plaything?” a female voice asks from the door.

Dabi turns his head to the blond girl: “Nah that Aizawa brat was with her. Unless we want the Sheriff to strangle us we better not mess with what’s his.”

“Aw, not fair,” Toga complains. Dabi simply shakes his head.

At the corner Eri points to a building on the left block behind the building on the street.

“There’s Dadzawa’s work…”

Then she points to the slightly L-shaped building diagonally in front of the Sheriff’s Station.

“… and there’s Papa Mic’s.”

Lizelle nods.

They past the Post Office, an apartment building behind a small park and past another building they reach the Midnight and Fatgum diner/bar.

“Wanna a milkshake, Eri-berry?”

Eri’s eyes sparkle as she looks up at her: “Can we?”

“Sure. C’mon let’s go in.”

The bell rings as the two enter. They walk up to the counter and Lizelle helps Eri up. A beautiful girl with long blue hair comes walking out from behind.

“Nejire!”

“There’s my little berry. Your daddy called and said I’m off babysitting duty today,” the girl turned to Lizelle, “Hi, I’m Neijre Hado, waitress and the occasional babysitter for this little angel.”

“She is also the town’s resident beauty queen,” a large man comes walking out from the kitchen, almost squatting to get through the doorways.

“And this is Taishiro Toyomitsu otherwise known as Fatgum, best cook in Yuuie,” Nejire giggled, tapping the man’s belly, “And he knows it.”

The man gives a jolly laugh.

Lizelle smiled, enjoying the wholesome energy in this place.

“I’m Lizelle, I’m new and a family friend of this little one’s family.”

“Welcome to Yuuie Miss. We hope you enjoy your stay here,” Fatgum smiles warmly.

“Thank you,” she smiles back. He feels like an uncle.

“So what can we get for you?”

“I’d like a chocolate milkshake and some fries. You Eri?”

“An apple pie and strawberry milkshake please.”

Nejire winked at the two: “You got it.”

Fatgum moves back into kitchen and Nejire cuts out a slice of apple pie for Eri. She then hands a small A6 card to Lizelle, full of numbers.

Upon Lizelle’s confused look, Nejire explains: “Numbers of the business around here. If you are ever in need of a handyman the mechanics shop is the place to call and ask for Eijiro Kirishima. That mountain of man can fix anything.”

Lizelle smirked: “Mountain, huh?”

“Well he is Fatgum’s nephew.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Nejire giggled: “He works at the shop with his cousin Tetsutetsu and it is owned by Mei Hatsume. That girl is genius with machines and Tetsu seems like he bend steel, almost has if…”

“He is steel himself,” Lizelle gets a weird look on her face before shaking her head. She lifts the page, “The others?”

“Right. The mechanics is behind the sheriff station by the way. Right next to us is the vet/pet shelter run by Tsuyu Asui and Koji Koda. Then across from us is Ojiro’s dojo and next to that we have our Electrician Denki Kaminari. He’s good but don’t worry if he shocks himself. It happens from time to time.”

At Lizelle concerned look Nejire quickly adds: “He’s fine. He is practically Pikachu by now.”

“As long as he is not Pichu,” Lizelle shakes her head.

Nejire laughs, tipping her head: “Well…”

Shaking her head, she continues: “I’m assuming you walked past the school? And of course where the sheriff and radio station is?”

Lizelle nods: “Eri also pointed out the Mayor’s house to me. And the bar and tattoo parlour I was warned from.”

Lizelle gently pats Eri on the head.

Nejire nodded with a tight mouth: “Yeah the league… aren’t bad but they are trouble. So best to try stay away as much as you can.”

Lizelle raises and eyebrow: “The League?”

“The League of Delinquents.”

“I saw a man with tattoos and piercings smoking outside the tattoo place.”

“That’s Dabi. He seems chill, but you don’t want to piss him off. He has an affinity for arson. The one you really have to careful around is Shigaraki. He runs that place and the league. Also Toga; she’s a blonde girl with sharp teeth. She has a weird fascination for blood and sometimes gets a little stab happy. So just be careful.”

“And Shigaraki?”

Nejire shudders a little: “Trust me you’ll know. He just seems dangerous.”

Lizelle nods. Geez you guys go on about these guys like their villains.

Nejire puts back on her smile: “Anyways, we also have Rikido Sato’s bakery, Hanta Sero’s restaurant, Tamaki Amajiki’s flower shop; that’s Fatgum’s adopted son and Mirio’s Boyfriend.”

Lizelle raises her eyebrow with a smile: “Ok cute.”

Nejire giggled: “And both are my boyfriends.”

Lizelle gasped: “Lucky you! Kinda jealous. Of you and them.”

They both laugh.

“You?” Nejire bends her hand at the wrist in a silent question.

“I’m…” Lizelle snaps her fingers into a finger gun/thumbs up and peace signs.

“Ah,” Nejire nods in understanding, “Ok then there are the builders (that are behind Denki and Ojiro’s places), the library’s number, if you want to shop wood personally the lumberjack office; ask for Rumi. She is the boss and she is one the people who knows the woods the best. Mina Ashido’s hair salon, Yuga Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace; it’s mostly a clothing shop but Mina, Toru Hagukure and Aoyama together are a styling dream team. They helped me with the beauty pageants. We also have the Yaoyorozu’s Properties, the gym, the Bank of Iida, the Todoroki Supermarket, and Yuuie Hospital and of course the town hall.”

Nejire juts her thumb to Eri: “Your little tour guide here knows where everything is.”

Lizelle smirks at Eri: “And why do you know everything?”

Eri giggled, finishing up her milkshake.

Nejire smiled: “Sheriff Aizawa wanted to make sure if anything happened, Eri knows all the safe places to go to.”

Lizelle nods with a small smile: “That sounds like Dadzawa.”

As the two finishes up, Lizelle pulls out her wallet. Fatgum quickly pops through the window.

“Uh uh, It’s on the house.”

“You sure?”

“Of course, especially for my favourite customer,” He winks at Eri with broad grin.

Lizelle grins: “Thanks for everything. The food was delicious. And thanks for all the info Nejire.”

The blue haired waitress waves at her as they exit.

Eri points out Ojiro’s dojo and Denki’s Electrics across the street and the vet next door to the diner. They cross the town square over to the library with a clock tower on top of the corner of the building. Across the street at the corner was Sato’s Bakery and next to it Sero’s Restaurant. Next to them was Mina’s hair salon and connected to it Aoyama’s Twinkling Styling Palace.

Lizelle giggled at the name.

Next to the library was Yaoyorozu’s Properties and on the corner Amajiki’s Flower shop.

“Wanna stop by the library real quick? I want to ask the librarian something.”

Eri nodded and the two headed in. Lizelle sighed in relief at coolness compared to beating sun outside. There was a little dark haired girl with purple eyes a few years older than Eri sitting in a dark corner reading by a low light. A dark haired man with Goth makeup came from the office behind the desk. Eri waved to him.

She gave a whispered greeting: “Hi Tokoyami.”

“Hi Eri,” He whispered back in a pretty deep voice.

Huh this man’s makeup makes him look like crow or raven. Cool.

“Hi, I’m Fumikage Tokoyami, how can I help?”

“Oh hi! I’m Lizelle, I’m new to town. I was wondering with there are any positions open here.”

Tokoyami shook his head: “Not at the moment, but if you don’t mind working part time, we always accept volunteers. On certain days we are busier, especially when exam season comes.”

Lizelle nods with a smile: “Yeah I don’t mind.”

Lizelle gives Tokoyami her contact information. Lizelle waves Eri over for them to leave. Lunch is soon if they want to make it on time for Shinso’s break. Tokoyami hands Eri an apple with small smile. The two wave goodbye. As they leave they hear Tokoyami talk to the other girl:

“Shadow, do not read by such a low light. It is not good for your eyes.”

“But I don’t like the bright light!”

Lizelle smiled as the door closes. Must be brother and sister.

Lizelle and Eri continue down the street. They stop outside Tamaki’s flower shop to smell some of the flowers outside. Lizelle looked at bouquet of white and red roses with a smile on her face. She always liked the beauty more than the smell. Mostly flowers smell like plants to her. There are very few flowers’ smells she actually likes.

Lizelle looks from smiling at Eri to through the window when she spots movement from her peripheral vision. Just in time to see an indigo haired man duck out of sight. Lizelle tilts her head to side. He peaks around but ducks back upon noticing she is still looking. Lizelle gives a small smile at the man’s shyness. She offers him small wave before ushering Eri along.

They turn right to the main street. Then a turn left to walk to the hospital. Walking in, up to the front desk, Lizelle asks if Dr. Hitoshi Shinso is on his break. The woman about to ask the reason why she wants to see him, spots Eri. She smiles and waves the two on ahead while giving directions to his office. Eri leads the way.

Knocking on the door, Lizelle hears Shinso’s tired: “Come in.”

“Hey doc, got time for lunch?”

Shinso looks up and smirks: “Hey Lizzy. Hey Eri!”

Eri runs up to him and he easily picks her.

“Yeah sure lunch. We can do that.”

The three sit down in the cafeteria.

“So you enjoying your time here so far?” Shinso asks around the bad cup of coffee.

“Oh yeah this place is great. Everyone is so friendly. Well mostly everybody.”

Shinso frowns, confused before he asks concerned: “You didn’t run in to the league did you? Dadzawa would have their heads.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Not really. Just saw one of the members. Nothing happened.”

“Ok good. How’s the living situation?”

“Pretty good. Thanks for okaying the use of your room.”

“Sure.”

“Other than that, it is nice. But I would like my own place.”

Shinso gets a thoughtful look: “And a roommate?”

“I wouldn’t mind a roommate. Helps with rent and stuff.”

“How about...” Shinso puts down his cup, “You move in with me?”

“At your apartment?”

“Yeah the apartment building next to the Post office. I have a spare room/ loft. Also I’m barely home because of the hours at the hospital. It will be more like your apartment and I crash there.”

Lizelle giggles: “I know you can’t help it but you should stop overworking yourself.”

He shrugs: “So what do you say? Once you get a job you can start helping with rent if you want to, but you don’t need to. I make more than enough with a doctor salary. Besides I can’t help much cleaning wise and stuff, so the least I can do is pay the rent.”

Lizelle sighs: “Hitoshi I can’t expect you...”

Shinso holds up his hand: “I want to. I have no problem paying the rent but it’s going to waste because I’m barely there. So whaddya say?”

Lizelle thinks about: “I mean free place, not too far from Eri-them, nearby possible work place...”

Shinso smiled and sat up to reach into his pocket.

Lizelle looks up as she makes her decision: “Ok sure I would love to. Oh!”

She backs a little when she found keys in front of her face.

“Here are the keys to the apartment building and my flat. Go take a look at it. If your decision is completely final we can go make you a copy.”

Lizelle takes the keys and smiles gratefully at Shinso: “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Shinso just smirks: “It’s not a problem. You’re family. If we switched places you would have done the same.”

Lizelle nods: “True.”

When his break was over, Lizelle and Eri say goodbye and head back. They stop by the park for a bit while Eri plays with some of her friends.

Lizelle stands at the edge to watch Eri when a siren rings through the air. Lizelle jumps and looks behind her to see Aizawa climb out of the sheriff car.

“What’s with the siren?”

“Easy way to get your attention.”

Lizelle smirks: “Well you got it. Here to arrest me officer?”

Aizawa chuckles: “So how is everything?”

“Great. Eri showed me around, I have places for possible jobs and I have a place to live.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow.

“Shinso offered me his flat because he is barely there because of his hours and the rent is technically going to waste.”

Aizawa sighs and shakes his head: “That boy works hard. Too hard sometimes. I told him he is more than welcome to stay at home. He didn’t listen.”

“Sometimes people gotta learn by bumping their own heads even when you wanna protect them.”

“Unfortunately. So his apartment?”

“Mhm. He gave me the keys to go check it out. Then we will make my own copy.”

Aizawa nods: “Alright. I can take Eri off your hands if you want.”

Lizelle shakes her head: “Nah that’s okay. I’m good with taking care of Eri for the rest of day.”

“You sure?”

Lizelle nods.

“Ok. Well I got to get back to work. Eri!”

Eri runs over with excitement. The two hug.

“I’ll see you two later tonight.”

“Bye Daddy!” “Bye Dadzawa!”

Lizelle let’s Eri play for a little while longer before they head for the apartment.

Outside parked on the street was a gold motorcycle with red wings and the words ‘Fierce Wings’ on the side. Lizelle nodded impressed before opening up the front door and letting Eri through.

At the mailboxes in the wall stand a man a couple inches taller than Lizelle with feathery blond hair. He wore a tan jacket with two red wings printed on the back, continuing onto the sleeves. Considering he was putting packages and letters into the mailboxes with a big bag slung across his body, Lizelle assumed he is the mailman and that the bike outside is his.

Lizelle started up the stairs.

“Hi Mr. Hawks,” Eri greets the man.

He turns slightly to greet her, only slightly seeing Lizelle before she disappears up the stairs.

Hawks blinks slightly before shrugging.

Eri joins Lizelle as they go to the third floor. 3A, here it is.

She unlocks the door and lets Eri in first. It was small but decently sized with a lot of woodwork. Lizelle snorted. This is very cottage-core. Too much for you, Shinso. But the rest of the apartment was more Shinso. Minimally decorated with just the basic essentials aka – does anybody even actually live here? Oh and coffee.

The place was in good condition from just a brief look, just a bit dusty and dirty, Lizelle noted. Eri showed her around while Lizelle smiled at how cute Eri was. Up the stairs were the loft and the other bedroom. Once again minimally decorated and mostly empty.

“Are you gonna stay with Toshi from now on?”

“Uh yeah, I think I am,” Lizelle sits next to her on the bed, noticing a slight twinge of sadness from Eri even though her face doesn’t say anything.

Lizelle slightly bumps shoulders: “Don’t worry; I’m still going to see you all the time. Who do you think is gonna babysit you?”

She nuzzles her nose against Eri’s playfully, grinning at Eri’s giggle, sadness gone.

The two lock up and leave, bring Shinso’s keys back for him and head home.

Seeing nobody else home yet she decides to get head start on dinner. She hears Eri watching TV and by the sound of it, it was some superhero anime. Lizelle smiles as Eri cheers for the heroes. Considering the back story of Eri, it’s no wonder she has a great love for heroes. Lizelle growled slightly, thinking of Eri’s past. If I ever get my hands on that abusive foster father of hers... Thank goodness Mirio had noticed the signs of something wrong at her house; first the wounds on her arms, explained away by saying she’s reckless and clumsy even though Eri was the gentlest and most careful of all the kids in his class; and second Eri’s hesitancy to go home. Mirio got Izuku involved and using his high position in town along with some others’ help including the Deputy Mayor Mirai Sasaki, they were able to save Eri.

Lizelle had heard the story from Shinso and Mic. She was happy to meet two of Eri’s saviours today, but didn’t want to say anything in front of Eri in case of trauma triggers. Lizelle quickly focuses back on the food to avoid burning it. She giggles as she is reminded of this morning with Mic and the pancakes. No wonder people who don’t know us think we are related.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner and telling Mic and Aizawa about their day, Lizelle helps Mic wash up as Aizawa takes Eri upstairs to get her ready for bed.

“So which job do you think of going after?” Mic asks as he dries the plates.

“Well Tokoyami from the library has my contact details if he ever needs my help, but I am thinking of maybe doing some part-time at the diner and maybe somewhere else as well. At least like secretary or cashier considering I don’t have the skills to help at the other aspects of the businesses here.”

Mic nods: “Well, that sounds good. After all you won’t have to worry too much about money with the rent being Shinso’s responsibility and you do need the time to work on your real career. But hey...”

Mic puts a gentle hand on Lizelle’s shoulder so she focuses on him.

“... Don’t go throwing yourself out there and stressing yourself out too much. I know you and I know that’s what you’ll do. You are away from your family. You have no one to prove yourself to here and us to support you. And don’t listen to those negative little voices inside your head because you know those are your family’s words and thoughts, not your own.”

Lizelle smiles and gives Mic a hug: “Thanks Papa Mic.”

The two finish up and retire for the night. Everything here is perfect...

A little too perfect.

wait roly polys are real? i thought they were fake, also YES HE DOES LOOK LIKE ONE !!

Please someone tell me I'm not the only one who thinks he looks like a roly poly

Random MHA headcanons bc I said so.

Characters included;

Ashido M. • Kaminari D. • Iida T. • Aizawa S. • Midoriya I. • Sero H.

Masterlist.

✮˚.⋆

☆ Mina Ashido

Half black, half Japanese (mom is black, dad Japanese)

Mainly listens to pop, but also likes hip hop.

I’ve also always Hc’d her to make this group chat with all of girls, and if anyone needs or wants anything that’s like, period related, she sends one of the girls out to help the girl in need out.

Gives off Bi leaning towards women vibes.

✮˚.⋆

☆ Denki Kaminari

I’m sorry, but Denki’s back is covered in lightning looking scars from growing up with his quirk.

Dealt with bad acne as a middle schooler

Has braces

Sweetest guy you’ll ever meet, and is actually really considerate of little things like his friends’ favorite colors, foods, etc.

Is very very very good at gift giving

Allergic to cats (only mild allergy tho)

Has a hamster in his dorm named Hamper

Loves spicy food even though he has like, no tolerance for it.

Has lightning fast reflexes because he loves rhythm games (get it? Lololol)

Smokes weed with Sero and actually kinda has a bit of a tragic back story

Used to be picked on a bit when he was in elementary school, kids would purposefully scare him and make him fry his brain to make him stupid.

When he gets excited or surprised, little bits of electricity shoot out through the ends of his hair.

✮˚.⋆

☆ Tenya Iida

I stand by the fact Tenya has a full skin and hair care routine, and he regularly does self care days with Izuku and Ochaco.

Tenya actually functions best on 5ish hours of sleep, any more or less and he’s basically a zombie.

He LOVES Pokémon, and his favorite Pokémon is Absol, his favorite starter is Tepig.

Totally pretends to hate being called Sonic, but actually loves it

He can only fall asleep if there’s some form of background noise

Wears cologne that smells kinda citrusy

✮˚.⋆

☆ Shota Aizawa

Has a vinyl collection, and regularly listens to them while he cleans, grades, or does really anything.

Let’s Eri braid and play with his hair pretty much whenever she asks.

He loves those hard caramel candies that come in the gold wrappers.

Has a small pin of a cat that Oboro gave him for his 16th birthday, and keeps it pinned up on his favorite jacket.

Can throw knives…scarily well.

Really good at poker for no reason

Was 5’5 until he hit 18, where he had a growth spurt.

He tans really easily, but the lucky bastard really doesn’t ever get sunburns.

Has matching tattoos that he got with Hizashi and Bo. The tattoos were a sun on Hizashi’s wrist, a star on Oboro’s, and a moon on Shota’s

Always paints his nails, and lets Eri paint them and put those little nail decals on them.

Has a heart shaped birthmark on his right shoulder blade.

✮˚.⋆

☆ Izuku Midoriya

Listens to cavetown regularly, and is a diehard fan of their music.

Is actually really good at art, idk I just feel like he’s better at art than he’s depicted in the anime/manga.

Loves banana flavored candy, along with coconut and grape flavors.

Can play the flute and violin.

Learning piano thanks to Momo’s lessons

Started smoking cigarettes his second year at UA

Izuku loves Just Dance. He just does

He had long hair in middle school, before someone stuck gum in his hair, rhem he had to cut it.

✮˚.⋆

☆ Hanta Sero

Obv I hc him to be at least half Hispanic, his mom being Japanese and his dad Hispanic.

He always smells so good, and wears different mixes of colognes and perfumes

Sero loves Spider-Man (fitting eh?) and has a few Spider-Man posters on his walls in his dorm

Stoner, obv

He loves to bake with Sato in the kitchen, he just does okay?

Whenever he’s super tired, he’ll end up speaking in Spanish, cause that’s his first language

Loves to cook, and he and Bakugou often cook together

Plays guitar and saxophone

Took dance lessons as a kid

Drinks a little, but not a lot tbh

Makes the best edibles ANYONE has ever had ever.

Here are the headcannons!! I’ll definitely make more with more characters at some point, but I’m super sleepy, I just got back from celebrating my birthday at a restaurant with my family so I’m kinda tired. I’ll try to get the Bakugou x Ch!Fm!reader out tonight, but idk if I’m going to be able to.

Mentions; @candiiee @cvnt4him @anzs-stuff @d4rlinxs

What I’m (hopefully) gonna release today;

Mha headcannons (for quite a few characters, including Mina, Kaminari, Sero, Izu, Shota and Iida)

K. Bakugou x chubby!fem!reader

H. Sero x chubby!fem!reader.

If I don’t release all of those today, then I’ll release whatever I miss tmr, cause those are the fics I’m working on in order, then I’m knocking out all of my reqs bc they’re building up and I feel bad, dw, they’re coming.

Anyways, here’s some stuff to look forward to!

Sooo…

Lots of people loved my Izuku x Chubby!Fem!reader, and I was wondering. I think I’ll turn them into a series, but I need to know who to do the next one for soooo

⋆˙⟡ Crushing. Tenya Iida x Flirty!Fem!Reader ⟡⋆˙

⋆.˚✮ Valentine’s Day story 6/14 ✮˚.⋆

Warnings; swearing

Masterlist

Enjoy my gorgeous people ✧˖°.

🌸

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Tenya didn’t know what was going on with himself. He was never one for being the best with girls. Sure! He was attractive, but he wasn’t particularly charismatic (at least he didn’t think so) so he didn’t understand why you seemed so interested in him.

The poor boy knew you flirted with others, like Kaminari, Uraraka, Izuku was one of your favorites to tease, and even Bakugou, so why was he so affected by you?

He knew you were just teasing, he knew it was just you being friendly and joking around, but each time you made a comment about his body, or his hair or called him by a pet name, his heart raced faster than he did with his quirk.

Iida had never been too interested in dating in the past, seeing as how it brought a lot of stress and anxiety and sometimes a lot of pain, however, there was something about you.

Maybe it was the smell of weed on your clothes when you came in from smoking with Sero and Kaminari, maybe it was the style of clothing you had, maybe it was your nail polish and the rings on your fingers- but Iida was hooked.

To be fair, you were extremely pretty, so it made sense that the boy would crush on you.

Iida walked into the dorm commons, holding a glass. It was getting late, around 9:30 on a warm Friday night. The class was sitting in a circle, while Kaminari balanced a collective 13 phones on his arms, legs, and even a few on his face, all of them charging.

There was laughter and cheers as another phone was placed on the blonde, going on his forehead, before he sneezed, and the phones went flying off of him.

“What are you doing?” Iida asked with a deadpan, crossing his arms and giving an unimpressed look to the class.

Mina looked up and grinned “oh~! Iida! We were just playing truth or dare! You should play with us!” She encouraged with a wide smile.

Iida knew that truth or dare with his class could get pretty wild, so he opened his mouth to protest “yeah! Cmon Iida, it’ll be fun”

His eyes snapped to where you were sitting, and he felt heat rise to his cheeks. You wanted him to play with your class..

..Damn it. How could he say no to that face?

“F-fine..I suppose I could join this game for a bit..” he mumbled reluctantly.

You and the rest of the class whooped in celebration as he sat in the circle with you all. He was regretting his decision the moment Mina smirked. “So! Y/n! I believe it was your turn! So. Truth or dare?”

You smirked, leaning forward and winking at Mina “dare, lay it on me, mommas”

Mina giggled and hummed before gasping and glancing to Iida with a mischievous glint in her eye, that look making a pit grow in his stomach.

“I dare you to kiss Iida!”

You grinned at the dare. For you, it was simple, for Iida, his world was about to collapse. Him? Kissing Tenya Iida? Himself? Yeah he was sure he was going to pass out. “I-I do not know if th-this is a good idea Y- mph!”

You placed your finger over his lips and laughed “relax. ‘M not gonna kiss you if you don’t want me to, but I think it’ll be fun, Iida” you caressed his cheek after pushing up his glasses for him.

Iida flushed brightly, his eyes widening ever so slightly. Why would you give him the decision?

“I-I…I do not mind I-if you kiss me” he managed to stutter out “it is just for a game after all” he let out a breath and adjusted his glasses.

You smiled gently, running your thumb over his cheek. “That’s what I thought.” You smirked “good boy”

He gasped and blushed, but didn’t get to say anything as you pressed your lips to his.

Iida’s eyes fluttered softly before closing. The kiss was amazing, your lips against his felt amazing.

He was dazed as you pulled back, his eyes slowly fluttering back open, and his cheek bright pink. You smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear “I like your chapstick. You should let me wear it more often”

Iida blushed and looked off to the side, trying to stay cool as you sat back in your spot.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew for sure now, he was crushing on you, and there was nothing he could do about it.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

I love Iida sm, he’s actually so pookie. Feeding the 3 other Iida simps 🙏🏻😩

New c.ai character drop!

**{{user}} is Hitoshi's sister, she was in the support course while Hitoshi had just entered the hero course, joining class 1-A, replacing the weird pervy grape kid. She had her black bulky headphones on like usual and was listening to music idly in her brother's new dorm room, living in her own little bubble. She decided to visit that day, not really caring for her own room, until her brother had left to do something she didn't remember. He said she was welcome to stay a bit longer, so she did. At some point, she had gotten hungry so she went downstairs to make some food, specifically, ramen. She eventually, as she was making the noodles, began swaying to the song. The thing she couldn't remember her brother had left to do was him and the rest of the 1A boys having a sleepover in the common room. At some point in their conversation they had noticed her presence.*

*Some of the boys didn't let their attention stay on her, while others shamelessly stared, such as Kaminari, Sero, Todoroki (though he probably didn't even realize he was staring) and some that stared a little more shamefully, such as Midoriya, Kirishima and Iida. Bakugo, Tokoyami and Shoji were the few boys who were completely distracted, not paying attention to her as they all individually wondered how the **hell** they were wrapped into this "sleepover night".*

*Hitoshi sent warning glares to all of them as they slowly drew their attention back to the rest of their sleepover group*

Kaminari: "Who's *that*?"

He asked, a light blush on his ears.

Hitoshi: "My sister, she's been hanging around in my room."

He raises an eyebrow at the electric blonde, an eye roll following.

Kirishima: "She's... cute."

He admits, sneaking small glances at her every so often.

Midoriya: "I think I've seen her with Hatsume before- is that right, Shinso-kun?"

love in the margins | t. iida

a short, slow-burn library romance, ft. one blueberry muffin, exactly zero jokes, and a boy who takes flashcards way too seriously. (4597 words)

you meet tenya iida under circumstances that can only be described as tragically collegiate: a peer-led study group in the furthest, quietest corner of the campus library, surrounded by half-dead fluorescent bulbs and the palpable despair of students on the brink of burnout.

it's the third week of the semester, and you're already floundering.

you hadn't intended to be. in theory, you were going to stay on top of things—read the chapters early, color-code your notes, maybe even start a study group of your own. but somewhere between sleep deprivation, an avalanche of discussion posts, and the mysterious black hole that is the university's online portal, you fell behind. hard.

introduction to public policy has been your academic nemesis from the start. the textbook reads like legal jargon swallowed a thesaurus. the professor talks in dense, circular metaphors. every quiz is a minefield of trick questions and ambiguous phrasing. you are, in every sense of the word, academically drowning.

so when a brightly colored flyer promising a "collaborative review session" caught your eye on the bulletin board outside the lecture hall, you didn't think twice. you showed up. desperate. caffeinated. terminally underprepared.

and now you regret everything.

the room smells like dry-erase markers and nervous sweat. a whiteboard at the front is covered in illegible graphs. someone has already spilled a latte on the floor. the guy leading the group talks fast and loud, his explanations full of buzzwords and gestures but lacking anything remotely useful. you suspect he's just regurgitating the study guide at a slightly faster pace.

the other students seem to agree.

one by one, they start to trickle out. a girl leaves with the excuse of "office hours." a guy mutters something about dinner. another just quietly packs up and disappears, not even bothering with a pretense.

by the end of the hour, only two people remain: you, clinging to a futile hope of salvaging your gpa... and him.

he sits across from you with the kind of posture that makes your back ache just looking at him. tall, composed, and absurdly polished—like someone who writes essays three days early and carries a spare pen in case someone forgets theirs. his navy-blue sweater is wrinkle-free. his glasses catch the dim library light. his notes are not just color-coded—they're thematically organized, annotated with footnotes and marginalia in tiny, immaculate handwriting.

he hasn't spoken once. he hasn't needed to.

he radiates competence like it's a moral obligation.

"you're still here?" you ask, more surprise than judgment.

the boy looks up, blinking as if surfacing from a well of deep concentration. he adjusts his glasses with a practiced motion.

"yes," he says, voice clipped and oddly formal. "you are as well."

you arch an eyebrow. "no offense, but... are you actually getting something out of this?"

his expression doesn't change, but he tilts his head slightly—almost like he's assessing you.

"of course," he replies. "engaging in structured group review enhances cognitive retention and contextual understanding. it's an effective method for consolidating knowledge prior to a high-stakes assessment."

you blink. "so... yes?"

he doesn't hesitate. "yes."

you snort—audibly. it escapes before you can stop it. and to your surprise, a faint smile flickers across his mouth.

"i'm tenya iida," he says, extending a hand across the table with the kind of precision reserved for formal introductions at university mixers.

you stare at his hand for a moment, then take it. his grip is warm. steady. confident in a way that makes you sit up a little straighter.

"y/n," you say.

his smile grows just slightly. "it's a pleasure to meet you, y/n."

he releases your hand and immediately pulls out a second set of flashcards from his folder. of course he has a second set.

"would you like to quiz each other?" he asks, dead serious. "alternating questions could be a mutually beneficial method of review."

you stare at him.

he stares back.

something about him—the earnestness, the posture, the complete and utter lack of sarcasm—disarms you. it's like he's the living embodiment of academic sincerity. you're not sure whether to laugh or agree.

you do both.

"...sure."

you don't know it yet, but that's the beginning.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't plan on seeing him again.

it's not personal. it's just that study groups are the social equivalent of jury duty—temporary, miserable, and best forgotten. you assume tenya iida is one of those hyper-dedicated overachievers who only exist within the academic ecosystem. he probably recedes into a cloud of flashcards and moral fiber as soon as the library closes.

you are, however, proven categorically wrong the following wednesday at exactly 8:03 a.m.

you enter the campus café half-awake, mildly hostile, and fully dependent on the idea of caffeine as a substitute for sleep. the plan is simple: grab something with enough espresso to make your eye twitch, stare blankly at your phone for fifteen minutes, and pretend the crushing weight of institutional learning isn't slowly hollowing you out from the inside.

but fate—or perhaps syllabus-based divine intervention—has other plans.

because when you step inside, there he is.

same posture. same glasses. same stupidly crisp button-down like it didn't just come out of someone's laundry but graduated magna cum laude from it. he's seated at a table by the window, surrounded by highlighters arranged like soldiers, reading the textbook that has been your personal tormentor since week one.

and next to his coffee?

a single blueberry muffin.

you hesitate, caught in that weird space where it's too late to pretend you didn't see him, but also too awkward to walk past without acknowledging him.

before you can make a decision, he looks up—and smiles.

not just a polite, "ah yes, i recognize you" smile.

a real smile. brief, but sincere. like he's actually glad you're here.

he waves you over.

you hate how quickly your legs respond.

"didn't expect to see you here," you say as you slide into the seat across from him, instantly aware of how tired you look in comparison to his perfectly combed hair and terrifying punctuality.

"i study here most mornings," he replies. "the ambient noise level is consistent, and the natural lighting is optimal for focus."

you blink. "that is... alarmingly specific."

he inclines his head. "i find that consistency breeds productivity."

you want to tease him, but the truth is, it's kind of admirable. alarming. but admirable.

he gestures to the pastry between you.

"would you like half?" he asks. "it's fresh. and i believe we have, at this point, established a cordial enough rapport to justify the sharing of breakfast items."

you stare at him.

"do you always offer muffins to people you've only studied with once?"

he doesn't even flinch. "only when they look tired enough to deserve one."

your mouth twitches.

"you've been saving that line, haven't you."

he looks mildly offended. "no. though i could annotate it in my planner if you'd like."

you laugh—genuinely this time—and accept the muffin. it's warm, sweet, and annoyingly perfect. just like him.

you don't pull out your flashcards. not immediately. you sit there in companionable silence, splitting the muffin and sipping your drinks like it's something you've always done. like this is normal.

you tell yourself this isn't a date. obviously.

it's too early in the day for romance. you're both clutching textbooks like weapons. he hasn't even made a single joke. (you're not sure he knows how.)

and yet—

when he leans in to show you a section he highlighted—carefully annotated with footnotes and marginal notes that are somehow neater than your typed essays—your shoulders brush. you don't pull away.

he doesn't, either.

later, you realize that you don't even remember what chapter you reviewed.

but you remember the sound of his voice as he quietly explained it. the way he passed you the last bite of muffin without saying anything. the way his fingers curled ever so slightly when he set his pen down between you.

you remember thinking, with a strange flutter in your chest: this could be something.

not yet.

but maybe.

⋆˚✿˖°

you tell yourself this is still just about school.

you repeat it like a mantra as you meet him at the library every tuesday and thursday without fail, settling into your now-permanent seats by the windows like assigned partners in some ongoing group project that no one else remembers being assigned to. his bag always lands on the table first, followed by a reusable water bottle the size of your emotional baggage. he brings extra highlighters now—plural—and starts leaving a green one near your elbow like he’s not even thinking about it.

you, in turn, stop pretending to study anywhere else.

because the truth is, you don’t concentrate better when he’s around—not even a little. he’s distracting in the worst possible way: tall and tidy and terminally composed, with a voice like a podcast host and a smile that you pretend not to notice every time he glances over at you with something like pride in his eyes.

and the worst part?

it’s working.

your grades are going up. you understand policy terminology now. you caught yourself referencing a case study unprompted in another class, and the look your professor gave you made it feel like you’d just been knighted.

you’d thank him for it—sincerely—if he didn’t look so smug every time you nailed a quiz.

“you’ve clearly been applying yourself,” he says one evening, looking over your annotated notes like they’re some kind of sacred text.

“i’ve been applying your study methods,” you reply, then instantly regret it, because the smile he gives you in return is devastating.

and that would be fine—annoying, but fine—if it weren’t for the fact that he’s started sitting closer.

not drastically. not inappropriately. just... close.

close enough that when you both lean in to look at something on the same page, your shoulders brush. your knees knock. his hand lingers near yours when he passes you a pen, and he doesn’t move away quickly. sometimes—and this is particularly evil—his thigh rests against yours under the table for minutes at a time, and you’re too proud (and too panicked) to say anything.

you’re not flirting. not really.

you’re both too stubborn for that.

but something is happening. you just don’t know what to call it.

one thursday afternoon, the sky is gray and heavy with the threat of rain. the windows in the library fog up slightly, making the whole room feel smaller, softer, somehow more intimate. your shoes are damp. your brain is fried. you’re barely holding onto your focus.

but he’s already there, sitting at your usual table with a mug from the downstairs café and a folder labeled “legislation review: week 5.” there’s a muffin. of course there’s a muffin.

he looks up as you approach. smiles. “you’re early.”

you blink. “so are you.”

he shrugs. “anticipation is efficient.”

“what does that even mean?”

he hesitates, like he’s genuinely considering it. “it means i enjoy this.”

your heart does something stupid.

you take your seat before your face can give you away.

thirty minutes in, your brain stops processing information entirely.

you’re trying to focus. really, you are. but his leg is pressed against yours and you swear it’s getting closer every time he shifts. it’s not even the contact itself that’s distracting—it’s the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice. like it’s just normal. like this is how he always studies with people.

(does he?)

(no. he can’t.)

“y/n?” he says, and you jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“hm?”

“i asked if you’d like to walk through the case brief again. you seem... distant.”

you clear your throat and try not to sound like someone whose brain has just been wiped by a thigh. “yeah, no, i’m fine. just tired.”

he nods solemnly. “understandable. your coursework has been particularly intensive.”

he says it like he knows your schedule better than you do—which he might. you’ve seen his planner. you’re pretty sure he’s memorized the entire academic calendar, national holidays included.

you try to return to your notes.

you fail.

eventually, you lean back in your chair and exhale.

“okay,” you say. “i need to ask you something.”

he looks up, immediately attentive. “yes?”

you glance around—no one’s within earshot— and lean in slightly.

“this thing we do.”

he blinks. “studying?”

“no. i mean yes, but no.” you gesture vaguely between the two of you. “this. the muffins. the flashcards. the... sitting so close i can smell your laundry detergent.”

he goes still.

“i’m just trying to understand if we’re, like...” you hesitate. “is this just a really intense academic friendship or are we... flirting?”

he doesn’t speak for a long moment.

then, carefully: “i hadn’t realized my proximity was making you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not!” you say, too quickly. “it’s just... confusing.”

“confusing how?”

you fidget with the cap of your pen. “because we do things that feel... date-adjacent. and i don’t know if that’s just how you are with people or if i’m—” you stop yourself before you can say not imagining it.

his brows draw together, faintly perplexed. “i apologize. i didn’t mean to cause confusion.”

you blink. “so you are flirting?”

his ears go pink. just slightly. “i wouldn’t define it as flirting. but i do enjoy spending time with you.”

you squint at him. “that’s not a no.”

he hesitates. then, quieter: “it’s not.”

oh.

you stare at him. he stares back.

and then—like the universe can’t stand unresolved tension—your knees bump again.

but this time, he doesn’t shift away.

and neither do you.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don’t call it a date.

not out loud.

not even in your head, really—not technically. because you’re not dating. you haven’t kissed. there’s been no confession. there’s been no moment of clarity where either of you has stood dramatically in the rain and said i think about you all the time, which, honestly, is a bit disappointing.

but you still change your outfit three times before meeting him for coffee on saturday.

you still hesitate in front of the mirror, adjusting your sleeves and second-guessing your hair, muttering get a grip under your breath like it’s a prayer.

you still pause at the door to the café, one hand on the handle, and remind yourself—again—that this isn’t a date.

you’re just meeting up. casually. like friends.

friends who sometimes sit with their knees touching under library tables. friends who share muffins and steal glances and somehow always find reasons to linger a little too long in doorways.

friends who, if they weren’t so emotionally constipated, might’ve figured this out already.

but you push the door open anyway, and the little bell overhead chimes bright and familiar.

he’s already there.

of course he is.

tenya iida is punctual to the point of pathology. if you told him to meet you in the afterlife at 3:00 p.m. sharp, he’d be there early, holding a clipboard and a fully prepared powerpoint.

he’s sitting near the window, back straight, hands folded politely in his lap. his hair is a little messy from the wind outside. his sweater is navy—clean, simple, a little oversized in a way that makes you stare longer than you should.

he sees you and stands immediately, which is both adorable and completely unnecessary.

“you’re early,” he says, voice warm.

“so are you.”

he doesn’t reply, but the smile he gives you is soft around the edges.

you order something with too much caffeine and not enough nutritional value. he offers to pay, like he always does. you decline, like you always do. it’s a silent tradition now, a ritual of stubbornness. he lets it go with a quiet nod, but not without giving you that look—the one that says i was raised right and this physically pains me.

you find a booth in the corner, a little more secluded than the rest. the sun spills in through the window in soft golden streaks, and for a moment, it feels like you’re somewhere outside of time.

“i’ve never seen you wear that color,” he says as you sit down.

you glance at your shirt. “yeah? too much?”

he shakes his head immediately. “no. it suits you.”

your mouth goes a little dry.

you recover quickly, leaning back and sipping your drink like it doesn’t mean anything. like the warmth crawling up your neck is from the coffee and not the compliment.

“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “what’s on the agenda for today? rigorous academic analysis? philosophical debates about economic ethics? impromptu pop quizzes?”

he tilts his head. “i thought we might take the day off.”

you blink. “from... studying?”

“from everything.” he shrugs, a little sheepishly. “i realized we’ve never spent time together without a textbook between us.”

your heart does something strange.

“you mean like... just hang out?”

“yes.”

“like friends.”

he hesitates. just barely. “yes. like friends.”

the words hang in the air between you—awkward, uncertain, but not unkind.

you nod, slowly. “okay. yeah. we can do that.”

and you do.

you talk. not about school, not about deadlines or group projects or the upcoming midterm. you talk about dumb childhood stories and weird food preferences and the fact that he once tried to start a recycling initiative in his middle school and was very upset when no one followed the sorting chart correctly.

you tell him about your obsession with terrible reality TV. he listens with the seriousness of a man taking notes for a thesis.

he tells you about his older brother, and how much he looks up to him. you tell him about the stray cat that used to follow you home in high school, even though you never fed it.

he laughs—really laughs—when you tell him about the time you broke your nose in gym class trying to dodge a volleyball and ran straight into a bleacher.

“i’m sorry,” he says between gasps. “i don’t mean to laugh at your pain.”

“no, you do,” you say, grinning. “and it’s okay. i would too.”

at one point, your knees bump under the table again. this time, neither of you pulls away.

it’s later than you mean it to be when you finally leave the café. the sun is dipping low, the sky tinged with lavender and orange. the street is quiet, and the wind bites just enough to make you zip your jacket up.

you walk together. not toward the library, not toward another class—just aimlessly. like people who have nowhere else to be.

it’s peaceful.

and weirdly... intimate.

you’re not talking. not really. the silence between you is comfortable now, lived-in. every so often your hands brush, and you wonder—wildly, stupidly —what would happen if you just reached out.

but you don’t.

because this isn’t a date.

it’s not.

except maybe... it is.

“this was nice,” you say, when you finally reach the crosswalk where you’ll part ways.

he nods. “i enjoyed it.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“we should do it again,” you say. casually. like it doesn’t mean anything.

but he looks at you like it does.

“i’d like that,” he says. and then—“you’re very easy to be around.”

your breath catches.

you want to say something. you’re easy to be around too. i think about you when we’re not together. i don’t know if i’m imagining this but i hope i’m not.

instead, you say, “you’re weirdly charming, you know that?”

he blinks. “i—thank you?”

you grin. “it’s a compliment. mostly.”

he laughs. soft. pleased. “i’ll take it.”

he takes a small step back, like he’s about to leave —but then pauses.

“y/n?”

“yeah?”

“if this had been a date...” he clears his throat. “would that have been... agreeable to you?”

you stare at him.

then, slowly—carefully—you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “i think it would’ve been.”

he smiles. it’s small. tentative. but it lights up his whole face.

“then maybe next time, we won’t pretend.”

you feel like you’re floating.

“deal.”

he nods once. then, with a strange, lingering sort of hesitation—like he’s not ready to go yet—he turns to leave.

you watch him go.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel... hopeful.

⋆˚✿˖°

you don't know what you're expecting.

when he texts you the next morning—same time tuesday? not for studying this time. if you're free.—you stare at it for a good ten minutes before responding. not because you’re unsure of your answer (you’re not), but because the implication hits like a freight train.

not for studying.

not as friends.

just you. just him. again.

this time, it’s a little different.

this time, he’s calling it what it is.

you don’t overthink your reply (for once). you just type yeah. i’m free and throw your phone face-down before your heart can beat out of your chest.

and when tuesday rolls around, you are twenty minutes early.

you tell yourself it’s because the weather’s nice and the walk was shorter than usual and you didn’t want to cut it close. but the truth is, you’ve been ready since noon.

you’re wearing the sweater he said he liked once, months ago, after a study session where he handed you a highlighter and your fingers brushed and you both paused like the world might end. it’s not even your warmest or your nicest sweater. it’s just... the one he looked at a little too long.

you don’t want to admit what that means.

you sit in your usual seat by the window. a small table, worn edges. your coffee in hand. no textbooks. no flashcards. just the sound of the café around you and the low simmer of anticipation in your chest.

he walks in three minutes early, which is basically scandalous by iida standards.

you glance up, and the second your eyes meet, he smiles.

it’s not his usual polite, committee-appropriate smile.

it’s something else.

something softer.

he sits down across from you like he’s been doing it his whole life.

you stare at him for a second too long.

“you’re early,” he says, like it’s a fact worth noting. his voice is gentler than usual.

“so are you.”

“a rare occurrence.”

“should i be concerned?”

he laughs—quietly, warmly. “i thought you might say that.”

you both go quiet.

not awkward quiet. just... full.

full of everything you’re not saying.

you sip your drink and hope your heart doesn’t explode.

twenty minutes in, you realize you’ve forgotten what time it is.

again.

you’re talking about something stupid—a professor you both silently hate but never speak ill of in class—and he’s mimicking their voice in a whisper, hand shielding his mouth, and you’re laughing.

like genuinely, honestly laughing.

like you don’t have a hundred things weighing you down.

he always does that. makes everything feel easier. lighter.

it’s dangerous, how much you like it.

how much you like him.

you haven’t said it. not out loud. not even to yourself.

but the truth is: you’re in trouble.

deep trouble.

because tenya iida has the power to wreck you in a way no one else ever has.

not because he’s dramatic. not because he’s charming (though he is, in that annoying, understated, golden-retriever-with-a-perfect-credit-score kind of way).

but because he’s steady.

because he means things.

because when he looks at you, it’s like you’re someone worth understanding.

and you’ve never been loved gently before.

not like this.

you walk out together.

neither of you mentions how long you stayed. it’s dark out, but neither of you cares.

you walk close, side by side. your hands brush once, then again. his fingers twitch toward yours, and you pretend not to notice—not because you don’t want it, but because you’re not sure what happens if you reach back.

you talk about nothing. and everything.

he tells you about the time his older brother accidentally dyed his hair blue with a shampoo prank and how no one in their house was allowed to mention it for an entire year.

you tell him about the time you accidentally set off a fire alarm trying to microwave leftover curry in a dorm that very explicitly prohibited strong-smelling food.

“you’re a menace,” he says, laughing.

you bump your shoulder into his. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

he glances at you. “i didn’t say that.”

you both stop at the crosswalk—the same one where you stood days ago.

the same one where he asked if this had been a date...

you’re not pretending anymore.

and yet.

you don’t know what to say.

you just look at him, the wind brushing through your sleeves, your fingers cold where they’re shoved into your pockets.

he looks at you.

longer than before.

long enough that your heart stumbles.

and then—quietly—he says, “can i ask you something?”

you nod. “of course.”

his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. careful.

“why me?”

you blink. “what?”

“why... this?” he gestures gently between you. “i know i’m not the most exciting person. i’m not particularly funny or... spontaneous.”

you frown. “iida.”

“i’m just trying to understand,” he says. “why you keep showing up.”

you want to say because i like the way you talk when you’re tired, or because your laugh makes me want to listen to every dumb story you’ve ever told.

you want to say because i’ve never felt so calm next to another person in my entire life.

instead, you say, “because when i’m with you, i don’t feel like i have to be anyone else.”

his expression shifts.

his jaw tightens. his eyes soften.

he takes a step closer.

“i don’t want to mess this up,” he says.

“you’re not.”

“i don’t want to misread it.”

you exhale, a laugh escaping despite yourself. “you’re not.”

his hand lifts, hesitates—then lands gently against your cheek.

you stop breathing.

“may i kiss you?” he asks.

you nod before your brain catches up.

“yeah,” you whisper. “you may.”

and he does.

it’s not rushed.

it’s not fiery or desperate.

it’s patient. reverent. like he’s memorizing the feeling. like he’s been waiting for the right moment and this, finally, is it.

his lips press softly against yours, and your hands lift automatically to his jacket, holding on, grounding yourself.

when you part, he leans his forehead against yours.

you’re both quiet for a moment.

then he says, “i’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

you smile. “i could tell.”

“was i too obvious?”

“painfully.”

he laughs, arms sliding around your waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“this is still new,” he says. “i know that.”

you nod.

“but i’m willing to take it slow.”

“okay.”

“i’ll be patient.”

“okay.”

he pauses. “and i’d like to take you to dinner. an actual dinner. with reservations and menus and probably overpriced appetizers.”

you grin. “are you asking me on a real date?”

he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“yes,” he says. “i’m asking.”

“then yes,” you reply. “i’m saying yes.”

you walk home hand-in-hand.

you don’t have to say anything.

it’s not pretending anymore.

and for once—finally—that feels like enough.

hii!! i love ur smaus i read the shinso and dabi fatherhood ones and they were amazing 🩷🩷

I wanted to request a fatherhood smau with either monoma or iida and ofc no pressure 🫶🏻

parenting.exe | t. iida

tenya iida is doing his best. you're doing... something. your child is doing whatever they want

Midoriya: *calling todoroki to get back up for Iida during the Hosu incident*

Todoroki: *loud sigh* do I have to?

Midoriya: ...Y-YES!?

__

fic: A Line Drawn in the Sand by AWeeBitRustyEh

My lovely boy❤️

Even at the first reading, it seemed strange to me that Iida was not injured in any way after I flew into the asphalt at SUPERSONIC speed. After watching the anime, I had even more questions. Here's the little AU where Iida got hurt

📣OFFICIAL IIDAMEI WEEK PROMPTS AND DATES!!

I’m happy to announce that, i will be hosting this year’s #IidaMeiweek2025 during May! From my knowledge they hadn’t had a week so I took it upon myself to finally give these two geniuses their spot to shine together! 🏃‍♂️

Hope you guys can participate! And please make sure to use the hashtag when the week starts, I will be sharing all of your awesome art, writing, edits, etc. on my socials, and some will even be the highlight if the day!

Lets show some love to a mechanic and her car!

💙⚙️🩷

Thinking of making an Iidamei week

Begins starts the 12th of april and ends the 18th (Hatsume’s bday)

How does one organize a week? And what prompts would be the most fun?

Also will anyone be willing to participate?

She locked in

Laugh harder Mei, maybe next time he’ll let you mess with his engine

After nine months this kid had the audacity to come out looking exactly like his dad

Double post! For my followers here that thought i was dead…

Merry Christmas! 🎄 Forgot to post this one, kinda have this tumblr abandoned lmao srry!

He loves his kids and wife sm

She CAN and WILL fix him

Explaining your newest baby, while your husband gives you a long overdue bath.

Iida busted out the wringer and scrubber to get all that soot off of her. Protesting at first, she prolly enjoyed him caring for her afterwards! 🫧

Distracting his wife so she doesn’t pull an all nighter. Im so happy they got married and had a happily ever after!

Height difference

She loves climbing, while he likes leaning 😈🙏

Use it as you will

Normal day at the Iida-Hatsume Household💥

Don’t worry he loves his family, but just questions his wife’s methods…just a bit

Happily married with a life time of explosions 💥❤️

She also had all of his babies fr fr

Why is bro acting like they ain’t married and like if he doesn’t have two kids with her 🤔

Hedgsume and Iidaberman

He loves his little eccentric hyperactive hedgehog wife. 🙏