Iida Tenya - Blog Posts

presenting iida tenya: protector of ua chairs

Watch "💀Rotten Rotten Zombie Meme💀 | BNHA" on YouTube

Made my first animation meme!! It's also got a story behind it, so if you're interested in that check the video description.

Also does the Halloween version of the BNHA cast have an AU name other than just Halloween AU? I've been calling it the Cryptid AU since it came out. :V

Happy Halloween!

Hope you guys had fun! Meanwhile, I drew a quick pic of these two good boys in matching outfits! A Frankenstein needs a mad scientist!

Hey hey! <3 So in the next span of days i’m going to be posting old artwork of mine! Sorry i’ve been so dead recently, I just keep forgetting to post stuff here once i’m finished with it hsdfgk. I’m mostly active on amino!

This was for a ship week on amino, and Iida was the main boyo. He needs so much love. I hardcore ship my baby with him a h h. It was a study session prompt, but knowing Takumi, he probably got bored and wanted to watch something.

ive been reading a ton of fantasy tddk fics so i uh made another au

ive been trying to avoid making more fantasy au's because i know i can and will make like 20 fantasy au's and i feel like that would get confusing haha... but uh yeah i already caved with a diffrent fantasy au already sooooo

mostly a vauge plot still but, basic fantasy world set up. fairies/the fae in this are just like a race but their current king (afo) is like super evil and his tyranical rule makes everyone else thing that their whole race is a bunch of people eating monsters,

deku is a fairy in disguise who ran from home ages ago and swore loyalty to the crown after he met todoroki at a town festival, he's horribly scared cause any time fairies are found in endeavor their killed and he's here hanging out in the same building as the king, flirting with death much?

prince todoroki meanwhile keeps having this weird reocurring nightmare where his best friend, and royal advisor, midoriya turns into a fairy and dies trying to protect him and its upsetting, not because his friend might be a fairy, but because he really doesn't want him to die, and he can never get a clear look at what kills midoriya so he's not sure what he needs to be looking out for, or how long he has left, also he's slowly realising that his feelings for midoriya may infact be more than platonic which isnt helping.

Best Friends Make the Best Lovers

Relationships were hard. Midoriya knew that the moment he was born. His father was absent before Midoriya was old enough to form a memory he could recollect of the man. Midoriya had a bad start, to say the least. He never gave up hope when it came to his father's return, but when he had someone as kind as Masaru Bakugo in his life, Father's Day didn’t feel as empty.

When things get good, Midoriya had to be prepared to lose it all. He lost everyone as soon as things were good. It was a recurring theme. When Midoriya turned four years old and no quirk arrived when he was nearing five years old, he was diagnosed quirkless. All of his friends, the remaining family he knew, all adults who were in his life, and the Bakugo family were gone faster than his father.

Things were less than good. Despite those that bully him and treated him like the scum of the earth, he had the unconditional love of his mother. Quirklessness was seen as this contagious disease, at least that is how people spoke about quirkless people. Midoriya got used to the feeling of being avoided and he became accustomed to humiliation.

As if the world was giving him a solid, Midoriya fell in love at the prime age of thirteen. He had been on those “talk with strangers” websites where you video-called random people. After many failed attempts, someone finally came along and appeared to be the missing piece he was desperately searching for.

This mystery person's name was Hayabusa Teru. He had beautiful electric pink eyes and his hair was a cotton candy blue. He seemed so amazed by meeting a quirkless person that he didn’t think twice about exchanging numbers. After all, quirkless people were rare.

After they took their conversation elsewhere, they got to know one another more. Teru was fourteen, about 13 months older than Midoriya. Neither minded, it kept things interesting and it was expected. There was something so exciting about meeting someone near your age that seemed like a genuine person.

Teru lived about thirty minutes away from Midoriya. Midoriya figured that was the case as he put on the setting “people near me”. The two clicked instantly. They’d continue to video call, text, and occasionally hang out.

Their friendship was strong and seemed unbreakable. That lasted for half a year before they started dating. A year later while Midoriya was sitting in class, he felt his phone buzz. Opening his phone he saw no notification so he let it rest.

What Midoriya didn’t know was that Teru had blocked him on all forms of social media. Midoriya was defeated. He gave up. Not even a week later, Bakugo told him to kill himself and he got turned down by his idol. Midoriya believed things couldn’t get worse, and surprisingly things didn’t.

Midoriya grabbed the attention of All Might and earned the quirk of ultimate power. It seemed that one person was enough to turn his entire world upside down.

Midoriya was now training and eating healthier. His mother was finally getting into the groove of things as Midoriya was finally pushing forward again and working on himself. As if things couldn’t have gotten better, Midoriya passed the entrance exam and got into UA. Midoriya was achieving his dream and focusing on himself for once.

Being a UA student, of course, was no cakewalk and it didn’t go without flaw, but Midoriya made it. Almost instantly, Midoriya fit right into the new setting. Midoriya made friends, was socializing, and had adults in his life that actually cared. Even better, he finally had father figures in his life that were a million times better than the one he gave up on.

Despite everyone seeming to go perfectly, there was something that had been bugging Midoriya. That was love. Midoriya found himself surrounded by amazing people that made him feel amazing. Part of him tried to shut out the idea of romance. He didn’t think he had the right to entertain the idea of a relationship when he needed to put all his focus into becoming the best hero.

No matter how hard he tried to focus solely on hero work and friendships, his heart was too big. He couldn’t help but be with his close group of friends and feel flustered half of the time their attention was on him. Hell, a large portion of his classmates managed to find a way to fluster him.

Iida was well-built, tall, respectful, and really fun to be around. He was protective, realistic, and probably Midoriya’s closest friend. Iida was very animated and was a whole show to Midoriya. Midoriya wanted to melt at the very thought of dating him.

Uraraka was beautiful. She moved with grace and radiated so much power with her determination that it left Midoriya breathless. She was determined to be a powerful her and support her family. She was smart, kind, extremely considerate, and inspiring. She got him all sorts of disheveled when she had him going.

Todoroki was perfection. He doesn’t understand social cues, making him awkward and intimidating. That meant Todoroki was always fluctuating between cute and hot. The two had been through a lot together, mentally and physically. Midoriya admired Todoroki and his development. Todoroki was a very caring person. Midoriya longed to be held in the warm yet cold touch of his best friend.

Then there was Kirishima, Kaminari, Bakugo, Sero, Momo, and Aoyama, and don’t even get him started on those outside of his class. They all had their own unique traits and were very entertaining. They all trusted his intuition and were fun to be around.

For a bit, he thought Monoma was fair game. It would take some work, but Midoriya was willing to put in the effort. The Monoma open his mouth during their joint training and Midoriya didn’t think he’d ever forgive Monoma for saying something so cruel about Bakugo.

Little did Midoriya know, that everyone he was interested in was absolutely head over heels for him. Bakugo would never admit to it, ever, but it was true. They all craved to see Midoriya blush. They all watched him carry on through the day with a relaxed smile. It brought them joy.

Aizawa seemed to have gotten a private message from Nezu as he checked his phone from his sleeping bag. Irritated about his nap being disturbed, he glared at his phone.

“Problem Child. You have a visitor,” announced Aizawa tiredly.

Midoriya raised a brow, confused as to who could be visiting. “Where do I go? Who is it?”

“I don’t know kid. I guess just go to Nezu’s office,” guessed Aizawa, immediately going back to slumber.

Midoriya checked the time and decided to leave his stuff in class. There were still about twenty minutes left and the visit shouldn’t be anything too major. Before he could even get out of his seat there was a knock on the door.

Iida jumped up, claiming his role as class representative. “I shall see who it is as Mister Aizawa is asleep!”

Midoriya smiled, getting up himself. “Well, I have to go anyways, Iida. You should’ve let me do it.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize that. Well, I’m already up so let me hold the door open for you!” offered Iida proudly as he reached for the handle.

Pulling open the door, Midoriya happily stood next to Iida. Looking directly at the person who had knocked, Midoriya felt like the air was knocked out of him.

Vibrant pink eyes. Cotton candy blue hair.

Midoriya felt his eyes widen, staring at the person who had ghosted him well over a year ago.

“Teru?”

The entire class felt their eyes widen that Midoriya knew the handsome teen. The boy looked down at Midoriya with an excited face.

“Izuku?”

The class found themselves fully invested the moment Midoriya’s first name was used.

Midoriya looked at the boy for a second longer before his shoulders sank a bit. “Glad to know you’re alive. Anyways I have a visitor to meet.”

“Izuku, I’m the visitor!” cheered Teru happily, looking at Midoriya for a response.

Midoriya seemed to close himself off. Taking a step back and crossing his arms, Midoriya grew suspicious. “How’d you find me?”

“I went to surprise you at your home but when I got there your mom said you stayed at the dorms in UA. So here I am,” explained Teru quickly.

Midoriya was not satisfied. Honestly, Midoriya was pissed, beyond pissed. What right did Teru have to come back a year after ghosting him only to act like they never stopped talking in the first place? Teru wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Midoriya was not going to give him what he wanted.

“You better have a good explanation as to why you suddenly want to surprise me,” demanded Midoriya, giving Teru a warning with irritation laced in his voice.

The rest of the group grew uneasy. Midoriya was almost never angry when it came to people. Majority of the time he’s angry when fighting a villain or when someone is messing with the people he cares about. This was different. This was very, very different.

Teru seemed surprised by the reaction, nervous himself. “What are you talking about Izuku? Can’t your boyfriend surprise you?”

Iida felt his glasses slip down his nose a bit as his jaw dropped. Tsuyu and Uraraka exchanged a glance, mortified at the reality of Midoriya having had a boyfriend this entire time. Bakugo was blowing up a fuse while Todoroki was still trying to process the fact that Midoriya was in a relationship.

Momo was disappointed but more fearful of the fact she had flirted with someone already in a relationship. Kirishima ignored the pain of missing his chance while Kaminari wasn’t subtle with his exaggerated crying. Sero slammed his face on the desk defeatedly, angry that someone like Teru had got to Midoriya first. Aoyama frowned, a little hurt as he had gotten his hopes up.

Midoriya's scoffing snapped them all out of their self-pity. “I haven’t seen, let alone heard from you in a year. What about that makes you think we are still dating?”

The group all felt themselves perk up. Midoriya was single and the douchebag before them was making an idiot of himself.

“Izuku! I— I had to-,” stammered Teru, unsure of what lies to spit out.

Cutting Teru off, Midoriya coldly snapped, “Midoriya. You call me Midoriya now.”

Teru felt his eyes widen, looking at the group of students watching with wide eyes. Midoriya felt the group's stares and headed out the door.

“Hall. Now.”

Teru didn’t hesitate, preferring some privacy. Midoriya turned to face Teru, visibly upset.

“Where were you? What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t contact me for over a year?” shouted Midoriya, hissing at the bastard.

Teru, not having an excuse, lied, “I broke my phone and I couldn’t get a new one and my mom was-.”

Midoriya cut off Teru again by smacking him hard across the face. Teru snapped his gaze right back to Midoriya, genuinely shocked by the hit that landed on him.

“Don’t you dare utter another lie to me? Who do you think I am?” yelled Midoriya in disbelief. The anger diminished and hurt refiled the void, his eyes searching Teru’s face, trying to find anything that signaled Teru actually cared.

Teru hesitated to reach out, slightly scared of being smacked again. “Okay, I’m sorry, but. Look... I just... I needed a break from everything, including you.”

Midoriya laughed at that, disgusted with the insensitivity of Teru. “You never once said any of this was a problem. Not once had you even tried to explain that something was wrong or you wanted a break. You didn’t have to fucking ghost me!”

“I know and I’m sorry. I really miss you and I’m back. I’m here to stay. Let’s do this,” pleaded Teru, taking Midoriya's hand as he whispered, “I really like you.”

Midoriya looked at Teru with a disturbed expression. He couldn’t understand why Teru was going out of his way to do this. His withdrawn body language should have said enough. Besides, Midoriya had clearly proved he is not one to be messed with and is skeptical of believing anything Teru was saying.

Midoriya was filled with many emotions from the out-of-blue confession. He was embarrassed, appalled, and a bit sympathetic. It was clear to say Midoriya was nauseated as he shook his head in a pleading manner. “Please don’t do this. I can’t.”

“Can’t what? I said I like you,” backtracked Teru, slightly panicking as the upcoming rejection was settling in.

“I don’t trust you. Let me go Teru,” confessed Midoriya, his eyes locking with Teru’s.

The two stood, looking at each other with faces of distaste. Teru let out a breath and narrowed his eyes. “You really became stuck up,” spat Teru.

Midoriya smiled with a dangerous glint in his eyes as he laughed at the insult. “And you became a delusional asshole.”

The taller boy stepped off, backing away. Teru had to remind himself that he was in U.A. High and he was pushing his limits with a student there. His best odds were with him biting his tongue. Midoriya looked at Teru for a moment more before opening the door to the classroom.

“Leave before I report you,” threatened Midoriya before stepping inside. He didn’t bother to turn around and spare Teru a glance. There were no pleasantries for Midoriya to send Teru off with.

The rest of the class had been in a circle, all of them mumbling about something. With Midoriya’s voice distracting them from their conversation, they all turned their heads to face Midoriya. It was clear the group was happy to see him return. The sight made Midoriya’s heart warm.

Midoriya grinned at the class, waving. “Sorry about him! I really don’t know why he suddenly showed up!”

Todoroki walked over, standing before his friend. “So that guy isn’t your boyfriend?”

“No, things ended between us over a year ago. Honestly, I hate that he pulled a stunt like that,” whined Midoriya, complaining.

Iida nodded, understanding the anger Midoriya must have felt upon seeing his ex. “So, why’d he come back?”

Midoriya had to think about it for a second, frowning. “Actually... I don’t know. He acted like we never broke up. Technically we never did, but he was the one who had ghosted me. I guess he got lonely, saw I was doing amazing, and expected me to be waiting for him to come back.”

Wishing she had beaten up the guy when she had a chance, Uraraka gasped, “He ghosted you? What a jerk!”

“How long were you even together?” questioned Tsuyu, irritated by the information as well.

“About a year,” answered Midoriya casually, looking up at the group that was shooting him questions.

“Wow! Talk about cowardly!” shouted Kaminari, looking at Midoriya in disbelief.

Momo nodded, resting a worried hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “That must’ve been really rough for you Midoriya. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we are glad you handled things the way you did.”

Bakugo raised a crackling hand and scoffed, “I would’ve handled it better damn nerd.”

Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone was so protective and concerned that it turned him into a beautiful shade of pink. He was honored to be surrounded by people that had his back. They validated the part of him that he was trying to heal. He was grateful for his classmates.

Everyone melted at the sight of Midoriya glowing before them. Midoriya was a gift. He had an energy about him that just filled everyone up. There was something amazing about the way Midoriya brought the best out of people.

Aizawa woke up to everyone just surrounding Midoriya, using all the time they could to be around him. Aizawa grinned and sunk deeper into his sleeping bag. He’d ask about the situation and fill Nezu in about banning the visitor. For now, he’d rest easy knowing his students had everything covered.

Midoriya ends up getting a pile of Valentine's Day cards from people in the school. Each card came with a special batch of chocolate, all having their own special flavor to them. Midoriya realized he didn’t have to worry about choosing someone to love. It would happen naturally.

Midoriya happily handed everyone he had a silly crush on a bag of chocolates. Each bag was unique to the receiver. Todoroki got peppermint chocolates. Bakugo got spicey chocolate. Uraraka got chocolate mochi. Kirishima got strawberry chocolate. Momo got matcha chocolate. It was safe to say the entire class was impressed with the tasty treat.

It would be a while till Midoriya got into a relationship. No matter when it happens or who it is he ends up being with, he knew that his friends would treat him no different and still cherish their time with him. They were truly amazing.

Guess I managed to get everything back I lost and more.

Stop It I'm Going To Puke

BakuDeku, IidaOcha, IzuOcha!Friendship-centric

Midoriya is just an amazing person and Uraraka really appreciates Midoriya.

Uraraka was heavily pregnant. Iida did his best to be around throughout her pregnancy, but there were times he couldn’t. Whenever Iida wasn’t available, Midoriya made sure he would be. Uraraka needed constant support and a person to lean on.

Uraraka had morning sickness throughout her entire pregnancy. She and the baby were healthy, but oftentimes she couldn’t hold down a healthy meal. Even when she’d eat something she was craving, moments later would be repulsed by what she had just eaten and throw it all up.

Midoriya often shunned Iida for forcing her to follow a meal plan. Iida only had good intentions of making Uraraka a meal plan to make sure that she and the baby were getting the necessary nutrient requirements without having unhealthy foods. While it was a good idea, it backfired on Uraraka’s part. If she wasn’t holding anything down then what was the point of making her follow a meal plan?

Uraraka’s morning sickness didn’t stop once her second trimester came around, meaning she’d still have a rough relationship with food. Uraraka’s morning sickness was also unpredictable. Some days it would come out of nowhere and other days it was a long, lingering feeling. Midoriya was able to pick up cues and assist her accordingly. Midoriya got especially good at pulling up her hair and clipping up her bangs.

Midoriya would go shopping with Uraraka and they’d buy the most random foods that would appease her cravings. While morning sickness didn’t necessarily harm her or the baby, Uraraka’s constant puking was not a good thing.

Midoriya stepped up to get her what she needed and made sure to keep her away from the kitchen to help her from getting scent-sick. She was very sensitive to certain smells.

Midoriya helped get stuff for the nursery for Iida and would listen to Uraraka ramble about moving things around. Midoriya would help clean occasionally and help Uraraka with even self-care. He’d put on compression socks for when she’d walk on the treadmill or do pregnancy workouts. He'd rub her back if she got sick and would place a cold cloth around her neck. Midoriya would cook for her and get her whatever she needed.

Midoriya knew Uraraka was more than capable, but she was in a vulnerable state. Uraraka deserved to be treated like a queen and Midoriya would do anything for his best friend. They’d binge-watch movies and shows. Midoriya and Uraraka would gossip in the pool. They’d do extreme skincare routines. They’d never been closer.

Uraraka would console Midoriya when he’d come over right after a patrol. Midoriya and Iida had worked with the hero commission to schedule their patrols. Whenever Iida wasn’t working, Midoriya would work. Whenever Iida was working, Midoriya wouldn’t be working. Midoriya worked six days a week since he was the number one hero. Midoriya was given assigned patrols, but before Uraraka’s pregnancy, he was on-call.

Somedays were very difficult for Midoriya as the number one hero. There was such a giant pressure on him to be perfect. Of course, it all came crumbling down when he had a chance to breathe behind closed doors. Uraraka and Midoriya were always there for one another and that never changed as the years rolled by.

Midoriya was cuddling with Bakugo when he got the call. Looking at his phone, he noticed it was Iida. Seeing there was nothing to hide from Bakugo, Midoriya put the call on speaker. Bakugo perked up upon seeing Midoriya press the button. He couldn’t lie he had been wanting to hear what was up as well.

“Izuku,” greeted Iida.

“Hello Iida! What’s up?” asked Midoriya happily.

“Come to the hospital, Uraraka is in labor,” revealed Iida, sounding beyond excited and nervous.

Midoriya flew off the couch, gasping dramatically as his face lit up. “Oh my god— really! Hold on! I’m on my way!” Uraraka was only a week from her due date so Midoriya had been anticipating the call, but nothing prepared him for when the moment finally came.

Bakugo watched his boyfriend in amusement. A part of him believed Midoriya was even more excited than Iida. Midoriya loved Uraraka dearly. Uraraka was Midoriya’s first friend and she was his best friend. Bakugo recalled Mina teasing Midoriya and Uraraka because of how close they were. She mistook their unshakable bond for a puppy-love crush. Bakugo never worried about Uraraka though, Midoriya was always his.

Iida laughed at Midoriya’s outburst, well aware that his friend was beyond excited. “Don’t rush. We have no idea how long this will take.”

“Okay, well Kacchan and I will be heading out now,” puffed Midoriya, out of breath from his giant freakout.

“Great, see you two soon.”

“Bye!”

Bakugo grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. Midoriya followed suit, grabbing his things before rushing after his boyfriend. Bakugo held open the door for Midoriya after they threw on their shoes. Midoriya slipped out their front door and rushed to the car. The entire drive there, Bakugo tightly gripped Midoriya’s hand, their fingers intertwined. Midoriya’s joy radiated through the car but was contained as Bakugo’s touch never failed to sedate him.

They arrived at the hospital and it seemed as if Uraraka had just finished giving birth. The clean-up was happening currently so they’d have to wait a bit before they’d be allowed in. The two took a seat in the waiting room, happily chatting about everything and anything.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, side-eyeing Midoriya. “I feel like you were more excited about this baby than four-eyes was.”

“Impossible. Uraraka is my best friend, but Iida’s her husband. He probably had a different way of showing it,” disagreed Midoriya with a smirk, slightly elbowing Bakugo in the arm.

“Iida called you all calm and collected and you were the one freaking out like it’s your baby,” teased Bakugo, happy to mess with his lover.

“Kacchan!” groaned Midoriya, being dramatic as usual.

Soon enough, the doctor came out asking for the two. Midoriya and Bakugo were escorted to the room where Uraraka would be staying. Upon entering, it took everything in his power to not squeal in delight. As Midoriya approached Uraraka who was holding the baby, Midoriya’s jaw dropped upon seeing the most beautiful infant.

The baby had light brown hair with blue undertones, chubby cheeks, and gorgeous red eyes. Swaddled in a light yellow blanket, Midoriya had never seen a more tiny and adorable sight.

Uraraka was laying in the hospital bed and when she saw Midoriya her smile grew. Midoriya rushed to her side, hugging her carefully. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“I’m sure you did Izuku,” chuckled Uraraka fondly. “Wanna see the little munchkin?”

Midoriya nodded so hard that the three in the room were worried it would snap off. Midoriya sat down on the edge of the bed with an excited smile. Iida helped take the baby from Uraraka’s arms, careful not to disturb the baby. Iida came over with the baby, extending it out to Midoriya.

Uraraka finally spoke up. “Meet Izuku Iida.”

Midoriya had his hands extended out and let out a soft laugh while quickly glancing to the side where Uraraka was. “What?”

Suddenly Midoriya’s eyes widened as he processed what was happening. A look of pure shock graced his features as a hand rose to rest against his chest. His eyes snapped from Uraraka to Iida. The two chuckled fondly at Midoriya’s reaction.

“No you did not,” whispered Midoriya, still not recovering from the shock.

Uraraka and Iida exchanged a glance before looking back at Izuku and laughing. “Yes.”

Midoriya’s lip trembled, the touched expression on his face tugging at the duo's heartstrings. His hand remained close to his chest as the tears started falling. Midoriya’s voice cracked as he tried to speak. “No, you did not.” Midoriya cried a bit, covering his mouth.

Bakugo watched the scene with wide eyes, not having been filled in on this happening. Watching his boyfriend get the honor of having his best friend's child named after him caught him off guard. He smiled at the sight, he enjoyed watching the emotions on Midoriya’s switch at a fast pace. It was mesmerizing.

Midoriya cried as he reached out to hold the baby that was named after him. Iida grinned as he passed him off to Midoriya. “His name’s Izuku.”

Midoriya held the baby so carefully, supporting the baby’s tiny head like it was the most valuable treasure in the world. Midoriya cried as he rested the baby on his lap, brushing the baby’s crazy hair back with his finger. Midoriya cried as he wore a smile, enamored with the baby.

“Why would you do this to me?” cried Midoriya, embarrassed at making a scene.

Bakugo stared at Midoriya handling the baby and felt his chest pound from his rapidly beating heart. He was proposing as soon as possible. While Bakugo was falling deeper in love, Uraraka and Iida were still touched by how much Midoriya’s reaction moved them.

Midoriya’s thumb caressed the baby’s cheek as he used his shoulder to wipe his tears. Izuku repeatedly thanked them about how honored he felt to have their child be named after him.

“Izuku, you are everything we aspire to be. We are deeply grateful for everything you have done for us. You’ve been a wonderful friend and this is the least we could do,” admitted Iida bashfully, his cheeks rosy.

Uraraka raised a brow with an amused smirk. “You held my hair back as I puked in a vase. You researched labor training workouts with me. You made me delicious food. You always showed up when I needed you. Even if you were having a bad day, you never once hesitated to show up and take care of me. I love you Izuku, and my baby deserves no other name than yours.”

Midoriya was still crying and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Stop it, I’m going to puke.”

Bakugo wasn’t aware of everything Midoriya had been doing. He assumed the two were just hanging out more since Uraraka was on work leave and would need some assistance. He hadn’t realized just how far Midoriya had gone for Uraraka. Besides, Bakugo didn’t really know what happens during pregnancy.

Bakugo came over and kissed Midoriya’s head tenderly before looking at the baby with Midoriya. “Brat definitely looks like you two,” grumbled Bakugo, showing his support.

Iida and Uraraka smiled, glad Bakugo wanted to see their child as well. Eventually, the news broke out and it became a whole story. The wonder duo was also declared as the godparents of Izuku Iida, which no one was surprised by.

Baby fever hit Izuku and Bakugo hard, but they did have to get married before even thinking about having a kid. Neither had been in a rush and were satisfied with just being in a relationship. Bakugo and Midoriya had a rocky relationship in the beginning. They may have grown up together, but they had a lot to learn.

Bakugo, Iida, and Midoriya were 25 while Uraraka was soon going to turn 25 in three months. It was clear life didn’t have one distinct path. Iida and Uraraka were already married and had a baby while Bakugo and Midoriya were still dating.

Bakugo had no desire to speed things up, but alas, Midoriya was always an exception. They had a whole honeymoon to enjoy. Fortunately, Bakugo did speed up the process and proposed to Izuku at a group outing two months later.

The End!

WHY AM I JUST NOW NOTICING HOW SHORT MIDORIYA IS????

Guess what hyperfixation I gained in my absence….

. . .

Thats right!

*inhale*

MY HERO FUCKING ACADEMIA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Anyways, them 🩷 (With and Without Shading cuz teehee)

I personally don’t care if you see a ship or sum between Midoriya and Iida, I think its one of the sweeter ships in this god forsaken fandom so, meh.

But for the sake of those who dont, (And so I don’t deface my image by becoming associated with shipping), I will not be tagging it

I've finished my Todoiida fic!!! It's 11k words, and one of my longest fics I've ever done in only like two weeks lol.

I adore these two so bad, and please, give me feedback on how it reads! I welcome it. :)

Update 2! I'm about 10k words into the fic, I've had a bit of a flare-up in my chronic pain, so I might be a bit slower than I anticipated

not that there's a lot of people waiting for my self-indulgent Todoiida fic lmao

Anywayyy, they mean so much to me <33

TODOIIDA FREAKOUT

currently working on a Todoiida fanfic called 'Summer Can't Compare To Him' because they've been taking up every thought in my mind since that one scene where shouto cries ice and tenya puts his arm around him

I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS THEY'RE TOO PERFECT

2,200 words in, gonna keep trucking over the next few days too 🫡

Update! I'm about 6,600 words in now, it's taking me a good bit to get where I want with this fic, but we keep going!!

TODOIIDA FREAKOUT

currently working on a Todoiida fanfic called 'Summer Can't Compare To Him' because they've been taking up every thought in my mind since that one scene where shouto cries ice and tenya puts his arm around him

I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS THEY'RE TOO PERFECT

2,200 words in, gonna keep trucking over the next few days too 🫡

TODOIIDA FREAKOUT

currently working on a Todoiida fanfic called 'Summer Can't Compare To Him' because they've been taking up every thought in my mind since that one scene where shouto cries ice and tenya puts his arm around him

I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS THEY'RE TOO PERFECT

2,200 words in, gonna keep trucking over the next few days too 🫡

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

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

Sorry Shinsou, you can’t beat the Deku Protection Squad

based on this squad meme

hi cool person!!! i was wondering if you could do texting iida? like any context, but just make it iida as our bf or friends to lovers or something. thankss

manual override | t. iida

dating tenya iida is like loving a perfectly alphabetized fire drill—structured, intense, and somehow exactly what you needed.

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

Literally eating up every smau you pump out 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 could I rq an Iida one? One where he has a hung crush on his bestie of YEARSSS but they're dating a guy he literally cannot stand?

not mine, still yours | t. iida

tenya knew being your best friend meant loving you from the sidelines, even while you gave your heart to the wrong person.

pussy bitch mentality | t. iida

⇨ when rule-following iida gets partnered with chaos incarnate for a lab partner, he expects disaster—not a crush.

i neeed a todoiida hockey player/figure-skater au soooo bad

Long-distance relationships.

- And you 've started dating someone so crazy yet.

- That's right, that's right, and I don't regret anything.

Sketch designs for Mer!Dekusquad!!

It's just sketches, but now I'm kinda tempted to draw them properly sjdjdj

°°°

Do not edit or repost my art.

Twitter | Instagram

I finally got a graphics tablet. my first sketches on it😋

My lovely boy❤️

💋💋💋