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loving you is bigger than my head | Izuku Midoriya

“It’s not all hero work, I guess. I like, um, I guess I like to learn.” He shrugs. He’s never really had to think about it before. His dates like to talk about his hero work, and everything after that happens in the bedroom, “I just like to fill my head with things. I like learning about quirks, how they work, how they can change the more you use them.”

“I guess we’re not so different, then. I like to fill my head, too.” You agree. His eyes meet yours, a little surprised. He wants to know if your heart is as empty as his, if you can be enough to fill each other up. 

Notes: hiii this is my first time writing for Izuku, so I’m a little nervous about this one. I really want to do him justice, but idk!! Idk!! Ummm this’ll probably be my last long fic for a while because classes start on Tuesday. But anyways I hope u enjoy it!! Thanks for reading<3 (title is from pool by Samia)

Warnings: f!reader, 18+, minors DNI, injury, blood, some angst

Words: 4.1k

A normal day for Izuku Midorya, better known as the number one hero, Deku, is as follows:

He wakes up at four a.m. and goes for a jog. He sits on his couch. He scrolls through the various apps on his phone. He takes a long shower. He does not eat breakfast, and he is at the agency by seven a.m. He patrols with Kacchan in the morning, where his best friend forces him to drink the coffee and eat the bagel he picks up for him on the way there (even though Kacchan swears that the barista has a crush on him and sneaks him extra food in the morning). The two of them are back at the agency by 11, where two more heroes take their place. Midoriya does paperwork until his lunch break, where he eats something that would make Kacchan pass out if he ever saw him eat it. He does his afternoon patrol at 3 p.m. with Uraraka, and then he goes home. On a good night, he gets two to three hours of sleep each night. He wakes up and does it all over again.

Sometimes, Midoriya’s days change. Sometimes his friends drag him out for a drink. Sometimes he takes a girl home. Sometimes he wonders if this girl will stay this time. She never does. 

Midoriya has lived with an empty heart for most of his life. He has lived with a deep ache inside, one he believed would go away after becoming a hero, after saving lives. It never has. 

As a younger hero, Midoriya turned down dates with people who actually liked him in favor of picking up extra hours at Endeavor’s agency. He missed any opportunity to find someone who may have wanted him because he was just Izuku and not Deku. 

Now that he’s here, now that he’s at the top, all he wants is for someone to be there with him. 

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Oh god

My Hero Academia: Presence

Presence, full comic

In this comic, with everything that’s happened with the fucked up family dynamics and every terrible thing he’s done, all that gets put aside for just a moment.

They get one night.  Let them have one night.

What tomorrow brings for them is another story.

...

Further notes here

Do a percabeth someone great au but blease make it happy in the end I am so fragile

ask and ye shall receive xx happy ending still to be written

Their story begins at the end, and their end began like this:

 “I got the job.”

 The words were somewhat garbled and blurted out with her head in her hands and there was a pause long enough that Annabeth had to peek through her fingers. Percy blinked back at her, mouth open and fork full of pasta forgotten mid-air. He set it down and his face broke into a massive grin and in retrospect, maybe she should have paid more mind to the beat in between. He reached out and took her hands and leaned over their table and kissed her on the lips and he looked happy for her when he said:

 “Congratulations, gorgeous. I’m so proud of you.”

 Their end began when they clinked their wine glasses and held hands on the walk back to their apartment and chose not to ask the question. The end began when she noticed the tension in his brow and chose not to let it bother her on a day when she’d received exciting news. Their end began when he listened to her talk and chose not to pay mind to the places on this earth that she would go that were too far for him to follow. Their end began when they stoked the flames that would set them ablaze and called it hearth.

 Later, he’d push her up against their front door and press his chest to hers and cling on to her a little bit tighter than he normally would and she’ll pretend not to feel it. Her lips will hold his more desperately and the impressions of her nails will last on the skin of his back a little longer and she’ll cover up the purple bruises on her neck and he’ll pretend not to see it. And then, when she curls up into his side and rests her head on his chest, when the rhythm of his heart beats under her palm, when the end seems inevitable, they’ll look the other way.

 Cowards, the both of them.

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48 for percabeth! I hope u feel better about the show

Annabeth has known that Percy was going to die from the moment she met him. Four summers. Best case scenario. 

Twelve-year-old Annabeth wasn’t particularly concerned about falling in love with the trouble-making son of Poseidon who drooled in his sleep. Freshly sixteen Annabeth sometimes wishes she had opted for the quiet life some children of Athena preferred: strategize, keep your head down, live a comfortable and unremarkable life. She hardly would’ve crossed paths with Percy outside of the occasional class or Capture the Flag. He and Grover could’ve found someone else to be their best friend, or maybe they would’ve bonded as a pair. And Annabeth would have kept her distance from Percy in the name of self-preservation, knowing they would only have four bittersweet summers together at best. 

The summer before the Titan War is not the best case scenario. Percy is hardly ever at camp except for quests and Kronos-related meetings. He chooses to spend what they both know is his last of their four measly summers away from Annabeth. Grover is nowhere to be found, Thalia is with the Hunters, Luke is hosting the Titan Lord, and Annabeth feels more like a scared little girl than she has in a long time. At least she isn’t the runaway. That title fell to Percy. 

It feels like an insult to Annabeth’s love for Percy to wish they hadn’t met. She is so much better for having loved him. For loving him—present tense. But she says this while he’s still here. His smile may not be directed at her that often, but he still smiles. Sometimes Annabeth can even stomach the jealousy of Rachel being the cause of that smile, because at least someone is giving him joy before this all goes to shit. When it does, maybe Annabeth will understand what it means to wish him away, if only to end the pain of having known and lost a person like Percy Jackson. 

The feeling isn’t new. Annabeth’s gut has twisted in previous conversations where someone would bring up high school and college plans. Percy would talk animatedly about getting his license at sixteen, and Annabeth was left with a dry mouth she could not twist into a smile. He would beam at Beckendorf’s plans to attend NYU in the fall and make the older boy promise to swing by Sally’s sometime. Even Beckendorf, who had never heard the full Great Prophecy, could not stop the microexpression of pity. 

When Annabeth first heard the prophecy, it was too much for her ten year old mind. There was no face to connect to the doomed fate, no cursed blade to reap the hero’s soul. Sometimes her young brain conjured an image of Thalia, but that was a nightmare of its own. Every night, Annabeth would watch Olympus fall at the hands of someone she hoped never to know. 

She still gets those nightmares, only the visuals have improved. Percy is in every single one of them, saving or razing Olympus depending on the night. He never survives. You cannot outrun fate. Annabeth has tried. 

Still, she is a daughter of Athena, and Athena always has a plan. When Percy dies, Annabeth will fall to pieces. In a lucky string of events, she might fall alongside him. It’s a war, after all. But she has a sneaking suspicion that she will outlive him. She has a plan for this as well. The shroud they made when he was stranded on Calypso’s island was nice and communal, leagues ahead of the one the Ares cabin shroud that still makes Annabeth’s blood boil. But deep in her soul, Annabeth knows that she alone will make his shroud. Just as she’ll burn it.; just as she’ll care for Sally in his stead; just as she will lay blue roses on his headstone every time she’s in the neighborhood; just as she’ll be there for Grover, for Clarisse, for all of camp when he’s gone. She will do it alone. Annabeth held the sky, once. She will shoulder this as well. How much heavier could losing her best friend be than the weight of the world? In her anticipation, they feel the same. 

She will build a monument for him, something to last the ages as he was supposed to, as permanent as the love he has given her. It will overlook the gods on Olympus, a reminder of the boy they failed. The boy who was too good for them all. Regardless of how the war goes, this will always be true. 

He was never built to last. Nothing good ever can, and he’s been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. He was meant to burn bright, not long. 

Annabeth sits in the dark of the Big House rec room, the only quiet space now that camp is in full war preparation. Well, the only quiet space apart from the beach, but Annabeth knows the smell of salt air and the sound of waves will be her undoing. That is another key feature of her plan: never go to the ocean again. 

She curls her knees into her chest, feeling every inch the child that she is. But children are not supposed to have plans for their best friend dying. Children are not supposed to have their first kiss out of fear that said best friend will die before their four summers are up. 

The door opens, throwing the room into harsh shadows and blinding light. 

“Um.” Annabeth can’t see who’s talking, but she’d know his voice anywhere. “Chiron said there was a war council meeting today.” 

She raises a hand to block out the light and give her eyes time to adjust. “Yeah, later.” To Annabeth’s horror, her voice is hoarse. Her throat is clogged with tears. 

Percy’s sneakers stop shifting in the carpet. “Are, uh... are you okay?” 

He sounds hesitant to ask, like he’s expecting vitriol to spew from Annabeth’s mouth. And, in fairness, sometimes it does. But Annabeth doesn’t have vitriol in her right now. The awareness that she does not have many days left with Percy is painfully acute. To spend them angry feels like a waste. 

“No, I’m not.” By now her eyes have adjusted to the light, and she looks at him through bleary eyes. 

Percy stills when he sees her face, looking ready to bolt. He points to the door. “Do you want me to...?”

Annabeth sniffles. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

What breaks her is how quickly he is by her side. For all their faults, it is the one thing she can count on. As long as she lets him, Percy will come to Annabeth when she’s hurting.

She doesn’t tell him how deeply that statement is carved into her, that she is carved from loneliness the same way he is carved from guilt—the pitfalls of pride and loyalty. 

A kid carved from loneliness cannot plan to be held the way that Percy holds Annabeth. Such a selfless love was unfathomable as a little girl; how could she ever have accounted for it? He just.. holds her. He doesn’t try to talk or look at her face. He’s just there, unwaveringly. It kills Annabeth to know he won’t always be. It hurts to be with him, but it will hurt so much more to be without him. 

The dam breaks, and Annabeth sobs into Percy’s shoulder. He’s taller than her now, grown only to be cut down young. Still, he is steadfast, grounded, secure in his roots. The way a towering oak has no reason to fear a chainsaw until the cutting has already begun. 

“You’re my best friend,” she tells him, because she’s not sure she’s ever said it and it’s something he deserves to hear. “No matter what, you’re my best friend.” 

Percy strokes a gentle hand along the back of Annabeth’s head. “And you’re mine,” he assures her. He doesn’t say you’re my best friend too. Just you’re mine. As if the fact doesn’t haunt her. She is his, irrevocably. 

A gentle knock at the door interrupts them. Annabeth recognizes Silena’s quiet footfalls and almost withdraws from Percy, but he makes no move to. 

Silena’s voice is soft, not smug like Annabeth expects. “War council in fifteen. Figured I’d give you two a heads up.” 

Annabeth meets her eyes over Percy’s shoulder. “Thanks.” 

The older girl ducks her head in something resembling shame. “It’s the least I can do.” She leaves. 

“How much longer?” Percy asks when the door clicks shut. It isn’t an impatient question. In fact, Annabeth doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking. 

She gives an honest answer. “However long we have left.” And the sun begins to set on the fourth summer.