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Tenya Iida - Blog Posts
They remain my favorite friendship in all of MHA, maybe only tied with the Rooftop club or the Big Three.
Also Iidadeku supremacy for lifeeee 💙💚
MORE MHA SKETCHES!! Drew the first row of class 2A!! (seats one through five)
Yay! Class 1A done XD I might move onto the League or some of the Proheroes next but let me know what you wanna see
Here's a list of all my headcanons... I BEGGG someone draw one and tag me in it 😵🙌 (1/2)
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.
When you do your hair inspired by them! ft.. Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari, Eijirou Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinso, Hanta Sero, and Tenya Iida!
Warnings / To know: [Reader] is established as black and a female, some vulgar language, use of pet-names, established [character] x [reader] relationships, fluff / neutral, let me know if I missed anything and please enjoy!
A/N: “I was extremely tired and lazy while making this so some characters are more OOC or not really how I would have wanted to like them but I wanted to get at least something small out for y’all so sorry about that😣
k.Bakugo
I.Midoriya
S.Todoroki
E.Kirishima
D.Kaminari
H.Shinso
H.Sero
T.Iida
You ask them their favorite love triangle! ft.. Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinso, and Tenya Iida!
Warnings / To know: [Reader] has no established gender and no use of pronouns, [Reader] was written as black in mind but it’s not mentioned, swearing from Bakugo, love triangle trope heavily mentioned (it’s the whole plot basically lol). Please Enjoy!
A/N: “I just noticed I forgot Sero who was supposed to be apart of this and it sucks I forgot him bcuz my top 3 of the listed characters, behind Iida and Todoroki so y’all will get Sero next time for a different scenario / smau!”
K.Bakugo
I.Midoriya
S.Todoroki
E.Kirishima
D.Kaminari
H.Shinso
T.Iida
@majoreine , please don’t steal or post to any other app without asking!
I blinked and suddenly I had a valentine! ft.. Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari, Eijirou Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinso, Hanta Sero, and Tenya Iida!
Warnings / To know: [Reader] has no established gender but there’s use of pet names like “pretty” and “beautiful”, [Reader] is written as black in mind but it’s not mentioned, swearing, FLUFF, some established [character] x [reader] relationships and some friends to lovers! Please enjoy!
A/N: “Happy valentines day🍓😊”
k.Bakugo
I.Midoriya
S.Todoroki
D.Kaminari
E.Kirishima
H.Shinso
H.Sero
T.Iida
i neeed a todoiida hockey player/figure-skater au soooo bad
mha characters as cats
izuku: ragamuffin- intelligent, sociable, attentive
bakugou: siamese cat- vocal, intelligent, temperamental
todoroki: turkish angora- intelligent, mild, agile
kirishima: chartreux- athletic, friendly, muscular
ochaco: himalayan cat- sweet, companionable,
jirou: japanese bobtail- sweet, easy-going
iida: maine coon- looks like it knows things, intelligent, sociable
mina: british shorthair-easygoing, loyal, affectionate
kaminari: orange domestic shorthair- energetic, friendly, fun
sero: sphinx- same vibe
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
𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 𝐱 𝐮𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦: @va-3
MEETING TENYA IIDA:
he probably already knows your name, quirk, and a brief summary of your academic record before actually meeting you. he did his research, okay? UA is prestigious!.
first interaction? most likely during orientation. he's making sure everyone is following the rules, and you're probably one of the few who actually are. instant respect.
if you're even slightly late to class, even by a minute, you'll get a polite but firm lecture about punctuality being a vital trait for a hero. he's not trying to be mean, he's trying to help.
introductions are formal. a deep bow, a clear enunciation of his name, and a summary of his goals as a hero. prepare for a handshake that means business.
he'll probably (and literally) run into you in the hallway, especially if you're rushing. a sincere apology is issued, accompanied by a lecture on the importance of being aware of your surroundings.
study sessions become a thing early on. not necessarily because he needs help, but because he's happy to provide it. be prepared to take very detailed notes.
if you ever defend him from bakugo's explosions or teasing, he will be eternally grateful. like, writing-you-a-thank-you-note grateful.
he respects your dedication to becoming a hero, and that's a major factor in him even noticing you beyond a classmate. he admires hard work and resolve.
TENYA CRUSHING ON YOU:
the crush hits him like a speeding engine. one moment he's focused on hero training, the next he's acutely aware of your presence.
he tries to analyze his feelings logically. he'll write down a list of your positive traits, comparing them to the qualities of an ideal hero. It's... endearing.
he'll attempt to be "casual" but fails spectacularly. expect stilted conversations, overly formal greetings, and maybe even a slight stutter.
he starts noticing the little things: the way you focus in class, the way you help others, your smile. he may even write these things down.
secretly, he admires your quirk. he's fascinated by its applications and effectiveness. he'll ask you about it, phrasing it as "research," but it's really just an excuse to talk to you.
he becomes fiercely protective of you during training exercises. he won't let you get hurt, even if it means risking himself.
if he sees you struggling with something (homework, a training technique), he'll be the first to offer assistance. expect a detailed explanation and hands-on guidance.
he will absolutely ask his brother, ingenium for advice (and get teased relentlessly). tensei probably gives him the worst, most cliche love advices ever.
he blushes so easily! a simple compliment from you can send his face into overdrive.
DATING TENYA IIDA:
the confession is direct and earnest. he'll lay out his feelings clearly, explain why he admires you, and ask you to consider being his partner. no beating around the bush.
dates are planned with military precision. expect a detailed itinerary, backup plans, and contingency measures for every possible scenario.
he's a gentleman. doors are opened, chairs are pulled out, and he always walks you home safely.
he takes your opinions and ideas very seriously. he values your input and will always consider your perspective.
PDA is kept to a minimum. maybe holding hands while walking, but anything more is reserved for private moments.
he loves studying with you. he finds it soothing and productive to hear your input on different topics
he's a surprisingly good listener. he genuinely cares about your thoughts and feelings, and he'll remember everything you tell him.
he will help you organize everything. your notes, your training schedule, your closet. it's his love language.
When you two have alone time, he relaxes a lot. the serious Tenya disappears and you get to see a goofy, loving side of him where he becomes more confident.
he likes learning from you. he always wants to improve as a hero and a human being so you teaching him things makes him happy.
he cherishes your relationship more than hero work sometimes, and he makes sure you know that.
he will write you letters instead of text, especially when he is away.
he loves giving you piggyback rides because of his engines. he will run you around everywhere, and he only stops when you ask him to stop.
he loves wearing matching outfits with you. they may not be the most fashionable, but he will love wearing them with you always!
© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —
Tsuyu Asui Headcanons for when she is cold
- Momo makes her a bunch of really warm outfits, coats, mittens, scarves, socks, blankets, you name it. She had to do a bit of research for making the materials, but she thought the extra work was more than worth it since she knew Tsu would be warm.
- If Todoroki’s there, you better bet your bottom dollar that he’s on her right. This was originally him just standing or sitting next to her, but not anymore. No, now he makes her cuddle with him on the couch and if their standing, she’s now on his left hip snuggling into him.
- This ^ happens at any given moment whether one of them’s in the middle of doing homework or having a conversation.
- Sato will bring her to his room right after he’s made her some kind of pastry so she can eat hot food in a really warm room. He will also make her soup so she gets real food into her as well.
- When Tokoyami sees her shivering, he gets Dark Shadow to collect as many blankets as he can to wrap her up in.
- Shoji gives her all of his sweaters and some pants to put over her clothes in hopes that they will keep her warm. He also will hold her and shield her when they have to go outside.
- Mineta originally opts for them taking off their shirts for body heat but after that didn’t go very well for him, he now makes her hot chocolate and refills the cup every time she finishes it.
- Kirishima sets up a workout for the two of them to do together to get her moving and sweating, Now whether that be an actual workout or Just Dance depends on the day and how cold she is.
- Uraraka runs a really warm bath for her with a portable heater in the bathroom so she won’t be cold when she gets out.
- Sero tapes heating packs all over her body so she physically can’t be warm.
- Koda lets her play with his rabbit and she gets so happy from it that she forgets about the cold for a bit, especially when it’s cuddling with her and when she’s chasing it around.
- Kaminari shocks her and as stupid as it sounds, it actually works for a little bit. After that, he gets her to race him through the halls.
- Midoriya makes her a fort of pillows and blankets in the common area where they just lie and cuddle. Sometimes, she ends up with her whole body - aside from her head - under the couch cushions and he’ll sit on a cushion that she isn’t under or he’ll chill on the floor.
- Jiro was surprisingly the one who thought about having pillow fights, rather than something less goofy. Nonetheless, it works and they have a blast.
- Mina tries to teach her new dances and sometimes they play a very intense game of leap frog.
- Aoyama gets her the warmest things he can find and has her put them on for their fashion show. They do this in the common area so everyone can see how ridiculous she looks in all of these fluffy sweaters, pajamas and snow pants.
- Iida raises the temperature of their dorm building until she is comfortable and everyone else has to be in their summer wear to be comfortable.
- Ojiro wraps her up with his tail tightly so there isn’t any room for the cold to get her.
- Hagakure tucks her into bed (since Tsu’s room is on the top floor, it would be warmer) and suffocates her with the stuffed animals she brought up with her.
- Bakugo will blow something up to start a fire and get her to sit with him around it or gets her to beat up a punching bag as he screams at her, which is something they do together even when she’s warm so she can let out some stress
Bonus:
Aizawa lets her use his sleeping bag during class.
One way to confess to someone
Midoriya, walking in with the rest of the Dekusquad: Hey, Todoroki! would you like to play two truths and a lie with us?
Todoroki: Uh, sure. Can I go first?
Midoriya: Of course!
Todoroki: Okay. I have a sister, I like the colour yellow, and I’ve been in love with you for so long and I’m going to die if I never get the chance to kiss you.
Midoriya:
The rest of the Dekusquad:
Todoroki:
Tsu: That took an interesting turn.
Uraraka: Yeah, that got pretty specific.
Iida: ...Is the lie that you’re in love with Midoriya?
Tsu: It would be smart to do it that way since you made it so obvious.
Todoroki: What? No, the lie was that I like the colour yellow. I mean, it looks good on other people but I don’t care for it.
The Dekusquad:
Midoriya: Oh, I thought you liked yellow. Well, I’ll make sure to avoid using it when getting you things.
Todoroki: Thank you.
Midoriya: No problem.
Midoriya: wAIT A SECOND
Todoroki: Marry me.
Aoyama x Iida headcanon-blurb thing
* Sorry if this ship isn’t your cup of tea, but I have been in love with it ever since the Provisional Licence Exam
Anyhoo, you know how Aoyama eats alone in the classroom?
One day at lunch, Iida walks in the class to get something he forgot and sees Aoyama eating in there by himself as usual. Then his mind is like ‘okay, time to go. We grabbed the thing’ but his body doesn’t move, so to relieve the awkward silence, he invites him to eat again. Like before, Aoyama declines but thanks him anyway and gets back to eating with the expectation that Iida will leave like every other time. Iida does but when he gets to the door, he looks back in and for a reason that he doesn’t understand, he feels like he can’t leave the boy to eat alone. So, considering the pattern of Aoyama refusing to go eat around everyone else, he asks Aoyama if instead, he can stay in the classroom with him. Aoyama is taken aback but nonetheless agrees, resulting in Iida not eating with the others anymore - much to Aoyama’s concern.
At first, the gesture was purely out of pity and kindness, but like during the provisional licence exam, Aoyama changed his opinion of him. Like, Iida finds himself making more time to hang out with Aoyama when they’re in the dorms, before/after class, training, anything. He even suggested tutoring to help with the latter’s grades. Of course, he still makes time for Uraraka and Midoriya but it’s more commonplace for everyone to be wondering where he is when he’s hanging out in Aoyama’s room. Iida’s desire to hang out gets to the point where whenever they’re apart, he feels like he needs to bridge the gap, which at first startled Aoyama. Thankfully after a while of it, he got used to hearing Iida politely knock on his door and settled into the routine of having him there most of the time.
And then it happened.
The more Iida hung out with Aoyama, the more he felt he needed to. And after having the pretty french blonde run up to him excited and beaming because he got an A on a test, Iida realized the urge came from his crush on him. At first, he tried to deny it by distancing himself from Aoyama, but he can’t resist those alluring indigo eyes for long, especially when he’s upset about the lack of interaction. So plan B was to just act like everything was normal, but when you’re a mess every time your crush smiles or winks at you, it becomes difficult. With that in mind, he seeks out Uraraka and Mina to find out what he should do as they were the ones who had spent the most time with him, aside from himself. It turns out to be the most successful plan as they are very enthusiastic and give him great pointers he wouldn’t have ever realized without them.
Many attempted flirts and subtle hints later and he found himself convincing Aoyama to spend the night with him in the common area. When he did, they watched movies, ate cheese, and talked about life, while Iida fought urges to kiss Aoyama and do more. He only gives in when Aoyama falls asleep on his shoulder and he kisses the latter’s head. It turns out that Aoyama was still kind of awake and felt the action, which led to a very awkward attempt at denying it ever happened. That changed, however, when Aoyama pouted and said “aw, that’s too bad. I was just about to kiss you back”, causing Iida to immediately take it back and confess his love for him to get that kiss.
They ended up falling asleep together on the couch with Aoyama’s head on Iida’s chest, thus, the beginning of their relationship.
Dekusquad but as what I imagine them to have on their keys :)