Work Text:
Izuku kisses your lips sweetly. If you really are dreaming, then you pray to every god in existence that you’ll never awaken.
Your heart soars as you read the last sentence. You throw your head back onto your pillow and sigh, closing your eyes and fiddling with your phone in your hands. It’s then that you start to feel the familiar feeling of guilt washing over you. You know what you’re doing is wrong. And yet, you can’t resist it. It’s a siren’s call, always pulling you back in. You’ve tried numerous times to turn away, but the need always hunts you down and comes back for more.
Fanfiction. Something that’s been part of your life since the moment when you got into heroes as a little kid. You loved reading the newspapers and magazines that reported on the heroes, but it was never enough. You wanted, no, needed more. And fanfiction was there to give you just that.
It wasn’t just any fanfiction that you used to quench this undeniable thirst inside you. It was “x reader” fic. These were your kryptonite, haunting you till it was 3 AM and your phone light stung your eyes. You were sentenced to eternally scroll, forever clicking “next chapter.”
And if it couldn’t get any worse, you found yourself thinking up new scenarios of your own. Fearful that you were getting demanding with all the requests you were submitting to your favorite authors, you turn to the next worst thing to reading fanfiction: writing fanfiction.
Of course, this habit of yours wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t happen to personally know the very heroes you were reading and writing fanfiction about. As a pro-hero at a professional agency, you worked with many of the very heroes you were reading fictionalized tails about. Sure, it made for some awkward moments when you accidentally mixed up reality and fiction, but it was worth it. The thrill you’d get when you’re 3k words deep in a fic, or the rush of writing a drabble of a scenario that’s been running through your head… It was addicting. And you couldn’t lie to yourself, this secret double life of yours was somewhat exciting. The fact that none of your friends knew that you indulged in fanfiction about them made you feel guilty, yet strangely exhilarated. Especially when you were around the hero who you read/wrote the most fanfiction about: Deku.
You’ve had a crush on Izuku Midoriya for longer than you can remember. It seemed that the first time you laid eyes on those freckles and green eyes, you were doomed to forever have fluttering butterflies in your stomach when he was around. His inherit heroic nature, humble personality, and adorable muttering habit drove you crazy for him… and made for some excellent fanfiction. Deku is close to becoming the number one hero, and the hero fandom community has taken notice. Fan art, fanfiction, you name it, it’s been done about Midoriya. You definitely felt a special privilege of being able to call yourself his friend.
At the agency you both work at, the two of you bonded by gushing over various heroes, discussing different quirks and how they work. You often wondered if Izuku himself has read hero fanfiction, considering what a fanboy he could be when it came to these things. But you never had the courage to ask him about it. What if he found out you read and wrote fic specifically about being in a relationship with him? Would he never talk to you again, too weirded-out by the situation? Or would he understand, be flattered that you spend your free time writing about him blushing as he asks you out on a picnic date?
Either way, you weren’t willing to take that risk.
The ding of our phone snaps you out of your daydream. You get excited, thinking that it’s alerting you that someone has left an encouraging comment on one of your stories. However, when you pull out your phone to look and see, you’re met with something even better: a text from Izuku Midoriya asking to hang out.
“So, anyway, I feel like with this villain’s quirk, our best shot is to do a surprise attack,” Izuku comments, his voice straining ever so slightly every time he rises from a sit-up.
As you have come to expect, Midoriya asking to hang out usually equates to training for some upcoming mission. You didn’t mind this, of course. You could always use the extra training, and any time you spent next to Izuku is time well-spent in your book. Plus, you always looked forward to this part of the work-outs. You never thought you’d like sit-ups as much as you do, but holding Midoriya’s feet down as he did sit-ups was always the highlight of your week. You’d watch him sweat as he worked to strengthen his already toned body, trying not to drool at the sight. The determined look on his face alone gave you enough material to write about in your fanfiction (and you did). And you couldn’t help but notice that when he rose from a sit up, his face would be just inches from yours for a split second, almost as if he was begging to be kissed. And oh, how you longed to close the distance and finally feel his lips on yours. You often dreamed of how electric it would feel, as if his quirk itself would zap you into a state of pure ecstasy.
“Y/N?” Midoriya asks, propping himself up on his elbows. “You okay? You seem a bit out of it.”
“I’m fine!” you say, almost too eagerly. “Let’s take a water break. I’ll go get the bottles if you can grab my phone from my bag? I’m expecting a call later.”
“Deal,” he says, standing up and then lending you a hand to help you up. The feeling of his calloused, scarred hand in yours gives you goosebumps.
As you walk over to get the water bottles, you question yourself, asking if you’ll ever break and tell Izuku how you really feel. It’s been long enough, and these feelings feel as if they’re coming to a boiling point. Maybe it’s time. Maybe it’s time for you to take a page from the fanfiction you read and come clean.
You grab the water bottles and turn around, taking a deep breath and readying yourself to finally bare your soul to the man you’ve been pining after for what feels like forever. But when you enter the room, you’re met with a troubling sight: Midoriya staring at your phone, frozen and eyes wide.
“Midoriya?”
The sound of your voice startles him, causing him to yelp and throw your phone in the air. Luckily, his quick reflexes catch the device, but you notice his hands shaking.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, tentatively walking towards him.
“Okay? W-why wouldn’t everything be okay? Is everything okay? I-I feel like everything is okay.”
You can barely understand the words coming out of his mouth due to the sputtering of nervous “um’s” and “uh’s” in between every sentence. Something is definitely wrong. He wouldn’t be looking as red as a tomato if everything were fine. But the minute you start to step closer, he takes one step back, continuing to mutter about everything being okay.
“Midoriya, what-” you begin to question.
“A-Anyways, I really should be going. Thanks for the training. H-Here’s your phone,” he says, tossing it to you as if it burned him.
“Wait!” you call out, but it’s too late. He’s gone.
You’re left clueless, wondering what the hell possessed him to act like that. Well, you’re left clueless until you look down at your phone in your hands and see the most recent notification lighting up the screen:
sunflower-kami-boi left a comment on your fanfic Kissing Freckles: “this is AMAZING. you write Deku so well. it’s like you’re someone that knows him irl!”
It’s been one week since Izuku discovered that you write fanfiction about him. He’s clearly been avoiding you at the agency office, and the dull ache in your chest just doesn’t seem to go away. You knew that reading and writing fic about him was bad, a dangerous double life to lead. And yet you did it anyway. Missing your training partner, you’re really starting to regret that decision.
But when you get to your desk at the agency office after your morning patrol, you find a note that gives you a glimmer of hope. It simply reads:
Meet me at the park at 3. -Midoriya
What could he want to talk about? Is he planning on making fun of you to your face? That seems so unlike the Izuku that you’ve come to know and love. But what’s the alternative? That he’s okay with the fact that you read and write fictionalized accounts of kissing him for the Internet to read? Your brain rejects both of those possibilities, leaving you absolutely clueless as you arrive at the park that afternoon.
And when you see him, your jaw drops.
On a grassy green hill, Izuku Midoriya sits on a blanket with a picnic basket next to him. He nervously fiddles his thumbs, and you can see from here that he’s muttering to himself. When he looks up and sees you in the distance, he tentatively waves you over.
You start walking over to him, questioning everything in your mind. Are you dreaming? Had the embarrassment from last week’s incident killed you and sent you to heaven? Or are you truly going crazy, imagining a reality where Deku cares enough about you that he’d put together a whole picnic for the two of you to share? It’s amazing. It’s wonderful. It’s just like-
“Just like the fic you wrote,” Midoriya says shyly, gesturing slightly to the picnic set-up.
He takes your stunned silence as a request for an explanation. “I-I mean, I hope that’s not weird or anything. Of course, it was kinda weird for me to read fanfiction about myself, but honestly it was really well written and I kinda enjoyed it. Does that make me weird? I feel like it makes me weird. B-but, anyway, it took me a while to figure out what I was going to do after reading it because I kinda like you too. Well, I mean, I figured you liked me, but I guess I don’t really know that for sure and I just assumed it. Which was really bad of me to do. I’m so sorry. If you want I can go-”
“I do like you,” you interrupt, finally finding your voice. “So much.”
Izuku smiles softly and holds out his shaking hand to you, inviting you to sit down with him.
He blushes when you continue to hold his hand even after sitting, content to just feel his skin against yours. Questioning whether or not you're dreaming, you think back to the words written in a fic you read recently:
If you really are dreaming, then you pray to every god in existence that you’ll never awaken.