Work Text:
The setting sun made the sky turn a bright orange that faded into a pink. Making the moon look tiny and meager. The temperature dropping to a low 40°. Leaves turning bright red, yellow and orange; Eventually turning brown. The city lights glowing to life. People bustling around in the streets and shops that aline the city area. Sweater weather season has been blooming everywhere. From soft cardigans to thick sweaters; Everyone has had a good amount of the “comfy look.”
You tightened your shawl around yourself tighter as a gust of wind blew past. Was it always this freezing? As if on cue someone mumbled, “Curse this temperature,” as they walked past.
You ghosted a smile and muffled a giggle. Of course, there are people who despise everything about fall with its quirks. Which is sad however, because the thought of never seeing color change in leaves, or wearing the bundled-up attire is sad. That isn’t the case though, seasons change, and people do not have control over it.
If people could control everything, it wouldn’t be fun. Chaos would be everywhere, and life wouldn’t be surprising anymore. There are things in this life that happen, that are out of our control.
However, under certain circumstances, you wished you could control things that pertained to people you knew. When someone is in pain of any sort, it tears you to pieces that you could only do so much than not take it away at all. The agony in their eyes, the reddened face, and the uncontrollable shaking. It is all too much to bare.
...
Fumbling with the keys to find the right one, you open the door. The living room lights flicker on as you walk in. It has been a few months since moving into a big house. When it was too much in a small apartment, your spouse proposed the idea of the both of you moving somewhere new. Both of you were so giddy to have a new house, and to decorate. The first time you decorated the house with objects, he had this sparkle in his eyes. He loved the way you decorated everything, especially when the seasons changed. Currently, plastic fall leaves were laid and scattered on dressers, the kitchen island, and the dining room.
Recently you bought a big pumpkin, that laid on the kitchen island. It was a mini activity you wanted to initiate with him this year, since both of you have been so busy. He was busy saving the world. Yes, you were married to a superhero, and yes he was a busy man. Izuku Midoriya, the No. 1 hero, and the only hero that rised to the top in a world above other heroes. However, despite him being busy, he tried his best to always make time for you.
As soon as you set your bag down on the counter, you switched from work clothes into t-shirt and sweatpants. “Feels much better,” you muttered. Plopping down on the couch, you turn on a show. About 20 minutes in, and the sound of the front door opening snatches your attention away from the TV. You get up to wrap him in a big hug. It was a huge part in your relationship routine, to hug the other person when they come home.
He becomes lax in your arms, and completely dropped his suit case. Burying his face in your shoulder, you ask how his day was.
He replies with a muffled, “Fine.”
You draw back and look him in the face, he is covered in soot. His costume has several tears, and his green eyes look dim. You brush a hand through his hair and push a gentle hand on his back. “Go wash up, I’ll make dinner and we can talk,” you say softly. Vegatables and chicken are laid out on the kitchen island on a cutting board.
Chicken pot pie was the idea of dinner, and it was also one of his favorite meals. You chop and fill the pan, then you put the thin dough over it as the cover. Poking a few holes to it won’t explode...done!
As soon as you are finished with the task, Izuku walks out drying his hair with a towel. You sit down on the couch and gesture for him to sit down too. He sits facing you at close proximity. You can see the lines under his eyes, and his lips that are curved into a frown. You run your hands through his damp hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your gentle touch. Trying to plaster a smile on your face for him, you talk gently,
“What is on your mind? You seem stressed.”
He shakes his head and places his forehead on your shoulder.
“M’fine,” he mumbles.
Although you wish to believe him, its the complete opposite response you make. You cup his face with both hands, squishing his cheeks together.
“You tell me now, or I’ll tickle you,” you threatened.
He gives you an unimpressed ‘really?’ look. The puppy eyes you give him make him uneasy. Both of you have a fair share of using this trick to get the other person to do what you want.
It’s very potent. He gives in and sighs,
“It’s work,”
You immediately listen in.
He pauses and takes a deep breath.
“Everything has been piling up on my back, and I hate the fact that I can’t save everyone. It scares me that a situation will happen where I can’t even save you,” his voice chokes.
He covers his face as you pull his head into your shoulder. Rubbing his back in circles, you try and be as comforting as much as possible. It’s hard when things get too overbearing, and there is nothing that you can do except love the person. He muffles his crying but as soon as you pull him closer, he lets the watergates open.
He goes on and on that he is scared, and that he isn’t good enough for being a hero. What makes you stop is when he says that he isn’t good enough for you. You pull back and look in his eyes. The intensity you have right now makes his gaze shift somewhere else.
“Izuku, I love you. I know it has been hard for you, and I am here for you. But, it isn’t fair when you claim that you aren’t good enough. Especially when you know you are,” you wipe a tear away.
“This is the tough pill to swallow, you can’t save everyone; That’s a fact,” You tilt your head downward.
You then grab his hands and put them where your heart would be,
“Despite those harsh truths, you are and can be a great hero. I love you for who you are,” you lift and tenderly kiss one of his knuckles.
A few more tears run down his face, and he leans forward to wrap his arms around you. His warmth is welcoming as you hug back. Both of you stay like that until his stomach growls.
He giggles and looks at you sheepishly, “I guess all this stress has made me hungry,” he joked.
You smile and lead him into the kitchen, “Well I made chicken pot pie,” opening the oven to see a steaming pie.
...
The steam was coming off the slice of food as you put it on his plate. Conversations passed between you both as the food slowly started to disappear from your plates. When both of you are stuffed full, the couch is the next destination.
Wrapped in blankets and eachother’s arms while watching TV is the best healing moment for the two of you. Nothing in the world can steal a moment like this. Point proven when he nestles his face in the side of your head and pulls you impossibly closer.
You lay back and allow him to wrap his arms around your waist while he lays his head on your lap. His curls bounce back as you run your hands through them. Tension eases from his shoulders every stroke you give. Just like that, he was puddy in your hands. You pause to pick up your phone for a moment. A calloused hand siezes yours, and your eyes meet emerald ones. Both full of desperation, and you freeze.
He sets your hand on his head and you gingerly run your hands through his green locks. He completely melts. His nose nuzzles your wrist and he plants a featherlight kiss on it.
“I love you”