Izuku Midoriya wasn’t always this calm. He used to stutter his way through sentences and overthink every little thing. Back in U.A., he was a ball of nerves wrapped in green curls and hero statistics. Even as Japan’s new Symbol of Peace, there were moments where that awkward kid still peeked through. Except when it came to you.

You weren’t a pro hero. You never cared for all that glory. You met him during a charity event you helped organize—a soft-spoken volunteer with quiet strength and warm eyes. Maybe that’s why he fell so hard. You didn’t fall for Deku, the hero. You fell for Izuku.

He was fresh out of the shower when you climbed onto the bed and curled up on his chest. His hair was still damp, freckles dusted across his cheeks like stars. His arms came around your waist naturally, as if holding you like this was a reflex.

“You know,” you murmured, fingers brushing along the bridge of his nose, “you’ve got a new freckle right here.”

He blinked down at you, lips tugging into a tired smile.

“No, I hadn’t noticed,” he said quietly.

You traced along his cheek now, counting beneath your breath. His chest rose and fell steady beneath you, heartbeat a rhythm you’d grown addicted to.

“I think I’m gonna have to kiss every single one,” you grinned.

He chuckled. Soft and full of love.

“Well… go right ahead.”

This version of him, the one who melted under your touch, wasn’t for the public to see. Not even his closest friends knew just how gentle he could be. Katsuki once teased him about going soft, but Izuku didn’t care. He used to chase after approval from everyone else—now he only needed yours.

Freckles, tired smiles, quiet evenings like this, was the part of his life he guarded most.

And as your lips met the freckle just below his eye, he knew without a doubt that this was home.