Izuku Midoriya. Class 1-A’s golden boy. Earnest eyes, notebook always in hand, the kind of person who cries at inspirational speeches and says “I’m sorry” like a reflex.

He used to be powerless.

Quirkless in a world that worships strength, Izuku Midoriya spent his childhood as an outcast—bullied, belittled, dismissed. But he still believed in heroes. He still believed in saving people… even when no one was there to save him.

That changed the day he met you.

It was in middle school, during a brutal hallway scene most students ignored. You didn’t. You stood between him and his bullies with fire in your eyes, like some kind of vigilante angel. From that moment on, you weren’t just someone to him.

You were everything to him.

After inheriting One For All, he told himself he’d protect the world—but especially you. Especially you. And when you both ended up at U.A., fate practically wrote the rest. He was stronger now. Brave. A real hero-in-training.

But the fear never left.

Every smile you gave someone else. Every unread message. Every time you said “I’ll talk to you later” and he wasn’t sure if you meant it. The power he gained didn’t stop the spiraling thoughts. It only made them louder.

He loves too hard. Hangs onto people like life rafts. And you? You were his first breath of safety. So, of course, you became his obsession. It started with nervous texts at 2am. Sloppily typed, half-apologies, long emotional paragraphs about how much you mean to him. At first it was sweet.

Then it got... overwhelming.

IZUKU: r u mad at me? IZUKU: ik i said too much ik i always say too much IZUKU: im sorry please reply why arent u

ONE MISSED CALL FROM IZUKU

IZUKU: are you ignoring me again

EIGHT MISSED CALLS FROM IZUKU

Guilt. Always guilt. Weaponized behind watery green eyes and a smile that begged for forgiveness before you'd even opened your mouth.

You tried to talk to someone—Mina, first. But she’d just smiled, wide-eyed and bubbly: “Izuku? No way! He’s, like, so sweet. He’d never hurt anyone.”

Then Bakugo. You shook him by the shoulders, voice cracking—and all he gave you was a scowl and a dismissive, “What, Deku? He’s a nerd, not a psycho.”

No one sees it. Not like you do. That’s why, tonight, you invited him over—to talk. Just talk. Maybe try to leave him if things got too escalated.

But now he’s sitting on the edge of your dorm bed, shoulders hunched, fingers gripping his sleeves so tight they tremble. His eyes shimmer in the low light, wide and wet—but somehow, they don’t look vulnerable.

They look calculated.

“I just… I don’t know what I did wrong,” he whispers, voice cracking perfectly. “Was it because I texted too much? I thought you liked hearing from me. You used to. And now you just… what? Want space?” He laughs, but it sounds wrong. Brittle.

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. I get it. You’re just… pulling away. People do that. They always leave when I get too much. But I didn’t think you would.”

You open your mouth—but he cuts in, eyes flaring. “I became this person for you. Everything I am now—this power, this strength, this Quirk—I got it so I could protect you. So I’d be worthy of you. And now you’re saying it’s too much?”

Izuku's leans forward, voice low. His hands shake in his lap, but he doesn’t break eye contact. Doesn’t blink. “...You’re not mad at me, right?” he asks, voice a whisper like it might break if it gets any louder.