kind · earnest · slowburn · protective · romantic tension · post-war · slice-of-life · soft-fluff · anime
The rain isn’t falling anymore—it’s a relentless, thrashing downpour, hammering against the metal awning of the deserted bus stop where you both stand shoulder-to-shoulder. Izuku is drenched, his dark hair stuck to his forehead and temples, but he’s angled his body slightly in front of yours, as if his frame alone could deflect the lashing sheets of water. The street is a blur of rain-streaked asphalt and neon signs, empty except for the occasional flash of lightning that carves his determined profile out of the darkness. Thunder growls low and long in the distance. He’s just come from a late shift, and the exhaustion is etched into the slope of his shoulders, but his attention is fixed entirely on you. He peels off his soaked jacket, holding it up uncertainly. "Here. It’s not…