#like okay sho is On His Way on the iida mobile

[inkykeiji]

Clari I am crying at the leaks. :( all he wanted was to be seen I can’t

the leaks are like,,,, kind of confusing to me LMAO like aside from that heartbreaking line i’m like ????? okay so what is going on here

[hoe-doroki]

I just read your Iida fic with the reader having a breakdown and I love your writing! You portrayed him really well! Are your requests open to do another fic with Iida and some fluff? Anything is fine!

Hey there, nonnie! Thanks so much for the request. Sorry it took a few days to get out--vague requests really stump me sometimes. I had to do a lot of brainstorming to come up with...this? Look, this idea is basically crack and I don’t know what to tell you. Hope someone enjoys it!

pairing: Iida x reader

genre: fluff, mild comfort

word count: 1.8k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something musical about the sound of glass breaking. When it was a clean break, rather than the crushing of a bottle underfoot or a baseball hitting a window, it made a delicate tinkle, like the hit of a glockenspiel. Nice. Pretty.

Job one was cleaning the mess. You used your quirk to hover out of the room, relieved to find that the damage hadn’t made it past your closed bedroom door. All the other lights and windows in the house were in one piece, and thankfully the kitchen had been untouched. You found a dustpan and began trying to erase the evidence.

Not that there was any real chance of that. Two hours into your endeavor, you heard the front door open and cringed. But there was nothing to hide—it wasn’t like any lie in the world could make up for the fact that all of Iida’s glasses were now prescriptionless.

“I’m home!” Iida called as you stood up, trying to regain some of your dignity and circulation in your knees before you came face to face with your boyfriend.

“In the bedroom,” you called. “I suggest you keep your shoes on.”

“Why in the world would I—”

You saw Iida step into the doorway, your teeth gritted nervously as you eyed his reaction. His shoes were already off and his now-singular set of glasses were pointed at the ground, his jaw dropped.

“Honey?” Iida asked when he was done looking at your dustpan and trash bin filled with glass and the many sparkling bits still left on the floor. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, holding up gloved hands to show that you had no cuts to worry about. “Just put on shoes, babe.”

“Right,” Iida said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Right.”

You heard him shuffling back to the door to find a pair of shoes to put on. You’d done the same earlier and, though you were sure Iida felt just as strange about wearing shoes in the house as you did, it was certainly a necessity in this scenario.

“Okay,” Iida said, now shoed and back into the doorway. He had a tense hand pointed at either you or the mess, you weren’t sure. “So what happened here?”

“Well,” you began awkwardly. “I was working on my quirk a little bit. You know how I’ve been trying to hit a high C? Well…I finally did. And, um, it turns out that it breaks glass.”

“That’s a myth,” Iida stated. “High C’s only break glass under very specific circumstances. It would be nearly impossible for your singing to create…to cause all this.”

“No, I know that,” you said, smiling against the hellish backdrop. “My quirk, Iida. We finally know what happens when I sing a high C.”

Iida’s mouth fell open again, smaller this time. “Oh. Oh.”

Your quirk was a…peculiar one. Every note you sang, when sustained for more than a few seconds, caused a different effect. A B flat 4 allowed you to breathe out smoke. A D4 gave you a slight gravitational pull, but you never really used that one, since it only tended to attract pollen and leaves your way. G3 was a little low for you, but allowed you to levitate a couple inches off the ground which, usually, you found to be pretty useless. However, it was sure helpful right now, as you tried to navigate between rare spots of glassless floor.

When most people heard about your quirk, they thought it was really cool. Unlike most, you technically had dozens of quirks. However, most of them were almost entirely useless, and very hard to train, since they all only worked when you were sustaining a note. So you couldn’t use any quirk for more than twenty or thirty seconds at a time. You couldn’t strengthen any of them with those restraints. The best you could do was increase your lung capacity, work on your pitch, and try and stretch your range to see if any notes at the far ends of your register would reveal something more useful or interesting.

And this one was interesting. You could appreciate the irony. You weren’t sure you liked it, though.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said before lightly singing a G3 and hovering over to him. “I broke all of your glasses.”

He looked over at the thin shelves that now held nothing but the thin frames of dozens of glasses and unusable, cracked lenses. His face crumbled—it appeared he hadn’t noticed before, his eyes too focused on the shrapnel on the floor.

Iida swallowed and nodded, the corners of his mouth tense. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not mad.”

You put a hand on his cheek, but he was still looking at his ruined collection instead of at you, and your heart clenched a little. “It would be okay if you were mad,” you said. “Those were expensive and you had them for a reason…I’m really sorry.”

“No,” Iida said, shaking his head before making eye contact with you, his face placid. “The reason I had them was in case a pair broke in battle. This wasn’t battle, but it was your quirk training which is of equal importance. So they served their purpose.”

“But my quirk is useless,” you said. “If you’re saying that your glasses’ divine cause was my quirk training then they died in vain, because I’m never going to sing that note again.”

“Hey, there’s no need to say that,” Iida said, rubbing a big hand over your shoulder before pulling you in. “This quirk could be very valuable in a number of situations. What if you need a quick escape out a window but you can’t break through it? Or it could make for a useful surprise attack against a villain.”

“I love your big hero brain, Iida,” you said, rubbing your thumb over his strong cheekbone. “But that’s not exactly useful for a civilian.”

“Right, of course,” Iida said, brows furrowing as he thought more. “Well, it makes for a good party trick? So long as there isn’t anything extraneous that’s broken.”

You giggled at Iida’s sad attempt to comfort you. You weren’t sure that breaking glass to show off would come up at the kind of parties that you and Iida attended. They were mostly benefits that pro heroes had to attend for appearances. But, then again, anything was possible.

Your smile spread to Iida, whose face warmed as he looked at you and soon you were in his arms, wrapped in a big bear hug. You had yet to encounter another person who gave hugs that were quite as good, with his broad chest and thick arms wrapping fully around you so you felt safe and content.

“We can order you some new glasses tonight,” you mumbled into his chest, still feeling a bit guilty about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t a disaster, truly. So long as Iida could keep his glasses in one piece for a few days—which he usually could, despite what his dozens of backups implied—then all that really needed to be done was clean the room, screw in a new light bulb, and find a tarp to put over the window until you could call a window fitting service.

“Actually, I…” Iida pulled away, his gaze back on the shelves. He was scratching his nose and hiding what looked to be a slight blush from you. You cocked your head to the side. “I kind of want to mourn these ones for a minute before we order their replacements. If that’s okay.”

It was all you could do to keep from laughing.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and you were back in his arms, this time providing the squeeze yourself. “Whatever you need.”

You tried to keep Iida from helping with the cleanup—it was your mess, after all—but he would hear nothing of it. Even when you argued that you were the one with a quirk that could help even a little bit. Actually, your slight gravitational pull helped draw the smallest shards of glass out of the crannies in the wood floor, though Iida made you put on protective gear beforehand. The gear was a raincoat, wellies, jeans, and a ski mask, but they did the job.

At the end of it, Iida was holding one of the frames that both lenses had fallen clean out of, examining it. They were in perfect shape, like the lenseless glasses that internet influences wore when they were trying to look nerdy.

“You think we could send these back in so that all we need is new lenses instead of a whole new pair?” Iida asked.

“Aw, like an organ donor?” you said with a grin. “Making sure its sacrifice wasn’t wasted?”

“I’m serious,” Iida said—as though he ever wasn’t. “That’s something we can do, right?”

“Of course, honey,” you said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “We can look into it tomorrow.”

Iida nodded, looking wistful as he set the glasses back in their particular spot, where hopefully they’d soon be able to return whole once more. “Honey?”

“Hmm?”

You were wrapped around one of his arms, hugging it as you leaned into his body, warm from having crawled around the room with you all evening.

“I should have said before, and I’m sorry that I didn’t, that I’m proud of you.”

You nearly scoffed. “For what?”

“You made a big step with your quirk today,” Iida said, smiling at you. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s really not,” you said. “Like I said, it’s not anything worthwhile.”

“Of course it is,” Iida said, quick to correct you. “I got my quirk from my parents, and it’s the same as my brother’s, and that’s its greatest value. Not its strength. Your quirk is a part of you. And that’s its inherent value.”

“You’re just biased because you like the package,” you argued.

“I do,” Iida said with a nod. “But my bias doesn’t matter here. I’m simply stating fact.”

“Iida,” you said, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “You’re too sweet.”

“No sweeter than you deserve,” Iida said confidently. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

“Mm, I love you,” you said. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

Iida frowned at you, caught between wanting to repeat the sentiment back and not wanting to go back on what he’d declared as his final word.

“You know what my stance is on that,” he said carefully. You eyed him, a brow arched in challenge. You saw him waver, and a moment later he was leaning down to kiss you, all soft and warm. “But I’ll happily remind you.”