#{ SORRY TO JUMPSCARE IZUKU WITH GIRLY SEPH }

[huntershowl-moving]

"What if they kissed?" 👀

Send "What if they kissed?" and I'll write a scene where our muses kiss, even if they aren't shipped together. it is it's own thing and doesn't have to lead to an official ship. a "what if scenario" ACCEPTING.

WHEN PERSEPHONE AND MIDORIYA FIRST MET, she laid out a boundary. i won't do social infiltration undercover work. more than once, she's snarled at the idea of being put in a dress at any time, for any reason. then again, that first meeting had gone rather terribly for her. it quickly became clear that they would do what the shie-hassaikai required of them, or they would be sent back to fletch missing something more important than their arms.

to his credit, it took quite a while for midoriya to test this limit. but time and experience has proven that their best work is done in proximity to each other — alone, their quirks are powerful. together, they are unbeatable.

so here she is. at a gala. in a suit, at least, and with hair in a braid down her back whose length and weight keep her grounded. it's... something. still, it takes everything in her not to wear a constant scowl and jump at shadows, and as soon as she & midoriya are able to slip past the crowds into the back staircase, the tension in their shoulders eases a bit.

❝ stay on your toes, ❞ seph murmurs in warning as they step in front of him, quietly pushing the door open so that they can scout. the office is just at the other end of the hall. if they can just get to that safe —

but before she can call clear, the din of voices begins to float around the corner of the hallway. shit — either the guards are on break, or the patrol information was outdated. it doesn't matter. she closes the door, but it's not fast enough and it's not quiet enough, and a look of utter, full-body exasperation washes over them as the footsteps pick up speed. hey — who's there? fuuuuck. fuck fuck fuck. ❝ okay. ❞ seph steps back down onto the first landing, staring up at the door, flexing and clenching a leather-gloved fist. ❝ i can probably choke them out before they — ❞

the door opens. before seph can do anything stupid, like ruin the entire mission by resorting to violence like they always do, midoriya takes her face in his hands and yanks her down to kiss her.

or that.

the reaction is instant: a bolt of panic, a closed throat, lungs struggling to breathe, hands. hands, sickening, nauseating grip —

but somehow, this time, they're able to ground themself before they slip into flashback delirium. they focus on the scent, or rather the lack thereof; no ozone. no petrichor. no thousand-dollar cologne. to add, their head is tilted downwards, not upwards; like a computer processing a line of code, it all runs through her head lightning-fast and comes up with an acceptable result; so they relax into it, even as an arm snakes around their waist and pulls them closer. it's — not bad. it's fine. it's okay. they are in immediate peril, which means they're as safe as they can be.

just a couple of twenty-somethings sneaking away to make out. the guard heaves an exhausted ( and relieved ) sigh and bangs his baton on the metal railing of the stairs. "hey, you two! you can't be up here. you wanna make out, go outside."

seph manifests a little squeak of surprise and giggles, hand over their mouth, face completely red. it is a shocking reversal of her normal attitude, her refusal to lie or put on an act — indeed, they're quite a bit better at it than they had midoriya believe. ❝ sorry! s-sorry, sir. we'll go. ❞

it isn't until they've started to bolt back down the stairs, and the door at the top of the stairwell closes, that persephone's strange, overfeminine mask drops. they round on midoriya with an absolutely murderous glare. ❝ what the fuck was that? ❞