sannasruins - Tumblr blog

[sannasruins]

it didn't hurt, right?

bakugo katsuki x reader

type: angst

warnings: cheating (on reader), smoking, f!reader

a/n: hi it's been a while, got writer's block but then something bad happened to me which always makes the writing juices flow, also i didn't proofread, i will never proofread

word count: 2k

The strike of a lighter lit in front of your face, you weren't one to smoke, in fact, you had never smoked a cigarette before. After all that had happened to you today though, you thought you needed a vice. You needed something, anything, too dull, to numb, to take your mind off what had happened. What you had heard, and now this dull ache refusing to leave your chest. You let the flame go out.

Leaning against the cold brick wall in the dark, in the alleyway of the convince store where you had just bought a pack of Marlboro's, the pretty sad girls always seemed to smoke those, and a matching red lighter. You huddled into yourself, hands stuffed in your jacket pockets, fist clamped around the box you had just bought. Your chilled body illuminated slightly by the neon lights of the city that spilled into your hiding place, you shakily take out the box, struggling for a second on how to open it before, with shaky hands, successfully ripping into it. You tapped out a single thin white stick and brought it to your lips, before restriking the lighter and bringing it to the tip. 

You inhaled deeply, and paused before you began coughing, it felt as if you were going to cough your lungs right out of your body with how hard they were wracking your entire being. You bent over, hands on your knees as your whole body shook with the motions of your coughs, the cigarette, forgotten and extinguished on the ground by your feet, while this was a miserable feeling, you thought to yourself, it did replace that horrible knot of anxiety in your stomach for a few moments. Maybe it was worth it. 

You thought back to what had caused this rash change in behavior for you, it wasn’t too long ago, just a few weeks, maybe even a handful of minutes if you didn’t count the foreboding feeling leading up to it. 

You had been dating your boyfriend, Pro Hero Bakugo Katsuki for 2 years now, but had known him since the days that he was an upper classman for you at UA high, you in the support class a year under him, got semi acquainted with him as he frequently was breaking his equipment. After he graduated you both lost touch but when you graduated and found a job as a hero equipment repair apprentice at the same agency he was working at, the two of you began to interact once more. 

You had had a crush on him since your schooling days, your girl friends always calling you crazy for liking such an abrasive boy, but you liked his candor, and his mental fortitude. The two of you found your quick wit in common and you could sympathize with him in a way that it seemed that a lot of people could not, which you didn’t fully understand but you didn’t let it get to you.

He asked you out 2 years after you had started working at the pro hero agency, he had brought a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you were surprised he had known them, but you happily said yes with years in your eyes. Your girlhood crush had been realized; how many people can say that. 

You asked him later what made him ask you out, what he liked about you. He told you he liked your sweetness, your kind eyes, and maybe it was a red flag that he didn't mention how brave you were, or your quick hands, or your impressive talents. But maybe not, it’s hard to tell at this point. 

He was sweet for a while, attentive, present, though it did drop off eventually, maybe after a year, maybe a bit sooner. You could shrug that off though, he was a pro hero, he was busy protecting the city and the entirety of Japan.

The two of you moved in together on your one-year anniversary, you thought it was so sweet when he presented you with the key to his apartment in a little box with a bow. Though was that just lazy behavior? Did he do that because he didn’t know what else to do or didn’t care to do anything else? You were questioning everything about the of your relationship at this point. 

You hadn’t brought much from your apartment, just a couple boxes of stuff besides clothes, since his place was already furnished with things much nicer than yours. You didn’t think you would be needing any of your old furniture again, no point in paying for storage for things you don’t need, so you sold it off for a little bit of money to put into your savings, you secretly had the thought of ‘wedding’ when saving the money. 

You chuckle bitterly in the alleyway you’ve been reminiscing in, “stupid” you murmur to yourself.

It was definitely dumb of you to sell almost all your belongings when moving in with your first serious boyfriend, but you were young and dumb and in love. 

You were happy cooking lunches for the both of you, and then making breakfast, before going to work an 8-hour shift, often having to put in overtime due to unexpected or urgent repairs needing to be done, and then coming home, cleaning your shared living spaces, and starting on dinner before he came home. It became a routine, and you didn’t mind, he worked hard, and you loved him, so putting in some extra effort didn’t hurt, right?

You loved him. He loved you. It didn't hurt, right?

He had been acting a little more distant than usual in the last few weeks, you had tried talking to him, getting him to open up, letting him know you were there for him, giving him his space, but no matter what you did, nothing seemed to work, he just seemed to be getting further and further away from you, coming home later, pushing his dinner around his plate but not eating, and even when the two of you slept in the same bed, side by side, it was as if you were worlds apart. You had no idea what was going on, you equated it to his job, it was hard, he had to watch people get hurt, he had to watch people die, he had to bear the guilt of not being able to save those claimed by death. You felt helpless sitting there watching him drift away but you tried everything, there was nothing left for you to do.

He came home earlier than his new normal that day, the sun was still in the sky, albeit, setting, the orange fingers of light stretching out through the clouds as if grasping onto the day, not wanting to leave the bliss of unknowing. 

“Oh, hi honey!” you greeted him as you heard the door unlock and swing open, “you’re home earlier than you’ve been, so I don’t have dinner ready quite yet,”. 

You continued to happily babble as he took off his shoes by the entrance and closed the door behind him before making his way to the kitchen where you stood and took a seat at the dining table. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the spikes slightly, in a way he did when he was anxious, but you didn’t see the movement as you had you back turned, happily stirring away at a pot on the stove.

“We need to talk.” He stated. 

You felt your stomach drop in anxiety, you didn’t like his tone of voice, it was curt, it was clipped, it was cold. It was unfamiliar. 

“O-” your voice caught in your throat, “Okay Hun, well dinners almost ready so, like 10 more minutes and we can talk over it okay? Thats fine, right?” you asked, more trying to reassure yourself than anything else. 

“Y/n,” again, the unfamiliar tone, “turn off the stone, that can wait, we need to talk now.”

You slowly released the iron grasp you didn’t know you had on the wooden spoon you held in your hand, a sizable lump growing in your throat, before you inhaled through your nose and acknowledged him.

“Okay, Katsuki.” you turned the burner off, and whipped your palms quickly down your jeans once, steeling yourself before you turned to face him, sitting at the table, which suddenly looked alien to you. 

You walked stiffly towards the chair you always sat in, opposite him, and looked at his face, there was an indescribable expression on it, but it was stern, and chilly. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his eyes had a storm of emotion in them, determination, but behind that, maybe, guilt. 

You pulled the chair out and sat, dread already filling your stomach as your mind filled with 1,000 ideas as to what he had to say, though nothing could have prepared you for the words that were about to leave his mouth.

“I found someone else.”

Time slowed for you.

He continued, “and I think I love her, more than I love you, I think more than I could ever love you.”, every second felt agonizing as you processed what he had just told you, someone else? You had a million questions, and they all started falling out of your mouth, tumbling and choking you along with your tears. 

“Why? Who? For how long? When did this start? Where did you meet her? What do you mean? Can’t I do anything to fix this? Why are yo-,” You were stuttering and stumbling over your words before he held up a hand to stop your onslaught of questions.

“I can’t say why, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I still care about you, I do still love you, I just,” he paused and put his head in his hands, sighing, “I love her more.”

“I can’t tell you wh-” you stood up, the sound of your chair scrapping against the wooden floor cutting him off. Fat, hot tears ran down your cheeks and you walked past him and towards the front door. 

He stood up as you passed, the sharp sound of his chair on the floor abrasive in your ears, and you flinched, squinting your eyes closed.

He grabbed your arm tightly, perhaps he didn’t know his own strength, but the force was bruising. You tried once to shake him off, but he didn’t let go. “Y/n, sit back down and listen to me,” he tried to command you.

You tried again to shrug him off, and when he again refused to release you from his grasp, your voice, raspy and harsher, and in a tone, he had never heard escape from your lips, confronted him. 

“Let me go Bakugo.”

His hand loosened and you were able to finally shrug your bicep out of his fisted hand.

He stood there silently watching as you made your way to the front door, shoving your feet into the first pair of shoes you saw and grabbing a jacket, before opening the door and heading out, slamming it behind you. 

That is how you had found yourself, now sitting on the ground in the alleyway on the side of a convenience store, knees to your eyes as you shook silently with sobs.

You lowered your knees and again reached into your jacket pocket, pulling out the little box and lighter, deciding to try again. You brought the cigarette back up to your shaky lips and repeated the steps, click of the lighter, bring the flame in close, let the flame die, inhale. Ignore the burn in your chest, exhale.

It didn’t hurt, right?

a/n: there will not be a part two, this was lightly based on an experience that happened to me, and i won't want to write a fake future. even if his actions end up coming and biting him in the ass though, i have moved past it, as i am not going to spend my youth full of regret and rage, it doesn't hurt anyone but me. I hope all of my readers understand. <3

[sannasruins]

asinine

villian!izuku midoryia x reader

warning: kidnapping, obsession, kinda yandere

a/n: just a blurb, i'm having pretty bad writers block right now, f!reader

word count: 400

“Oh, sweet girl.” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your jaw, toying with the cloth that gagged you, “foolish in your kindness, burning yourself to keep others warm.” He gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes, shining like emeralds. “Your hubris is not even your own, it seems all you've done is live for your obsession, your love.”

He circled around the chair you were bound to, lightly dragging fingers over the skin of your neck, the pressure barely there. He grabbed the hair at where your skull and spine met, yanking your head backwards violently, and meeting your tearful gaze as he loomed over you. 

“How asinine of you.” his words, laced with venom, with hatred unrivaled. “How utterly feebleminded you are to dedicate your life to something that is not even your own.” He released your stinging scalp. 

“You should have picked me over him.” He rounded back to the front of you, squatting down so his face was level with yours.

“Don’t you know how evil he is? How selfish? How cruel?” He tutted and shook his head, almost in mirth. “Of course, you couldn’t have, you were blinded by the love you have for your little hero. He couldn’t protect you though, could he?” 

Midoriya Izuku dug two fingers into your side, causing tears to spring in your eyes as you tried to flinch away, the bounds stopping you from escaping you, as he followed along, still pressing into what must be an ever-darkening bruise. It felt like fire, it felt like your organs were screaming, and tears streamed down your face as you watched him, never letting yourself break contact with his eyes. Formerly enchanting, warm and welcoming like a sun dappled forest has turned to rot, to sticky poison, to radiation and sickness, but they still held that clever gleam. With his other hand he reached up and lightly brushed away one of your tears, a grin splitting his freckled face.

“Oh, don’t cry my sweet girl, he couldn’t protect you.” He let up the pressure behind his bruising fingers, lifting his other hand to now hold your face between his two larger palms.

“But I will.”

[sannasruins]

bad flirt

denki x reader

type: hurt to comfort/ fluff

warnings: jealousy, self consciousness, implied f!reader

a/n: this is me combating writer's block, i have nothing to say for myself, sorry in advance <3

word count:1.5k

 Kaminari Denki was always a bit of a flirt, calling all the girls in your grade “sweetcheeks”, “sunshine”, and “cutie”. You weren’t in his class, so you didn’t receive the brunt of it but whenever he came by the support classroom to get his disks adjusted or his costume tinkered with, he would always seek you out to do it. Sitting and talking to you as you worked, his words often came off awkward and inexperienced, he was trying to be cool, but he was still learning. At first you were annoyed with him, interrupting your other work, forcing you to divide your attention between him and his tech, unless you wanted him to start whining in an even more annoying falsetto. 

“If I had a go-en* for every time I saw someone as beautiful as you, I’d have 5 yen.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, keeping your eyes down and focused on the disk you were fiddling with, tightening a screw fully before you humored him with a response. 

“I heard you say the same thing to Yaoyorozu Momo last week in the lunch line, so you would have at least 10 yen.”

His face flushed in embarrassment, and he reached up to scratch his neck as he let out an apologetic laugh, “ah I better start learning more lines then, shouldn’t I?”

You looked up and at him, “maybe you should stop flirting with so many girls, or get better at it, because you kinda suck at it.”

He laughed in earnest this time, “aha yeah, though I’m just playing around, its nothing serious l/n.”

Oddly enough that sent a weird pang to your heart, you weren’t sure why, but you decided it wasn't important enough to give any thought to. 

You hummed in response and directed all your focus back onto his gear, oblivious to the pair of gleaming yellow eyes watching your every movement. 

Denki’s gear seemed to be getting broken or needing adjustment more and more recently, and every time he made his way to the support classrooms, he was always seeking you out. Interrupting conversations you were having with other male classmates, sliding into whatever space he could that was next to you, and spouting ridiculous pickup lines.

“Can you take me to the hospital? I think I just broke my legs falling for you so hard!”

“Cupid called; he told me to tell you he needs my heart back.”

“I seem to have lost my phone number, could I have yours instead?”

“I was wondering if you had an extra heart, because mine was just stolen!”

At first it annoyed you, his frequent and rudely impromptu interruptions, but you slowly found yourself looking forward to his visits, to hear his cheesy lines and chitchat with you. Along with that though, you found this uncomfortable feeling making its home in your gut every time you would overhear him talking to another girl the same way he talked to you. Using the same kind of stupid flirting techniques, he used on you on the way prettier girls from class 1A and B. You didn’t like it, in fact you hated the way it, and that stupid blonde, made you feel. 

It all came to a head on an overcast, regular day, nothing in particular caused it, in fact the day had been peaceful, and you were allowed to stay late by yourself with the promise of locking up after yourself since you were convinced you were close to a breakthrough on a new technology you had been working on. Maybe it was just the line, maybe it was the way he had come sliding into the spot next to you with no regard for your personal space, maybe it was the way you couldn’t even escape his words after school hours.

“Sorry, can you help me? I think there’s something wrong with my eyes, cause I can't seem to take them off you.”

It wasn’t an especially offensive line, not his worst by far, but something about it caused you to be pushed past your limits, the last screw holding together the damn snapping and opening the flood gates. You stood up from your workstation, leaving him sitting there and looking at you with a confused smile on his face.

“Will you just leave me alone Kaminari? There are so many other girls in this course you can go harass, I’m so sick of your shallow meaningless flirting! You should understand there can be weight behind your words! You can’t,” you sigh exasperated, running both hands up your face and through your hair, “You can’t just go around with your sweet words and sly smiles and stupid cute face and expect it to not work!”

He watched you with wide, electric eyes, and pink slowly blooming across his cheeks.

“You, you think my face is cute?” he stammered.

His stupid question only agitated you more, is that the only thing he had heard you say as you poured out your grievances. Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, threatening and fighting to spill over and ruin the image of strength you had desperately tried to present in an attempt to be taken seriously. 

The tears won, and now you were standing in the middle of your empty classroom, crying in front of the bewildered boy who had no idea that there were consequences to his actions. 

He stood, arms out in front of him, hands open, as if he was trying to approach a feral animal, “hey, hey, hey, ‘m sorry l/n, I didn’t know.” He slowly made his way closer.

“I wouldn’t have said those things if I knew.” He reached you, and when you didn’t make any move to push him away, circled his arms around you in an embrace, pressing your face close to his heart with one of his hands. It was beating fast.

You bounced your fist off of his chest weakly as you cried, mumbling about “leading me on” and “playing with my feelings”. It took about 5 minutes for you to wear yourself out, to calm down and run out of tears, but he was still as a statue. He stood and listened to you, never releasing you from his warm embrace. 

When you had finally silenced, he pulled away slightly, ignoring the small damp spot on his shirt of tears and snot, and looked at your reddened face. 

“Are you done?” he inquired. You nodded. 

He led you over to your workstation and pushed you down into your chair, before turning around and rummaging through his school bag, pulling out a water bottle and offering it to you. 

“I haven’t drunk from it yet, so it’s clean.” he informed, tilting it in your direction, enticing you to take it with a quivering hand, and sip from it slowly. 

When you had had your fill of the refreshing water, you screwed the cap back on, feeling much more composed and a little embarrassed of your earlier outburst. You scrubbed your face with the back of your sleeve, wiping away the salty streaks that had smeared themselves across your cheeks. You offered him an apology and excuse.

 “I’m sorry about that Kaminari, I don’t know what got into me.” 

He shook his head, dismissing your words.

“I’m really sorry too l/n, I didn’t know my talking to other girls like that would hurt your feelings so bad, I just, I don’t want you to think I didn’t mean them when I was saying them to you.” He paused, eyes flitting across the room as they avoided looking at you. 

“I know it’s not very convincing, saying that the same things I say to others have no meaning but when I say them to you, they do, but it’s true. In truth, I was practicing what I wanted to say to you, all those times you overheard me, because,” he coughed awkwardly, face flushed a bright red, “because well, I really like you, and I didn’t want to screw up with what I say to you.”

You let out a bemused and astonished huff of humor.

“Yeah, kind of ironic now,” he continued, “but I’ve always been really awkward around girls, especially the pretty ones I like, like you. And, well, I figured practice makes perfect.”

It was your turn to flush now, heat rising to your face at his confession. 

“I’m sorry I made you think I wasn’t serious, or made you feel like I was just playing with your feelings. That really isn’t what it is. I would love if you would let me prove that to you.” He took one of your hands into both of his. 

“I really like you, l/n y/n, please let me make it up to you, could I take you out this weekend?”

You wiped at the reddened skin of your face once more, as if you could rub away the blush that had made its home on your cheeks. You nodded, snuffling against your sleeve.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that, Kaminari.”

“Call me Denki.” he pressed.

The ghost of a smile graced your lips. “Yeah, I think I'd like that Denki.”

*go-en is the five yen piece

[sannasruins]

blue haired girl

hado nejire x reader

warnings: growing apart, unrequited feelings, abandonment, non-descriptive self-harm, lesbians (the horror!)

a/n: there's a bit of time skipping in this, so i’ve labeled things as their verses in the songs and the years (1, 2, and 3A) + semesters of high school they took place in. is nejire adhd/autistic coded? i cant tell, maybe its because i see the way she is as my normal (adhd) that i cant tell. i'm basing her personality strongly off the wiki bc she really hasn't had that much air time.

word count: 2.9k

inspired by and based on tv girl's- blue hair

Verse 1 - First Semester 1A

You and Nejire met on your first day of high school, class 1A. Both of you had quirks that were more powerful than the rest of the girls in your class, assuming that the two of you thought that you were superior to them and were already looking down on them, they took initiative and distanced themselves from you at the start. This left the two of you with only two options, have no friends, be a lonely outcast for the foreseeable future, or become friends. Obviously, it was an easy choice, and it was nice that the two of you got along well, and probably would have become friends even if you weren’t put in that unfortunate social situation. 

She was a blunt girl, not really knowing when it was the appropriate time, if at all, to say something that she wanted to say. She often ended up saying things that were accidentally hurtful, though if you let her know, she would instantly feel remorseful and apologize incessantly. She wasn’t always sure how to make a joke, often her attempts falling flat, but she was bright, and cheery, and had so much knowledge that she longed to share. You couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at her as you listened to her ramble about the newest thing, she learned that week on national geographic. 

One day, in the middle of your first year, she asked you how to be funny. You were taken aback, and asked her back, “you think I’m funny?” She nodded with a small smile.

You contemplated on how you should respond to her difficultly abstract question, “I don’t think that’s something you can teach.” 

She looked down, her smile falling off her face sent a pang of guilt to your heart. You quickly tried to backtrack, “I think you’re funny though Hado! You’re constantly making me smile and laugh!”. Her eyes met yours, a furrow forming on her brow, you stammered on, “Maybe not everyone thinks you’re funny, but I think that’s true for everyone! You just got to find the people that do think you’re funny and like being around you… like me.” You held eye contact with her despite the bright flush that made its way to your cheeks, ask if you were trying to transfer your conviction over to her.  She brushed off your almost confession with a giggle and a change of topic.

Chorus 1- Second Semester 2A

As you both aged, Nejire started to get more notice than you. Not that you were jealous, you being too enamored with her to care, no, you were just happy that she was getting the recognition you thought she so obviously deserved. It did sting though, when she would turn down your invitations for afterschool dates poorly vailed by you as hangouts. She needed to train though, she would say, and dismiss you with a “next time, okay y/n?”

Sometimes as you left the school building on your way home you would take the long way, past the training fields to watch her for a little bit, training with two boys from your class. You wondered why she didn’t ask you to train with her, to help her. You would never ask though, far too afraid of the answer that seemed to be pulling at the hem of your shirt, demanding your attention. She’s just focusing on training, it’s not like she suddenly stopped liking you. It’s not like she wanted to stop being your friend. It’s not like she was purposely ignoring you. Right?

Verse 2- Third Semester 1A 

The two of you were sitting in a cafe after school, one that Nejire had shown you a picture of on Pinterest and said the two of you had to go for their cute specialty foods. You had gotten a parfait, the cream on top having been manipulated into the shape of a cat, Nejire got a jasmine tea latte, the art in the foam had her swooning and whipping out her phone to snap pictures of it in multiple angles as she told you about her Pinterest page’s aesthetic, you listened along, slightly confused at the idea of people posting on Pinterest like it was a social media but not questioning it. After she had taken enough pictures of both her and your orders, the two of you started on your treats, she took a long sip from her latte and when she placed it back down on the table, she had suddenly grown a distinguished mustache made of foam. It made you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, trying to keep your laugher a courteous volume to the other patrons was exceedingly difficult as she didn’t seem to notice her new facial accessory and was looking at you very confused. In spite of your shakes of laughter you managed to raise a shaky hand to point at your upper lip, signaling to her what you had found so funny. She raised a finger to her top lip, touching the foam and then pulled it back to see what was on her face. Realizing what she had done, her face blushed a warm pink as she quickly grabbed her napkin to wipe it away. You had finally calmed down and noticed that she had missed a little bit on the far edge.

“Nejire, you still have some,” you told her and pointed on yourself where it was on her, picked the napkin back up and scrubbed at her face, but on the wrong side.

“No, other side,” you specified. She again rubbed at her face with the now crumpled napkin but somehow still managed to miss the small smudge of foamed milk.

Not thinking, you rose and leaned across the table, before wiping the white away with your thumb. You sat back down, and without a thought in your head, licked it off of your thumb. 

You noticed her face flush, even more than before, now a hot red; you realized the suggestiveness of what you had just done, and at the same time, felt an explosion of butterflies manifest themselves into your gut. 

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, looking down with a slight smile on her face, and you reddened. 

The two of you sat in silence for a while before she broke it.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

You didn’t think before you responded.

“Yes.” You hesitated and then added on, “I think you’re really beautiful.”

The two of you fell back into silence.

The purgatory of not knowing how the two of you felt about each other was horrible, but the fear of rejection, not just of a confession but of you as a person, rejecting your identity, kept you in your place. 

There really was no winning.

Chorus 2- First Semester 3A

It hurt, seeing her every day, but not being able to talk to her about anything and everything in the way that you had grown used to. She was part of the big 3 now, she was revered by everyone now, she was strong and kind and smart and now they were all seeing what you had from the start. It was selfish of you, you knew, but you wish they hadn't noticed. 

She wasn’t being purposefully cruel in her withdrawal from you, she wasn’t doing it to be mean, she had just forgotten, she had just been stretched too thin and something had to go. It was still mean though, and it was still cruel.

You felt the loneliest now, so much so it was almost incomparable. Your days now spent in silence, and slowly falling into the motions. School, train, sleep, school, train, sleep, school, train, sleep. With nothing to break the monotony, life became dull, and you were sinking into a different kind of blue, not the blue of an eye like you did when you first saw Hado Nejire, but into the blue of the mind, getting darker, muddier, harder to see what’s in front of you. 

You became more reckless, not in retaliation but due to a slow building and concerning lack of self-preservation. Often throwing yourself into dangerous positions with villains, jumping solo into fights, you had no probability of winning alone, asking for more and more hours at your internship. It kept it at bay for a little while, the numbness, but as with most things, it did not last. You feared you were slowly but surely becoming a shell of your former self.

You needed something more, you needed to keep yourself feeling, needed to keep yourself human, needed to keep yourself. So, you resorted to means you probably shouldn’t have. Flame, blade, burns, blood. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but it was something. 

On an especially hot September day it was odd to see students wearing their long-sleeved winter uniforms, but not enough to raise many questions. One girl asked, “Aren’t you hot?”, but you brushed it off, explaining that you just ran cold. A bold-faced lie to anyone who knew you, but none of them did. 

As you were working on your lesson book, Hado Nejire walked past your desk on her way to the front of the room, glancing down at you, maybe out of habit, she got a glance of lines of damaged skin, some already faded, but many varying degrees of red. She faltered in her step, double taking, confused as to what she was seeing. Not wanting to cause a scene in class or be caught staring, she almost seamlessly continued walking, and if one hadn’t been watching her, they wouldn’t have noticed her split second reel.

She stopped you by the door after class, and when you tried to scoot by her, thinking she wasn’t aware she was in the doorway, she blocked its entirety with her body, staring you down. She grabbed you by the hand and led you to an unused stairwell as you stumbled behind her hastened pace. You didn’t notice it at the time, but she was especially careful when grabbing you, fearing that she would take hold somewhere that would cause you pain, fearing to reopen possible wounds.

 There was a furrow in your brow as you looked at her, wordlessly questioned why she had dragged you there. She turned your arm over, her hand still holding yours, and gently raised your crisp white sleeve, a gasp of dismay escaping her lips as her eyes raked over your battered arm. She dropped your hand only to quickly grab your other one, pulling the sleeve of that arm up too. You were watching her face as she grit her teeth at the sight, her eyebrows pushed into an expression you didn’t know, one you had never seen before even after all the years you had known her. Her head turned and her eyes met yours, weirdly, you thought, they were filled with tears. 

“Why?”

This pushed some button you did not know you had, and an unexpected, hot rage filled you. 

“What do you mean, Hado?” you did not spit her name, but she flinched as if it was filled with venom.

“Y/n…” she trailed off. You remained silent, seething. 

“This isn’t like you, why would you do this?” 

You didn’t answer her for a long time before sighing, “You wouldn’t know Hado, you haven’t spoke to me in well over 5 months.”

“I’m sorry, I-” her words almost a whimper, but you interrupted her. 

“Please, don’t. I don’t think I can stomach it Hado, I think, whatever you’re going to say next, will only make things worse.”

She clamped her mouth shut, her lips in a pale line, and nodded tearfully, before choking out an “okay”. 

Things didn’t change much after that, though she was more watchful of you, you could, at times, feel her eyes boring into you from across the classroom or training halls and fields, and you started feeling a little different, slowing down in your efforts to drive away the numbness, as the numbness seemed to seep away from you. Less and less, you found yourself feeling as if there was nowhere else to go with a knife in your grasp. 

You also no longer prayed that she would make time for you, disillusioning yourself, and realizing that she was not perfect, though feelings as strong as yours don’t just simply disappear due to disillusionment. 

Verse 3- Third Semester 3A

Her hair had been burnt off, now in a blunt bob, and what once had been marred and blistered skin was now just slightly tinged pink. It still hurt you to see though, quietly observing. She was different now, bolder, more self-assured, Maybe, you mused, something had been burnt off along with her hair. You were different now too though, you were better. You had sought counseling, speaking to the trusted hero you were interning under, and they helped you find and utilize resources to mitigate your mental health. You felt lighter, you were still lonely, but you were now a little bit more at peace with your solitude, and less afraid to put yourself out there, slowly becoming friends with the sidekicks at your internship who were just a couple years your senior. 

Chorus 3- After Graduation

Sometimes you would see her on TVs in coffee shops, or in ads in magazines, though if you looked you could find yourself too, maybe not as often, but still there. Both of you were making a name for yourselves in the hero world. 

You had started dating a pretty sidekick from your agency, she was one of the first people you had befriended when you started putting in the effort to get better, she had been there for you through many bad nights, and many more good ones. You really, truly loved her. And yes, sometimes you would miss your first love, but not in a way of current longing, but for a past. You would never leave your girlfriend though, even if you got the chance to go back, even if they told you everything would turn out the way you had begged and hoped and dreamt. Those were no longer your dreams. 

It was in line at a coffee shop that you ran into her. She looked nice, more mature, gracefully slipping into her early 20’s, face less youthful, but still bright with a smile. 

The two of you chatted as you waited for your orders to be taken, and continued afterwards, as you waited for them to be made. 

She was direct in her flirting, touching your arm, complementing you, laughing a little too much at things that weren’t that funny. You did not reciprocate. 5 years ago, if she had been doing what she was doing now, you would have been over the moon, indescribably happy, but now, you didn’t feel much of anything at all. You were flattered, maybe a bit annoyed, but the feelings were so watered down, so muted that you could barely describe them as anything. You were happy to talk to an old friend though. 

“We should hang out some time,” she told you after your orders had been picked up from the counter and the two of you started towards the front doors, “go on a little afterschool date like we used to.” She smiled and winked.

You politely smiled back at her and opened your mouth to reply, when your phone started going off, the ring tone you had affectionately assigned to your girlfriend, playing. 

“Oh, sorry it’s my girlfriend, let me answer real quick,” not waiting for a response from Nejire, you picked up the phone.

“Hey love, what’s up?” You inquired through the phone.

“Are you almost home yet?”

“Yeah, I just picked up your coffee from the coffee place two blocks down.”

“Oh yay! Thank you baby, see you soon, I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

You ended the call and turned towards Nejire apologetically, “Sorry about that!”

You exited the shop, Nejire holding the door open for you, and stood next to her on the sidewalk, close to the building and out of the way. 

“Oh!” you realized you hadn’t answered her question yet, “yeah, it would be nice to hang out and catch up.” This time, hangout had no hidden meanings or crossed fingers. It was purely platonic. “I miss you,” she confessed. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, you were really never expecting her to say that. 

“I guess things ended up differently, not the way I wanted I mean.” she clarified. “It’s hard seeing you in the news, or in my fashion magazines, but not being able to see you in person anymore. I just… miss you a lot y/n, even though you’ve not gone anywhere.”

You hmm and nod, “you’re right, I haven’t gone anywhere. That was you, Hado Nejire. I’m proud of you, you're becoming a great hero.” You smiled at her softly. She stood, unmoving, looking at you, maybe waiting for something more, but you were no longer the person who would be able to provide that.

“Well, I need to get going before all this ice melts,” you shook the iced coffee in your hands, “or my girlfriend will have my head.”

“Oh, uh, okay” she stammered. 

“Message me! My numbers still the same, if you still have it. You could meet my girlfriend too, I think you’d like her, she’s amazing.”

Nejire nodded, watching your figure as you walked away, bitter jealousy and remorse making their home in her sour stomach.

Hi! I know it may seem like I am romanticizing self-harm in this but I promise I am not. As it is something I have struggled with for many years I am just reflecting my own struggles and thoughts, and trying to represent a mental illness as what it is. That doesn't mean it is something you should do, and if you struggle with it and are tempted after reading, here are some healthier alternatives. Please do not hurt yourselves, lovelies.

[sannasruins]

letters from my love

aizawa shouta x reader

type: angst with some fluff sprinkled sporadically, part two to my letters to you but can probably be read stand-alone as well

warning: major character death, grief

a/n: regular text is present, italics are your handwriting, flash backs have tildes (~) enclosing them. reader is refered to with she/her pronous and as "wife". this turned out way more self insert-y than anything else i've written but not for lack of trying, i just couldn't have things be less specific lol, sorry to anyone who doesn't like rain, bugs, and baking

word count: 5.3k

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wake to find your side of the bed cold. He would get up in search of you and would find you bathed in yellow light at the kitchen table, scribbling away at paper. He would ask you what you were doing, when you were coming back to bed, and you would answer him, writing letters, and soon honey I’m almost done. Content with your answers and much too groggy to ask who you were writing letters to, he would make his way back upstairs and into the warmth of bed. And just as you told him, you would soon slip under the covers and cuddle into your husband’s warm and loving embrace.

Shouta gingery removed one of the sealed envelopes from the box, a small sticker keeping it closed. He turned it around to see the back of the letter and his heart started pounding faster when he saw the scrawl of your handwriting. He tried hard to focus on the words in front of him, though he found it increasingly difficult. He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, then reopening them and trying again to read what was addressed to him.

It first rains after I’m gone.

That was your handwriting, but what could that mean? Looking up, he noticed something he hadn’t in his rush to see the contents of the box. On the lid, cut out of construction paper, were the words OPEN WHEN. 

Open when it first rains after I’m gone.

What were these? He put down the first letter and reached for another. You turn 30. Another. It’s been a year. Another. It’s my birthday. You turn 26. It snows. You really miss me. You notice a beautiful sunset. You turn 45. You get sick for the first time after I’m gone. You loose a battle. You turn 28. It’s our wedding anniversary. You find this box. He paused, was this the one he was supposed to read first?

He flipped through the rest of the box, it looked like you had written letters for all of his birthdays, up until he turned 80. That was 55 letters alone. But there were other letters mixed in with them, letters for the changing seasons, letters for coffee dates and weather. And a few of the letters, it seemed, were ones for him to deliver to others, their friends, their fellow heroes. His brows furrowed and two schools of thought argued in his brain. He was mad, mad that you thought you had to do this, mad that your thoughts had been proven right, mad that you knew there was a chance you were going to leave him behind on this miserable planet without you. But he was also grateful, grateful that you loved him so much that you didn’t want to leave him behind with nothing, grateful that you had left him bits of you to have for the rest of his life, his only salvation trying to spread herself past her mortal boundaries.

Open when: you find this box.

He carefully peeled back the sticker that sealed the envelope closed, not wanting to tear the fragile paper. Inside was nice looking stationery, the design suited you, he thought, folded neatly into thirds, front and back covered in your words, the ink holding just a slight fraction of all that you were. He pulled the paper out of its bindings, and delicately unfolded it, revealing the beginning. 

Dear Shouta, my love, 

If you are reading this, that probably means that I am gone, that or you found this while cleaning the closet, and we will be having a rather embarrassing conversation soon.

He let out an amused exhale, but the breath he drew back in held somberness.

My love, I’m sorry that I was the one to leave first, I promise you I never wanted these preparations I’ve made to ever have to be used, I would much rather prefer if we got to grow old together, retire from being heroes, maybe move out to the sunny country, and live our lives long and peaceful. But we’re heroes, aren’t we? We’ve dedicated so much of our lives, from such a young age, to be able to protect and put ourselves on the line for the greater good. 

I hope I went out heroically, maybe not a blaze of glory but, not on the losing side of the battle when it was all said and done. Maybe even I won in the end? You wouldn’t wanna be married to a loser, now would you?

“You did,” he murmured to himself, having completely forgotten his friend across the table from him, “I’d rather be married to you as a looser than anyone else though, a wife who is a looser sounds a lot better than a wife who is dead.” He continued to read.

I wish you could know how much I love you, my Shouta, how much I wish for you. I would give you the world if I could, heavens know I tried. Please do not let my efforts be in vain my love, do not let my departure be the thing that crashes and burns the path that you have painstakingly forged for yourself. 

Crash and burn he thought bitterly, oh the irony. 

I will be waiting for you, dearest, wherever the soul goes where it dies, I will be waiting for you at the start, so that neither of us will be alone. But please, do not join me prematurely, I won’t greet you with joy if you did that, Shouta. Live a long, long life, make it worthwhile, if not for yourself, then for me, please. You have so much left to do. Maybe try teaching, you were always so great with children, teach them better, teach them the hard lessons we had to learn ourselves so that they won’t make the same mistakes their predecessors made.

With all my love, my whole heart, my soul, and my entire being,

Y/n.

That’s where the first letter ended. He sat back, not ready to process everything it had contained, so he moved his focus to his previously forgotten friend.

“Hizashi, there’s a letter for you, in here too,” he nodded towards the box, “there’s actually a couple not addressed to me.” He pulled the letters, which were for your mutual friends and fellow heroes, out of the box, and handed them to the blonde. There seemed to be a silent understanding that it was now Hizashi’s duty to deliver the letters to their recipients, Shouta probably wouldn’t be ready to do that for a long while, and they deserved to receive their messages in their times of grief. 

Aizawa Shouta didn’t go back to work for a while, instead staying in the house the two of you had made into a home. He wasn’t a useless mound of grief the entirety of his stay indoors though. He had decided to do what you told him, and looked into getting his teaching license, taking online courses while slowly cleaning the home. He was never going to get rid of your presence in the space, it was as much yours as it was his, even if you were no longer there. But he needed to get your clothes out of the shared closest, and your products off of the bathroom vanity, carefully being tucked away. He placed more pictures of you around the house, pictures of your wedding day, of your after-school dates, of late night patrols together, decorated all of the walls and filled many empty surfaces.

 Monsoon season had arrived, and it had been a month since your passing that the first real rain happened, it was now June, and the air was hot, balmy. The afternoon rain brought some relief from the heat of summer, and he knew it was time to read his second letter.

Open when: It first rains after I’m gone.

He sat down in the living room, into the plush arm chair that faced the windows, he reminisced on all the days just like this one, where you would sit and listen to the rain, your book of the week resting in your hands, the only other sounds breaking the patter of rain being you turning the page, and the noises you made in reaction to what new words you were taking in, a gasp, a giggle, a snort.

Hi Shouta, 

Are you sitting in my chair right now? Are you watching the rain? 

Never again will anyone know him as well as you did.

I know you have mixed feelings about rain, it seems to almost always show up in the moments that feel fitting for it, for you at least. I’m sure you know how much I love the rain though, the rhythmic pounding, the flash and crash of lightning and thunder. Do you remember that day in our third year, both of us had forgotten to bring umbrellas, you wanted to wait until the rain had let up, but there was no telling when that would be, and I wanted us to just walk out into the rain.

~ “Come on Shouta,” you called out joyfully, “it’s just water.” You stood in the courtyard of the school, most of the students gone now but those that were just leaving looking at you strangely as you spun in the rain. You walked back to where he was standing under the awning, and took both of his hands in yours, pulling gently on him, to bring him out of the shelter and into the downpour. ~

You were so worried I was going to catch a cold; I was more worried about you though. I didn’t want you to be so cautious in life, over such little things, even if we both caught colds, it would be better than waiting, watching, for something that may never come. Shouta, my dear, I don’t know if you're waiting for a sign, a sign to move on, a sign to live, a sign to die. That sign may never come. So let the rain be your sign, let the rain tell you to come out, to feel alive, to dance under it, even if your clothes will get wet, even if you get a cold. I don't want you to move on from me as much as you don't, but that doesn't mean you have to forget me, my love. I will be in every drop of rain that kisses your skin. 

He lowered the letter and looked outside to the darkened clouds. He got up, placing the letter on the coffee table, before slipping on his shoes and heading out the front door. He stood there, in the rain, for quite a while. The droplets mixing with his tears as they hit his face, trying to feel you in every single one of them. He stood there, until the rain started to let up, the color of the clouds fading to a lighter gray, and the sting of the rain turned gentler. He shook the water out of his hair, and turned around, back towards the house. It seemed to have a new air about it, something, maybe, slightly less heavy, or maybe it was just his imagination. He headed back inside, something different about him too, though he couldn’t see it, maybe the rain had washed away something heavy, maybe you had kissed away some of the pain. 

The Butsadan* he had gotten to place in your home held 2 pictures of you, one that he had taken on that very first crepe date, chocolate staining one corner of your mouth as you grinned at him, and one he had taken on your wedding day, looking so lovely in your dress, a gentle, loving smile gracing your lips as you looked at him with such adoration. He never let the flowers at your alter wither, changing out the water daily and the flowers every week, trying to pick out ones you would have liked, while keeping it mixed up so you wouldn’t become bored with the same thing every week. He would light incense twice a day, in the morning, before he left the house, and in the evenings, while he ate dinner, so you in a sense would still be there, eating with him. It was always one of your favorite scents, he knew you well enough to know, what scented lotions or shampoos you would choose, which candles and waxes you always gravitated towards. It was nice and reminded him of the times where he would get to smell the sweet scents every time you walked past him, the air carrying it faintly to his nose. He would leave your favorite buns and candies on the alter, never going too long without changing them out for something fresh, he didn’t ever want you to have something stale.

He started back at his hero work, and applied at several hero training high schools, and was surprised when his former school, UA accepted his application and hired him on for the next school year. 

It was September when he opened the next letter, it had been 4 months now since you left, and he was walking along the sidewalk of a riverbank, like the two of you often did in high school. He saw couples that looked like the two of you did back then, youthful and full of spirit and hope, he tried not to feel envious of the teenagers, though it was hard . He trained his weary eyes forward, and paused for a moment, and how beautiful the sunset was that evening. He wondered to himself if there were any sunsets as beautiful as this in the days that he walked home with you, that he never noticed because the most beautiful thing in the whole world walked right next to him, and everything else just paled in comparison. He hoped the teenage couples he saw earlier also noticed how spectacular the sunset in front of them way, and that they were grateful to see such a beautiful thing with one another. He headed home, to read his letter.

Open when:  You see a beautiful sunset

Hi Honey,

I’ve seen a lot of people say, when they pass, look for them in the sunsets, that they will paint an especially beautiful one for all that miss them. Please don’t look for me in the sunsets, Shouta, I don’t think that’s where I’ll be waiting for you. I’m not entirely sure where you may find me hidden, my love, so you better keep your eyes peeled. I wish I was there though, to see another beautiful sunset with you, so admire them twice as much, once for you, once for me. 

Maybe I’ll be one of those cool mantises, 

Your lovely wife.

Bemused, Shouta thought back to your class 1A mountain training camp.

~ You had wandered off while most of the group cleaned the used dishes, having already helped by being one of two to cook their dinner. He had just started to wonder where you had gone off to as your group was wrapping up cleaning the dishes, when you came practically prancing back into the clearing and towards your friends, something gleaming in your hands.

“Look! Look at what I caught!” you brandished off your daring find, an impressively large rhinoceros beetle. Some of the group around you screamed, the loudest of them all being Yamada Hizashi, an ear-splitting shriek escaping his lips as he jumped back from the creature and its captor. You giggled slightly but apologized to the blond, it wasn’t your intention to scare him, this was just a really cool beetle. He had a sour look on his face as he shakily nodded at you before backing away slowly, not turning to face the building he was going towards until he was 50 meters away from you, what he deemed to be safe. You looked after him with a face of mixed emotions, feeling bad for scaring him, and bummed he didn’t think your bug was cool. Shouta stepped next to you, getting your attention and distracting you from the disappearing figure of the angry Hizashi. 

“Do you know what kind of beetle it is?” he had asked you, trying his best to seem genuinely curious, he was, but he knew he wasn’t always the best at showing it. Your expression quickly changed as you smiled at the ebony haired boy, launching into maybe one too many bug facts about your interesting find. He didn’t mind though, that was one of the moments he fell for you a little more. ~

P.S. Some large species of mantis in captivity can live up to two years! It’s crazy to think how short their lives are to ours, but to them it is their entire existence. I think though, I would be okay even being a Karner Blue butterfly, which lives for only five days, if those five days I got to spend with you, flying around in a field warmed by the summer sun. 

Shouta put down the letter, and raised his eyes, just in time to see the last slivers of light disappear from the horizon, the beautiful sunset having lived its course and gone, making way for a warm summer night, the singing of cicadas fading with the light.

Time seemed to continue its endless march on into the future, in spite of anyone who begged it to slow, to pause just a moment, and let someone gather themselves, put themselves together just a bit more, just a bit better. And soon it was Aizawa Shouta’s 26th birthday, and the first birthday in over a decade that he would have to spend without you, and your warm little parties and cute cakes you would bake. 

Hizashi came and picked him up, insisting that you wouldn’t want Shouta to stay home, all alone, on his birthday. The two of them headed into the social district of town, and into a popular bar for heroes and sidekicks. Shouta nursed on two beers through the night as he watched his friend mingle with the crowd, though never straying too far away from the birthday boy sitting at the bar. At the end of the night, the dark eyed man had a slight buzz to him, his chest holding more heat than normal, but he wasn’t near drunk, he couldn’t say the same thing about his green-eyed friend though, whose face was flushed and words slurring together in jumbled nonsense. Shouta put Hizashi’s arm over his shoulders as he led them out of the bar, the arm heavy with intoxication and non-compliance.

“Nooooo,” the blond groaned as they the street the bar resided on, “comonnnnnn Shouta, te nightstill youg,” he broke away, and spun on the heel of his toe, twisting under the city lights in the nearly deserted street.

Shouta sighed, “yes, but we’re getting olddddd,” he drew out the last syllable of his last word, in lighthearted mockery of his inebriated friend, he beckoned towards where he stood safely on the sidewalk “come on I’d like to get home now.”

The blond looked at him, with what must to have been his attempt at puppy eyes, “but I don’t want you to be all alone tonight.”

“I won’t be alone tonight,” he mused, “she’ll be there too, in spirit at least, but,” he paused and looked at his heavily drunk friend, “I’ll let you crash on the couch if you promise to not throw up in or on anything.”

Hizashi grinned at Shouta, “mkayyyy,” and started his way off in the direction he thought was your home, only to have Shouta grasp him by the shoulder and turn him a sharp 90 degrees, “wrong way” he chided, Hizashi nodded and parroted his friend “wrong way.”

The second they passed the threshold into your home, Hizashi passed out, leaving his poor friend to pry off his shoes, and drag him to the couch, where he unceremoniously tossed him. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and sipped while looking at the snoring man on his couch. Pursing his lips, he begrudgingly filled another glass and set it on the coffee table, along with an aspirin, before leaving the ground floor of his home and heading up to his bedroom. He caught himself in his thinking. Was this the first time he had thought of it not as a shared yours but now only his? A wave of guilt washed over him, he didn’t want that kind of thinking to come, he didn’t ever want to stop thinking about you, about your lingering presence in his life. He swallowed, hard, he was a bit too tipsy to be thinking about those kinds of things, he could think about it later, in the morning. The pounding headache he knew he would have might be a suitable punishment for his straying thoughts he decided. It was time to open the letter.

He had saved it for the end of his day, wanting the last bits of his thoughts to be on you, maybe it was partly saving the best, and most painful, for last. The letter just being another form of him having to accept that you weren't here to wish him well. 

Open when: You turn 26.

This letter felt bulkier than the ones he had read before, and when he carefully with hands of practice, though he wished they weren't, opened the letter, he saw three 1000 yen notes, with a small sticky note attached to them. The sticky note read ‘getcha self sumthin nice ;)’. He moved on to the letter.

Happy birthday my love!

He smiled, his eyes already starting to tear. 

You’re 26 now, do you feel any different? Are your bones starting to hurt? Does the rain make your joints act up yet? You know that’s coming up, it’ll be here before you notice. I hope you’re making the best of the time you have before that, though I also hope you make the best of the time you have during and after that as well. Do you like your present? I would have gotten you something better but there’s not much that you can fit into an envelope, besides paper, though at least it’s paper with monetary value! I know! I’ve truly outdone myself! You’re probably going “ohhhh y/n, you know me so well, this colorful paper with a dude on it is just the thing I wanted!”

I’m sorry I’m not there Sho, to spend it with you, I wish I was. I hope it’s not too painful without me, I hope you have a good time on your birthday, maybe go out, have dinner with out friends. I don’t want you to be alone my love.

Sincerely, truly, one hundred percent without a doubt, 

The world’s best gift giver, aka, your y/n. 

The was a soft drip, the sound of water hitting paper, before he realized he was crying. He folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, not wanting to mess it up further, as he cried to himself. He reached out and found the small stuffed animal he had come to rely on in your absence, and pushed his face into the plush of its body, inhaling, trying to calm down. But the thing had long lost your scent, and now, to him, it smelt of nothing at all. 

He fell asleep that night, clasping onto the stuffed creature as if it were his only lifeline, the image of him sleeping reminiscent of not too far in the past, when he had just lost you. 

Time marched ever onwards.

It was 4 days before Christmas when the first snow of the season came. Everyone was joyous and hoping it would last until the romantic holiday, wishing for a white Christmas. Shouta was out on patrol, in the late evening, when it started, getting to witness it along with those going home, from an extra-long days work, from the packed bars in the city, from cram schools as they study for the upcoming finals. He was alone though, crouching on top of a midrise as his eyes scanned back alleys, searching for darting shadowy figures, considering the white flurries only a hindrance as they obscured more and more of his vision, until it became clear that he would no longer be able to stalk his prey with his vision blocked out in the sheets of icy precipitation. His breath fogged the air as he sighed angrily, not wanting to let them get away but not being able to stop the forces of nature, though how he wished he was bend them to his will just this one time.

He decided to go home, that he was ill prepared for this and could try again tomorrow, in warmer clothes and more suitable gear. 

When he arrived home, after he had unburden himself from his gear, past when he padded into the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove to boil, only when he sat down in your chair, a warm mug of fresh coffee in his callused hands, one sugar, no cream, did he look out the window, and see, really see the snow. 

Open when: It snows.

There was no dear Shouta, my love or honey to open this letter. 

Do you remember, our third year of high school, during winter break, that night we stayed out under the stars and snow? I can see it so vividly even now, I think that hast to have been the night I fell in love with you, though of course I didn’t say it then. His Purple Highness had us out patrolling by ourselves, truly by ourselves, no senior heroes notified that we were out without a supervisor on the same streets or back at headquarters, a taste of freedom that we would soon know every day. We started just as the sun had started to set, heading out, our winter costumes to keep us toasty. It wasn’t really boring, but it was mundane, as we strolled around the streets, keeping a look out for any shady behavior. 4 hours in, just before 9pm, you stopped in front of a cafe that was getting ready to close. I didn’t notice you had stopped until I was 10 meters ahead, and you hadn’t noticed that I continued on, because you were staring inwards. I walked halfway back and called out your name, you turned your head, surprised that I was so far away and not directly next to you. You pointed inside and made a drinking motion with your hand. I protested, Shouta we’re on the job right now, and you smiled at me, nose glowing red in the yellow light let out from the homey shop, its fine, you insisted, they won’t know what we don’t tell them. And you took me by the hand and pushed into the cafe. You already knew my order, which surprised me, I didn’t think you were the type to notice and remember those kinds of things, but it filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies that threatened to come up my throat. We sat at a little table by the window while we waited for our order to be ready, you wrapping both your hands around mine, rubbing and blowing hot air on my frozen fingers, wordlessly. I thought I was going to barf butterflies. Our orders were ready before I knew it, and I didn’t want them to be, I wish they had taken longer to make those little coffees. We left the warm haven of the shop and went back into the cold night. You told me to hold my drink with both hands, I blushed and asked you, did you want to get coffee just so I had something warm to hold? Your face flushed and you looked out, away from me and towards the street. A car passed by as you answered, I almost didn’t hear, but you told me yes. 

~He remembered the embarrassment of being called out, but also pride, that you had noticed, and were happy about his little gestures. He couldn’t hold your hand while the two of you patrolled, and even your winter costume had forgone gloves, so he had watched as the night grew longer, the color of your fingers redden. He watched you occasionally rubbing them together, blowing into them, or scrunching them absentmindedly, trying to keep them warm while unaware of your actions, but he was aware.~

The rest of the night wasn’t eventful, except when we stopped that guy robbing a corner store, though we took him out pretty quickly. The cashier was so thankful that she gave us those little handwarmers while we waited for the police to come pick up the attempted robber. I was so happy that she gave us those because my fingers were returning to their freezing temperature and all the cafes were long closed. After that day though, I started finding handwarmers like those in the pockets of my school bag, in my shoe locker, in my jacket. I knew it was you, by the way, I never told you that. Thank you for thinking of me always, my love. We got off at 1 am, we had ended our patrol by a park, and even though most of the city was dark, and even though I’m sure you were cold and tired and hungry, when I suggested we play in the snow, you bent down, I thought you were ignoring me and tying your shoe, and I turned around with a sigh, that was until I felt the cold splat of a snowball on the small of my back! I whipped around and you were grinning, bearing all your teeth, the look in your eye, if I wasn’t so determined to get back at you, I would have been swooning, at least I still was internally. 

~You quickly bent down and mashed snow together into a messy ball before you launched it at him, trying to wipe that grin off his face before he noticed your blush. The two of you launched into an all-out snow war. Shouta had the upper hand in the beginning, as he had made several quick balls before he launched his first attack at your unsuspecting back, but you rapidly leveled the playing field. ~

He couldn’t remember now who had won that night. That didn’t really matter though, because he could still remember the wide grin that made his heart, even to this day, do backflips.

We played in the snow like we were little again, until we gave out, and lay on our backs next to one another, and looked to the sky, watching as the flakes slowly drifted down from dark gray clouds. Your cold hand, with fingers stiff from snow, reached out and grasped my cold hand, and squeezed. Both of us were still panting hard from all the fun we had had. As we laid there, hand in hand, I thought to myself, I love him. I think that’s the same moment I decided I was never going to let you go. There’s not really a moral to this story, besides me telling you the night I realized I loved you, I think I just want to remind you of happy things, the snow can feel kind of depressing now that we’re older, if we don’t look at it through the right eyes. So, look at it through the eyes of the Shouta who threw a snowball at my back. 

The definite winner of that snowball fight, 

Your love, Y/n.

*shrines used for the deceased in homes, originally of Buddhist origin but now used non-denominationally as well.

there may be a part 3? i was planning on doing all of the letters (excluding the birthdays) that i listed, but it kept getting longer and longer. let me know if you would like a part 3, i think if even 1 person asked me, i would write it lol

[sannasruins]

no thoughts just this mangacap of highschooler aizawa

[sannasruins]

my letters to you

Aizawa Shouta x reader

type: fluff to angst

warning: major character death, non-descriptive violence, grief

a/n: i did not intend for this to be so long, i'm already working on the next part, i just wanted to get this out since it's already at this length, this is probably the saddest thing i have ever written, sorry in advance. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns

word count: 4.7k

As a Pro Hero, you had known since your school days, the job held the risk of one day not letting you return home. While it was a scary thought, devoting your life to a job that very well may take it, you had no doubt in your mind that being a hero was what you were meant to do. So, from a very young age, you had decided you wouldn’t ever let yourself get too close to someone, especially not your fellow hero’s in-training, so you wouldn’t have to suffer the grief of losing them, and they not have to suffer loosing you, if it ever came down to it. That was, until you met Aizawa Shouta in your first year at UA high school. 

He sat two chairs behind you your first year of school, the quiet one in his loud friend group, and though many people didn’t seem to see it, you saw how incredibly kind that boy way. You saw in him what you hoped others might see in you, that he was truly born to be a hero. You decided, looking at that dark-haired boy who sat two seats behind you your first year at a high school for heroes, that he was going to be someone that you let get too close.

You spent your school days studying and training with your peers, and the evenings after school walking home with Shouta, and on those trips to and from school, you slowly fell in love with him, and him with you, not that you were aware. 

The two of you would often walk home as the sun was setting, along the river, on lookers would see the couple, bathed in the orange light. The girl, a large smile on her face as she talked excitedly about nothing in particular, looking forwards towards the sunset and their destination, and the boy, a small, barely noticeable smile on his, looking at her as she moved forwards with a bounce in her step. 

Walks home slowly morphed into afterschool dates, not that either of you had the courage to actually call them that, often stopping by things like bakeries and crepe stands. On your first visit to a crepe stand, you ordered the cult classic strawberries and cream, and much to your disgruntlement, Shouta ordered dark chocolate on dark chocolate, your face taking on an expression of disbelief as he took the first bite of his and seemed to genuinely enjoy it. He mistook your expression, and thinking you wanted to try his crepe, shyly offered you a bite. Feeling bad for judging the sweet boy standing next to you, you took a tentative bite from the crepe, maybe it wouldn’t taste as bad as you thought it would! Maybe now that you’re older you’ll enjoy dark chocolate more than when you last tried it! Alas, dark chocolate has remained the same, and so has your taste, as you make a displeased face and after swallowing, stuck out your tongue in disgust. He let out a little laugh at your expression, and asked you if you didn’t like dark chocolate, and you replied that no, nobody with normal taste buds should like dark chocolate, it tastes like dirt! He chuckled again and the two of you started back on your trek home, you finding solace in your normal and tasty crepe, and every few minutes for the rest of the walk, adding more reasons and defamation to dark chocolate. Even though you were dissing something he enjoyed, he didn’t seem to mind, as he listened with a small smile on his face, eating his crepe and watching you. 

The two of you often frequented an arcade that was on your path home, having almost weekly competitions on who could beat who’s high score, Shouta never seemed to the comparative type but when it was just you two, you could see a rare grin forming on his face as the levels increased in difficulty and he got closer and closer to the besting number, the glint in his eye wasn’t just from the reflection of the arcade game’s screen, and it gave you butterflies.

On the last day before summer break, your second year of school, you asked Aizawa Shouta to meet you behind the school building after classes had let out. It wasn’t too strange that the two of you were meeting after school, since you usually walked home together, but why behind the school instead of in front by the entrance gates was confusing to him.

You were waiting there for him, with a small white box in your hands, and as he approached you, you bowed and put your arms out, presenting him with the little package. “Aizawa Shouta,” your voice trembled but you continued on, “will you please go out with me?”. You felt him take the box, so you let go and quickly straightened yourself, but did not raise your eyes from the dirt you were standing on, too nervous to meet his. It was quiet for a long time, and your heart began to sink at the prospect of rejection. You finally looked back up at him, tears starting to sting in your eyes, only to have your eyes land on a Shouta Aizawa whose face was so red it looked as if it may start to glow.

“Are… are you blushing?” You questioned him, fear tinged the edges of your words. His eyes shot up to meet yours, only for a second before returning to the ground, and he gave a shy nod of his head.

“I,” his voice caught in his throat, like it wasn’t ready to yet talk, “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Is that a no?” disappointment heavy in your tone.

“No!” he shouted, and then, looking as if his sudden outburst was a surprise even to him, he continued, “I mean, I think you’re really cool, and smart, and I really enjoy hanging out with you, and I think you’re so pretty.” As he lists his compliments towards you his volume lowered in embarrassment, his last word being barely above a whisper. 

“So,” he quickly started again, voice returned now to a normal volume, “I would like to go out with you, l/n y/n.”

The tension you didn’t know had built up in your body suddenly released, stress of rejection melting off of you and into the earth below. You let out a shaky laugh, tears that had been caught in your eyes spilling over the brim and down your cheeks, your throat slowly untightening from the adrenaline. “Thank you, I’m so glad.”

“Oh no nono,” he said worriedly, taking a step towards you, and reaching out an unsteady hand to brush a tear away with his knuckle. “Please don’t cry, why are you crying?”

You laughed, “I really don’t know,” and you grinned, “I’m just so happy.”

He blushed and looked away, a hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “yeah, me too,” he murmured. 

You two started the walk home from the back of the school, your hand shyly reaching for his.

“What’s in this, anyways?” he asked in reference to the little white box you had presented him earlier. 

“Oh,” you blushed, embarrassed again, “its homemade dark chocolate.” He looked down at the box in his free hand, and a smile played at his lips.

That day on lookers would see the couple, bathed once more in the orange light, next to the slow flowing river. The girl, a large smile on her face as she talked excitedly about nothing in particular, looking forwards towards the sunset and their destination, and the boy, a small, barely noticeable smile on his, looking at her as she moved forwards with a bounce in her step, but this time, they were hand in hand.

Having yet joined a hero’s agency to intern at since Aizawa hadn’t either, when you were offered a place at His Purple Highness’ agency along with him and your mutual friend, you jumped at the opportunity to have even more time with your boyfriend. The two of you had kept your relationship relatively quiet in fear of it affecting the opportunities you both would be offered in the future, not wanting to be barred from working along one another. It was the middle of your second year when one of Aizawa Shouta’s and your friend, Oboro Shirakumo, was killed during your hero work studies. You were there with Shouta but had been knocked out by the Villain Garvey’s stock quirk and left to watch in dazed horror though foggy vision the violence that continued. It started to rain. You watched your beloved Aizawa fight the villain by himself, a boy who never thought he was meant for solo combat, doing what he must to protect the nursery school children, knowing he truly was the last wall between them and the villain. You watched him defeat Garvey, and as back up arrived, watched as he was congratulated on his victory, alone. Your barely conscious body had been picked up at that point, paramedics moving you towards an ambulance. You saw your Shota’s gaze follow a pointed finger, to where Oboro’s body had been removed from the rubble and gently placed into a body bag, already stained with cool blood, mixing with the wet ground under him. Rain had started to pour by then, the cold missiles stinging the skin of your face, it mingles with the warm salt of your tears. You desperately, and weakly, push away the medics trying to help you, and stumble towards him, standing in the freezing downpour. When you reach him, you throw your arms around him, and the two of you sink to your knees. You press his cooled face into the warmer skin of your chest, squeezing him tightly as your body gently shakes with unsure sobs. If he cried, you couldn’t tell, the two of you sat kneeling in the rain for a long time, long past the point of soaking you to the bone. Hizashi joins you two at some point, mourning in the rain together in a way no children should have to, and when told to move out of the rain, he speaks for the three of you in saying that the weather and your place in it was befitting of the occasion.

After the shocking death of your friend, Aizawa changed, he was still the boy you loved, but he poured more and more time and effort into solo training, not ever wanting to have to rely on others in combat. He got it into his head that he, someone with a non-combat based quirk, still had to be able to protect even his fellow combat based quirk heroes. He never wanted to be weak like he was that day in the rain ever again. He never wanted to lose anyone else.

You changed after Oboros death too, it brought back your dated mentality of not wanting to get too close to anyone, but you knew, if you distanced yourself from your sweet boyfriend, it would be one the gravest mistakes you ever made in your entire life. So, instead, you thought about your mortality, how much you missed your dear friend already, and how this very thing could happen to you too one day. You were okay with the idea of losing your life in battle, it held honor, you had accepted that long ago. Now knowing the other side of the coin, being the one left behind when someone dear departed while in battle, you knew you couldn’t do nothing.

So, you started writing letters to Aizawa Shouta, for the just incase. And every year or so, you would rewrite them, having them updated to the most recent you. You did that for quite some time.

You and Shouta experienced many first together. You graduated, watched him start his underground hero agency while staying to side kick under His Purple Highness, working up the ranks until you yourself were ready to set off on your own as a Hero. Your time as a sidekick had allowed you to slowly rise through the popularity ranks, and when you debuted as a hero, you already had your standing in the top 100. You and Shouta moved in together 3 years after graduating, never having broken up, you had just decided it would be important to establish yourselves as individuals before you moved in with one another. Bright eyes 21-year-olds, charging their way into the world, establishing yourselves among the hero ranks. A year later he proposed, it wasn’t at a fancy restaurant on the top floor of a hotel, or a big spectacle with all your friends and family there, instead it was in the warm orange light of the setting sun, on the walk home from visiting a crepe stand, not too much unlike the one you visited when you were in school. It was mid spring, and along the river, covered in a blanket of pink petals, he got down on one knee. The backdrop of sakura trees in full bloom, and before you, your beloved presenting you a lovely ring only he could have picked, that suited you so well, you were the happiest person alive. You lowered yourself down onto your knees as well, ignoring the looks of curious onlookers, and threw your arms around his neck, knocking him over into the grass. With tears of joy in your eyes, you took his face in your hands and peppered enthused kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his eyelids, his nose, his forehead, his chin, until you reached his lips. You pressed a lingering kiss to them, before pulling your head up, and meeting his eyes, “Yes, yes a thousand, a million times yes.”

He grinned back at you, and using the pads of his thumbs, wiped away the tears staining your cheeks, “thank you.”

Onlookers this time would see the happy couple, walking in the light of the setting sun, hand in hand, but this time around, she had a ring on hers. 

At the ripe age of 24, the two of you tied the knot, the date was set to the day, 10 years ago, that the two of you had first met at the entrance ceremony of UA high school. He looked dashing in his best suit, and you looked ethereal in your dress as you walked down the aisle to meet him at the altar, both of you wearing face splitting grins. You were in the top 40 at that point in your career, and the media had a small field day with your wedding. The 34th ranked hero (y/h/n) and the elusive eraserhead were wed today at an exclusive venue, only close friends and family were invited! Read more to find out all the juicy gossip of the latest hero wedding.

After your wedding you moved out of your shared apartment and into a cute little two story in a residential area of town, with enough room for whatever the future may hold. You rewrote your letters for the last time in that house. 

It was 13 months after the two of you got married, that it happened, a balmy May evening. Villain activity had been on the rise and stronger villains were appearing everyday. He wasn’t on the scene when it happened, he wasn't able to do the thing he trained so hard to do.

He had heard your call for backup over the radio, when you encountered an especially strong opponent, and had been rushing towards your location, tuning out the reports that were constantly being fed into his ear, as you were the only thing on his mind. When he was only 5 minutes away, there was an explosive sound, and the whole neighborhood began to shake, and in the distance he saw a plume of dust and smoke rising into the darkening sky. 

You had been on the edge of being defeated, knowing that that was truly the end, and had decided to take the rising villain out with you. It had been in an abandoned warehouse in the business sector of the neighborhood, there probably wouldn’t be anyone around expect for you and the person you were fighting, you reasoned with yourself as you set your quirk off for the last time, making sure that if you go out, your last fight wouldn’t be one that you lost. 

The dust had started to settle by the time Shouta arrived, there were other heroes and rescue teams already there, several of whom were mere moments away from providing backup, but they would have been too late even if you didn’t decide to be as rash as you were. Many were shifting through the rubble as he swung his head from side to side, looking for you, deluding himself that you would be among the heroes on top of the rubble, instead of under it. He didn’t see you. 

Someone called out that they had found you, it was Hizashi, Shouta saw him cradling your broken and bloody form. A sound ripped from his throat, choked, horrified, bloodcurdling, and he rushed over to where his blond friend kneeled in the wreckage. Hizashi gently handed off your cooling form to his best friend, but remained next to him, as Shota murmured to you. 

He pleaded for you to wake, for you to move, for you to open your eyes, god please just breath please. There was nothing you could do though, you weren’t there anymore, not really. He clung to you, and wept, voice growing hoarse, till his cries were nothing but shakes of his body. Eventually, medics had to take you away, and he watched, as they zipped your lovely body up in the disgusting black bag. He watched you be carried off, though the medics were treating your body with the utmost respect, he could not help but despise them for taking you away. 

It was on the news when he got home, the tv having been left on. He carefully took off his shoes, stripped of his dusty uniform, and showered, going numbly through a routine he had established, which was missing an essential part, you. He dried and dressed, and made his way up to your bedroom, where he fell to his knees on your side of the bed, burying his face in the blankets you had slept in not even a day ago, inhaling the scent of you. He broke once more, realizing that soon, the smell would fade, and it would just be another memory he would unwillingly slowly forget to the passage of time. He fell asleep there, on the floor, after crying all the tears his body held and more. 

He didn’t leave the house for days, remaining in your shared bed, cradling the small stuffed animal you had gotten as a present for yourself after graduating from UA, you smiley excuse being “for when you’re not here, I still need something to cuddle,” he had thought it was silly, maybe a little immature, but had never said anything on the matter. But now he held onto the small stuffed friend as if it was his only salvation in the horrible world he was forced to live in since you had left. He didn’t eat, he didn’t move, he just drifted in and out of painful consciousness. 

Your funeral had come and gone, people and the media were shocked to see the lack of your doting husband at your wake. . After 4 days of no contact, Hizashi came by, and let himself in with the spare key you kept hidden under a rock by the entrance. Long ago, right after graduating from high school, you had told Hizashi that if you were ever to die in combat, to look for a construction paper covered shoe box in your closet, that it was for Shouta. When he asked you what it was, and why you had prepared something so morbid, you didn’t have much of a real answer to give him. “Please”, you had  asked your blonde friend, “it’s something I started doing after Oboro… after oboro’s death. There’s so many things I never want Shouta to have to experience alone, without me.” He had nodded in acceptance of your words, and not wanting to focus on such a pessimistic topic on your graduation day, changed topics with a smile, going on about where the after party’s after party might be taking place.

He walked to your bedroom, “I’m coming in,” he announced as he swung the door open, though he didn’t receive a response. His heart twinged at the sight of his best friend, huddled under the comforter on your side of the bed, clutching a well loved stuffed animal. Though he had lost a friend, he couldn’t imagine the pain Aizawa Shouta was going though, it was as if the man that lay before him had lost a part of himself. A puzzle that will never again be able to be completed. 

Hizashi sat on the edge of the bed, next to the owner of greasy ebony hair, which he ruffled. “You need to take a shower man, you know how y/n doesn’t like it when you let it get this dirty.”

“She’s gone.”

Oh, it hit him in the gut, the blonde flinched. She is gone, and she couldn’t ever come back either. The rest of their lives, they would have to live without the bright girl they had known for so long. They would keep on living, and she would not. They would have to remember her longer than they had known her. 

“It hurts.” Hizashi said, “it hurts so bad, and it feels so unfair, and if there was anything I could do to undo this, to even take away the pain you’re feeling right now, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But,” he continued, “but there’s not, there is absolutely nothing we can do to undo what has already been done. The only thing we can do is to live the way she would have wanted. Do you think she would have wanted you to lie in your shared bed, rotting away until you died? Do you think she would happily greet you at the gates of death if you let yourself end in that way?”

Shouta turned his head to look at his friend, dark eyes red and swollen from their endless flow of tears, that even now, dripped from them.

“Get up,” the blond stood and slapped the top of his thighs, “take a shower, brush your teeth, I’m going to go downstairs and cook something for us to eat.”

Shouta nodded, and slowly sat up, his hair falling into his face like a dark veil. He rose from the bed, and begrudgingly made his way to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his way. He looked haggard, stubble grown out, his heart hurt so badly at the thought of you seeing him like this, he decided he would shave too.

After his friend had left the room, Hizashi went towards the closet, feeling guilty about disturbing things the way you had left them, he tried his best to leave as much as he could untouched as he looked for the brightly decorated box he had been told about. He found it without much effort, tucked away in the very back of the top shelf, covered in cute scrapbooking paper and stickers, it really was quite the reflection of you, something you had made with such care and love. It hurt thinking about how you ever had to prepare this sort of thing in the first place, having been preparing for your own death since you all had been teenagers. He gingerly removed it from its place, and carried it downstairs to the kitchen with him, tucking it away to bring it up later, after he had gotten some food into his mourning friend. 

He opened the fridge, revealing a tupperware of something preprepared, just needing to be cooked. He opened the lid of it, taking a whiff to see if it was still good or if it had gone bad in the time that has passed since it was made, it hadn’t. He washed and put the rice in its cooker before tossing the contents of the tupperware into a pan, frying it until it was done, and serving it with the fresh steaming rice. 

Shouta came downstairs, the smell of your cooking hitting his nose, and for a few moments he forgot that you weren’t there, in your sunny kitchen, cooking one of your meals to share with him, a smile on your face as you greeted him entering. Instead of your smile greeting him, it was Hizashi, and Shouta lost his strength, gripping the doorframe as his slid to the ground, chest shaking in grief.

Hizashi quickly took the few steps that separated him and the crying man on the floor, sinking down to his level and grasping him by his arms, concern morphing his face. 

“This,” a sob stopped him from continuing, “this is her cooking, this is,” sob “this is the last time I’ll ever be able to eat something she made. I’m,” sob “I’m going to have to live the rest of my life without ever going to be able to taste her food again.” His body convulsed with the strength of his sorrow.

They cried together on the kitchen floor for a while, until the food had completely cooled. Hizashi lead Shouta to the table, sitting him down in his chair before picking up their plates and placing them in the microwave, warming them back up, until they once more had steam rising from them. 

He put the plate of food in front of your husband, placing fork in his hand, forgoing chopsticks for fear that Shouta would simply be too weak from his 4 days of laying in bed, forgoing food. 

Aizawa Shouta scooped up a small bite of the meal sitting in front of him, tentatively raising the fork before placing it in his mouth. As soon as the flavors hit his tongue he started silently crying again. He slowly ate, trying to savor every bite, ignoring the salty taste of his own tears as he swallowed. 

The blond watched him, while eating his own meal, tears came to his eyes as well, thinking about what his friend had said, this truly would be the last time he ate your cooking. Never again would he be invited over to your loving home, entering the warm environment you had made, and eating dinner with you and your friends. How you had loved to host little dinner parties for your friend group, those that you had known since your schooling days. He felt bad about being the only one of the group to get to eat your cooking one last time, so he took his time as well, wanting to enjoy it enough for everyone that wasn’t there with them in the room that was now cool and grey without your presence. 

When Shouta was done, he pushed his plate to the side and laid his head on crossed arms, trying to control his breathing as he cried, trying to be thankful that he got to taste it one last time, instead of only sorrowful that that would be the last time he would ever taste it.

“Shouta,” Hizashi started after a while of silence, “I have something to give you.” He got up from the table and walked to retrieve where he had hidden the box, and then returning and placing it between the two of them on the table.

“This is from her, from y/n”

The dark-haired man looked up, bleary eyes landing on the colorful box. “What is it?” he questioned.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. Y/n just told me to give it to you if anything ever happened to her.” the green-eyed man answered. 

Shouta reached out and opened the box, reviling its contents. Letters.

part two

[sannasruins]

late night comforting

bakugo x reader

type: comfort (reader giving)

warnings: reader has animal-based quirk but animal is not described

a/n: i didn't really know where i was going with this, i'm not sure if it turned out the way i wanted, but i needed to post it before i ended up deleting everything i wrote to start over. reader is gn in this but does live in the girl's dorm. it also ended up being way longer than i intened

word count: 2.3k

The time on your laptop read 2:17 AM, you sighed, running a hand down your face and then brushing a few strands of hair, which had fallen out of place and into your eyes, away. When you signed up for the hero course at UA, you did not expect to have your precious hours of sleep stolen by practice reports assigned to you from your internship under Rabbit Hero: Mirko. 

You had picked to intern under her, not only because you would be her first-ever intern, which made your chest swell with pride, but also because you expected to be in the action. Due to her lack of owning an agency and always being on the move you had naively hoped that there would be a lack of paperwork you would have to do interning under her in comparison to a hero who owned an agency, this obviously was not the case though.

So, you have found yourself at now 2:18 AM, filling out patrol reports for every patrol you had gone on over the winter break. Grumbling to yourself, you crack your knuckles and try to stop letting your thoughts roam, focusing your eyes back on the form shining through your laptop screen. That was, until you heard a faint thud come from outside your room. Utterly done with trying to focus on the work in front of you, you decide to investigate the sound.

Nobody else should be up at this hour, you think to yourself, despite being teenagers, the people filling the class 1A dorm were also heroes in training, bodies and minds tired from the constant push to get better, to be better, and most found themselves asleep by 11, in a feeble attempt to get enough sleep to function the next day. Your eyes adjust to the darkness outside of your room as you venture out, softly closing the door behind you, hoping to not wake anyone who wasn’t already awake. You strain your ears, trying to pick up anything that might lead you to the source of the earlier sound. Thanks to your animal-based quirk, your hearing was better than most humans, and if you focused really hard, you could just barely hear harsh gasping breaths of another human. It was coming from the boys side of the dorm on your floor. You, now slightly worried, made your way to the elevator, pushing the button to call it to you and bring you down to the first floor, where you switched over to the boys elevator, not before throwing a hasty glance over your should, as if anybody would be sitting in the dark common room at 2 am. The elevator dinged and the automatic doors slid open, you quickly entered and jammed the 4th floor button, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you waited for the elevator to make the ascent. It dinged once more, notifying you that you had arrived at your destination. You were not as quick off as you were on, your anxiety creeping into the back of your mind, reminding you that you were not allowed to be here. You shook your head, as if to shake the thoughts out, and took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and making a first tentative step out of the elevator and into the hallway. You tried to make your footsteps as quiet as possible, their sound was almost completely drowned out by your heart hammering in your ears. You stopped in front of the first door, forcing yourself to breathe, to slow your heart rate, so you could listen for the haggard breaths you had caught earlier. You could still hear them, and you were much closer now, but that wasn’t the right room. You silently moved on, tiptoeing and listening, until you arrived at the 3rd door in the hall, this was the source of the sound.

You bit your lip, hard, to ground yourself, before tentatively knocking on the door, barely hard enough to make a sound, hoping the occupant would hear. Their gasping breath immediately stopped, and then a raspy voice came from behind the door, “go away.”

Your eyes widened, it was Bakugo, you had long forgotten who belonged in each room and you were not expecting his voice to be the one to emerge from the same body that was just gasping for air moments ago.

“Umm, its y/n,” you paused, maybe waiting for a response, though you didn’t expect one, “I, uh, I heard a thud?” Your voice rose at the end of your statement, as if you were asking a question. It wasn’t a question though; you know you heard it. “And, well, it sounded like, from your breathing I mean, it sounded like someone was in pain… or something.”

He didn’t respond right away, leaving you in silence, and right as you started to open your mouth to say something, not that you knew what to say, his voice cut through the quiet. “You could hear that?” His tone was almost accusatory, as if you had no right to hear him, but there was something under that, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it sounded almost, afraid. 

An awkward giggle left your mouth before you had time to stop it, the last thing you wanted him to think was that you were laughing at him. “Yeah,” you confirmed his question, “its cause of my quirk, I have, um, heightened hearing.” You tapped one of your ears, as if he could see you. God was this nerve wracking; you weren’t expecting the boy who breathed as if tears were clogging his throat to be the same boy that had to be chained to the winners’ podium at the sports festival. You were always friendly with him and were friends with the same group of people but to be honest his intensity was a little intimidating, and you didn’t love the feeling it gave you when he called you an extra. You had to put away those doubtful and unkind feelings though, because right now it sounded like there was someone in need, and as a hero in training, helping that person was basically your only job.

You cleared your throat, and breathed in. “Bakugo, can I come in?”, you asked, though your hand was already on the door, not waiting for an answer as you were sure it was going to be one of denial.

“No, lea-” he was cut off as his door slowly swung open, revealing the shadow of your figure, backlit from the moon's light streaming in through the hall’s windows. The faint moonlight illuminated his face, sparkling ever so slightly in the trails of tears that fell down his cheeks. Your eyes moved up from his dampened cheeks to his eyes. Red, glistening in the soft light, and in them, a storm of emotions. Surprised, angry, scared, mournful. You didn’t know his eyes were capable of holding that many emotions, all you’ve ever seen them hold before was indifference, and rage. 

His eyebrows furrowed at your entrance, “leave.” he demanded. You shook your head in response, stepping in and softly closing the door behind you. 

“What are you doing? Get out.” his voice was still quiet and low though, each word almost caught in his throat. 

You approached him and sank down onto the floor when you were about 2 feet from him. Tilting your head in concern, you asked him, “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”. He shook his head in response. 

You scoot closer, reaching out one tentative hand, he flinched slightly at your approach but didn’t say anything, maybe he was too tired, too exhausted to fight anymore. You put the palm of your hand against the side of his face and, using your thumb, whipped away some of the tear streaks that stained his cheek.

“...bakugo,” you murmured, your eyes soft with concern as they met his, “what’s doing this to you?.” He didn’t grant you an answer, so you asked a different question. 

“Are you having nightmares?”, his eyes shifted downwards for a few moments, before fliting back up to meet yours. He pursed his lips, and then nodded his head just barely, giving you a nonverbal confirmation. 

“Oh,” a saddened sigh falls from your lips, and you think back on all the things that have happened over the school year, “Yeah, a lot of really scary things have happened to you, haven’t they?” He stays quiet so you continue on.

“You know, you’re always so bold, and loud, and brave. Seemingly ready to face anything, everything, no matter what comes your way… you appear so far above the rest of us, miles ahead of the pack. And I don’t think anything you could be feeling, will take away that lead you have.” you pause, thinking, “Bakugo, no matter how impressive you are, you are still just a teenager, like the rest of us. We’re kids its unreasonable and unrealistic to think that everything that has happened to you wouldn’t have an effect.” His red eyes are cast to the floor, but he has made no move to remove your hand from his cheek. You lift your other hand, placing it on his remaining cheek, and gently lift his face until your eyes meet again.

“Nothing that has happened, not your kidnapping, not All Might retiring, not the sports festival, none of that has been your fault.”, his eyes widened. He shook his head, releasing it from your grasp, as his breath started to quicken again. A battle going on inside of his head raged, wanting to let go, let down his barriers, to let it all out, fought against the urge to stay strong, to remain an idol above the rest, incapable of lowly human feelings like fear and doubt and guilt. 

"Do you think you're having panic attacks?" you inquire, hopeful maybe you could offer some advice, to help him with what was going on outside of his control but still in his mind. He gave a noncommital shrug of his shoulders, but that was enough for you.

"I have panic attacks, sometimes," you continued, "it makes me feel like I can't breathe like I'm sitting on train tracks, watching a train approaching me, with no sign of breaking, and though I am untied, no bound to where I sit, I can't seem to get out of the way." he didn't make any movements, or give any sign that he wasn't receptive to what you were saying, so you kept on.

*"There's a couple ways I know how to help myself when I feel like that. Sometimes, I need to feel not alone, so I'll go knock on Uraraka's or Ashido's door, sometimes ill need a hug, and sometimes I just need to be in another person's presence. I focus on my breathing, getting it in control, and having it enter a steady rhythm. Or I'll list things that I sense, to ground me, what I can see, what I can smell, what I can hear," you stopped, not knowing what else to say, "just know, you're not alone in these kinds of feelings, and there are ways to help." You looked at him, really trying to get your message across.

“It’s not weak.” you told him, “To show your feelings I mean. It’s not weak, it is just human.”

His shoulders lost their tension, and he collapsed forward into you, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise, you realized he was crying into your chest. 

What a strange sight it was, seeing the boy you thought only capable of anger, crying on you in the low light. You hesitated, before reaching one hand up to rub his head, finger running through the surprisingly soft blond hair. It was quiet for a while, the only sounds being his already quiet cries, muffled by your shirt and chest, and your heartbeat, steady and slow.

“You’re so strong,” you spoke out loud, though not directly to him, “I didn’t even think you could be suffering like the rest of us.”

The two of you sat there, on the floor, for a while. Long past from when your legs had gone numb, or when your arms grew tired, or your mouth dry. You sat still, not wanting to make a wrong move and have his tentative emotions quickly retreat back into his shell. After a while his violent cries had stopped, morphing into gentle shakes, and those, in turn, changed to a calm stillness.

Finally, he pushed you away, turning his head away and using the back of his arm to wipe his face. He sniffled, and then swallowed, before turning his face to yours, his eyes slightly irritated and puffy from the tears he had soaked into your shirt.

“Thanks,” he said, and you could tell from the way he spoke that that was all he was going to say. You smiled at him, before getting up and brushing imaginary dirt from the tops of your legs, “you’re welcome.”

You then turned and made your way to the door, and without looking back you added one more thing before you left, “good night, Bakugo.”

When you had finally made your way back to the safety of your dorm room, you wiggled the mouse of your laptop, checking the time. The clock now read 3:41 AM. Your eyes widened and mouth fell open, taking in all of the unfinished reports you still had to do.

“Damn,” you sighed, squeezing your eyes closed, and then closing the laptop, shutting off the only light illuminating your room. Left in darkness, you apologized to your future self that would be waking up in the morning, for their lack of sleep and the mountain of paperwork still left to do.

*as someone with an anxiety disorder, I just used the things that help me when I am having a panic attack, these things will probably not be universal, i know some people do not like to be touched when they are having a panic attack, i just wrote what i know is true for me. :)

[sannasruins]

warm winter

sero hanta x reader

type: fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: i was going to make this into angst but i found myself having already written so much fluff that it would have turned into over 5k to add angst, i might do an angsty part two tho. no proofread

word count: 1.7k

You were laying in his lap, looking up at Sero as he scrolled through his phone absentmindedly, his other hand resting on the top of your head, fingers threaded through your hair, and nails gently pressed into your scalp. You were okay with this comfortable silence, happy not to have the pressure to fill it, to just exist next to one another. You loved him so much. 

As the sunlight warmed your skin, and a soft breeze brushes by you, you let your mind wander. On such a lovely day like today, how could you not have lovely thoughts. You find yourself reminiscing how you and your beloved Sero Hanta started dating, winter of your first year at UA. 

♞

Everyone else had gone back to the class 1A dorm, except for you. You had stayed late after class, needing a change of pace from the desk in your dorm, working on a project that was due before the start of break. Engrossed in your writing, you didn’t notice the soft fluffy white flakes as they started their descent from the light gray clouds above that were blocking the sun’s light. The powder started sticking to the ground, and soon the whole world became covered in a blanket of white, but you were unaware. That is until 2 hours later, past when the gentle drifting turned into a flurry, past when you could no longer see the pavement, no you only noticed when you had finished what you had set out to finish that day and started to pack up. The weather reports that morning hadn’t called for snow, but the snow didn’t care and had reached almost a foot in dept. So, you were left at the main UA building, in your everyday loafers and a light jacket, as the weather had been much fairer on your 10-minute walk to school.

You didn’t notice, as you approached the shoe lockers, a snoozing and bundled Hanta, leaning his head back onto the locker he was against. No, your eyes were too focused on the glass doors ahead of you, and the snow that was piled up against it, dreading having to trudge your way through it, the thought of cold snow seeping into your shoes already sending a shiver of despair down your spine. Your groan of frustration and then the sound of you opening and closing your shoe locker roused the raven-haired boy from his light slumber, his eyes finding your figure as you sit on the floor in a huff. He gets up and stretches, his movements almost feline, eyes not leaving you as you grumpily jam your foot into one of your brown leather shoes, a smirk crossing his face as he approaches you quietly. 

“Boo,” he whispered into your ear, his mouth less than 3 inches away from your suddenly very flushed skin. You jump from your seated position, only one shoe on, the other foot being left in just its sock, your fist already balled, feet naturally assuming a fighting stance as you turn, arms raised. Sero threw his head back, a full-hearted laugh ripping its way out of his throat, his chest shaking with the force of it. Your reddened face only got redder as you watched him in his glee, your stance relaxing, and Sero gasped for air, desperate for the oxygen his laugh denied him. It took him a good minute to settle down, his breath slowing until it was back to its normal tempo, but the smile didn’t leave his face. 

“Heya y/n,” his crinkled eyes meeting yours. You met his greeting with an incredulous look, before slumping back down to the ground, putting on your other shoe.

“What are you doing here Sero?” you asked him as you rose up from the floor, turning to face him again, seeing his little smile still there. It caused a slight tingle in your stomach, maybe a butterfly or two, not that you would ever let the sly boy know. 

He thrust a gym bag, that you hadn’t noticed before, towards you. “I thought you might need these.”

You took the bag from his outstretched hand, opening it and peering into its contents. You found a pair of rain boots, a pair of sweatpants, and a jacket, all of which were obviously Hanta’s. You looked back up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Why would I need your,” you paused looking back into the bag, “your old clothes?”

He blushed slightly, one hand reaching for the back of his scarf-covered neck, “Well, I didn’t really have access to your stuff, but I knew you didn’t have warm enough clothes for this weather, so I had to improvise.” He paused, and you observed his slightly awkward demeanor, this shy, dare you say bashful, Sero Hanta was foreign to you. “I brought you my older spares because I figured they might fit you a bit better than my newer stuff.”

You were surprised, pleasantly so, and those two butterflies in your stomach suddenly multiplied, and did not stop multiplying as you felt your heart soar. A smile found its way onto your face without you noticing, as you looked at the gym bag in your hands. 

“Thank you, Sero,” you said, barely above a whisper, an obvious smile in your voice.

“Ye-” his voice cracked, you let out a small giggle at it, “yeah, it’s no problem y/n, anybody would have done it”

 “Maybe,” you looked him in his dark, warm eyes, “but they didn’t, and you did.”

He didn’t respond to you, eyes flicking away from yours as he forcefully chuckled, his hand once again finding itself on his neck.

“Can you hurry it up?” He asked after a second, “I kind of want to get back before dinner gets cold.”

You went back to the floor again, slipping off your loafers, “You can leave without me,” you informed him, “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah but,” he motioned towards the umbrella stand, your eyes following his arm, showing only one large, clear umbrella, “I only brought one.”

All you could respond with was a quiet oh, the thought of sharing an umbrella with your crush as he walked you home in the snow would be enough to cause any girl’s stomach to turn into a lepidopterarium. 

You stepped into the sweats, pulling them up under your skirt before slipping your feet into the too-large rain boots, making sure they didn’t pull up the sweatpants with them. Then, slipping into the jacket, you were swaddled in warmth. And the smell of him filled your nose, you did your best to not obviously inhale his scent, how embarrassing it would be if you were caught, you thought. Sero silently laughed at the sight in front of him, overly large boots making you shuffle as to not trip on your own two feet. You shot him a light glare, you couldn’t really be mad at him, you knew if the positions were switched you would be chortling at his shoe struggles. 

“Well then,” you started as you met him beside the door, him with umbrella in hand, “let’s get going.”

You pushed open the door, only to be met with a blast of frozen air in your face, the tips of your ears and nose almost immediately turning cold. With one hand you pulled the hood of the jacket over your head, the other firmly placed inside the jacket pocket where it sought warmth. You subconsciously walked closer to Hanta, almost bumping shoulders under the umbrella. 

Your nose was now noticeably red as you two made the trek back to the dorm, and Sero noticed it as he stole a glance at you. He paused in his walking, you making it two steps ahead of him before realizing that he had stopped in his path. Turning around, curious as to why he stopped, you are instead greeted by him handing you the umbrella. Confused, you take one hand out of the warmth of your pockets and grab the handle, watching him let go and reach for the end of his scarf. Your eyebrows scrunched up in a perplexed manner, not having any clue as to why he was taking off his perfectly warm and comfy scarf.

He then took one step towards you, closing the distance that had previously been there, and was now only 6 inches away. Frozen to your spot, you watched him raise his arms, the fabric in hand until they were level with your head. Then you felt it, he wrapped the scarf around the back of your neck, then forwards, once, twice, pulling it up and over your, what felt like, nearly frozen nose, before dropping his hands back down to his sides. 

Unblinking, you looked at him, a different kind of flush once again making its way to your cheeks, and he looked back down at you, and the two of you were surrounded by silence, the world had been muffled by the thickening blanket of snow, and in that white landscape, it felt like only the two of you existed. You reached your hand up, and pulled down the scarf, just below your lips, which then parted, and felt the sting of cold air rush past them and into your lungs as you took a shaky breath in, unsure of what was going to happen next.

But he leaned in, you tilted your head upwards, and suddenly you were kissing Sero Hanta, cold lips meeting one another in what felt like an explosion of emotions. 

The two of you broke apart, both searching for air, and searching each other’s eyes for an explanation as to what just happened. 

“Sero,” you questioned him, “do you like like me?”

“Uh,” a pause, “Yeah, I do. Do you like like me, y/n?”

A grin broke through your lips, and in an excited exhaled, you gave a breathy “yeah.”

And then you popped onto your tip toes to kiss him again, a hand making its way to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the silky darkness. When you broke away from the kiss, you still had a smile on your face.

“Yeah,” you repeated, “I really like like you.”

[sannasruins]

stained red

kirishima x reader

type: angst

warnings: major character death, fluff to pain, violence

a/n: a sad fic for my favorite boy, thought of this while doing my hair the other day, and thought about making it happy, decided against it lol. no happy endings here :)

word count: 2k

You had successfully infiltrated Kirishima’s room, your mission? Dyeing his hair.

He had approached you earlier that afternoon in class, eyes shifting back and forth, as if he was going to tell you a dark secret no one must hear. “Hey, y/n” he whispered once he reached your desk.

You looked up from your course work that you had previously been focused on, “Yeah? What’s up Kiri?”

“I need your help,” he parted his hair and leaned his head down so you could see the peaking of his dark roots, “helppppp” he whined out.

You laughed at his pleading, “Kirishima, you used to do this all by yourself, why do you need me to do it recently?”

“You just do it better.” He answered. You knew. On the days after he dyed his hair, his forehead, ears, and hands were stained a deep red, giving away his previous night’s activities. It never ended up stained when you did it, he had become spoiled by your steady and gentle hands.

“Okay,” you smiled at him, “I’ll be there tonight.”

He grinned his beautiful, sharp grin at you, unaware of the swarm of butterflies it released in your stomach every time he did.

You giggled at the sight before you in the mirror, Kirishima obediently sitting on the floor in front of your feet, a plastic bag with a hole cut in the middle for his head around his shoulders, his eyes crinkled with a smile as they met yours. With such a lovely sight in front of you, how could you not be absolutely enamored with him?

The gloves around your fingers crinkled as you messed with his hair, tilting his head forwards and backwards, left and right, making sure to not miss a single spot. Starting with the dye brush but soon giving up and resorting to using your hands to apply, it just worked better that way. It’s not like he was paying for a professional service; it was two teenagers in a dorm at night sneaking around. There was no pressure for it to be perfect, he didn’t mind if you messed up a little bit, having you do it was way more fun than him struggling to do it by himself. You didn’t notice at the time, but a small hole appeared in the glove, allowing some of the bright red dye to seep into your skin, staining it pink.

You put another plastic bag over his head, when he asked why the first time you did it, you said “it’s for you to cook.” You may not be a professional, but you know at least that, you then looked at him incredulously, “you never cooked?”. He shook his head no, then asked, “was I supposed to?”.

“I mean, you don’t have to, but it does something… I think.” You answered him. He gave you a doubtful look but allowed you to continue without questioning your ways anymore.

You both sat on his floor while you waited for the dye to do its thing, gloves discarded, and stain discovered much to your dismay. Shuffling a sack of cards you asked, “what do you want to play?”

4-0 was the score by the time your phone timer went off, notifying you it was time to rinse his hair. Kirishima was really bad at card games. And you were really good. “Okay!” you exclaimed, slapping your thighs, and getting up from your seated position, “come on, let’s go.”

He looked silly, leaning forward in an attempt to not get any of the red stained water on his skin as your started to rinse the dye from his hair. You cherished these next moments; it held a type of intimacy you thought you would never feel again. You put a glob of shampoo into his hair as he sat on the stool, his white shirt wet with red water, and gently massaged the product on his head, running your nails softly over his scalp as it bubbled pink between your fingers. You couldn’t see it but his eyes were softly closed and a relaxed smile graced his lips. When you were done with the shampoo, you poured the bucket of water next to you over his head, resulting in him turning around and scowling at you playfully, you grinned back at him, a silent laugh shaking your chest. You pushed his head to face forward again and squeezed conditioner into your palm, before starting to rub it into the ends of his fiery, wet hair. The room was silent, but it was nice, there was no need to fill the silence, it was safe, it was warm.

You saw his hair the next day, revitalized and looking as bright as ever. A beacon in the dark, for you at least. You passed smiles between on another throughout the day, and before you knew it, it was time for your afterschool intern training. Its what you had been looking forward to all day, as you and Kirishima were both interning under the Pro Hero: Fatgum, which meant you got to spend all afternoon walking around the city with him, talking and having fun. Maybe, you thought, you could get Taiyaki on the way home, you getting custard and him getting red bean, the hot steam from the pancake warming your face in the cool nights air.

It was a small time villain, someone you hadn’t ever heard the name of before, that you came across. He was rampaging through a residential part of town, and there were already a few civilians severely injured when you arrived. You weren’t worried though, his quirk wasn’t very powerful, and Kiri and you were heroes in training, a small fry like him shouldn’t be any problem. Nevertheless you called in to report the situation and request backup as you ran to the villain, who Kirishima was already engaged with.

You shouldn’t have taken the villain so lightly, he was a cornered beast, and you in your naivety you didn’t realize the lengths one would take to get themselves out of a corner, even if its one they put themselves in. It wasn’t Kirishima he went for, no, he was as strong as he was impenetrable, the villain targeted you instead.

He feigned a move, you lunged in, tired and read for the fight to be over, wondering when the backup was going to arrive. And like that, the villain was suddenly behind you and making a fatal move, your head turned as you saw him leap towards you. But in a flash of red, Kirishima Eijiro was between you two, and you felt your heart drop.

His body crumped, being hit with a move meant to kill from such a close distance. He was fine, he had to be fine though, he was semi hardened, that couldn’t have killed him, you tried to convince yourself. The villain was taken a back, you had to strike now before the window of vulnerability closed, you couldn’t be distracted.

After that first strong hit it didn’t take long for the villain to be subdued, and as you hit the final blow you saw your mentor, Fatgum, arrive. You met his eyes, silently giving him permission to take it from there as you fell to your knees, chest heaving as you tired to catch your breath.

A thought flashed in your mind. Kirishima.

You turned, still on your knees to see him lying on the pavement. Oh god, red, surrounded him, not the warm red of his hair but a deep, cold red, the very life of him pooling onto the dark cement around him. Was he breathing? You couldn’t tell. You crawled to him, unable to find the strength to stand up.

“Kiri? Hey Kiri can you hear me?” you asked, voice laden with desperation as you gently rolled him onto his back. His eyes were barely open, but they moved and focused on you. You smiled at him, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey y/n” he answered you, voice a gravely sound barely above a whisper, a sharp stabbing pain shot into your heart, choking you on your words. “Your- you’re uncomfortable aren’t you?” you asked, he just nodded back. “its okay, here,” you sat criss cross and moved his head into your lap, “lap pillow, that’s what all the boys are talking about these days right?” He smiled faintly at you, eyes fluttering open and close, “yeah, how lucky I am.”

You tapped his face lightly, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep any semblance of composure as you watched the pool of blood grow in size beneath him, “Eijiro, you gotta stay awake for me, you gotta, soon recovery girl is going to be here and she’ll make it all better okay? You just gotta stay awake a little longer,” you were pleading at that point, hot tears streaming down your face as you looked down at his face, his beautiful face that was slowly loosing its color, the warmth of his cheeks cooling.

“Can you,” he struggled to get his words out, “can you stroke my hair please y/n?”

You smiled, salty tears covered your lips, and you nodded, “Of course kiri.” Rubbing his head gently, fingers brushing through the same hair they were the night before, but now that clean red hair was matted with blood. You tired not to pull on any of the knots in his hair, you could brush them out later, when he was safe.

“And call me by my name,” it was getting harder and harder for him to get his words out, “my, my first name I mean”

“Eijiro.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and his eyes started to droop.

“No no no, Eijiro, please keep your eyes open, please please, just a little while longer okay? Helps going to be here soon.” Your tears were dripping onto his face, mixing into his own. You wiped them away with the pad of your thumb, your other hand still making its way over his hair. Over and over again. You could hear the sirens, they were getting close, help would be there soon, he just needed to hold out a little while longer.

“Hey y/n?” he asked, you were surprised at the sound of his voice, “you’re one of my best friends, thank you y/n.”

“Save your strength, we can talk later,” you told him, “they’re almost here, just a few more minutes.” You didn’t want him to thank you. It was your fault he was in this situation to begin with. If you hadn’t been so weak then this wouldn’t have happened, he wouldn’t have been hurt. It was your fault.

“I love you, thank you for,” he paused, taking a rattled breath, “thank you for being here with me, its not so scary with you.”

Those were the last words that Kirishima Eijiro ever said. When his body had lost all its warm, when you were sure he was gone, you screamed. A animalist sound that ripped its way out of your lungs, a sound that let everyone know, exactly what had just happened. A sound so filled with grief and anger that it was almost tangible.

You laid yourself over his body for a moment, hugging him close to you, his blood making its way into your clothes, into the cracks of your skin, under your fingernails, onto your lips. And sobs wracked your body, your entire being shaking with the power of your anguish.

They had to drag you away from his body, you were fighting them with all of what little strength you had left, begging, and pleading for them to let you say with him, and at that point you were ready to just die with him. You wanted to stay with him, it was your fault, he shouldn’t be alone, he’s going to be scared, you need to be with him.

When he was no longer in your sight, when they had loaded you into the back of an ambulance, because apparently you had been injured too, you looked down. That’s when you saw your hands.

Stained with the color of his hair dye. Stained with the color of his blood. Stained red.

[sannasruins]

sanna ♞ 20 ♞ infp ♞ request are: open

♞ masterlist

♞ about me

♞ request rules

♞ news:

9-30-23: hi, it's been a bit since i've been on here, i tried to write a whole bunch of things, a couple of times, i have several 2 paragraph things started that i just couldn't take anywhere. anyways, i'm back, for now at least, my fic i just published, it didn't hurt, right? is inspired by how i just recently was talking to a man, who honestly i was out of his league bc i was 14 years younger than him but im stupid and whatever, anyways he ghosted me for a week and then called me to tell me that he was stopping talking to me because he met someone that he wanted to presue a relationship with after he told me he wasn't in the position to be in a relationship and wasn't looking for one right now, this happened to me when i was like 13 i wasn't expecting it to happen to me when i was 20, anyways enjoy and fuck him i deserve better.

6-6-23: i've been having really bad writer's block recently, been starting a lot of fics but unable to finish them, so i just posted the start of one of the as a blurb lol

6-2-23: happy pride everyone, i hope all of us will one day find a true and honest love, and when that time comes, it is accepted

5-27-23: so like, i expect that blue haired girl won't do as well note wise as other characters bc nejire just isn't a really in demand character, but I do hope everyone who reads it likes, and sees where i was going with it bc i sure don't lmao

5-24-23: posted letters from my love, hopefully, it does better than its prequel because that kinda flopped. i was planning on writing more but after writing over 10k for it i was getting a little bored (also already broke my previously mentioned record). it seems like fluff does better than angst, who woulda thought! i'm thinking i want to write for shinso next but we'll see :P

♞ older news

i do not currently write anything that would warrant my blog being 18+

[sannasruins]

it seems no matter what, i love you

dabi x reader

type: angst

warnings: character death, toxic relationship, violence

a/n: my first ever fic! i hope it's well received <3

word count: 1.9k

He insisted that in this world, no one was innocent, they all had done some wrong, that everyone had a little bit of evil inside of them. He pointedly said those things to you, but you knew that you weren’t innocent, you knew you harbored a darkness inside of you. What you didn’t know was the point he was getting at, why was he so steadfast on reminding you constantly of your misdeeds. 

You didn’t have much left in this world, but you had him, and you had your memories that you held dear, and you had placated yourself into thinking that was all you needed. You didn’t long for security, or for warmth, you had enough. But it’s not very smart to put so much of yourself into one person, you knew this, deep down, but there was nothing stopping you from never listening to reason.

You knew him from before, before his skin was tattered and his hair black, you knew unmarred, you knew snow white. You knew Touya. He had somehow made his place in your juvenile mind as a beacon of light, a source of solace, despite the horrors he was going through. And so, when he decided to burn it all, to disappear, to seek revenge, you were right on his tail. Leaving everything of your own behind as well. All you needed was him after all. And seeing what he had gone through, what he was forced to become, twisted you as well, it fueled your anger, and muddled your mind. But all of that was okay. You had him, Touya, Dabi, you didn’t care who he was or who he became, as long as he was by your side while he did it.

It was a rainy day, and cold, the kind that creeps past all layers to make itself at home in your bones. A simple in and out mission, and you were giddy that you got to do it alongside Dabi, there was even a small skip in your step. It had been a while since it had been just you and him, and excitement to wreak your shared havoc bubbled up in your veins, spilling past your lips as a giggle. Dabi looked over and behind at you from his two paces ahead, slight annoyance passing over his face at your noise, you clasped your lips tightly, but your smile didn’t leave your face. That didn’t matter as long as you were quiet, he really didn’t care what you did as long as you didn’t mess this up. You didn’t mind being scolded, but you didn’t want him in trouble as well, so you held your tongue as you crept closer to the building. 

You weren’t entirely sure what you were there for, Dabi was the one who was debriefed on the objective, your presence was for backup only. That was okay though, you were more than happy to just protect him and nothing else.

There was crashing sounds coming from the building, getting louder as you approached, you could also start to make out muffled shouting, and began to wonder what exactly Shigaraki had sent the two of you to. Following behind the scarred man, you crept your way up the fire escape of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, reaching a broken window to peer into its contents. 

You were surprised to see Dabi’s younger brother, Shoto, as well as two of his classmates, the green haired one and the explosive one that the league had kidnapped earlier in the school year, fighting a low-level villain. They must be out on their internship, you reasoned, but what were they doing here? And what were you doing here? You turned to Dabi and asked him in a concerned whisper “what is this?”.

He smiled at you, “if they can’t join you, beat ‘em.”

You blinked at him, brows temporarily furrowing. “Dabi… I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“It goes how I say it goes,” he retorted. You hummed; this won’t be the hill you die on today. “Okay but what are we supposed to do? And what about Endeavor, they’re interns as his agency, isn’t this too risky? Especially when it’s just you and me, 3 on 2 odds aren’t great-” you continued to voice your concerns before he cuts you off

“Shut it y/n.” and you do, “they’re just brats. Are you saying that two of Japan’s worst villains can’t beat a bunch of 16-year olds? Do you lack faith in me that much?” He asked the last question with a smirk, meeting your eyes. A blush rushed to your face, heating your cheeks and the tips of your ears, or maybe it was just the cold getting the best of you.

“No Dabi, of course not,” you trailed off, pursing your lips, “but what exactly are we supposed to do?”

Dabi tsked at you, “Don’t be getting all morally right on me now doll, you know what we have to do.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, yeah, you’re a villain but they're still just kids.

“Now or never.” He stood up, stepping up onto the window’s sill and announcing his presence to the fight below, “Ready to burn?”

The fight was over faster than you had time to rationalize what was going on. The 3 had already been tired out by fighting with the minor villain, who had scurried off once Dabi made himself known. It was cowardly, using a diversion to weaken them, but nothing is fair in love and war. You easily knocked out the green one, not sure how far to take it, you didn’t have much time to contemplate the boy lying in a puddle of mud and blood before the blonde one flew at you in a flurry of explosions. You turned in time to miss the brunt of the attack, only having your side singed, the scent of burnt hair and flesh filling your nose, your eyes watering at the acrid smell, adrenaline keeping you from feeling most of the pain. You turned to look at the boy, huffing and standing in between you and his friend, ‘how cute’ you thought. You took in the blonde, his stance wide, knees bent, ready to attack, but besides that you saw he was injured, a large gash starting on the back of his shoulder and ending on his collar bone that was dripping blood down his arm and chest, and a rip in his baggy black pants, the surrounding fabric darkened. 

You sigh almost disappointedly, this wouldn’t be much of a fight, your morals long abandoned after the little shit burnt you. And it wasn’t, once he charged at you again, you stepped to the side and made quick work of knocking him unconscious, followed by a sharp kick in the gut. “That’s for my jacket, bitch, it was my favorite one.” you dusted your hands off, satisfied with your quick work, and turned to Dabi, who had gone after his younger brother. 

You froze in place, eyes widened, and mouth parted, at the disturbing scene in front of you. In Dabi’s hands, you saw the slumped body of his brother, hand poised in front of his face. It felt as if time had slowed to a crawl as the realization of what was about to happen came crashing into you. “Dabi,” you called out, “no!”

But it was too late. 

You remembered the sweet, bi-colored hair baby, wide eyes and chubby fingers, making grabby hands as he tottled his way towards you and his eldest brother, both of you laughing and urging him to pick you, not the other, and his little dilemma on who he should go to first. You remember a little tot running up to you as you came home from school with Touya, yellow hats and randoseru’s, desperate to show the both of you what he had colored just for you. You remember a little older, still unscarred, him splitting a popsicle with you in the summer heat, and when one side broke off with a little bit of the other’s top, he gave you the side with more. And you remember his little innocent face, wrapped in bandages, and your heart aching, and your rage building, at how can someone do that to him, he was just so little, he did nothing wrong. You remember seeing him for the last time, his burn had healed into a scar, but he still looked so hurt, and he was so alone in that big house, and your rage grew at all the expectations and vicarious dreams that has been put upon his tiny shoulders, already weighing him down, breaking him. 

Then you're back in the present, and you see the blue flames shoot from Touya’s palm, and you watch the boy burn.

You didn’t notice but at some point, you had fallen to your knees, the ache in them distant, being drowned out in the static that filled your head and body.

Touya drops the body unceremoniously and makes his way back to you with his signature smirk gracing his face, but the expression that usually gave you butterflies instead wrenched your gut, making it difficult to breath. 

“Common,” he said, walking past you, “we’re done, let’s go.”

“T-Touya,” you stutter out, unable to take your eyes off of Shoto.

“Dabi,” he harshly corrects you, “Todoroki Touya has been dead for 10 years.”

There was silence as he waited for your quip back at him, but when it didn’t come, he turned to look at you, still on your knees with your back to him.

“What,” he spit, stalking towards your still figure, “what’s gotten into you?” He reaches you, stepping in front of your face, taking up all of your sight. He lifts your face with a finger under your chin. 

“Are you crying?” he asks incredulously. You reach one shaking hand up to your cheek, finding it wet, you pull it back and look down at it. Dirty, covered in dry blood, damp with your tears. 

“Why are you fucking crying?” he asked, as if he truly didn’t understand what had just happened, what he had just done.

“Shoto,” your voice cracked saying his name, “You, Touya you killed Shoto.”

“Okay? And?”

“You killed him Touya, how could you kill him, he, he did nothing wrong.”

Dabi scoffed, “He was Endeavor’s hope.”

That’s all he offered for explanation as he reached down and picked you up, whipping your tears away with the pad of his thumb, and you hated it, but you leaned into the comforting and familiar feeling.

You glared at him, through your tears, rousing a rumble from deep in his chest, a laugh. There you were wondering how you could ever forgive him for what he had just done, thinking you probably never could, and he was laughing. 

“Oh y/n, baby. Somewhere, deep down, in that heinous heart of yours, there’s a part of you that will always love me, no matter what I do. You belong to me, heart and soul.”

You hated him. You hated him so much. Because he was right

“Loving you is torture.” You informed him, maybe hoping to hurt him a little bit, bring a stab of guilt to his heart or build remorse up in his throat, but he just hummed. Making his way out of the warehouse, and behind your retreating forms, setting it up in blue flames. You buried your head into his shoulder, it’s best not to think about it, you told yourself. But you knew.

You were just as bad as him.