#aizawa whump

[goodwhump-temp]

Izuku Midoriya Whump | MHA

Ep.01 - Crying x2, bullied x10, bruised (flashback), scared Ep.02 - Scared, suicidal, crying, breakdown Ep.03 - Crying x3, training torture, breakdown, collapses, carried, trips Ep.04 - Crying x2, arm busted, falling from the sky, unconscious, nervous Ep.05 - Finger busted Ep.06 - Knocked down (explosion), bullied Ep.07 - Knocked down (explosion), hit from the back, punched, thrown, crying, arm busted, passes out Ep.08 - Unconscious, weak, sling Ep.09 - Squeezed/pushed around Ep.10 - Fingers busted, protected Ep.11 - [ep. includes Aizawa whump❗] Ep.13 - Legs busted, crying, bandaged Ep.15 - Paralyzed fear Ep.16 - Crying Ep.19 - Crying Ep.20 - Fingers busted, punched x2, manhandled Ep.23 - Finger busted x5, arm busted, pain, unconscious Ep.24 - Bandaged, right arm shattered, hand disfigured Ep.25 - [ep. includes Bakugo, Shoto, Iida whump❗] Ep.27 - Punched (back) x2, pinned, splat on the wall x2, bloody nose, exhausted Ep.28 - Thrown x2, bloody nose Ep.29 - Small cut grazed, paralyzed [ep. includes Iida whump❗] Ep.30 - Leg sliced, arm hurt, exhausted, carried, face kicked, SNATCHED Ep.31 - Bandaged Ep.33 - Slips Ep.37 - Backhanded/knocked down, punched, used as human hammer, thrown, spine-slammed, pain Ep.38 - Threatened, choked, terrified Ep.40 - Blown off cliff, exhausted, nuts punched, comforted Ep.41 - Punched Ep.42 - Gut-kicked into wall, bleeding forehead, knocked down, arm busted, crushed Ep.43 - Carried Ep.44 - Arms bandaged [ep. includes Tokoyami whump❗] Ep.45 - Knocked down, tumbles x2, devastated, ambulance-care, says 2-days of unconsciousness/fever, crying, guilt Ep.46 - Arms disfigured, punched Ep.48 - Paralyzed fear Ep.49 - Crying Ep.50 - Punched, crying, comforted Ep.51 - Crying Ep.52 - Knocked down (explosion) Ep.54 - Pinned, scratched Ep.60 - Crying Ep.61 - Knee'd in the face, thrown, angry, pinned, restrained Ep.63 - Gut-punched Ep.66 - Slams into wall, bloody nose, exhausted Ep.67 - Bottling feelings/can't concentrate Ep.72/73 - [eps. includes Kirishima whump❗] Ep.75 - Knocked down, pinned by spikes, spike grazes [ep includes Lemillion & Nighteye whump❗] Ep.76 - Multiple cuts, bleeding, 100% power/extreme pain (delay) Ep.77 - Power overload/dying, crying [ep. includes Lemillion, Nighteye, & Overhaul whump❗] Ep.83 - Fingers-internal bleeding Ep.84 - Thrown x2, shot with beam, stuck holding beam up Ep.85 - Knocked down, knocked unconscious, pinned, thrown x2, kicked Ep.90 - Vision Ep.98 - New power/uncontrollable, panic, vision, slapped x2 Ep.99 - [ep. includes Shinso whump❗] Ep.101 - Paralyzed fear (interview) Ep.105 - [ep. includes Shoto trauma❗] Ep.106 - [ep. includes Natsu whump❗] Ep.107 - Head stabbed with hat, bleeding [ep. includes Aizawa trauma❗] Ep.108 - [ep. includes Shigaraki trauma❗] Ep.117 - [ep. includes Shigaraki whump❗] Ep.118 - Uneasy Ep.120 - Protected [ep. includes Aizawa whump❗] Ep.121 - Arm bit Ep.122 - Knocked back, angry, crying, arms busted x2 [ep. includes Aizawa & Hawk whump❗] Ep.123 - Feral, pinned, protected [ep. includes Bakugo whump❗] Ep.124 - Body exhausted [ep. includes Dabi trauma❗] Ep.125 - Body exhausted, knocked back Ep.126 - Shard headache pain x2, passes out, knocked down, body exhaustion Ep.128 - Bandaged, comatose Ep.129 - [ep. includes Hawk trauma & whump❗] Ep.130 - Coma cont. Ep.132 - Hospital flashback, scars Ep.134 - Gut-punched, bullet grazed x2 Ep.135 - Suicidal/depressed, trampled, confronted Ep.136 - Intervention; depressed, restrained x3, thrown, emotion anguish, pierced ice wall, guilt, body exhausted, crying, scared, collapse, passes out Ep.137 - Scared, mental breakdown Ep.138 - Comforted

[decarbry]

immolation (chapter 5)

[dgalerab]

(part 1)(part 2)(part 3)

me: what if shirakumo lived

me:

me: ANYWAY

(but dw it's not a nomuzama au)

[hey-that-hurt]

And of course there’s the flipside of parent whump: child whump. Maybe the parent is captured or trapped, maybe the injuries are happening at a remote location too far away to reach but at least the news is telling them how badly their child is hurt. Maybe it’s a kidnapper sending cryptic messages leaving far too much to the imagination. Maybe they’ve both been kidnapped, and the kidnapper realizes far too quickly how to get the parent to cooperate.

Maybe things are strained, maybe both parent and child are adults now and they don’t talk like they used to but that‘s still the kid they raised and loved and maybe getting stabbed would be better than them getting hurt like this.

Maybe the child is a kid who happened to be in their proximity that they half heartedly took under your wing. And they thought they didn’t care, it’s not like this is their kid, except why then is one of the worst things they’ve ever experienced?

Maybe it’s a kid who was hurt, who had nobody, who they decided was their responsibility now. And they promised, they promised, that the kid would be safe. And what a horrible liar they are.

(Tag your favorite characters for this dynamic, I’m curious)

[thatstupidone]

HELLO BNHA FANS!

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💙 - Rare pair shipping/any ship that's not illegal!

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[kaiunkaiku]

bnha hurt/comfort alphabet challenge (i know, new content, i'm shocked too), letter w: worry

fandom: bnha

summary: in which hizashi comes home to a scared little girl and a hurting husband.

warnings: angst, chronic pain, hero life bullshit

happy reading, please enjoy!

Hizashi has just introduced the next song – Toxic, because he feels like being a stereotypical Americanized gay man tonight, and it’s his show – when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He frowns as he pulls it out and pushes himself away from his equipment with a kick to the table. It’s late so the kids should be sleeping, and Shouta is at work, and no one else has any reason to call him while he’s on air. So to say he’s a little confused would be a bit of an understatement. 

That confusion morphs into concern as soon as he takes a look at the caller ID; Hitoshi should be either asleep or studying for that first aid course he's taking, or perhaps training though Hizashi hopes he isn’t – his ribs are still healing from a mission last week –, so for him to be calling has Hizashi immediately afraid that something is wrong with Eri. Hitoshi isn’t really one for phone calls in the first place, preferring texting much like Shouta does, and therefore Hizashi thinks he’s fairly justified in his worry. 

He makes sure his microphone is off, and taps the screen to accept the call. 

“Hey there,” he greets, trying to keep the concern from his voice. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t really succeed. 

It turns out not to matter, though, because evidently all his worry is totally and completely one hundred percent warranted. 

“Hi,” Hitoshi starts, and Hizashi can immediately tell that something is wrong even before Hitoshi says anything else – his tone is tight, distress easily identifiable through the phone even though he’s obviously trying to conceal it. “Sorry, I know Hands Up isn’t over yet, but can you come home?” and Hizashi does not need to be told twice. His heart throws itself against his ribcage and he’s reaching for his backup song list before he even realizes he’s doing it.

“I can absolutely do that, why, what’s wrong? Is Eri okay? Are you okay? The cats?” he lists, frantic enough that he can recognize it in his voice and under his skin. He spots a notebook and shoves it into his bag. 

“What? Yeah, I’m fine, the cats are fine, Eri is, well, she’s upset but I think I have a handle on that? I put her on a video call with Denki, should distract her for a while,” Hitoshi explains, but the tension in his voice hasn’t gone anywhere. Hizashi thinks the words should make him less anxious, but somehow the dread pooling in his stomach just expands. 

“What’s going on, then? Wait, why is Eri upset? Did something happen?” Hizashi presses on his way out of his studio as he flags down his assistant and hands them his work iPad with the playlist pulled up. They raise a brow, questioning, but take the offered device. Family emergency, Hizashi mouths, gesturing at his phone, and they nod in understanding before turning towards his studio. It always sucks when he can't do song requests through the night, but that's why the backup list exists, and there's a prerecorded apology that's usually played when he has to take off.

“It’s, uh. Dad came home about fifteen minutes ago.” 

continue on ao3

[circledotdestroy]

Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First chapter Next Chapter Word Count: 5585

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea. 

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.  

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!” 

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty. 

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing.  You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head. 

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform. 

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary. 

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment. 

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up. 

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath. 

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

 Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met. 

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first. 

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one. 

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town. 

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem. 

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still. 

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was– 

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky. 

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least. 

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle. 

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!” 

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

 “I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type. 

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor. 

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events. 

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!” 

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier. 

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process. 

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor. 

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse. 

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation. 

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere. 

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing. 

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce. 

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 28 - Sacrifice

Aizawa knows what the media paints heroes to be: he sees it in the wide shining eyes of kids that ask Mic for his autograph and in the desperate faces of those he saves. A devotion and trust so utter it's almost frightening. It does frighten him sometimes, sending him slinking away from scenes once everything is secure and he can disappear unnoticed.

He knows what All Might conditioned the world to believe: heroes are pillars. Heroes are always ready, always there to save the day, willing to sacrifice everything if it will save civilians from the evil of the world.

He also knows that's bullshit. No hero can stand on their own. He's seen what that life has done to Toshinori, the shell it turned him into. He's seen what the media and the public do to heroes who fail to live up to that impossible standard; he's seen what happens to vigilantes who get caught doing everything heroes do but without the social or official credentials.

Heroes are human too.

So he teaches that. He teaches heroics his way. To avoid another All Might. He emphasises teamwork, fails entire classes who refuse to see the need for it or those who insist that heroes should stand alone.

And then he gets a new 1-A.

In the beginning, he thinks this might be another scorched earth class: full of personalities that clash and kids that, on the outside, seem to be set against his philosophy and eager to prove only themselves.

But then, they prove him wrong. Over and again, they work together: in training, in the licensing exams, in situations they should never have been put in that still give him nightmares. He starts to think that maybe his lessons are sticking, that this will be the one class he can push through UA, confident in knowing they won't try to be the next All Might.

And then Izuku disappears. Leaves carbon copy notes for everyone (he's pretty sure) that spill his secrets. And Aizawa is angry: at All Might for putting such ridiculous pressure on a child to keep a secrete and hold up a legacy Aizawa has never agreed with in the first place. He's angry at the world who told Izuku he needed to be that way and at the kid for believing it. But he's also angry at himself: for not doing enough to stop Izuku's reckless, self-sacrificing tendencies, not being enough to shout down the collective voices of the media and public opinion and Izuku's own hero.

He doesn't sleep much, after that. Mic sits with him in the wee hours despite his insistence that he's fine. Mic's known him long enough, suffered him long enough, that he knows better. He listens as Aizawa questions himself and his philosophy and picks holes in everything he's believed since Obouro. Mic listens and then Mic talks: offers reminders about the rest of the kids. How they're teaming up to fight for their place in the search, planning, strategising so that no one is alone and they'll get "stupid fuckin' Deku" (to paraphrase Bakugou) back together and "beat some fuckin' sense into him". Aizawa might have to have words with him about that one.

It helps, to know that his lessons have been enough; that this 1-A has learned and grown more than he'd expected and, at Mic's insistence, that he's helped make them that way. It's not enough to fill the hollow in his chest. But it helps.

[littlekysworld]

Bad Moon Rising

By LittleKy

Izuku had thought that his argument with All Might would be the worst thing to happen to him this week. Boy, was he wrong.

(Or: Midoriya Izuku's week quickly goes from bad to worse when, during what's meant to be a live televised conference for UA, he's publicly poisoned and kidnapped. Naturally, all hell breaks loose.)

Here's the full link to my current WIP. For those of you who like Dadmight, found family and hurt/comfort. ❤️

[pansexualkiba]

"I have a great relationship with my mom and dad because they love me!" Kirishima exclaimed.

"Well, that just makes me feel worse." Midoriya sighed.

"Wait, Deku, we've met your mom?" Uraraka pointed out. "Inko's great."

"Yes," Midoriya agreed, "But it was my father who left me to fend for myself in the frozen tundra with nothing but a hatchet and a length of rope. I would have died if a pack of wolves hadn't taken me in as one of their own."

Uraraka's jaw was dropped from the story.

"Oh, I'm, uh," Kaminari stammered. "Sorry to, uh. Wolves?"

"Yes," Midoriya nodded, "But I wasn't safe. The wolves were robots built by my father in order to lull me into a false sense of security. I awoke one morning to find he had slaughtered them all and left a message in the snow reading, 'I dare you to love again'."

Kaminari fell silent.

"Wh-" Ashido started.

"But the message was actually written in ant pheromone." Midoriya revealed, causing Ashido to double over in pain. "I was suddenly engulfed by thousands of rabid African ants, each trying to burrow its way inside me in order to get to the queen larva my father had put in my Cheerio's."

Kouda slowly stopped eating his cereal. Tokoyami continued to eat his.

[ethereal-catharsis]

Fic Masterlist

My AO3 with all my works is here!

Here's some of my works that I'm most proud of, or my favorites (in no particular order). Not all my fics are listed here, I've excluded many old fics because my writing has improved over the years.

I write a lot of dark content, so I've included warnings when needed, but always look at the AO3 tags as well. All fics are marked either NSFW or SFW to indicate smut, but just because something is marked SFW doesn't mean there are no warnings/dark themes. DD:DNE will also be marked with "DD".

Links to fics are under the cut!

Boku no Hero Academia

🎤 erasermic ✏️

In Spite Of — NSFW | getting together teen erasermic

explicit | pre-canon, non-con, rape recovery, child abuse | 28.6k words | 5 / 5 | complete

Something So Wholesome About You — NSFW | established teen erasermic

explicit | pre-canon, first time, trans!shouta, pwp | 9.5k words | 2 / 2 | complete

heart made of glass, mind of stone — NSFW, DD | pre-relationship erasermic

explicit | non-con, mind control, blood | 4.7k words | 1 / 1 | complete

As Long as I'm Here — SFW | established erasermic

mature | non-consensual drug use, mugging, implied SA | 6k words | 1 / 1 | complete

When I'm Losing My Control — SFW | getting together erasermic

mature | non-consensual drug use, recreational drug abuse | 4k words | 1 / 2 | incomplete

when you cried, I learned what helplessness tastes like. because all I could do was swallow. — SFW | pre-relationship erasermic

mature | abusive relationship, dubious consent (both are yamada/oc) | 7.4k words | 1 / 1 | complete

you only feel it when it's lost (series) — SFW | established erasermic

mature | kidnapping, torture, PTSD, s**cide attempt, recovery | 9k words | 4 works | complete

in love with being noticed; afraid of being seen — SFW | pre-relationship teen erasermic

teen | pre-canon, trans!shouta, transphobia, bullying | 2.6k words | 1 / 1 | complete

Lacuna — SFW | pre-relationship erasermic

teen | kidnapping, medical experimentation, non-con body modification, animal/human hybrids | 5.3k words | 1 / 1 | complete

Everything Has Side Effects — SFW | established erasermic

teen | food contamination anxiety, EDNOS | 2k words | 1 / 1 | complete

Too Regular, This Pattern — NSFW | getting together erasermic

explicit | lack of communication, drunk **x, panic attack | 3.5k words | 1 / 1 | complete

dadzawa✏️, dadmic🎤, and dadmight💪🏻

There is Nothing I Wouldn't Do — SFW | shouta + eri

gen | mild hurt/comfort | 4k words | 1 / 1 | complete

Least Favorite Only Child — SFW | toshinori + izuku

teen | s**cide attempt (off-screen), happy ending | 1.2k words | 1 / 1 | complete

Blinded — SFW | shouta + izuku

teen | kidnapping | 6.5k words | 2 / 2 | complete

Move Softly and Lap Upon the Shore — SFW | getting together erasermic + adopted izuku

gen | mer!shouta, mer!izuku, human!hizashi, slow burn | 26k words | 6 / ? | incomplete, ongoing

Marvel

coming soon — SFW | irondad and spiderson

Steven Universe

it doesn't go away — SFW | steven-centric

mature | depression, PTSD, corrupted!steven, SH | 28k words | 8 / ? | incomplete, hiatus

[daydreamwhumpinc]

When you are AroAce and also likes Whump and have a type:

"I don't want to bang you, or kiss you, but I do want to see you suffer and then heal and receive comfort and find your own found family."I have so many more comfort characters LMAO

(Also, not saying that wanting to kiss or bang the characters is wrong, my brain just wants the cake in these situations🤍🩶🖤💜)

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 11 - Time Loop

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: ∞ (462)

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

~Bakugo’s eyes roll back in his head, blood pouring from his mouth in a familiar stream. Problem child grunts as he tries a few times to turn off the beeping alarm. 

Shouta grunts in acknowledgment, peeling his eyes open and sitting up when Midoriya makes a concerned noise. 

He kneels over the kid and resumes chest compression, feeling the rib on the left side crack under the additional pressure. His right leg kicks out, and the divot in the dirt matches his movement. 

His shoulders are burning, wrists threatening to buckle under the weight. 

Shouta counts in his head; 98… 99… 100… 101

“Midoriya.” He huffs, keeping paced compressions until he gets the all-clear. 

Midoriya uses his knee to nudge his limp hand over to Bakugo’s neck. The bruising on his scarred arms looks worse than it did three hours ago, they need to get him to a hospital soon.

…106…

“Pulse is back.” Problem child relays, letting his arm relax again, wincing as his fingers drag over the ground. 

Shouta sighs and flops back onto the floor. His arms throb up to his shoulders in a way that promises long-lasting damage.

Midoriya gives him another guilty look which Shouta meets with his own glare.

It’s not Midoriya’s fault they were ambushed, and it’s definitely not his fault he broke his arms protecting them when Shouta was briefly unconscious.

Shouta gets it though, he does. It doesn't seem like they really got away after all. 

The villain’s quirk resets Bakugo’s body every five minutes, reverting his injuries to near-fatal, as it had been when they’d escaped. 

Shouta had begun the recovery period with chest compressions, focusing all his will on getting the kid’s heartbeat back. He’d taken a serious hit that would have lesser heroes down instantly, but the kid fought hard.

It’s only right if Shouta gives him the same courtesy, though he can’t help but wish he hadn’t time-looped himself into eternal CPR.

Bakugo’s eyes flutter, and his pupils retract in response to the light. 

Midoriya checks his watch, sighing at the remaining time.

“Has your SOS been recovered?” he asks, shifting his arm with his knee. 

Shouta shoots him a look, “I would tell you if it was-”

“I know.” Midoriya tucks his chin into his chest, frustrated tears dripping down his collarbone, “Sorry.”

Shouta sighs, flicking a rock over to get the kid’s attention, “It’s fine. I know how you’re feeling. I’d do just about anything to get us home right now.”

“Yeah…” Problem child sighs, gaze softening when Bakugo groans, stirring slightly. 

They never get much further than this. 

“Kacchan?” Midoriya tries, scooting closer. 

The boy falls silent again, head falling to the side as he slips deeper into unconsciousness. 

The timer goes off. 

Red eyes open~

[dgalerab]

:3c

[hey-that-hurt]

Parent/guardian whump

The panic of the child/children in the situation, seeing the person they rely on incapacitated, in need of protection, in need of help.

The panic of the guardian, wanting so desperately to protect their kid(s) but unable to. The horror of having to watch a person you dedicate your whole being to protecting put themselves in harm’s way to defend you.