I hate my username

26, she/her, call me Nena

[jujutsukgojo]

Master list

Some of the masterlist will take you to AO3 and some on tumblr. Some of these are a WIP that has yet to come out.

my tumblr and AO3 are the only accounts i have!

*-means favorites or the ones i'm most proud of

DO NOT PLAGIARIZE OR REPOST

Rules/about me

BNHA

Bakugo x Jirou

Jukebox (Fluff)

Shouto:

The Less You Know, The Better (Mob Shouto)

Final chapter

Heat of the Island:

Chapter One,

Chapter two ,

Chapter three ,

Chapter Four

---

Don't eat chocolate coins (Shouto x reader, angst, mystery)

don't eat a chocolate coin masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

-

A dance one night (vampire shouto)

Fuyumi:

Blinded (Fuyumi & Shigaraki)

Dabi:

Blue Fire (Yandere)

Sleepyhead

Kaminari x Momo

It was that night (Fluff) *

Katsuki:

Budding cherry blossoms (angst, happy ending)

Izuku:

Heat of the Island:

Chapter One,

Chapter two ,

Chapter three,

Chapter four

The Baby Project:

Masterlist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Different roles- alpha Izuku x beta reader (WIP)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

--

Finger Gun (oneshot, villain deku x reader, smut)

chapter two

Hercules (oneshot, light smut)

The Forest (WIP)

In my mind's eye

Shigaraki:

Prayed for the lambs (Angst) *

Prayed For the lambs chapter 2 (WIP)

All for one:

How all for one came to be (origin story) (Angst) *

Spinner:

Country Gecko (Angst, origin story) (Villains won the war)

Spinner request

Shinso

Coffee Stain ( Fluff) (Shinsou x Ashido)

-

I'm a hero now (slight angst, smut, fluff) (shinsou x reader)

Chapter One

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Under my bed (WIP)

Mr. Compress

Magic Man (Angst, origin story)

Hawks

House Flood

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Sukuna:

Sukuna (origin story, sukuna x reader, angst) *

chap 1,

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Halloween Night (Sukuna, Yuuji & reader) (Horror)

The boy in art (gangster Sukuna x reader)

pt 2 The boy on the throne (angst, slight gore)

My uncle Sukuna (fluff)

What once was (angst)

Naoya:

Disobedience (angst, yandere)

Yuuji:

Sweet Moments (fluff, slight angst, high school au)

Gojo:

The Joke (Modern High school au, WIP, multi ship, angst & fluff)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

The Bell Tolls for Me (angst)

From The Tree (slight angst)

Smelly (fluff, a/b/o, alpha gojo x beta reader)

goodnight (fluff)

Suguru Getou:

We'll meet again (angst, spoilers)

Yuuta:

Yeah, forever. (spoilers, x reader, yandere(ish))

HXH:

Chrollo:

The Fourth Leg (Yandere Chrollo, angst) *

The Fourth Leg Chapter 2

The Fourth Leg Chapter 3

Soulmate au (request)

Feitan:

My gifts to you (fluff, light angst, slight yandere(?) *

Can you see me too? (modern au, fluff, mentioned/implied violence, drugs)

Soulmate au (request)

Attack On Titan:

Levi:

Ackerman Line-(WIP, angst, fluff, origin stories, epilogue)

Tobiath

Adam

Kuchel

Levi

Demon Slayer:

Sanemi x reader

Thanks for living

[jujutsukgojo]

good morning

satoru gojo x reader

Summary: You place a kiss on Satoru’s cheek. The baby begins to coo. Satoru snaps himself out of the blissful moment when he sees the sun coming out.  Satoru says, “Good morning, my love.” “Good morning.”

Satoru stands over the crib silently. He knows the baby monitor is on and that if he makes a noise, you’re bound to pop up and investigate. And as much as he loves you, he really wants this time with the baby. Plus, how often do you get to sleep in, anyway? The baby is a few months old and is, like all babies, prone to cry in the morning.

  His long finger trails his baby’s face. The skin is soft and warm; the cheeks are plump. It is amazing how cute she is compared to when she was born. You and Satoru laughed when he mentioned she looked like an angry alien, all swaddled up tightly in a hospital blanket with a pink hat covering her head. Had Satoru not been told (and the Six Eyes, of course) that she was his, he wouldn’t have known due to her features being mushed up and angry. Now, her appearance is more human with the scent of a baby still clinging onto her skin. 

  He leans in to sniff her round head. Due to his upbringing and isolation, he didn’t know what people meant when talking about how good babies smell. He understands now. Satoru places a kiss on her forehead. She sighs at the contact. 

  The light starts to peek out in the sky. It is still very early in the morning; the dawn is breaking in the early hours of twilight. Unable to resist much longer, he picks up his baby girl. She grunts and scrunches. Satoru has taken plenty of pictures and videos of her doing that. Unfortunately, she’s not doing it as often as before, much to his dismay. It’ll be soon that she won’t do it anymore. 

  “Hi, baby.” He whispers. Satoru supports her perfectly and kisses her cheek. She grunts again, not opening her eyes but completely trusts him anyway. Against his chest, he cuddles to her and walks out of the room carefully, lest you wake up. His bare feet tip toe down the stairs and through the hall. He stops to show her the photos on the wall. 

  His voice is low and steady. Her eyes are still closed, perfectly relaxed in her father’s safe arms. Satoru points to a picture on the wall, in a circular frame gifted by Shoko.  “Here we have mama and daddy’s wedding. You weren’t there unfortunately. We’ll have to fix that soon, huh?” For an anniversary, or maybe just because, he’ll marry you all over again. He goes to another one, one much older than your wedding. “This is daddy from his high school days. I was one of the cool kids.”

  A lie, you’d say. He doesn’t doubt that you’ll inform her of every embarrassing thing he’s ever done–especially in high school. Well, if it’ll make his baby feel better about her awkward stage, he’ll take it. He has plenty of embarrassing stories to share, and even more sweet ones. Satoru won’t forget how he met you and everything he did to remain in your atmosphere. It was such a long time ago and yet so vivid.

 You entered Satoru’s life during high school. You and Kiyotaka Ijichi were classmates. It was fine at first until you caught his attention, making him spend more time in your class than Ijichi liked. You constantly blew Satoru off until the two of you were in your twenties. That's when you finally said yes to a date.

   “Alright, let’s go outside. It’s the best part of the day.” Satoru opens the backdoor to the porch and sits in one of the chairs. His baby girl begins to open one of her eyes, just to peek at what he’s doing. “Hey, I see you.” He teases. She quickly closes them and smiles. Ever since she was born she’d play hide and seek like that, urging Satoru to play. 

  He raises his arm so she’s slightly propped up. “Open up, baby! The sun’s coming.” There is peace during this time, and he wants her to see it. This will be the first time she’ll witness the sunrise first hand. She is used to crying in the morning and misses hearing the birds sing and the sun just coming out. It is serene. Satoru firmly believes she deserves to experience serenity. 

   She opens her eyes and stares at him first. Her little yawn makes his heart soar. “I know you’ll get mad because I threw off your schedule, but you need to see this. I promise I’ll put you back to sleep.”

  As if she understood, she looks at the horizon, waiting for the sun to emerge. From behind, you appear in the doorway. Not only his ability, but the years of fighting have aided him into being constantly aware of his surroundings. He wasn’t startled by your appearance but cherishes it. Your face still has those lines on it when you sleep and your eyes are puffy. You’ve clearly just woken up and instead of freaking out about the baby being gone, you came right to Satoru. 

  What took him by surprise was the flash. Satoru’s head pops up and sees you smiling with an old polaroid camera. The photograph comes out. You pluck it and shake the paper to see the image. You smile down at it and then show him. 

   “I’m putting this in the book, y’know.” You and Satoru have been making a scrapbook over the years. He has taken a ton of pictures of you before that and needed a place to put them. Add onto your reaction to his proposal, the wedding, and the baby, it was a must have. 

  “Put the baby's first dawn on it!”

  “Okay.” You unravel the blanket and put it over the three of you, tucking Satoru into it. You yawn and lean your head onto his shoulder. “I will.”

  You’re making him sleepy, he thinks. Being bundled up under the thick blanket with you and the baby, all warm and fighting against the morning’s crisp air, will make him fall asleep soon. He blinks rapidly. 

  “What’re you doing out here anyway, my love?”

“You’re out here.”

“But why are you out here?” He was sure that he was quiet enough.

You yawn and cuddle up to him. “Because you’re not there with me.” You yawn again. “I heard you leave, then fell back asleep. When I woke up again, you weren’t with me.” Satoru is more awake than you. He’ll tease you about this later. 

    You place a kiss on Satoru’s cheek. The baby begins to coo. Satoru snaps himself out of the blissful moment when he sees the sun coming out. 

Satoru says, “See, little baby?" The birds sing.

   The little baby yawns again, not really understanding what's going on. Soon, she will. Time flies when you're having fun, Satoru thinks. And he's had all the fun in the world with you and her.

"Good morning.” You tell him.

“Good morning, my love.”

You hum and smile. He can feel it against his bare skin. You break the silence with a few words. "I'll get you for waking her up later."

[jujutsukgojo]

i think i lost my touch omg

[queenrojpag]

then & now

[jujutsukgojo]

a dance one night

vampire! todoroki shouto x reader

Summary:

He's tangible, so he isn't a ghost. No, he's something a bit scarier. What's that quote? 'Throughout the shady world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred...' “You can repay me with a dance one night.” He kisses your knuckles again. His lips linger there. You can feel his breath on them. You nod, sealing something hidden in the night, where Shouto reigns. '...yet dight with such fearful fascination as the vampire.' by Montague Summers.

tw: minor character death, minor violence, possible depression (?) i don't own bnha

The fluorescent lights flicker as a customer enters. “Twenty on six.” The man tosses a crumpled up twenty-dollar bill at you. He rests his forearm on the counter and looks around. Instinctually, you press the correct buttons and ring him up. You don’t know where the hell twenty dollars of gas is going to get him. Maybe down the street if not just to start the car up. 

  You fight the urge to toss the flimsy receipt at him like he did you. With a barely-there-grin, you hand him the slip of paper instead. “Here you go. Have a nice day.”

 He winks and clicks his tongue. The sound of the bell follows him as he leaves. You sigh and roll your head on your shoulders, attempting to ease the tension in your neck. The clock reads two thirty A.M. 

  The job you have is a blessing compared to others, you know this. You remind yourself of this whenever it drags. However, graveyard sucks ass. Work in general does. Alas, you haven’t got a thing to yourself and money makes that happen. Dead end job or not.

  You clean the coffee maker and set it up again. After pushing the button and hearing it begin to brew, you take in your surroundings. Aisles of junk food and odds, spinning hotdogs in the corner; refrigerated food that needs to be tossed and restocked before morning shift comes in with their hurried patrons; the smell of fresh coffee, stale doughnuts, gasoline, and the faint trace of pine-sol have become welcoming after three years of working here. You hate it. 

  You groan and rub your face harshly. A gas station attendant is a respectable job! There are millions of people that would kill for this job. Yes, it is dead ended. Yes, you still live at home. Yes, you are single-

  "Oh my God." You grip the counter and squeeze your eyes shut. You take a deep breath and count down. Ten, nine, eight...

You get to one and open your eyes to pour yourself a cup of coffee into a paper cup. “It’s alright, it’s okay.” You whisper to yourself in an attempt to rid yourself of the plaguing thoughts of being a failure. They’ve been happening a lot lately, since your last birthday. No one has come up and said anything to you about your station in life, but you know they whisper. It’s so easy for them to judge you and how you don’t seem to be moving in life. It is all frozen.

  “Maybe I should put in a request for an ice coffee maker.” 

They’ll never go for it but at least it’ll be out there. 

The bell dings again. You go behind the counter and say hello. The man, about your age, has weird colored hair and eyes to match. His face appears as marble that has been chipped with a large red scar over his left eye. Even though it takes up a chunk of his face, you don’t notice the flaw at first. What is obvious is his overall beauty. Two toned hair and eyes, tall, and well built. He is beautiful. 

Other than his appearance, you notice how he isn’t making a sound. He’s walking, but his strides are smooth, almost like he’s gliding. As comical as it sounds, his aura isn’t normal. Not like all your other customers, at least. There is something cool about him and yet graceful. 

  He smiles awkwardly. “Hello.” His voice is a smooth baritone, something unexpected. You work in customer service and have been introduced to different kinds of people, rarely do any of them make your knees weak. This one, however, is an exception. 

  “Having a good night?”

“It’s getting better.”

He goes into the aisles and looks around. You take a deep breath and open your sketchbook to your latest drawing. The lines are slightly raised from the heavy pressing of the crayons. Mindlessly, you drift off and color, letting your creativity take hold while your customer shops. 

  “It’s beautiful.” You nearly jump out of your seat. The handsome man places a water bottle and a nicely made rice ball on the counter. You scramble to move things out of the way so you can ring him up. “Can I have another look?”

   “S-sure.” You open the book up again and turn it to him. His eyes, one grey and the other a sharp blue, scan over the paper. 

“How long did it take you to make this?”

“A couple of minutes.” You didn’t overthink it, hence why it was so easy. 

“Amazing. I can barely draw a stick figure.” He laughs at his own expense. You can’t help but smile. Usually, you don’t let people look at your artwork. Your mother, sure, but no one else. 

“Thank you.”

“I’d like to buy it, if you don’t mind.”

Your eyes are about to come out of their sockets. “What?”

“I’d like to buy it.”

“I used crayons, sir.” Well, damn. You would’ve pulled out some pastels or something if he wanted an artwork commissioned. But no, he wants a crayon drawing.

  “It makes it all the more special. An original.”

“Um…a dollar.”

He scoffs. “Oh, come on, now.” He opens his wallet and hands you a hundred ten, the big bill for you, and the ten for his snack.

  “Sign, please.” He pushes the page to you. You nod and sign your name and the date. Carefully, you tear out the page and hand it to him. “If you could make it out to me.”

  “What’s your name?”

“Shouto Todoroki.” 

  You write his name down. Suddenly, it hits you. Moonlight. That’s what he reminds you of. 

  A song comes on. It’s slower and alternative, a love song in the name of Lugosi, the original Dracula. Todoroki’s eyebrow raises. He looks at the speaker above your head. 

  “Lugosi, Dracula, right?”

You hum in affirmation. 

“The tale isn’t entirely accurate. But closer than Twilight.”

  You hand Todoroki his art. He holds it in his hands to look at him. He says, “A couple dancing.” 

  “I felt like drawing it.”

“Maybe one day, this’ll be us in the night.”

--

“Ma!” The second he left you called your mother. 

Her groggy voice asks, “Why are you calling me?” You feel a slight sting but choose to ignore it in exchange for your excitement. What just happened is worth more. For the first time in a long time, if not ever, you feel worthy. Is that how you should put it? Flattered, proud, whatever the word is that describes what you're feeling. Shouto's approval, acceptance, compliments, all of it makes you feel special. 

“I just sold something!” You withhold his flirtatious remark about dancing. She’d get too excited and then scold you for not pursuing him. You’ve worked in customer service enough to experience flirting. However, Shouto Todoroki is the finest you’ve ever seen and it was very flattering when he did it. But that isn't what did it for you.

She’s quiet but you can hear her breathing. “I’m gonna beat your ass.”

“What?!”

“You called me for that? At three in the morning, you called to tell me that you sold something? You work at a damn gas station. You’re supposed to sell stuff.”

  You should’ve rephrased it. 

“It’s two forty-five.” You correct. “Ma, I sold some art. A guy–the finest man I’ve ever seen in my life–came in and wanted a drawing. A hundred bucks!”

  Her tone turns into one of pride. “Well look at you!”

“I tried to sell it for a dollar but he handed me a hundred! He wanted me to sign it and everything!” You’re jumping up and down. As childish as it seems, you want to run into her arms and hug her, sharing your excitement.

  “I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re a better artist than you think.”

You feel like crying. “Oh my goodness…” you take a deep breath. “Okay, ma. That’s all I wanted.”

  She chuckles, still sounding sleepy. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  You bid each other goodnight. The mood has certainly lifted. Where there was once a heavy feeling of failure is now an encouraging grace. You wipe the counters with a smile, a real one, and restock the merchandise with an easy flow. Shouto may not know it, but he helped you in a way you cannot put into verbal words. Of course, this feeling will pass and the ocean of ambition, insecurity, and ultimately, misery, will return. But for once, you bask in Shouto’s light. You want more for yourself and have no idea or the means to do so. And in one instant, Shouto peeled back the dark curtain and showed you a heavenly light of a future–of movement. Something different from the stagnant existence you have. 

  Reality will soon set in. Despite that, you are welcoming a beautiful grace of possibilities.

  It sets in at three AM, the witching hour. The lights flicker again. You make a mental note to tell your boss to fix it lest someone has a seizure.

  It is the same man from before. Not Shouto, the other one. Average height and build, with hazel eyes and dark curls. He’s good looking, now that you’re paying attention. But he isn’t Todoroki. 

  “May I help you?”

“Of course you can, my darling.” Being called darling, sweetheart, honey, dear, etc., isn’t unusual when working customer service. Compared to what you’ve been called, you prefer it even though it toes the line of creepy. 

  “With what?”

“Don’t scream.” The lights flicker again then shut off. The building is getting colder. The lights outside highlight his build. He wasn’t this imposing before. His charisma and friendly demeanor have gone out the window. "Do you want to see a magic trick?"

  You quietly reach for the button under the counter. He smiles broadly.

“They won’t make it, dear.”

“I gotta try.”

“Wasted energy.”

Right as your finger touches the button, he’s on top of you. You didn’t get to press it. 

  Your eyes are as big as saucers. His once hazel eyes have morphed into pitch black. His orbital veins have turned black as well, showing vibrantly against his pale skin. The man’s drool drips to your cheek, his cold hands clasp around your arms firmly, pinning you to the floor. 

  “Don’t worry, my dear. It’ll pinch at first.” He opens his mouth to show large fangs. “Ah-ah, don’t move around. I’ll nick an artery if you do. Don’t want you to die too quickly.”

  You must’ve hit your head. There is no way this is happening. Yes, you wanted excitement, something moving. Not this, though! 

 He kisses your neck. “D-don’t.” You whisper. 

You can feel his lips part to a smile against your skin. “Shh, don’t worry.” His teeth graze your flesh. A tear slips from your eye. 

Forgive me. Goodbye, goodbye…

"Sako!"

Right when you close your eyes, his weight is lifted off of you. Immediately, you open them, briefly thinking that it was all a dream. Alas, that is not what is in store. The ruckus is loud. Things are falling, fists are pounding, and there is a loud, pained, shout. Hesitantly, you peek above the counter. In front of you is Shouto with his back toward you. The man who attacked you lays on the ground and then, amazingly, burns. It is a quick flash of heat resulting in black dust on the floor. There isn’t a scorch mark left, either. Just ash. 

  “Are you okay?”

You whimper and nod.

He bends down to your level. “Do not welcome anyone inside your house at night. Especially at three A.M. I don’t care if they said they broke down, whether they’re hurt–nothing! Do not let them in.”

“This isn’t my house.”

“I know. He was desperate. They all are.” He turns to look at you. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

  “What–oh, okay.” You get up and get your things, ready to clock out. Your head hurts from hitting the linoleum harshly, and from the sharp fragrance of something burnt. You clock out and lock the gas station. Your boss is going to be ticked at the state of it.

  He walks beside you silently. You notice that his footsteps don’t make a sound. His long legs take graceful strides next to you. You gulp, suddenly feeling uneasy. What has taken place is finally settling in. 

  Some random person just attacked you. That same person had large fangs and demonic eyes. He wanted to bite your neck. Just before he could, Shouto came out of nowhere and killed him somehow. The corpse burned by itself. The killer is walking you home after telling you that you shouldn’t let anyone inside at night, especially at three A.M. Does this include him, too?

  You finally make your way to your place. You walk up the steps, noting that Shouto is behind you. Even the key working the lock is louder than Shouto has been. 

  “Thank you for walking me home.” 

“Goodnight, little one.”

Oh. Oh. 

    He kisses your hand. His lips are cold against your knuckles. Everything about him is unnatural and yet you didn’t see it before. The man kissing your knuckles like an old time gentleman is just that. 

  “Thanks for everything.” You say with a blank stare as your reality begins to bend with the events of this morning before the sun has even risen. Shouto Todoroki, a stranger with a strange presence, isn't alive. He's tangible, so he isn't a ghost. No, he's something a bit scarier. What's that quote?

'Throughout the shady world of ghosts and demons, there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred...' 

  “You can repay me with a dance one night.” He kisses your knuckles again. His lips linger there. You can feel his breath on them. 

You nod, sealing something hidden in the night, where Shouto reigns. 

'...yet dight with such fearful fascination as the vampire.' by Montague Summers. 

[class1akids]

The only scene that matters

[kelin-is-writing]

RISE AND SHINE GUYS!! NEW PRO-HERO TOUYA ILLUSTRATION WITH SHOTO 🔥💙

[imaginationmess]

We were ROBBEEDD

[jujutsukgojo]

Yeah, forever.

yuuta okkotsu x reader

Summary:

 There is something laced in his words. It is potent enough for you to be reminded of an old conversation between you two. 

‘Yeah, forever.’

Something tells you that it meant more to him than anything. It meant more.

tw: canon typical violence, past bullying, spoilers, slight/implied yandere. I don't own jjk

You watch as the scrawny guy gets shoved into the locker again. Never have you been one to intervene with someone else’s drama, you’re not that brave. When the losers leave, snickering to themselves about their deed as if it is some big conquest, you jimmy open the locker and find the sniffling kid inside. He’s not so much of a kid since you two are the same age. What makes him appear so young is his passivity. He slouches when approached and stutters. 

  “Why do you let them do that?” You ask as you pull him out. Yuuta never tells the teacher about these things. He wipes his eyes and avoids touching your hand. You take a deep breath and ignore the sting.

  “Because if I do, she’ll jump in. And I’m not sure how long I can hold her back for, anyway.” His down turned eyes water. He has dark circles under them, something that has been growing worse as the year went on. “Next time, I won’t be able to stop her.”

  You never understood who he was talking about, which is part of the problem. Because he’ll talk about her and to her, others take it as an invitation to bully, believing that Yuuta is insane. It’s wrong and a bad way to live. Hurting others because they’re different isn’t cute.

  You nod and back away to give him space, which he often appreciates. He tugs on his collar and licks his lips. His eyes are misty. 

“Are you okay?”

“Rika’s getting upset.”

  “Rika?”

He nods. Oh, that must be his imaginary friend. This is the first time he’s ever said her name. Having an imaginary friend isn’t taboo for a kid, but you’ve never met someone your age with one. Unlike the dweebs before, you’re not going to hold it over him and make his life hell just because he’s a little different. So, you smile kindly, careful not to look patronizing.

  Suddenly, an intense pressure appears. It’s chilling and ominous, like watching a horror movie and waiting for something to pop out. Your fight-or-flight response is kicking in, only to reveal the third option: freeze. Your eyes widen as you shake and stare into Yuuta’s eyes. There is something pushing on your shoulders. 

  Yuuta’s expression is horrified.

  “Sorry, sorry! Rika, stop, please!” 

The feeling eases to nothing. It had felt like tons of pressure, something similar to how you’d think the ocean’s deepest part would feel. You finally breathe once it’s lifted, although your breath is shaky.

  Yuuta looks at you and shakes his head in disbelief and shame. He stutters an apology and goes to leave. You clench your fists and still smile, trying to hold in the tears. “It’s okay.”

  He freezes. You say, “I don’t know what just happened, but it’s not your fault. We’re still cool.”

  His eyes are round and his mouth is open in shock. What was he expecting? You’re not even sure if anything actually happened, anyway. 

  On his cheekbone is a bruise. You bite your bottom and and ask, “Wanna get a cone with me?”

  “M-me?”

You nod. “Yeah. We’re friends, right? Let’s get some ice cream.” He’s always so lonely. It is so bad that he made an imaginary friend, even.

  His cheeks go pink. “Us? Together?”

“Yeah.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.” Your patience is wearing thin.

“Together?!”

“If you don’t want to-”

“I want to!” His voice cracks. You smile and start walking. 

“Come on then.” He follows you at a distance and with a slouch. His posture suffers because of his treatment, you’re sure. 

  You open the school gate for him. He stops right before he exits it. “Excuse me.” He mutters. 

  “Come on.” 

“You’re in the way.”

You aren’t. 

“I mean, Rika will get mad if you’re too close. Please, (L/n).” To avoid an argument, you nod and back up. He catches the steel gate before it slams in his face. His head is down in shame. “I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to anymore.”

  You hum. “Mm, no, baby. It’s alright! Let me know if I’m getting too close.” This poor baby. All alone with a mean imaginary friend and a bruised face. 

  “You still want to?”

“Yep, yep. My mouth’s set for ice cream!” You lead the way. Yuuta’s steps aren’t scraping against the ground anymore. He’s lifting his feet, as if he has a pep in his step. If only people were understanding and saw him as a human being, then he’d walk like this all of the time. 

   The vendor, an older man with a bushy mustache, opens the lid and scoops the treat out for customers ahead of you. He smiles when he sees the two of you. 

  “And what would you two like?”

“Okkotsu?” The boy jumps slightly at the sound of his name. He rubs the back of his neck. 

“Anything. Anything you like, I’ll like.” His face is beat red. 

  “Two vanillas, then. The original.” You dig in your pockets and discover you only have enough for one. “Make that one, please.” You whisper. If you knew you were broke you wouldn’t have done this.

  “Would you like to share with me, Okkotsu?”

“Are you sure?”

He looks like a tomato. Maybe a radish with gas.

“Yes.” You grab the cone and hand the man his money. “Wait,” you turn back to the ice cream man. “I like your mustache.” It’s bushy with flecks of grey. Truly a thing of art if you were back in the 19th century.

  The corner of his eyes crinkle. “Thank you!”

You bid him good day and walk with Yuuta. “Let’s sit, eh?” Your plan is simple. You’ll sit about a foot away from him and lick. After, you’ll hand it to him, careful not to touch him. 

  “I’m not sure about this…” He starts. You stare at him as you lick the vanilla ice cream. It’s creamy, sweet, but not obnoxiously so. You carefully hand it to him, only holding the bottom of it so your fingers won’t touch his. He cradles it in his hands. He gives it a kitten lick. 

  You chuckle when he gives it to you slowly. Without understanding, you see his eyes go wide. Your tongue glides against the smooth surface. “What?”

  Yuuta’s sweating. Is he allergic to ice cream?

“What’s wrong?” 

He shakes his head no. 

“What’s wrong? Tell me.” You encourage softly. 

“I licked there.” He says under his breath. An indirect kiss, you guess. You didn't think about it at all. Why did he? Your eyes dart around as you try to come up with something.

“It’s alright. I don’t have cooties or anything.”

He snorts. “You believe in cooties?”

“I think boys are more prone to them.” You don’t believe in cooties anymore. But messing with the shy baby boy is too tempting.

  “We are not! I don’t have them!”

“That remains to be seen.” You smirk and lick it again before handing it to him. He takes it with more confidence. 

  “I do not have cooties. We’re too old for that, you know.”

You refrain from mentioning the imaginary friend. 

“You’re lucky I’m your friend.” You tease.

He perks up. “We are?”

“Yeah, forever.” His dark blue eyes that are normally so solemn, have a twinkle now. Forever is a big word for your age. Sure, when you graduate, you will probably drift apart and won’t see each other again. Or maybe you will as adults. That one childhood friend you run into when you’re grown. You’ll smile at each other, knowing the joy you shared when you were kids. This is a memory you’ll carry and that one smile will cement it. So, sure. This is forever in a way.

He nods. "Forever."

  He gives you the ice cream for you to have a turn. You have to stick your tongue in the cone to get to it. 

"Are you happy?" You ask him. He perks up when you hand him the dessert. 

"With you? Definitely." The hair on your arms start to raise. You could swear there is something behind you. 

  "Rika." He harshly whispers. You are about to respond when in the corner of your eye, you spot familiar uniforms. The dweebs from earlier have found you. Normally, you don’t have a problem with them. As long as you aren’t in their line of sight, they ignore you. However, you’re hanging out with their main target.

  Okkotsu hasn’t seen them yet. You stand up. “Come on.”

  He gets up without protest and follows you again. “Do you want the cone?”

“No, you can have it.” He happily munches on it. Behind him, you see the group of villains coming. Yuuta’s been having a good time. You can’t let them ruin it. He smiled for what is probably the first time in a while.

   You walk faster with Yuuta keeping up with you with ease. He has always been a fast walker in the halls. Thankfully, it is coming to good use as you inconspicuously run away from the group of boys. Yuuta has yet to notice, thank God.

  At the school gate, you let him go first. The group is less likely to pick on you than him. 

“I just wanted to thank you, (L/n). For everything.”

“No problem. Sorry I didn’t have enough for two.”

“I didn’t-don’t-mind sharing with you.”

  You hear one of the boys. “Hey, um, why don’t you go ahead? I think I dropped something back there.”

“I’ll wait for you!” 

  They’re coming around the corner, you can sense it. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  You hurry across the street and around the corner of the nearest building. Your appearance startles the group at first. “What’re you guys doing?”

  “What are you doing?” The leader bends to your height despite not being that much taller than you. He’s acting too big for his britches. 

  “Asking you what you’re doing.”

“Well, we’re just going to school.” The other with a stupidly smug face and a lanky build says. His input wasn’t necessary.

  “Okay, bye.” You turn to walk away before you’re yanked back. You land on the pavement hard. The rough ground scrapes against your palms, much to your chagrin. It’ll be a pain to deal with. 

  “What’s going on?” Yuuta stands there with shaking fists. The pressure from before returns. Before you can be paralyzed from it, you make a decision.

“Okkotsu! We were just talking to your girlfriend here-” You get up and tug Okkotsu by his tie and away from the goons. Once you reach the gate, you apologize for touching him.

-

  The next day, there was an incident with the dweebs and Yuuta. Blood leaked from the lockers and Yuuta was gone.

-------

The world is ending. You are huddled with a group of survivors in front of a bunch of rubble. Out of the debris, a familiar figure pops up. 

  You haven’t seen this kid in, like, two years! He’s bigger now, wearing a white jacket with buttons to the side and what looks like joggers. In his hand is a sword of all things. His hair is longer, eyes are still that of a sad puppy dog, and the dark circles haven’t left either. Yuta isn’t looking at you at all. He’s intensely focused on whatever’s in front of him. The only way you can describe it is grotesque. Like something you see on an acid trip. 

  The end of the damn world happened when you were asleep. You had taken some sleepy time pills, drank some tea, and went night-night. You were bound and determined to not be awoken. Lately, you have been overworked and stressed from school, so you were looking forward to a deep sleep. When you woke up, outside your window was madness. People in the streets, creatures that only scared kids could dream up, and bright flashing lights. Buildings were toppled and the scent of death was thick. It still is! Now, you’re here with a few survivors that were in your building. A creature snuck inside and ravaged the place, so you took off. It was like a fire erupted in the building. Neighbors trampled each other, people were tossed to the side and dragged into the shadows with nothing but their screams left. 

Chaos, complete chaos.

Your dumb ass should’ve woken the hell up and got out of dodge because Jumanji on steroids and things that look like they came out of Skull Island have been popping up. 

  You watch Yuta move his sword with ease. The goo from the creature in front of him is gone in an instant. Overhead, the loud voice gives him more points. You don’t understand what’s going on but you do note that a distorted version of The Hunger Games has been added to the list.

  “Are you okay?” He’s in front of you. His sword is covered with blood and something resembling pus. His left hand touches your arm, allowing him to inspect you. If this were a different situation, you’d be embarrassed since you are still in your nightwear, a baggy shirt with no pants.

“What’s happening?” You ask. 

His face is still kind, as is his voice. There is still a dark presence in him, but it isn’t as strong as before. Not as imposing, at least. You can trust that intense sensation won’t occur because of heightened emotions. He is more in control now. 

 “It’ll be okay, trust me. Okay? Stick with me.” He takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. You slip your arms through the holes. 

You feel yourself calm down. Even though there is still that hint of darkness, you willingly walk with him. His sweet nature still shines through. He is safe in this madness. 

“Yuuta?” 

“Hm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“That’s nowhere. It doesn’t exist anymore, Yuuta.” Your bottom lip quivers.

He stops and grabs your hand. His hands are warm and they’re rougher than before. You notice it isn’t as sweaty when you were younger, either. He was always a nervous guy. Apparently, he’s grown out of that and into whatever the hell this is.

 “It’ll be okay, I promise.” He gives you a smile. There’s red on the tips of his ears and the faintest tint on his cheeks.

  “The world is ending.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll protect you.” You see specks of blood on his cheek. You wipe it instinctively. Despite what you saw only seconds ago, you don’t comment on it or how he got so many points.

  “What is all of this?” You ask, not about the blood, but what is happening.

“Remember Rika?”

“Your imaginary friend? Yeah.” 

He flinches. “She’s real, (Y/n)...very real.. Did you see that thing I fought?”

You nod. He continues, “That’s called a curse. They’re spirits–bad ones. Rika is a spirit, too. But she-”

“Hurt our classmates?” 

He looks down in shame. “Yeah, yeah she did. She’s protective.”

  You’re about to let his hand go. He holds on tighter. “Don’t. It’s dangerous.” He sighs. “She won’t hurt you. Nothing will.”

  There is something laced in his words. It is potent enough for you to be reminded of an old conversation between you two. 

‘Yeah, forever.’

Something tells you that it meant more to him than anything. It meant more.

[i-will-write]

Me at 13: “god I can’t wait to go home and write fanfic”

Me at 17: “god I can’t wait to go home and write fanfic”

Me at 21: “god I can’t wait to go home and write fanfic”

Me at 27: “god I can’t wait to go home and write fanfic”

[jujutsukgojo]

in my mind's eye

Summary: Words are exchanged, none that make sense. Izuku doesn’t care about that anyway. It's all a lie. You dig in your purse then look up. He can feel the hair on his arms raise despite his jacket and long-sleeved button up shirt. Despite the chill, Izuku begins to sweat. The whirring noise is loud. It tries to take over the night with something even worse following.

tw: Description of crime scene/murders, mental stuff, out of character

i don't own bnha

-

Deku mutters to himself. The night is moist and dark; it seems to echo, emphasizing every one of his steps. He can nearly swear he hears double but his mind has been so jumbled since the start of this case. A curious case, murder of course. Since becoming a part time hero, Izuku can practically see that crimes are all on everyone’s minds. The statistics of crime lowering are clearly false. Is this case of serial murders not proof enough? 

 The war has messed everything up. Losing his quirk nearly pales in comparison at the change. Seeing Shigaraki’s vestige is not even a tipping point of the madness. 

  He steps in a puddle, some of the water seeping into his steel toe shoes. He curses with a hiss and shakes his feet. 

  What else is there to do now? He thinks to himself. The case is nearly solved, the killer pinned. All that is left is a few more ends. How odd that he feels a slight possession of the case. 

 At his main job, as a respectable teacher at U.A., he has seen budding roses, particularly you. Perhaps without knowing it, you’re like a nymph. Every step you take seems enchanting and hypnotic. He knows he isn’t the only one to think–no, believe so. Shouto, one of his dearest friends, and the ghosts of the past whisper about you. 

  Izuku would curse you if you weren’t so helpful in the investigation, despite your temptation and allure. You’re a helpful, elusive, and teasing rabbit. Since he is your constant contact, you wouldn’t utter a word to the others. You’re shy and nervous around heroes, you said. Admittedly, he finds vanity and a slight glimmer of pride about that. Someone so beautiful and seductive trusts him, and only him. You know he’ll save you. Nevertheless, you are a curse, he’s sure. 

  He is going to see you now. Officially, he’ll say it is to get more information, but in reality, it is to be near you and your bewitching self. If Kacchan knew, if Shouto had an inkling of Izuku’s intentions, they’d join to see you. Especially Shouto, who has wanted to know more about you. Izuku remembers his friend’s focus on your description.

  Izuku comes under a streetlight. He sees a familiar figure. Two, actually–no, three? There’s someone coming out of your building. Funnily enough, it is the same apartment building Uraraka used to live in before U.A. had dorms. 

  Izuku gets a little closer. He recognizes one of the figures. “Shouto-kun?” he calls. His friend turns to look at him. There is a curious look on his face, one Izuku doesn’t like. Out of the building that is only lit by the door’s lights, comes you. Immediately, the green haired hero calls to you. Shouto’s eyes begin to water. Izuku watches as they do.

  His mind is racing. 

How did Shouto find you? What’s going on? Sure, Shouto listened to your interview that Izuku recorded and heard Izuku talking about you, but he’s never seen you. Did you reach out to him? For what?

Words are exchanged, none that make sense. He doesn’t care about that anyway. It's all a lie.

  You dig in your purse then look up. He swears your eyes glow unnaturally. He can feel the hair on his arms raise despite his jacket and long-sleeved button up shirt. Despite the chill, Izuku begins to sweat. 

  The whirring noise is loud. It tries to take over the night with something even worse following. 

-------

BEFORE:

Deku sits at his desk and grades papers. He rubs his face in disappointment. His efforts to teach have been successful, but there is clearly a struggle this past month. He’s had to use the red pen more than ever. Perhaps he’s going over the curriculum too fast? Maybe instead of so much free time, he should require them to study or something. Use a study guide?

  He throws his head back and groans. Not a single kid got an A on the assignment. The highest was a B plus and the lowest a D. This isn’t normal for his class. Could something be wrong outside of the classroom? Lately, there’ve been reports on some recent killings. Is it possible that they’re stressed about it? The news coverage has been intense and details have been leaked. The victims aren’t connected and murdered in different ways. Izuku wouldn’t have guessed they were the same if it weren’t for a clue.

  Izuku stares out the window and sees someone standing in the courtyard. You practically glow in the sun. Your skirt gently flows in the wind, careful not to reveal anything. It’s not that he’s watching for that! He’s only noticed. 

  Your hands are behind your back. You stare at him intently, waiting for him it seems. 

No, he thinks. He doesn’t know you and you’re not a student. He hasn’t seen you around here before. You don't look like you are his age, probably a little younger. He swears under his breath as he tries to recall where he has seen you from. Wait, he's seen you a few times before in passing. Just never at U.A. 

Your eyes stare into his. He can feel a warmth rising to his face under your gaze.

  He chews on the corner of his thumb. Dammit.

Izuku puts his jacket on. The door slides open and a nervous student comes in. She, Yoko, hold papers stapled together. There is vibrant red ink on them. 

 “Deku-sensei,” she starts. Yoko is not the most assertive student but she is usually efficient. She reminds him a lot of Yaomomo when she was younger. Self conscious, unsure, yet particular and smart. The differences lie in their appearance and status. Yaomomo is pristine and rich whereas Yoko is the girl next door who tries her best in school.

  “Um, this grade…” she hands him the paper. 

“What about it?”

“I think it’s wrong.” His eyes flicker to hers, green meeting brown. She waves her hands around. “Not like that! I just don’t understand it.”

  “Did you read the notes?”

“Y-yes.” 

“What didn’t you understand?”

“You gave me a failing grade, sir. And the notes didn’t make sense.” She comes a little closer and points to his writing. “See, this one I did. You told me to-”

  Deku tunes her out and looks out the window again and sees another figure. Lately, he’s been seeing Shigaraki. He’d have his nefarious hands in his pockets and he’d lean nonchalantly. There’s always a smirk on his face, a knowing one. It has been eight years since the final war. Eight years since Shigaraki breathed the same air as him. Yet, the phantom of his old nemesis, the child he desperately wanted to save, stands next to you. Of course, you don’t see him. No one else in the world does. 

  Deku taps his fingers on his thighs. “Yoko,” he informally calls, “the grade stands. Read and apply the notes to the next assignment.” Her eyes are rounder than normal and her usually pale cheeks have a bright flush on them. Izuku leaves her standing there in the room so he can go to you.

  He nods and passes people in the hallway. He hopes he appears calm. Deku has gained attention over the years for his bravery and sacrifice, so he has to be careful with how he acts. If he acts alarmed, there’d be a panic. And he remembers how it was when U.A.'s alarms went off. He almost got trampled!

  The sun warms him even more as he looks at you. He’s only a few feet away from you. “Hi.”

“Hey.” You reply. Your voice is melodic, he notes. It makes him tingly. The thought of that makes him feel a little dirty. Is that weird to say that entices him even more? What is it about you that is as tempting as sweet forbidden fruit? The curve of your face, your focused eyes, the fluttering lashes that surround them, or maybe it is your presence that seems haunting? Izuku comes a little closer. 

  “May I help you?” He asks. 

“Are you Deku?”

“Yes.”

You blurt out, “I witnessed the murders. Y’know, the ones that are all on the news?” Your voice is calmer now. “I didn’t know who to trust…but I think I can trust you.”

  He nods. “Of course,” he extends his hand to place it on your shoulder. Instead, you take it. Your hands are cold in his. Izuku notes that his is bigger than yours and rougher. 

  “Let’s go inside and we’ll talk about this.” In the corner of his eye he spots Shigaraki leaning on a tree. Above him the leaves hang firmly and shake in the crisp breeze. It is Spring, a beautiful season. 

  Izuku shutters. You tilt your head and ask, “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He answers. He opens the door for you to walk in first. You smile and take a couple steps in and wait. Izuku guides you to his classroom. His palms get sweaty and his heart he can swear skips a beat at your smile. 

  Izuku leans against his desk. He hopes he appears cool. His students say he’s a cool teacher but he knows he’s a bit nerdy and that is why his students relate to him. They respect what he’s done for them. However, they probably don’t view him as a proper authority figure. Is it wrong that he wants you to see him as strong and capable? He wants you to see him as secure and authoritative. God, if he voices this he’d sound like Mineta.

  He ought to slap himself. You just told him you witnessed the murders done by a serial killer. This maniac has been coined different monikers by the public and shows no signs of stopping. They lurk in the dead of night under the cover of darkness and prey on different victims. The only thing left behind is apparently a shoe mark that was near the door. There is nothing else as far as he knows.

  So, how did you see it?

“What happened?” 

“I saw him. I walk at night because I struggle to sleep.” You shrug. “I should probably lay off the coffee, huh?”

 You wrap your arms around you. “I saw him come out of Watanabe’s house through the backdoor. He was curled, slouching, y’know? He reminded me of a ghoul. Kinda limped or something. Like he was dragging his foot.” You frown. “It was dark. Very dark.”

  Izuku nods and goes behind his desk to get a notepad. “Um, I messed up. Let’s start over, yeah? What’s your name?”

  “(Y/n) (L/n).”

 “Okay, now continue.”

You chuckle as he struggles with the pen. “I was interested. I followed him to the second house. I don’t know who the second victim is.” You look down at the ground. “I should’ve done something but I didn’t know he was killing until the news broke out.”

“What else can you tell me about him?”

“He was totally wrapped in darkness.” You whisper as you recall. “He reminded me of a monster, a ghoul, a ghost.”

  He nods and finishes writing. “Alright, come with me to the station-”

You shake your head and turn to leave. He grabs you before you leave. “Wait a minute!”

You yank your hand out of his. “No!” Izuku tries to follow you out of the room but the bell rings, flooding the halls with students. You get lost in the crowd.

-------

Shouto looks over Izuku’s notes. He frowns as his eyes go over the writing. Katsuki crosses his arms. “And you’re sure about this?”

  “Midoriya, I can’t tell what you wrote.”

Katsuki looks over at him. “What, you need your eyes checked or something?”

“No, look.” Shouto hands the blond the notepad. 

Izuku sighs. “I was writing fast, okay?”

  Katsuki looks at him. “What’s her name?”

Izuku can feel his blood pressure rise. “It’s right there, Kacchan. (Y/n).”

Katsuki looks at it again. “I don’t know how you can read your writing, Deku.”

Shouto’s eyes don’t leave his green haired friend. Izuku takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. “Look, she came up to me. She said he was slouched. Could he be hurt or something?”

“Or just have bad posture. Maybe he’s the insecure sort.”

“And the limp?” Izuku asks. You didn’t give him a lot to work on but this is the most they’ve had about these murders. 

  “You know what? What if he knew she was watching and did it for dramatic effect? Maybe he’s theatrical.” Shouto questions. He’s always been into the dramatic, like conspiracies. Always thinking outside the box. Izuku remembers Shouto’s deduction to his relationship with All Might. Izuku smiles at the memory. Shouto has grown out of his shell enough to voice his thoughts. 

  “Perhaps. Although she didn’t mention feeling that.”

Katsuki taps the back of the notepad. “All right. Let’s talk to her-”

“She won’t. I wanted to take her to the station and she took off. She said she only trusted me.”

“Hopefully she comes back to you then. This time get more info on her.” Katsuki looks at the paper again. “And for the love of everything, fix your handwriting. It’s not legible at all, Deku. nothing but squiggly lines.”

Izuku rolls his eyes and nods. “Fine.”

--------

 You show up two days later. Standing outside, waiting for him. Is it wrong for his heart to flutter? You are a witness to a vicious crime, the only one to know what this monster looks like yet he is captivated by you in an unprofessional way. He should be ashamed of his desire. 

  Izuku meets you outside. You’re wearing similar clothing to before. He wonders if your style is limited and what your closet looks like. “(Y/n)...”

“Hi, Izuku.” Your voice sends a welcomed chill up his arms. His warm cheeks contradict it. You’ve only ever called him Deku. He likes the sound of his name on your tongue.

  “We didn’t get to talk much earlier.” He says. He should’ve brought his notepad. “Please, come to the room so we can finish.”

“I don’t want anyone else but you. I don’t trust them.”

“They’re good people. They’ll help you!”

“No. They’re not real heroes, Izuku.” You look around, clearly trying to find some exit. “I know you’ll save me.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll only talk to me then.” 

“Good.” You say quietly. You walk up to him, now face to face. To his absolute surprise, you kiss him.

That night, another murder occurred. 

-------

Shouto rubs his face, his scar still rough under his palms. “This is getting ridiculous. Four this time.” He stares at the foot print. It is of the victim’s blood. He sucks in his lips.

“And another shoe print. We tracked this specific print and it’s unfortunately commercial. Too popular of a shoe to be of use.” The lead investigator puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t understand it. How did no one hear or see anything?”

“Is it possible they did and are scared?”

  The four were murdered differently. One snapped neck, another was located in the bedroom, leaving it in a mess; another on the sofa with ligature marks on the neck; the last one was in the kitchen. The hands mangled and the face distorted, clearly beaten. Each of the victim’s hands were bruised or crushed. That is a detail not revealed to the public. 

  “Are we dealing with more than one killer?”

Dynamight shakes his head. “No, Deku’s got a witness but she’s squirrely. She only saw one man.” 

  The investigator stares at the hero. He has great respect for Deku and finds him brave. However, this is unprofessional and against protocol. As a hero and a teacher of the study, Deku should know how to properly do this. 

  “Why hasn’t he said anything to us?”

Dynamight frowns. “What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t given us the statement. This is the first time I’m hearing about this.” His voice begins to raise. “Why hasn’t he come forward with the evidence?”

  Shouto bites his lips. He didn’t know his friend hadn’t gone to the police with the information. Shouto knows you, the mysterious witness, don’t trust the police. Nevertheless, Deku should’ve gone. 

  “We’ll bring it after bit. He’s busy-”

“So am I!” The investigator gestures around the room. “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got four bodies in the house and three others.”

  Shouto continues, “I understand that. I’ll bring it personally.” He looks at the stained carpet then back at the investigator. “Along with Izuku and his witness.”

--------

Shouto comes into Izuku’s apartment. He lives off campus by choice but lives close by. He wanted space. It isn’t lavish or anything. He has kept his humility despite his legacy. 

  Shouto puts his hands in his pockets. Izuku rubs the back of his neck. “What’s up?”

Shouto stares at him for a whole minute. “You didn’t give the evidence to the cops, Izuku.”

“O-oh. That was an accident. Um, here,” he goes to the coffee table and searches through the papers. “Here you go. She came by again and I jotted more stuff down. Oh, I also recorded some of the conversation this time. I messed up and couldn’t work the damn thing right.” He chuckles at the end. 

  Shouto perks up. He looks relieved almost, Izuku sees. “I didn’t have the time to turn it in. My students are struggling so I’ve been working on them.”

“That’s what I figured.” Shouto looks through the notepad. His hands shake only a smidge. It is enough for his observant friend to spot. 

“Cold?”

“No, no.”

“Overused your quirk?” His green eyes flicker to the hallway leading to the bedroom. Shouto follows and doesn’t see anything. 

  “No, I’m good.” Shouto shifts his weight on his feet. “The recording?” Izuku pressed the button on his spare phone. He has two for different reasons. It plays for twenty seconds. Izuku was telling the truth about his technical mishap, but fortunately he was writing at the same time. 

Is it wrong to not want Shouto to hear your voice? You barely talk in it since he messed up, though. 

Shouto stills. “The investigator is bothered by you not turning this in.”

  His shoulders slump. “It was an accident…”

“I know. He wants you to come in. And her.”

Izuku tenses up slightly. “What?”

Shouto looks around the living room. It’s spacious with hero figurines, several notebooks, scattered papers from his students, and pictures on the walls. The bookcase is full of well loved books, too. Nothing is out of place. 

  “Shouto, you sure you’re okay?”

“No.” He answers honestly. Izuku straightens up. He didn’t expect an honest answer.

 Shouto sits down on the plush couch. “I want to meet her.”

“Why?” Izuku asks quickly.

“Because there’s been another murder. Quadruple homicide, Izuku.”

  “Oh my God…” Izuku sits down across from him. “When?”

“Last night. No witnesses. They were all shady characters, just like the first three. Still, this is a horrible thing.” Shouto sits straight. “It’s been bugging me. How did she know where he'd strike next?”

  Izuku tilts his head. Shouto clears, “I mean, she saw him the first night. He committed two murders. The third she saw as well. How? It’s awfully convenient, Izuku.”

  “She battles insomnia and wonders at night. She didn’t mention this last killing, though.”

“I need to see her, Izuku. We have to question her. She might’ve seen more than she thinks!”

Izuku taps his thighs. He knows Shouto is right. However, you are scared of everyone but him. You know you’re safe with him. He tries to convince you that everything is okay, that you can trust his friends. Alas, you won’t hear it. 

If Shouto knew you were in his bedroom and peeking around the corner, what would he do?

“I…I don’t know. She only trusts me.”

Shouto licks his lips. He relaxes on the couch. “Do you trust her? Believe her?”

“Yeah.”

“What does she look like?”

“Shouto!”

He shrugs. “I’m curious, is all.”

Izuku resents the implication but cannot deny it. He tells one of his best friends what you look like, including the scar on your arm. He noticed it today.

  “How’d she get it?”

“Hasn’t said.” 

  It is so juvenile. He’s getting giddy just talking about you. Like he and Shouto are having a sleepover and he’s talking about his crush. What a childish thing for an adult. 

  Behind Shouto, around the corner, you peek out again. You squeak when you see Shouto’s head. Izuku flinches, causing Shouto to be concerned. 

  Izuku quickly covers. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I thought I heard something.”

Shouto leans close. “Will you come with me to the station? Convince her to come? This is extremely important, Izuku.”

  He rarely says Izuku despite their history. “I’ll go. If I see her, I’ll try again. I don’t know why she’s so scared, Shouto.” He brought you here to talk some more. You kissed him, just a peck, because you felt the need. It wasn’t passionate, he could tell. It is inappropriate to have allowed you to come over, though. Hopefully, he can convince you today since this is a relaxed environment.

   He gets up with Shouto and puts on his red shoes that rested on the rack next to the door. You come out a little more with a worried look on your face. Shouto opens the door. Izuku puts his hand up for you to be quiet.

---------

At the station, Izuku stares at the pictures on the wall. The crime scenes are gruesome and unorganized. There isn’t a pattern if not for the footprint and the constant use of the night. He chews on the edge of his thumb. “Are you sure these are done by the same person?”

  The images grow more disturbing by the second, and yet Izuku cannot pull himself to look away. There is something off about them. Disorganized, erratic, but there is a method to them. The contradiction is as harsh as the crimes. 

“According to your witness–who you didn’t bring–they are. Plus, the print is the same each time. Not to mention the hand thing.”

“What does he want?” Izuku whispers to himself. The murderer must have a reason for this.

“Maybe you should bring her in so we can get a good guess.” The investigator is more than displeased. 

  “She’ll fight if I drag her here.”

“Then pick her up! Throw her over your shoulder, for God’s sake! She may be able to identify him.”

  “I’ll bring her, okay?”

Shouto taps Kacchan’s arm. “C’mere for a second.”

The two leave the area and go into a spare office. Izuku watches through the window. The investigator fills him in as he does, not noticing that Izuku is solely focused on his two friends. Kacchan glares at Shouto. He doesn’t yell, much to Izuku’s surprise. 

--------

NOW:

 It was incredibly sudden. Your statement made some headway and led to an arrest, and you didn't have to go in. In the first victim’s area, there is a known “reformed” villain with a ghoul like appearance and a penchant for sloppy kills and some type of broken bones. He matched your description, Izuku believes. The way he walks, posture, and history fill the gaps. 

  He just needs the last statement from you. Shouto has become even more curious about you. Izuku doesn’t know if he can hold him off any longer. Perhaps with this development in the case, you don’t have to hide. Maybe you are the key to getting rid of his haunting nightmares of Shigaraki. 

 Izuku sees Shouto in front of your apartment building. He never gave your address.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Izuku…” Shouto says. “I looked her up. It took some time.”

“I don’t understand.”

Shouto takes a deep breath. You come out of the building, completely comfortable with Shouto’s presence. How long has this been going on? It’s only been a few days! Did you move that quickly?

  “(Y/n)?” You look up. Your eyebrows raise. Izuku asks, “What is he doing here?”

He sounds like a jealous boyfriend. Someone obsessed even though he’s neither of those things. 

  Shouto rubs his eyes. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“I looked her up and pieced it together, Izuku.”

“What?” His anger is tipping over. 

“There’s no way she could’ve followed him, a known villain who never leaves witnesses. And yet, she knew about him.”

“Are you accusing her of something?” Izuku turns to you. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Izuku,” Shouto’s voice breaks. “I know it was you.”

  Deku glares at him. “How fucking dare you! I was nowhere near those areas, Shouto!”

“Your red shoes. I walked behind you and noticed the bottom of them. The way they were killed, crushed hands-”

“Says the guy who calls himself the Hand Crusher.”

“I’m serious. I’m not blaming you, I swear. You’re sick. You need help.”

“I didn’t do it! (Y/n), tell him!”

“There’s no one there, Izuku.” Shouto starts to sniffle. “I looked her up and discovered she was a casualty in the war. Wrong place, wrong time. She was near you and Shigaraki’s fight and was hit by debris.”

  Your eyes are glowing, Izuku notes.

“Are you calling me crazy?! I’m not!”

“You’re not making sense in your everyday life. The recording only had your voice on it. The notes…were just scribbles, Izuku. It is psychosis, clearly brought on from the guilt of indirectly killing her.”

  Izuku looks at you again. He knows he still sees Shigaraki, he’s even told his friends. But you are different! He’s felt you, talked to you. 

“She’s manifested in your mind, making you see illusions. She’s a vestige.”

“She is right next to you, Shouto!”

He shakes his head. His lip wobbles. “There is no one there. The landlord confirms her death and her apartment is empty. There’s a certificate, a grave.”

  Izuku’s heart rate speeds up. “Not only are you calling me crazy,” he takes a shuttering breath, “but also a murderer.”

Shouto’s tears flow. “You don’t realize you’re doing it, do you? It’s all there. Izuku, you had blood on the bottom of your shoes.”

Izuku groans and smacks his head. “How can you say all of this?! I’m your friend, Shouto! I. Did. Not. Kill. Her!” He screams. He isn’t crazy. He isn’t a killer.

  “The guilt, Izuku, is eating you alive and it’s violent. I recognized the signs.” He doesn’t need to elaborate how. Not when the evidence is on his face. 

Shouto continues, “Did you see her after the war? Is that what it is? You must’ve seen her name and it stuck with you all these years.”

Izuku’s jacket feels heavier than usual. The chilly air is getting hotter. Maybe that is his rage talking. “How can you accuse me of all of this?” He pats his chest. “It’s me! Shouto, this is me you’re talking about! I didn’t kill anyone! She’s right next to you!”

  He shakes his head again. “There is no one there, my friend.”

Izuku stares at you, watching you dig in your purse. Your eyes are still glowing. 

  “You have your man, Shouto. He’s been arrested; it was him. He is a monster who has killed several people, Shouto."

  “He has an iron clad alibi. Plus, he doesn’t wear shoes. He has chicken feet. And the type of shoes that match the print are yours. Those red ones, the wide fit. I didn’t want to believe it, but when I started looking, it all made sense. Seeing Shigaraki, her, the shoes, the hands, all of it. Please, Izuku, come with me. I can get you help.”

  Suddenly, he can't see you. Izuku’s blood boils to no return. The armored suit he carries with him comes on. He fires a projectile, hitting Shouto in the shoulder. Izuku screams and feels the burning pain before he registers the sound of an explosion. He’s launched several feet away. His oldest friend, Katsuki, stands above him, wide red eyes, a horrified face. 

[curestardust]

[rosesofstydia]

Sons that inherited their mom’s smile gotta be one of my favorite genres

[sugarwarachan]

they get touya's obituary all wrong.

you read it on the train, the blur of the city whooshing past. you've been resisting this day, resisting the very idea that touya—dabi, you remind yourself, that's what everyone calls him now, ever since that video came out—probably wouldn't survive.

but it doesn't hurt any less to see the years he was alive stand so impersonally on your phone screen.

you dig the palm of your hand into an eyeball. tears form regardless, hot and fat, spilling down your cheeks and into the soft down of your scarf.

they don't mention that he used to leave out cans of food for the stray cats. he'd stand outside shaking the bag if one of them was late, hands on his hips like a disappointed mom.

there's nothing about how much he liked having his hair played with, that whenever he laid on your chest and you stopped fluffing it, he'd pull back and glare at you until you started again.

nothing about how he used to call you 'love' when he was tipsy, 'my darling' when he was drunk.

not a word about how sore of a loser he was in mario kart, or that he told you once that he'd like to be a really good dad.

"might be cool." you can still remember the sly glance he sent your way. "you know. if the world was different."

they get touya's obituary all wrong.

[jujutsukgojo]

Thanks for living

sanemi shinazugawa x reader

Summary: You're taken back by his plea. "What?"

"Stay here." 

"What if I promise to live?" 

He leaves without answering.

tw: spoilers, character deaths, insecurity

 Before you go into Tengen Uzui’s training, you have everyone in the group stand together. They vary in ages and sizes, with one of the biggest being Genya, who is constantly red faced when you’re nearby. They huddle together and smile. Not too long ago, you purchased a camera, something one of your late friends told you about. It’s a booger to deal with but the result is always worth it. Granted, you sometimes accidentally take pictures of random things like the ground or a tree. And getting them developed is a bitch, too. Nevertheless, handling the clunky box and making sure everyone is standing still is worth it. Most of these people you'll never see again. Sweet memories have been made over the years and getting to see their faces, even if it's on paper, is worth the hassle.

  You snap it, causing a bright light they complain about. After training, you’ll go develop them and make sure to show them. “Thank you!” You beam. 

  “Ahem!” You turn to see Tengen and his wives. His arms are crossed and his eye narrowed while the other is missing behind the bedazzled patch. Even without those assets he is still as menacing and flashy as he was known to be. Now, there is a certain peacefulness about him, though. 

  “Pose!” You bring the heavy device upward to capture the four. All of them smile brightly for the camera. You giggle when it’s done and how flamboyant he’s acting. 

“When we’re done, I’ll develop them, okay?”

Makio pats your head. “I expect them to be great.” You don’t want to brag about how it is your expertise because of practice. All this time you’ve snapped photos of your experiences and people you have met. Granted, you’ve taken a few of moving civilians which has caused several problems like blurriness and lack of consent (you ran away from them), but you still caught the magic of everything; including friends and comrades you never saw again. Now, you have something forever.

“Now, get to running!” Tengen shouts. You groan and let his wives have the camera and make them promise to be extra careful. 

All around you are nothing but shirtless sweaty guys. They vary in ages, none are younger than fifteen or older than twenty-two. As the only girl in the middle of all this, it’s embarrassing and nerve wracking. They all talk to each other casually until they notice you then it changes completely. It’s the same thing you’ve been dealing with this whole time. Demon slayers treat you like you’re delicate, and with that, incompetent. 

  Tengen Uzui is the second hashira you’ve met and it is under these circumstances. Everyone’s training with them to fight Muzan, the devil himself. At the mere mention of the hashira, people tense up in fear. Most have never met them and those who have, have varying stories. Tanjiro, a bright smiley boy with a thick head, goes on and on about them. Particularly, Rengoku, Tengen, Giyuu, Mitsuri, and Tokito. You question his opinion of Tengen, though. This menace has been yelling all day. 

  He’s right behind you, huffing in your ear. His earrings jingle from his strutting. Tengen is pure muscle but incredibly light on his feet. “Just because you’re a girl, doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you!”

  Suma, his bubbly first wife, scolds him and tells him to be gentle. It’s understandable, honestly. There aren’t many female demon slayers. They’re usually kakushi, people who don’t do these sorts of things. She’s just looking out for you even though it’s kind of demeaning. 

   Finally, it’s time for the showers. You take two steps before you realize what’s wrong. Your shoulders slump. Tanjiro looks back and turns pale. “Ah, (Y/n)...”

“I know.”

The guys go into the house and bathe, leaving you outside the door while they get clean. Your body is covered with sweat and grime. Your hands are tacky and dirty. Wiping them on your pants won’t even suffice. Getting dirty was inevitable, but perhaps the heat would’ve been kinder if you were running shirtless with the rest of them. Alas, a group of red blooded guys around you in that state is not the safest choice. 

  “Are you okay?” a light voice asks. Another person joins in with the same line of questions. “Would you like to use our bath? It’s probably better than waiting here in the dark.” It’s true. At first, you enjoyed the cool breeze and the dim light. It was a nice change from the bright day and heat. However, it is wearing out its welcome.

 You look up and see two of Tengen’s wives. They’re lovely people and great hostesses. Their relationship with Tengen is just as sweet. In the short time you’ve been here, you’ve seen him dote on them all. This massive man being soft like that is something you’ve giggled about. 

  “Yes, please.” Suma and Hinasturu smile at you and help you up. You feel every ache and pain imaginable. Your legs are tense and taught and can practically hear your knees cracking. The women help you along to a hut. The steam brushes against you. Makio is already inside. You wave and strip, readying yourself to bathe. 

 “How was your first day?” Suma asks. 

“Tough! I think I dropped a few times.” You sink into the warm water and sigh. The wooden house does well to keep the steam and warmth inside. Makio finishes her cleaning and goes into the water with you. 

“It’ll be better as time goes, I promise.” Hinatsuru’s always kind. “When we were practicing shinobi, training was always hard. Over time, it became second nature.”

  You nod. “I hope I can keep up.” You've done this for a while. You're not new to being a demon slayer.

The first wife, Suma, comes in with a towel wrapped around her. She’s carrying your camera and has an excited look on her face. “Here!” You grab it before she can drop it or get it wet. “I took a lot-”

Makio stands up and points. “Yeah! And she didn’t share, did you?!”

Hinatsuru pops up from the water. “Wait, don’t do this here in front of her!”

  They sink into the water with Makio still yelling. Smiling, you snap a picture and make sure none of their bodies are visible; just the comedy of three wives yelling about a camera you are going to let them use again anyway.  ---

After Tengen’s training, it was time for Tokito, then Mitsuri, and Obanai. Unfortunately, you should’ve enjoyed Obanai, despite his annoyance for women, when you had the chance.

  You walk behind a group of slayers to see Hell. A man with white hair and scars littering his body is knocking people down. They all gang up on him with their wooden swords held high. Just based on their form, there is no hope for them as they charge towards the beast. 

  The wind pillar, Sanemi Shinazugawa, handles them with ease. You've never seen him in person, let alone action. And you'll admit he's nice to look at when you can see him. He's awfully fast; too fast for the others to catch up with.

You run to grab a practice sword and join. You wipe your eyes from the dust that scurries up from the action. You hold the sword and charge. He faces his opponent away from you, not realizing you are coming from behind. His thick arm pushes away a screaming slayer. You raise up the stick and swing. He blocks it by grabbing your wrist. His eyes, his almond shaped upturned eyes, stare at you like a demon. Suddenly, he pauses and disarms you instead. 

  Rather than hit you, he literally pushes you gently. Or at least his version of gentle since you were still sent flying. You scramble to get another weapon and strike him. Once again, he dodges and disarms you. Everyone else is fighting while you’re pushed away like a child.

  Finally, when one slayer gets into his line of vision, you manage to graze his shoulder. He quickly bends his wrist to swing you around and tucks you under his arm. Your own arms are crossed around you, making it impossible to move them. Sanemi Shinazugawa fights one handed the entire time. No matter how much you try to wiggle free from his strong hold, it fails. What doesn’t is the embarrassment of it all.

  Should you call for help? You’re being held hostage while this beast is trying to kill everyone. He’s holding onto you like you weigh less than a feather. You grunt and growl when he squeezes tighter. There’s got to be a way out of this. 

"Stop squirming!" He growls.

  Suddenly, he bends his left leg. You swing yours and hit his. He slightly buckles and loosens his hold. That is all you need to slip out and attack. Right when your foot is about to hit him, the slayers gasp, shocked that you’re about to land a hit. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. In the nick of time, he grabs your leg and twists. Your body follows the movement and lands you on the floor. 

  It is a rough landing on the dirt. His heavy foot pins your head down. The audacity! 

  “Bastard! Asshole! Get off of me!” You shout and claw at his foot. You close your eyes until this is over.

-

“How come he didn’t hit you?” Someone groans. You sit on the ground with the rest of them. Some eye you with disdain, curiosity, and something you don’t want to name. 

One with a busted lip gestures lazily to you. “Yeah, I noticed that!”

“She’s a girl, duh!” 

One shyly looks down. “Eh, I’m not sure that matters. He stepped on her…”

You clench your fists, gathering some of the dirt in your palms. How embarrassing is it to literally be held, pinned by his foot, and disregarded every time you fought? Thinking about it just boils your blood. How are you supposed to take on demons like this? You aren’t being taught anything!

  You get up and dust yourself off. They get quiet and look up at you. “We…we didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you didn’t face the same challenges as we did.”

  It hurts but you know it is true. You’re going to leave this place and head to the stone hashira without knowing how to fight. You’ve been taught speed and stamina, quick movements, flexibility, precision, but lack how to actually fight. Granted, Shinazugawa is a bad teacher, but you’d still learn something from fighting him. Even if it does end you up in a stretcher.

 Right as you take a step, there’s a loud crash. Dust raises up and covers what’s on the ground. The wall has a large hole in it and on the ground on the debris is Genya and Tanjiro. The sound right after is ominous and dangerous. Your hair raises, palms sweat, and knees shake. Out from the hole is the pillar, Sanemi. 

He declares mercy on his brother as long as he quits, Tanjiro defends the bigger kid only to find himself at the end of the Wind’s wrath. Sanemi fights Tanjiro, who manages to catch his punch, which you don't doubt still stung. Even though Tanjiro managed to block it, it doesn’t mean he’s good. He stupidly paused in order to tell the blond boy to take little Shinazugawa away from there. Sanemi takes that moment to strike. He lands a strong punch, making Tanjiro’s face swell immediately. The other guys jump in to separate them with no avail. Out of an opening, Sanemi’s fist comes through and is only centimeters away from Tanjiro’s head. 

  You hurry over and push the boy out of the way, taking the hit in the shoulder. You’re knocked down immediately. The tussle stops instantly. You struggle to get up without moving your arm. You're faced away from the pillar, grateful that no one is seeing you cry. Not from sadness, but from pain. You are positive he broke something.

  No one tries to help you until someone pulls you up carefully and sweeps their arm under your legs. You don't dare look at the guy holding you and you're sure he's doing the same. Everything is quiet as he walks with you in his arms. This is just as embarrassing as before. The wind pillar cradles you and walks towards his house.

  He walks through the door, not the hole in the wall, and sets you down in a room inside the large house. You sit on the tatami floor and watch him leave without a word. Rather than let him go, you call out, “Hey,” he stops. “Uh, you don’t have to feel bad. At least not about this.”

  Sanemi Shinazugawa doesn’t look at you. He keeps his upturned eyes to the ground. You add, “What you did wrong was coming about your training and how you treated me.”

He exhales through his nose. “Exactly.”

You shake your head. “No, no that’s not what I mean.” You sit straighter. “What I mean is how you didn’t take me seriously.”

“It’s not right for a man to hit you.” He slides the door open. “I’ll send for Kocho. In the meantime, sit here and don’t move.”

  While he says this, you’re already up and headed towards him. “Let’s train.”

“No.”

You block his exit. “How am I supposed to fight demons if I can’t learn?” Your anger is threatening to flare up. Since you started this, people haven’t taken you seriously. Sometimes you wonder if demons don’t either. “You have to teach me!”

  “No!” He snaps. The sound of his gruff voice raising sends chills down your spine. He pauses and takes a few steps back. “Sorry.” He whispers.

"I'm fine, sir. I promise. I can be a good swordsman!"

  His eyes find yours. They're no longer bloodshot or as sharp. When he doesn't look homicidal, he's handsome. The scars that litter his body don't deduct points, either. Your heart beats a little faster. The two of you stand there in silence until he sighs and gently leads you back to the same seat. "Please."

  You're taken back by his plea. "What?"

"Stay here." 

"What if I promise to live?" 

He leaves without answering.

–

  Kocho doctors up your arm with a smile. "Don't mind Shinazugawa. He's always been rough around the edges. Despite that, he's a hell of a fighter with good instincts, too."

You huff. "I wouldn't know. He wouldn't train me."

  She hums. "I don't know much about his background, but from what I do know is that he has a thing against hurting women and children. It's not that he didn't want to teach you, (Y/n)." You didn't know that. Granted, it's nice that he has morals but that doesn't erase how you were disregarded. 

After a few moments, she says, “Perhaps you should reconsider…”

You nearly choke on your spit. “Pardon?” This lady is the physically weakest Hashira and she’s telling you to reconsider? 

“I’ve seen your sword skills. You’re decent but are lagging behind. There is no time; or at least not enough to shape you up.” Her words cut like the sword she uses. Her saccharine smile looks genuine, but her words are laced with a backhand and don’t match up with that smile.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but…we’re losing too many people as it is. It may not seem like this is out of care, yet it is.” She settles in her chair after wrapping you up. Somehow, nothing's broken. “Have you ever thought of being a kakushi? Or maybe working at the Butterfly Mansion? I can always use the help.”

  Didn’t Tengen make fun of Aoi for that? Don’t the pillars look down on everyone-including the kakushi, who are vital to the corps? You don’t know what hurts worse, the injury, the degradation, or the reality of it. You aren’t weak by any means; you’ve taken down several demons on your own! However, you are always paired up and thought of being the one that needs protection. Kocho proved herself and she’s physically weak. What’s that say about you?

  You suck in your lips and get up. You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

Before you’re out the door, she calls, “I care. We may not know each other, but I care about my comrades. I’m tired of losing. If I can save just one more, that’d be enough for me. Please, consider my words.”

  She expects you to die. You take a deep breath; thankful you are facing the other way. “Sure.”

"And I'm sure Shinazugawa feels the same." She says quietly.

Sure he does.

----

You took her up on her offer after a run in with a demon left claw marks on your chest. You managed to take it down and save people, but nearly lost your life in the process. The amount of blood that poured out scared you and the villagers who scrambled to help you. Flesh budding out, warm blood oozing out at an alarming rate, and a demon’s claw stuck inside that had to be wiggled out before it disintegrated. You briefly woke up on a cot surrounded by aunties and grandmas of the village. Seeing their scared faces provided enough guilt. It is your job to not cause them worry. Yet, that’s what you did. The children's tears of rejoice turned sour at the sight of you, sick with worry and fear all over again. Snot running down their noses as they beg for you not to die like their friends and family.

  You couldn’t-can’t-do it. Now, you are working partly with Aoi and part kakushi, although the latter has to be a secret for anonymity purposes. For funsies, you still play with your bow and arrow and smile whenever you see you hit a bullseye. 

Since the sun is set and the demons come out at night, you restock your arrows and begin to head inside the mansion. Suddenly, there is a tremendously loud explosion. Even from the Butterfly Mansion you can see it. Even the ground vibrates from it.  You stare in shock and horror. 

  What you can swear is that in only seconds, tatami doors appear on the ground. They open up, showing moving walls and an ominous light. You fall in, desperately screaming for Aoi and Kanae. 

  All around you see Demon Slayers fall in. Demons crawl on the walls and huddle into nooks and crannies. The shock of it all almost blinds you until your instincts kick in. You take out an arrow and shoot on sight as you fall. Some of them barely miss and others hit the target perfectly. You even your body out and hit again, praying you land at least semi-softly. And if you don’t, at least you’ve taken a few demons out. 

  Not too far from you is the wind hashira shouting profanities. The purple demon on the wall next to him has a hunter’s prowess. You shoot, narrowly missing Shinazugawa. He looks back at you then to the side. The purple demon immediately disintegrates. Shinazugawa’s eyes widen, his pupils dilating. 

  You look down and see a wide mouthed demon open its jaws. The teeth are sharper than swords and the drool foaming from its mouth coats the floor underneath it. There’s no time to grab an arrow and no time to string one back. You can feel the sting and ache from your scar.

  Suddenly, your body is cradled and turned. You can hear slashes and see green slime fly away. “I thought you quit?!”

  Shinazugawa holds you close to his chest with your bow in your extended hand, so it doesn’t hit him. “I did!”

  When he lands, you are still tucked. His eyes are darkened, and his heart is beating suspiciously smooth. “Gotcha!” A demon launches at the two of you. Sanemi handles it without even looking. 

  “Hide.”

“What?”

“Hide, damn it!” He shoves you away. You see some debris you can hide behind, yes, but how is that fair to everyone?

  “That’s not right!” He glares at you. Despite his abrasive and aggressive nature, you can't find it in you to be intimidated. Especially, when he's not angry at you, but the situation. He gets up and leads you to some debris. He squats to your level. 

 "Stay alive, okay? I'll come back for you." He asks in a soft tone, the same one used when he put you in the room to be tended to by Kocho. According to Kocho, he's gentle with women, children, and the elderly. However, you can't help but feel warm and special. It's stupid to feel this way when you are clearly in Muzan's domain, his palm, and surrounded by demons. You are barely given the time to nod when a demon pops up. 

-

Everything goes to hell after that. After your arrows were gone, you did whatever you could except throw yourself like you should have. The dimension, which you know is the Infinity Castle, collapsed. The aftermath of the battle resulted in the bodies of familiar people around you. It didn’t take much to figure out that the majority didn’t make it out of that dimension and into the final battle.

  Seeing the bodies of those you recognize makes you sick, terribly sick. Nonetheless, you brave it and help those who need it while on the side collecting things from the fallen to give to their families if they have any. 

  The best thing to come out of this is that it is over. The sun is out, the demons are gone except for two, Yuichiro and his cat. Luckily, over time, his demon blood will thin, and he’ll be human. And soon, Tamayo will come back for him. That is a good ending for them at least, despite their nature. You wonder how Shinobu Kocho would feel about that. Her disdain for demons was practically palpable yet unexpected due to her calm and lovely demeanor. 

  Finding out she had passed so soon in the battle was a heavy blow. Even though Rengoku died, losing a hashira is still shocking. They’re described as the best, near invincible. And yet, the crows sang their names in a row. 

   You grab the kakushi’s covering and see the one that was training you. Her eyes are open and her usual smile is gone. She was a positive person and an excellent worker. Once, she revealed her face and showed a wide toothy grin that stuck with you.

You will yourself to not cry, or at least not on her. Other than taking memorabilia, you close her eyes and try to position her face to a smile. It barely works but it’s something. There’s no need for her to go out with a frown. Not when she’s accomplished so much in her profession and most of all as a person. You stand up and sniffle. Granted, you knew the fate of a demon slayer when you signed up. The initiation test was a small preview. However, nothing could've prepared you enough. 

  Suddenly, there is groaning, then sounds of a scuffle. You tense up and look around. In the distance you see Sanemi. You gasp when you see him open his eyes and stare at you. Without another thought, you take off to him. Like a fool, you wrap yourself around him, sending him backwards. The kakushi that were trying to hold onto him scold you wearily. Their covers are in tatters, and their faces are scarred and bruised. Their eyes are wet and red, sick and tired of seeing blood. You agree with them, but right now, you really just want to hug someone you know is alive.

  Sanemi, despite his injuries, holds you too. He takes a deep and shaky breath. His strength is waning and yet he doesn't release. As much as you want to continue the embrace, you let go and lean him back. 

"Guys!" You call for the other kakushi to help you get him help. 

"Don't let go." His left hand holds yours. You nod.

-------

 It’s been months and the clean up isn’t done. Most of the slayers are missing, no doubt devoured, families are still being notified, people are still in recovery, and the debris is being removed. It isn’t as bad as it was, but it certainly isn’t okay. Thankfully, everything is over, the sun is out.

  You go to Sanemi’s room. Since he came in and is unconscious, you’ve been by his side. You took it upon yourself to be in charge of him. Every day you’ve tried to lure him awake with the smell of ohagi and matcha tea with no avail. It is a silly practice but one you have hope in. When you're cleaning his wounds and applying medicine, you imagine him popping up and eating one. Sometimes you even think about him staring at a photograph of his baby brother that you happened to take. 

  How strange is it that you are sticking to him with barely knowing him? 

You slide the door open and see no one in the bed. The white cotton blankets are folded neatly at the end of it. Your heart jumps out of your chest. The tray falls onto the floor as you look around, in the closet, under the bed, everywhere. You run out of the room and see find him walking off of the porch and headed to the gate.

You scurry outside and meet him there. His footsteps are light and swift, like always. They don't disturb the leaves and blades of grass as he passes. “You’re just gonna leave?”

He stops and turns. He’s still bandaged and most likely sore. His right hand is mutilated and wrapped up. Despite it, he’ll overcome it like usual. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re not going to say goodbye?”

“I did.”

“To me!” 

   Sanemi stops and stares. His gruffness has faded from the loss of everything. He looks more peaceful now. Sad, but is letting go. “I’m not going far.”

“You haven’t said bye to me, though.” Your lip wobbles. He doesn’t really owe you anything. You don’t know why it’s important for him to at least say goodbye. “If this is it, if you’re really going away, can’t you say goodbye to me, too?”

  Sanemi comes up to you with a soft look that he's given you before. Even then it didn’t look like this, without shame and lowered eyes. He caresses your cheek and keeps his hand there. 

  “Thanks for living.”

You can’t help but laugh. He's as awkward as his baby brother. Maybe, if there was time back then, you would've noticed how he gets slightly pink when he talks to you. “Any time.”

  “I won’t be far. I'll come back for you.” He leaves right after without a glance back. Even though he has walked away, you know it’s not the end.

[andypantsx3]

hitting him with the uno reverse where u start cupping HIS boob for emotional support

[andypantsx3]

look at those pecs. they r asking for it.

[andypantsx3]

an au where you've been shouto's best friend for a million years and have learned to weaponize the Shouto Effect for your own gains, taking advantage where his unearthly good looks net him privileges few others have. you're forever sending him up to coffee shop counters to get your drink with the knowledge that the barista is absolutely going to give it to him for free, or shoving him up to the hostess stand at a packed restaurant you don't have reservations for, knowing they are going to Seat Him Anyway.

then one evening, drunk at a party, you mention the Shouto Effect in front of him. you realize it's the first time you've said it out loud when he looks at you, handsome and bemused, and you patiently explain to him that he's the most beautiful man on earth and no one else gets treated quite the way he does. that most people don't get tongue tied that often, or flush beet red that often, or fall all over themselves to give others things in the hope that they might like them. that he's special.

shouto looks contemplative as you explain, eyes growing just slightly wider, before something passes over his face—a look of intense interest. you wonder if he's just learning the true way of the world, and coming to terms with the idea that he might be prettier than he realized, and having A Time Of It.

and he is. but that's not entirely it. because he's just learned that you think he's the most beautiful man on earth. and now he wants to find out if the Shouto Effect might work on a best friend he's been in love with for a million years...

[jujutsukgojo]

The Baby Project Final Chapter

fanfic masterlist

izuku midoriya x reader

Summary: To new beginnings.

tw: light smut, mention of Jurassic Park and Dusk til Dawn (the snake scene), the smut is 🗑

You set Noa’s baby book on the shelf along with the little vase of pipe cleaner flowers. On the bookshelf are many of your favorite books, texts, awards, and photo albums. Over the years, it has become a collect all and you finally decided to clear it out. The revelation came when you printed out a photograph of you and your group of petitioners.

  It has been about five or six years since the project ended. Long years of fighting for justice have finally paid off. The picture shows your group on the stairs of the courthouse after winning the court case last year. As suspected by Ema, there wasn’t large news coverage. And added onto that pessimistically, but probably realistically, U.A. hasn’t faced any real repercussions. The new law created in your honor would probably get buried and be used as some kind of loophole for lawyers. The thought of it being an ace in the hole makes you smile, but the grin is wiped away when you realize that the little guy will remain in the dark.

  When you reached the courthouse steps after the verdict was ruled in your favor, it hit you like bricks. It’s true. Your fight, Noa’s life and death, will be buried. Hushed, probably not repeated exactly, if at all, hopefully. Years ago, you swore vengeance and you got it. So, why does it still feel like you lost? Even with Izuku’s vocal support, it doesn’t feel like enough.

  You grab Noa’s album and open it. His big eyes stare back at you. Your thumb trails his chubby cheek. Had it not been for therapy and the group for parents who have lost children, you wouldn’t have made it. Everyone’s been doing the best they can with what U.A. left them. 

  Benio went through hell and finally got help after a lot of prompting. Ema and Kirishima have been on a few dates and are healing together, it seems. Riko is now a web designer and has spoken out against pervert ‘heroes’ and uses her story to help others. Sakura works closely with the Bakugou’s and their fashion brand. Out of everyone in your class, these were the only ones to remain in contact with you. Of course, it hurt at first. Tremendously so, actually. In the first years of high school, you kept to yourself socially, only occasionally talking to Benio, Ema, and Riko. Suddenly, you gained friends with a lot of people in your class, only for it to be taken away. The isolation and the strength it took to restart your life was immense.

   You kiss Noa’s face and close the book. There was a time when you didn’t want to live without him, let alone close the book. It was treated like something sacred and mythical, almost. You were afraid you’d jinx something if you closed it yet never looked at the contents. For so long you were a jumbled mess and embarrassed when you, a teenager who never birthed a child before, showed up to a therapy group for parents who’ve lost their children. It was worth the initial embarrassment, though. They were so thoughtful and helpful. One of the parents helped you put Noa’s baby book together. 

  “I think you’d be proud of Mm, little boy blue.” You will never forget the dream you had of him the night you won. It felt so real, so tangible that you woke up and made two plates. One for you, and the other for your son. You didn’t realize the error until you went to wake Noa up, only to remember he died years ago. Your Quirk is a blessing and a curse. A blessing for a blissful moment of delusion, and a curse when aware of reality. 

Oh, little boy blue. You're sure his toys laughed at you as you frantically searched for him before remembering your brave baby faced the daisies already. How silly, you think of your inner poet, still mourning your beloved baby's grin. You stop to mentally scold yourself. There's nothing wrong with loving him, doll or not. Long and agonizing years have made you face that. 

  Blissful delusion, a wonderful nightmare of Noa running around and into your arms. You tucked him into bed, you could've sworn. He didn't even smell of plastic. Instead, Noa smelled of All Might kiddie shampoo and the All Might gushing fruit snacks that he shared with his daddy. You miss them both terribly.

  You’ve come to accept his death, largely. All that’s left is one thing to tackle.

You head over to the banana shaped phone. Next to it is a pile of letters from your admirer. In all these years, you never replied. He knows where you live and watches over you (along with another menace who stalks the night with tired purple eyes).

  You know the fanboy’s number by heart. He answers the first ring. 

“Hey, Midoriya?” His last name sounds so odd. Especially since he’s eaten you out before. That and how he is the daddy to Noa.

  “Darling? (Y/n)?” His voice is quiet and eager. 

“Yeah, bubba, it’s me. Um, I was wondering if you-God!” You smack your forehead. “Damn, do you want dinner sometime?”

  He laughs. It’s melodic and familiar. “I’d love to. Even though I am the one who is supposed to be asking you, no?”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. What about dinner at my place?”

“Y-yours?”

“Yeah,” you drawl. “That a problem?”

“No! No, no, no, it’s not a problem. I’m just a little-”

“It’s okay.” You assure. 

After a few seconds, he asks, “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, (Y/n).”

  He sounds the same. Still boyish but not like how he was when he was fifteen.

“I’m good. How about tonight? You busy?”

“No! No, I’m not busy.” You can’t literally see him but you already know he’s sweating. He’s probably biting the corners of his fingers right now.

 “Okay, six.” He already knows where you live. If he didn’t, then someone left their coffee maker on your front porch by accident. And you aren’t giving that back.

---

The supermarket’s lights are pathetic and near migraine inducing. You push the cart and grab fresh carrots, checking them off of your mental checklist.

Although the butterflies in your stomach reveal your true emotions, you are determined to make it seem that you aren’t nervous or excited to see Izuku again. Because he’s Deku, you see him on TV all the time. But has he changed any? For the better or worse? What would he think of you after all these years?

  Tastebuds change every seven years, it’s said. Would he still like curry? You could make katsudon, but he ate that way too much in school. Plus, you’d be going up against Lunch Rush’s legacy.

“Stop, stop.” You whisper to yourself. He’ll be fine with whatever. And if you read his letters right, he hasn’t changed too much.

  Here you are in the middle of a store with warm cheeks thinking about his letters. At first, he was giving them to Yona until she spilled the beans on where you lived. So, he started sending them directly. According to Yona and Ken, he still comes around the restaurant and asks for updates. 

  Sometimes you wonder if he asked Yona for your address directly because of her nosiness. The letters range from basic updates, questions, and to something akin to love letters. It had to have been embarrassing to Deku. And the letters aren’t a once in a blue moon thing, either. You receive the papers a couple times a month.

  Smiling, you continue your shopping and then go to check out. At the register, you wait for the girl to finish ringing you up when she asks, “Are you (Y/n)?”

  At first, her question takes you by surprise. “Um, yeah.”

She pushes her long, pale hair back. “We just learned about the baby project. It’s nice to meet you!” She puts out her hand for you to shake. You do so.

“Nice to meet you too…” you trail off for her to fill in her name. You haven’t the slightest idea who this child is. She’s young, still a teenager. Her voice is light and airy and her eyes are like a doe.

    She tells you the total instead of her name. You take the hint and dim your curiosity, settling on your task, forgetting her words.

---

 The clock rings six. There is a knock on the door not even a second later. You wipe your hands on a rag and go to it. Izuku stands tall. He’s in a suit with straps on his shoulders. His hair is a little longer, just as curly and parted to the side. Overall, he’s bigger. A telling sign of hard work in his field. But his face. It’s his face that’s giving you pause. He still resembles his nineteen-year-old self. Only a little more chiseled. He is what you pictured Noa to look like if he grew up. 

  “Hey,” you say quietly, not taking your eyes off of him. 

 His round eyes are focused on you. He doesn’t move or blink. 

“How are you?” You ask, prompting him to break his freeze.

“Damn it!” He rushes to you and envelopes you in a hug. He smells of aftershave, paper, and something else you can’t place. You clench your fists, willing yourself not to cry. You missed him.

  Izuku’s embrace tightens. “You’re smothering me.”

Reluctantly, he loosens his grip. “You okay?”

You nod. You now realize that Noa didn’t look solely like you. He was the perfect blend of you two. Seeing Izuku only confirms that. 

  You blink. “Hungry?”

“Y-yeah!” He takes off his shoes and puts them by the door. You take off his backpack and help him with his coat. 

  “It’s not quite finished yet, unfortunately.” You had a few mishaps with it. Nerves got to you and you kept forgetting about the curry, causing you to remake the dish.

  “That’s okay!” 

You chuckle. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” He’s stiff and acting like he has something up his ass. If it weren’t for that hug and burst of emotion, you’d guide him to the bathroom.

  “I know, I know.” He wrings his hands together. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m okay. Are you?”

He raises his brows. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m o-” he trails off into a mutter, which never bothered you except for how he’s acting right now. The combination of the two doesn’t sit right.

“Are you dying right now? Are you about to die?”

“What? No.”

“Then why the hell are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” He defends.

“Like you need to take a shit or you’ll die!”

“No! My God.”

“Then relax! You’re making me nervous.” You put his things on the corner of the couch. “I don’t mind you muttering but when you act like you’re gonna blow up it’s scary.”

  He snorts. You put your hands on your hips. “You are so not funny.”

“You’re so cute.” He laughs. “I’ve missed you.”

He’s a good few feet away from you. He stands tall with a sincere and warm look on his face. “I’ve missed you too, Izuku.”

He rubs his palms on his pants. "Oh!" Izuku looks around. "My bag! I brought you something."

  Right when you are about to give him his bag, you smell something burning. 

“Oh my God!” For the fourth time today, you burned the food. 

----

   “I’m supposed to be doing this.” You glare at the man who tears into his big slice of pizza. His cheeks are round as he looks up at you. A smear of sauce is at the corner of his mouth, prompting you to wipe it away. “Jerk-face.” You mutter.

  “I’ve missed you, dear.” He takes the joking insult with ease. After you threw the remnants of your mistake away (the fourth one), he called a pizzeria and ordered. In true Izuku fashion, he paid for it, hence your comment.

 He takes another messy bite. Once again, you’re reminded of your son, Noa. The kid would pick apart a slice of pizza like a psycho killer then tear into it like a raptor. With the sauce being so red and the cheese separated from the body, it looked like something out of Jurassic Park. 

  The difference between father and son is that the father eats it whole. Large bites are taken out and stuffed in his cheeks. Izuku has always been an eater, though. He has a hearty appetite and is messy. Hence why you wipe his face so much.

 You go to wipe his face again. This time, he leans into your palm. It is a small but meaningful gesture. At least to you. 

 You take a deep breath and ask, “How’s your mama?”

“Mm! She’s doing great since the divorce.”

Ah, right. His mama divorced his daddy a year or two ago. Miss Inko discovered her sense of self again and left him. According to the letters, his father griped about alimony during the separation. Worse yet, Hisashi Midoriya moved on a little too quickly once the papers were signed. His new play-thing wants to meet Izuku, which from what you know does not want to meet her. Especially since he probably couldn’t recognize his own dad.

  “She’s a dental assistant. Actually, a lot of my friends go to her dentist’s office for a cleaning!”

   You smile. She was such a nice and caring woman who did her best without support. She managed to raise someone with a bright smile. Nevertheless, the consequence of her sole effort was Izuku’s complexities. For instance, his hero worship, martyr complex, and hero complex. And of course, daddy issues that aren’t very obvious at first.

 “I love this for her.” You announce.

“I do, too. I didn’t realize how much it hurt her-his abandonment. That’s what it was. He left. What he changed was the wording to ‘working abroad’, making it acceptable. In reality, we knew the truth. Especially Mom.” 

  “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t notice a difference.” He said. 

You nodded. “But it feels good, no? Your mama being happy.”

“Absolutely.” Izuku can always hide behind a smile. He’s done it several times. Yet the one he gives you is so genuine. When you left, you felt guilty about leaving everyone. Knowing Inko and Izuku are okay with this change in their lives lightens the load. 

  On the topic of family, Noa hasn’t been talked about yet. It’s a nice evening. Can you do it? Can you get the closure you need? Who is to say the feeling of incompleteness has to do with U.A? It could very well be this.

  You rub your face when Noa’s name is on your tongue. It retreats back into nothing but a groan.

“How are your students?” You settle for instead.

His eyes sparkle. “Great! This is my first graduating class.”

You bite your bottom lip. “Are they worth anything?”

“Tons. You’re going to be so proud.”

“Of what?”

“Of the new generation of heroes!” He excitedly explains. 

This was a subject you tried not to think about when you saw him. Him teaching at U.A. was like a spit in your face. If he taught General Studies, you'd take it so much better. “You’re an asshole.” You mutter.

 He chokes on his food. “(Y/n)! For the love of God!”

“It’s the truth, Deku.” You lean back. “Look at you. A thug in a cape.” 

“I hope I at least look good when I wear it.”

You roll your eyes and sip on your drink. “You have to admit you walked into this, Midoriya. You chose it when you decided to fraternize with the enemy even more than you did before.”

“You and that attitude, I swear.” He cuts off your defense. “You need to do something yourself.”

“Your mama.”

He pauses. His eyes flicker to yours. “Watch it. Thin ice.” He takes a sip of water. Izuku frowns. Ah, he’s still bougie about his water. 

“And I’m gonna skate!"

He swallows his bite. “You love my mother.”

“An angel gave birth to a thug in a cape. Tragic.” You tease. “Mama’s boy.”

  “You brat!” 

 “Okay, okay, Number Four.” You add his hero ranking as a change of topic. You’ve missed him greatly and don’t want to ruin it. You shouldn’t have even mentioned his current profession as a teacher. It’s bad enough he’s still a hero. 

It’s a nice evening, you repeat to yourself.

 “I didn’t think you cared about the hero rankings.”

You shake your head. “Only when I have tomatoes to throw.”

Shouto is number two, Kacchan was number five but got bumped down to fourteen due to PR or something. Izuku’s graduating class are doing well for themselves. Almost as if the pain was nothing at all.

 “Amazing,” you murmur. You tap your finger on the table, lost in thought. 

“You tapping is not a good sign. What’s wrong, my love?”

The evening was so nice despite you burning dinner. 

“All you heroes are fine and dandy. Like the whole thing was nothing. Even Kaibara is fine despite everything.” You roll your eyes. Spiral had a bit of a stumble when starting his career because of the debate. When you revealed his true nature, employers and the public were hesitant. Alas, the public has notoriously short memory. 

   “I remember how sad y’all looked. All fake and everything…” you whisper to yourself as you think back. You take another slice from the pizza that sits in the middle of the table. You watch as the cheese extends.

  “It wasn’t fake. Not for me.” Izuku defends. He knows his friends best, you understand. However, because of that friendship, you cannot take his word for it, nor do you want to. This isn’t an argument. You simply observed.

  “You bounced back quickly. I’ll give you that.” You look up at him. “No shame. I think you have more practice than I do.”

He sets his hands on the table. “Why are you doing this?” 

“I’m just-”

“I miss him everyday, (Y/n). And you left right after!” He clenches his fists. “I understand why, I do. But don’t make it seem like I wasn’t hurt, too. He was my son, too!”

  His voice cuts through the tension. It holds true emotion that you can’t find fault in. Perhaps for a sadistic reason, you find comfort in that.

You nod. “Sorry. I know it hurts you. It’s not you-” you stop mid sentence and take a deep breath. “I don’t know.”

  For a few seconds, no one speaks. He breaks it. “You look like him, especially when you pout.” Izuku smiles. “When you opened the door the wind was knocked out of me.”

“Same here.” You reply. You and Izuku are sitting across from each other at the small dinner table. Yet you look to your left and wonder about the third seat, and how much that would’ve cost when you bought the set. Would you have been able to afford it at the time? 

    “You stick your bottom lip out when you’re thinking; you know that?”

You frown. “No I don’t.”

“You don’t know or are you in denial?”

“I’m not in denial.” 

He smirks and shakes his head. “That pouty lip of yours sticks out when you catch an attitude, too.”

  You scoff and sit up. “I do not!”

  Izuku starts to laugh at your expense. “You lie!” His eyes aren't rimmed with red anymore. He is calming down. 

His eyes are steady on you, his gaze unwavering. You give up and prop your elbow on the table, subtly hiding your face behind your hand. Izuku chuckles at your attempt to hide from his green eyes. 

  “You remind me of my students when they try to hide.”

“Well stop staring!”

“At who? I have to look.” His grin speaks of his mischief. 

 “At me! Stop looking at me.”

He sucks on his teeth. “I can’t look at you?”

“No.”

“That would be a curse.”

You feel so warm. “I’m going to punch you in the neck.”

  He puts his hand on his chest. “The violence!”

Izuku has unintentionally given you the opportunity to turn the tables. You begin to ease up. “You like violence.”

  He frowns. You try not to give anything away. He questions what you mean, worry lacing into his voice. You chew a bite and swallow. “You like…”

  Izuku’s face turns one into shock. “Don’t you dare…”

 “Oh, hush. I wasn’t talking about your gory porn.”

“(Y/n)!” His eyes dart around to see if anyone overheard you despite you being in your home, alone. The power he’s given you makes you smile. It feels nicer this way; it’s familiar. He’s an easy target and it doesn’t get old.

  “I wasn’t talking about your zombies this time. I’m talking about something more seductive. That one vampire movie. It’s pretty gory.”

  He rolls his eyes. Before he can protest, you say, teasing, “You only watched that movie for one scene.”

“What do you mean?” He grabs another slice. He takes a drink of his water, frowning at the glass. What should you have done? Went to a mountain and got some water from a stream or some shit? He’s what kids that don’t like pulp in their orange juice turn into. You have half a mind to start a story with, ‘back in my day’ and educate him on the importance of water, and not the brand.

 “You only watched that campy movie for the snake scene!”

  Izuku straightens up. His nose is twitching, a telltale sign he’s getting embarrassed. “I did not! I liked the cinematography. And liked watching it with you!”

  You smirk. “If that’s the case, why’d you watch it alone and replayed that one part?”

  He sputters and puts his glass down. “I didn’t!”

You nibble on your food. Izuku wipes his hands on his napkin. “I-I don’t like snakes like that. And I wouldn’t watch a movie without you!”

  “The snake isn’t the center point of the scene, Midoriya.” 

He shrugs. His flush isn’t leaving his face and his eyes aren’t meeting yours. “I know that. Lemon-”

“Lemon?”

“The snake. I know Lemon wasn’t-”

 You cackle. “You know the snake’s name?!” The python’s name wasn’t mentioned in the movie. Besides, no one was staring at that damn snake.

  His face gets redder. Even after all these years, he retains his boyish charms. “I looked it up!”

“I knew it…you pervert. I knew you watched the movie for Salma Hayek. For the blood and her feet! Noa told me all about it.” You lie. Noa told you nothing and most likely never saw the movie anyway.

  Izuku nearly stands up in protest. “He did not!” When he realizes how loud he is being, he shrinks and tucks his head to his broad shoulders. 

  By now you’re wheezing. You have successfully turned the table at a comfortable angle that is away from you.

“You like feet in your mouth. Munchy, munchy, munchy.” You laugh into your cup. You know Izuku isn't like that but teasing him is just too fun. 

  Izuku’s eyes darken. “There are sweeter things I love to eat.” 

You start to choke on your drink. You were just playing and he had to take it there. That little flip you did was for nothing. Now, it’s your turn to be shy. Suddenly, the room seems too small and there’s nothing to distract you anymore. 

  His innuendo is very obvious (and corny). The day you left, you experienced things for the first time. The arousing dreams didn’t compare to the real thing at all. Now that he’s clearly referencing that day and his current desires, you can’t help but clench your thighs. You never forgot how good he made you feel. Granted, the night has been filled with teasing and nostalgia, something you’ve enjoyed, you didn’t expect this turn. Actually, a part of you wondered if he forgot about your last night together. Evidently, he did not.

   You tap your fingers on the table. “Is that so?”

  Your heart is thumping. Izuku’s eyes don’t leave you. 

“(Y/n),” his voice is low. “Just say the-”

“Word.” You interrupt. He pushes the table away to get to you. For a second, it makes you flinch. His hands find your hips to lift you up from your seat. The chair falls back. Izuku wastes no time to place his lips on yours. 

“Mm! Not here-down the hall!” Your words are muffled. His rough hands paw at you as he stumbles through the hall and into your bedroom. When this is over, you can note how your bed isn’t made or anything. Right now, the state doesn’t matter. 

  He lays you down and cages you underneath him. “I’ve missed you, (Y/n) (L/n).” His thumb trails your jaw. “Don’t leave me again.”

  Not right now, you think. Even if this wasn’t happening, there is still a lot to talk about. Your current state of arousal won’t let you think about the upcoming conversations, though. 

  You flip him over and straddle him. His tie is the first to be removed, then his shirt, then the rest follow. You press gentle kisses along the plane of his body, not missing a scar or freckle. Izuku’s eyes are on you as you lower your mouth to his hot flesh. He gasps at the first lick.

 You don’t have any experience with this. The only things you have to go by is the gist of the act and his reactions.

“You’re a goddess, a dream.” He pulls his hair and keeps one hand on your head. He moans your name as you suck. After placing your hand on his balls, he cries out. His hips meet your face repeatedly.

 His expression is one to be painted by the finest oils. His cheeks are rosy, eyes are dazed, curls are even messier from his pulling, and his lips shine like gloss. Even his chest is flushed. He’s beautiful like a rococo painting and sculpted like marble. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. He blinks several times before answering. 

“Sit on my face.” His voice is kind of breathy.

“Are you sure? Won’t that hurt you?" 

  He laughs and shakes his head no. He raises up to help you remove your clothing. “I’ve dreamt of you.” For so, so, long, he murmurs. His words are hushed by your lowered body. You grab his hair and gasp. Izuku hands are tight on your hips, preventing you from lifting. Every insecurity and concern leaves. His tongue flicks and swirls. He moans underneath you, relishing the reactions he’s causing. The vibrations are enough to make you shake and cry out.

   Izuku raises, looking more flustered than ever. When you invited him to dinner, you didn't expect this turn of events.

You shyly say, “I wanna be on top.”

He nods and leans back against the board. You crawl over to him and position yourself. Izuku, ever the helper, has one of his hands on your hip and the other holds himself steady.

  With deep breaths you lower yourself and let the night begin. 

--

 Now very early in the morning, you wait for Izuku to come back into your room with breakfast. After last night and a few moments ago in the shower, you are a little sore but overall satisfied. The sheets are bundled up in the hamper and fresh ones are put on and the smell of toast and coffee is in the air. His shirt hangs on you loosely as you tuck in the corners of the sheets. 

  “Alright, here we go!” Izuku has made himself very comfortable in your home. Whereas you put on his shirt, he forgone all of it and walks around au naturale. 

You sit on the bed and smile. On the tray are a couple pieces of toast, smothered in butter and jam, and two cups of coffee. Before you can grab the one you really want, Izuku swipes the bread with the most jam. He grins.

  “Good morning, my love.”

You bite into the lesser piece and deliver a half assed glare. “Hitoshi would give me the better piece.” You mumble.

“What?” He stops mid chew.

“Oh, nothing.” You say nonchalantly. Even without looking at him, you know his eyes are intensely focused only on you.

“You talked to Shinsou? Nighthide?” 

  You shrug. You haven’t heard from the hypnosis hero in years. From time to time, you’ll see a picture of him, usually in the background trying to hide from the camera. When you’re out at night, you could swear you feel someone, though. 

  “He’s a nice man, no?”

Izuku’s nostrils flare. A closed mouth grin stretches across his face. “Don’t talk to him.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

You laugh. Izuku’s fluffy messed up hair adds to the comedy. “He’d give me the better toast!”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” He frowns.

It is. Hitoshi is a little shit. In contrast, Little Ken was a sweetie.

“Aw, I miss them.” You whisper. Little Kenji was one of the kids you’d swoop up in a heartbeat. There was always something about him. 

 Izuku rolls his eyes. “Shinsou is a menace who only played around with you. Remember my cake?” 

  Ah, the infamous strawberry shortcake. For Izuku’s (and Noa’s) birthday, you made him the cake which Shinsou insisted was Izuku’s favorite. Come to find out, chocolate is his, whereas strawberry shortcake is Hitoshi’s. Needless to say, someone got a slice of their favorite cake for free. 

  You suck on your teeth and shrug. “Oh, I remember. He was quite handsome, y’know?” Hitoshi was-is-really good looking. Paired with his fluffy hair and smooth voice? You’d swoon if you didn’t know his sarcastic ass.

  Izuku’s gaze is of steel. “Have you talked to him lately?”

“Mm…wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Darling.”

  You cross your arms. “At least Hitoshi doesn’t work at U.A.” 

Izuku sighs. “Is that what’s wrong?”

How dare he sound so kind and reasonable when he looked like he was about to convulse just mere seconds ago. 

“I should look him up. He would give me better toast.” He wouldn’t. 

Izuku puts his things next to you. He crawls up to you, placing gentle kisses on your feet on up. “Is that what’s bothering you? My teaching job?”

“You make it sound like I’m a disgruntled toddler and not a victim of systematic abuse.”

He cages you underneath him. “(Y/n), it’s not what you think.”

“And what am I thinking?”

“That I’m a traitor.”

“I’ll take that as a confession.”

“(Y/n).” 

You can’t recall him voicing any desire to teach. It’s always been about heroism. So, when he told you of his decision (via letter), it was a complete surprise. After he graduated college, he quickly found a position at his alma mater. It was a blow.

  “Aren’t you?”

Izuku smiles. “No. Being a hero can mean different things. It can be a traditional hero, underground, or a teacher. Beloved, I have the chance to teach the next generation. I can break the cycle.” He kisses your forehead. “I think I’ll always be angry. But I am using that as a way to save as many people as I can by prevention.”

  Break the cycle? Prevention?

“What do you mean?”

He gives you a kiss, one you don’t return. “I want to show you something. I wanted to show it to you last night.” He leaves out the bedroom door. You see him search for his backpack and retrieve something from inside it. You sit up and eat his toast, replacing the empty spot with your intended.

  You quickly swallow as he enters. Izuku has something behind his back. He takes a deep breath and hands you two large textbooks. There isn’t a blemish on them.

    You groan. “Homework?”

“Not for you.” You take them from him. He rubs his hands together. “I bookmarked it. Open them.”

“Very demanding this morning…”

Izuku kisses your face. “Open them.” His eyes find the spot next to you. There is a slice of toast there, but it is not the appetizing one. He snorts and laughs about it. You deny any involvement, encouraging him to get his eyes checked.

  You follow his instructions and search for the bookmarked pages. He’s making the morning brighter and loosening you up. Finally, you find the ribbons that are in All Might’s colors. You hold in your tears for as long as you can. The edges of the papers are smooth and the ink still fragrant. It smells as new as the subject that happened a year ago.

Not being able to hold it in any longer, you release a tear. Under your fingers is the new history book and beside it the new textbook of Hero Laws. You stare at these books that the students are now learning. The pages are about you, your cause, the project, and U.A. 's and Hawks’s failure. Finally, there is a change. Not a performative one, but honest change. The generation won’t go through what you did. 

You whisper to yourself, “I did it.”

The cashier girl mentioned she had learned about you. At the time, you thought she might’ve gone down a rabbit hole and saw the debate or something. Now, you think she may be a part of Izuku’s class! 

Your face is on the pages. It’s all about the debate, you, and the aftermath. The next page in the Heroes Law is the newly formed law that took six years to make. Six long years of petitioning and arguing has resulted in a law to protect the people from heroes who bend the rules to their wants and beliefs and overlook the destruction that comes with it. The law encompasses much of what you argued that day. From what you can see, it almost resembles Rule Ten, Section 12 of Heroes Law, that was created in 2037. However, that one is mainly about compensation. 

It took you years to make a change and here it is. You didn’t think that it would be taught. You could have sworn it was going to take longer, perhaps for the rest of your life. It was a genuine fear of yours that you were only a speck, only viral because of your audacity, and without longevity. 

Who would’ve thought that the new generation would be learning it and asking themselves the probing questions on the pages so soon?

  Izuku patiently waits for your reaction. You haven’t looked up at him or said anything. If you do, you are liable to bawl your eyes out. 

"I would show you U.A.'s new handbooks, but they're still being printed. I suspect they'll be done this month." Izuku stares at you. You can only assume that his expression is loving. “I am so proud of you."

  Without a second thought, you kiss him. Your eyes are closed and your arms wrap around his neck. You aren’t happy with him working there, you never will be, you think. But knowing that nothing is being forgotten and swept under the rug warms your heart. Especially since Izuku’s teaching it. So, the future generation will learn from the mistakes and it will prevent it happening again. Plus, it gives Izuku a chance to be petty about it. 

“I still want them to suffer, though.” You laugh and wipe your tears.

“I don’t know if this helps, but Nezu’s keratin treatment backfired and he ended up bald a year ago. He’s slowly growing back hair.”

  “Bless.” You peck his lips again and again. “Did you laugh?”

His hands are on your waist. It kind of tickles. “Of course, I did darling.”

Not only do you get the guy in the story, get a good job, therapy, and are manifesting a happily ever after, you manage to achieve the objective which will result in saving a shit ton of people. There is still so much to talk about with Izuku. He’s healing in his own way, and you are too. Now, you get to do it together. Neither of you have to work today, so you can start right now. Maybe during your long, long, talk, you can open up Noa’s baby book again and show Izuku. 

The bonus of all of this is that they caught your good side in these photos.

  Damn, you’re good.

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