description: bakugou has mixed feelings about a certain color.
genre: mostly angst, perhaps a little fluffy at the end? kinda???
word count: 850
tw: reader (you!!!) death, vague descriptions of killing and gore
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a/n: hiya! miko here :>, it’s my time to start my onslaught of angst >:DD muAHAHAHAHAHSKDJF-
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bakugou has come to hate the color red.
now many may find that pretty ironic, hell, the kid's eyes are red for fuck's sake, he looks into them every time he aggressively destroys his toothbrush with his teeth.
it's the color of roses that his father and him give to his mother on mother's day, albeit him doing it begrudgingly, but he won't deny that the flowers look pretty all wrapped up in brown paper and tied together with the thin pink ribbon around their stems.
it's the color of the autumn leaves on trees at the park you used to drag him to for pictures and dates. his favorite season, with the two of you bundled up in sweaters and subtly matching scarves. he remembers how you used to bury the bottom half of your face in the woven fabric, eyes twinkling as you snapped another picture of him gazing at you with those red eyes of his, a matching red blush tinting both his and your cheeks.
but,
it's also the color of blood,
its metallic taste; he can imagine it on his tongue from the times he has bit his lips a little too hard, or swiped his tongue across them before giving his opponent a wicked grin after a hard punch to the face.
it's the color of everyone's blood; him, his classmates, his teachers,
you,
he remembers seeing you lying there, on the ground, paralyzed from the blow you just took to save the male from getting even more injured than he already was during the fight, but now look at you, broken, bloody, and bruised.
bakugou can barely keep himself up from crashing onto the rough concrete, falling to his knees beside you as they skid against the floor. his hands are so shaky, cupping your cheeks that have already lost their warmth.
he's terrified, and he doesn't know how to stop himself from holding back the sob that bubbles from the back of his throat.
and now he's holding you in his arms, ignoring the blood from one of his head injuries that's dripping down and down from his hairline, around his eyes, down his cheeks, mixing with his tears, and coating his lips, metallic.
he hates the color red so much,
you're covered in it, and so is he as he squeezes his arms tighter around you and cries out. your lifeless body somehow feels so much heavier than it really does, it weighs on his shoulders, his conscious. he should've been the one lying in a puddle of red, not you from protecting him on this mission.
he's supposed to protect you, he's vowed to, but he lets out a hollow laugh and remembers, "promises are meant to be broken," right? he wishes he could've multiplied the pain he was feeling now, as punishment for ever saying that phrase, even as a terrible joke.
he pulls back from the position the two of you are in, chest to chest, one of his hands on the back of your head and the other on the small of your back. he lays you down, back in the puddle of red you've dripped out, and places one last bloody kiss on your forehead before rising to his feet.
he wants to mourn for longer, but he knows he can't, the person who had painted you red is still there, bounding toward him, ready to launch another attack and-
all bakugou sees is red.
he's blinded with red, landing explosion after explosion on the opponent, yelling, screaming, the pain he feels from the color has got him smashing the enemy to bits, little specks of red,
he takes a moment to breathe, but alas, he's surrounded in red, red, red, and he hates it, and he repeats these words until his vision finally sees black.
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he doesn't remember when he woke up, how he did, or even how he ended up in the white hospital room with his friends and family fussing over his injuries and unsurprisingly enough, trying to keep his mind off of you.
but he still remembers, he'll never forget, the day he came to hate the color red.
the next few days, weeks, months, years, were like a blur. for the most part, he was back to being himself, a hero, a son, a friend, just without you,
but it's not like you've disappeared from his life completely, he still visits you everyday, you being buried under one of the trees you loved to take pictures under so much during autumn.
he places the red asters at the foot of your gravestone after he brushes away a few red leaves aside.
he hates the color red, but, here he is, surrounded in red, red, red,
you've always loved the color, comparing it to those ruby red eyes of his, and remembering the red blush that'd bloom across your cheeks convinces him, that he doesn't really hate the color red as much as he says he does.
after all, he's here, standing before your grave, surrounded by red, red, red, and,
description: shouto had never been more confused in his life over the not-so-simple concept of love
genre: fluff !
word count: 501
tw: shouto being too damn cute
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a/n: hiya babes! it's miko with the first post >:D, and to no one’s surprise, it’s todo! wanted to start out with fluff so we didn’t break too many people’s hearts from the very beginning of our blog- have a good day lovelies! muuuuah!
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shouto didn't understand why everyone was so obsessed with the concept of love.
love, it's an indescribable feeling, something you feel only a few times in your life, but it lasts forever, or at least, that's what izuku had told shouto in a stuttering mess, fiddling with the golden band that was wrapped around his finger. shouto thought about it, if he had really, truly, loved anyone in his life. his mother, siblings, begrudgingly, his father, but it's not the same as the love that he sees in the other’s eyes, the warmth, the softness he treats his significant other with.
and so shouto thought harder, he thought to himself just who did he love? who would he want to spend the rest of his life with? oh, right, you. it suddenly clicks in his mind how much he thinks about you, your eyes, nose, lips, and the way they curl up when you smile. when you laugh over something he doesn't get, but just seeing you happy makes him chuckle in the slightest bit. the way you get excited over things that others wouldn't, he didn't think he'd find it so cute, but he does, but only when it's you.
it comes to his mind that he's always just thinking of you, you, you.
and he doesn't notice that he looks at you the way the others do with their significant others, with a softness, a little sparkle. he seems to smile, even if it's barely noticeable, you can still see the mirth in his dual colored eyes when he looks at you and only you.
he loves you, he concludes, and his feet begin to take him to you. he tells himself that he's going to confess these feelings, the moment he sees you and can hold you in his arms, the place where you belong. this statement has his blood rushing, his cheeks already glowing red, and his heart has never beaten faster. he loves you.
extra:
LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE: him, out of breathe on your doorstep, ringing the doorbell every minute or so because he's getting antsy and he's almost shaking at this point, and when you open the door, oh god, the words are coming out of his mouth before he can stop them- "i love you," -and his ears and cheeks are flushed red and he doesn't even wait for you to respond, he just pulls you into his arms and hugs you so tight, his breathing heavy as he tries to catch it and his left side climbing higher in degree out of sheer embarrassment and excitement.
no matter what you respond with (though you better fucking say yes), he holds you tighter, he doesn't want you to see him all flushed and not composed as he usually is, he's just so flustered and his cheeks are hurting from how much he's smiling and he couldn't take you teasing him and anything more than you returning his feelings and embrace.
