"Get up, Y/n."
The room was dark.
"Right now."
You couldn't tell if the liquid in your mouth was spit or blood. Maybe both.
"I can't."
You could barely breathe, your chest drew breath after ragged breath, desperate for air even though it seemed to scratch the inside of your lungs.
Something about the pain was addicting.
Every time you would inhale, the pain would follow.
It was traceable.
Predictable and anticipated.
"Yes, you can."
The lights were too dim to get a clear view of Hawks' face.
He was standing above you, his face a murky shadow.
Hawks looked so big from up there, especially when you were all the way down here. Everything was dim, out of focus, including your thoughts.
You shook your head, wincing at the sharp pain making your eyes blink white for a second or two.
He sighed, condescension so heavy it pushed you lower against the concrete ground as he dropped himself down. His feathers ruffled behind him. It was still impossible to see his face from here, it always remained an object of mystery.
Red.
That was something.
Red.
His feathers were red, the only color found in the little room.
"Y/n," he said, warning. "Get up." His voice was too rough, too hard. It scraped against the walls, pushing itself into your ears until you realized he wouldn't stop until you did as he said.
Your hands were shaky as they pulled away from your chest, pressing against the cold tile. Body full of extended adrenaline, you breathed harder, willing it to move under your command.
You yelled as your weight pushed against your shoulders, ears praying not to hear the sickening snapping of bones, mouth open as something dark dribbled onto the floor.
Closing your eyes was pointless no matter how much you tried. It didn't numb the pain in any real way.
The only option was to endure, to fight, to grow accustomed to the way your body felt at that moment.
You finally found your footing, eyes straining to pin something in the darkness as your eyelids fluttered open.
Everything was still blurry.
Hawks was still a fuzzy shape in front of you, the only discernible part was the red of his wings.
The red of his wings.
The red of his feathers against the blank walls.
He seemed to grin in the dim light. "Good."
***
Bakugo, of course, excelled in all fields no matter what category. He stepped on other classmates with the heel of his shoe like some kind of exterminator.
His quirk was interesting, it caught attention almost as fast as his hair could. But the way he abused that power, looming it over other kids, made him the keen target of distaste (or fear) for the rest of the class.
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𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 || S. Todoroki x Reader
قصص الهواةAll her life, Y/n has been told what to do. It was easy. Only having to do what was expected of her, the objective of her life carved into her her bones, without entertainment of pointless dreams. But when she's forced to enroll at UA, things change...
