You're Like Dango [Midoriya Izuku X Reader]

Meddling Peers and Cigarettes

I feel people's stares on me. Not because I'm popular or whatever. It's just that I have a cut on my lip, my cheek is bandaged, and I have bruises anywhere visible. Note to self: start wearing leggings. The ankle socks that are expected of us females to wear just aren't working out. Oh, well. What's a few rules broken? They can't force me.

Uncomfortably, I shifted in my seat, till finally sick of the obvious stares, shooting them a look, their eyes averted towards anything else, some looking rather overwhelmed with compunction.

I attempt to pull down my skirt a bit, futile attempts to hide the ugly, purple marks.

Yet, no avail.

As always.

Giving up, I instead open up my book, it's more interesting than the lecture out teacher is giving.

Will things ever change?

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I walk home, dreading it. I don't want to go home. Sometimes, the kitchen reeks of alcohol. Occasionally, cigarettes. I dislike both of those smells.

I feel the wind nip at my face, blowing my long, [hair color] in its direction. I unconsciously allow a faint smile to appear. Wind reminds me on my quirk. A quirk that I got from my mother.

It's useful, except against my father. I hate him, yet I can't bring myself to actually defend myself from him. I'm mentally weak, I guess.

Quirk: Wind Cutter.

A quirk in which I can control winds to speeds that can slash you. Or anything.

I keep walking. Straight ahead, towards the left. Great. Now take another turn, but turn towards right this time. Good, good. And finally, go towards that small house. The one with its paint peeling off, the one that is as dark and sullen as the daughter of the owner. And the family, too, I guess.

I feel a giant wave of fresh anxiety come over me, the house all of a sudden so intimidating. I quickly glance at the name plate, [Last Name] spelt in easy-to-read kanji. The likelihood of the design being made on the computer is pretty high, if you ask me.

Ignoring the pleas of the name plate, I grip my skirt a bit tighter, the blue fabric crinckled in my hand.

Smoothing the white shirt of my uniform, I walk up to the front door. Yeah, like my appearance being neat and tidy is going to help.

I use my key to open the door, stepping inside, taking in the disgusting smell of tobacco and nicotine. If you wanna include the other ingrediants, go ahead.

I roll my eyes and mutter words that shouldn't be said, but I said them anyways. Despite the fact he could hear me at any moment and come very close to murdering me.

I cringe at the smell. Then, I sit down to unlace the work boots I wear. They're kinda big, and maybe for boys, but I don't really care. Sometimes, men's clothes are cheaper than women's.

I place them by the door, a small pair of shoes sits right next to mine. My brother's shoes.

He's so young. Why does he have to suffer this?

Wait, because I'm a coward.

Yet, becoming a hero is what I really want to do. To stop people from hurting others.

"What'd you think you're doing?" An annoyed, raspy voice I recognize as my father's.

I lower my eyes to avoid eye contact. "Nothing. I just got here." I guess he caught me with a bad mood. But who can blame me?

"The hell is up your tone?" I peek at his his face and wish I didn't. He's irritated. It's scrawled all over his face.

"Nothing." I say, anger already drowned out the anxiety. A mistake. An error. Whatever you'd like to call.

I feel a hand come at me faster than what I could comprehend at the time. A loud smack noise hung in the air.

The stinging sensation lingers while it also interacts with the cuts that were slowly fading away.

"Don't ever talk to me like that." And with that, he leaves towards the kitchen, presumably to either vent out his anger on my mother or the alcohol.

Tears stung in the corners of my eyes.

Hey God, if you're not too busy, is it cool if you punish him? Or, do you just like making me suffer? And am I going to Hell for being the coward I am?

The tears managed to escape, now running freely without my consent. I suck in a shaky breath whilst running towards my room. Well, I guess you could call it a room. It's rather empty.

I run and quietly shut the door, not wanting to anger the beast any further.

I check in a mirror to see the damage. I mean, I guess you could call a mirror. A few months back, my father went on a rage mode and just attacked us with it. Fragments was all that was left. I still have a few scars left.

Sometimes, I wonder how the hell my mother and father met and got married. I know with these types of situations are really hard to controll, but I can't help but wonder.

I look into the mirror, and then a few more tears come out. My cheek is full on red. And it still stings. Gently putting the piece back on the small coffee table I use as a desk, I then put my back to the door and keep crying.

Sliding down so I'm sitting, I glance at the papers on the coffee table. Applying for U.A. I'm still wondering if I could actually land the hero course. Sure, I passed the written exam, but the practical one is a whole other story.

"What am I to do?"

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Hi fellow readers. I'm Brandy. I know it's a weird name, don't judge or whatever. First time writing a fanfic like this.

Few facts if you want to read:

1. I'm still in school.

2. I'm female.

3. I love anime and manga

4. Reading and writing books are my life.

So I hope you'll stick around and enjoy!

Oh, and I'll try to update as often as possible.