summary - [first name] wakes up from a nightmare, only to be thrown into an actual nightmare. she's going through it y'all.
cw - body description of past self, sorta gore ??? idk its like 1 paragraph --> starts at "The audience applauded"
...
It's now your last day of internships and you were hugging Rumi like there was no tomorrow at the train station. Well, there isn't a tomorrow with Rumi as you're heading back to school. "Even though I almost died," you fake-sobbed into her shoulder (you had to crane your neck down to reach it), "I'm glad I went on this internship."
She pulled away and glared at you, making you slightly shudder. "Yeah, you better be fuckin' glad. I've never given out internships, ya know."
"I take it back – I should've gone with Hawks," you said, tauntingly sticking out your long tongue.
"You brat!" She playfully wrapped her arm around your neck, causing you to struggle in the shorter woman's chokehold. She roughly tousled your hair, making you whine in annoyance.
"Gah! I give in! I give in!"
...
You stood on the concrete stage, millions of eyes peering down at you, meticulously assessing your movements. As you surveyed your surroundings, you took notice of the giant metallic dome overhead, trapping you in with no exit in sight. It separated you from the anticipating audience. You then took notice of a young girl, no older than thirteen. She was plump and stout. She had [skin color] skin, innocent [eye color] eyes, and [hair length], [hair texture], [hair color] hair. Your eyes widened in shock as you came to an astounding realization.
It's you. Pre-coma.
No wings. No antennae. No black eyes. No four arms. The younger you's body moved on its own, stretching her short legs and two fat arms and cracking her wide back. It was the Sports Festival all over again.
Depersonalization.
That's not you standing there, but a clone. A hollow duplicate of your past self. Your curious gaze loomed over her – a strange, out of body experience. You watched on as "you" continued to stretch, a confident air around her. You wanted to cheer for her, but no sounds came from your mouth.
You stepped in front of her, your height making you tower over her rotund form. However, she didn't seem to notice you. She kept her white eyes straight ahead, her determined face unwavering. Perplexed, you urged one of your hands to poke her.
Your hand simply phased through. You stared at your fingers, which were half-submerged through her skin. It didn't feel like anything. You were confused.
You felt a low rumble coming from the tunnel ahead of you. Your hands began to sweat as heavy nerves ominously loomed over you. A large step made the arena tremble and you shivered when you saw a too large hand emerge from the tunnel, gripping onto the sides to pull itself out. The giant from your internship stood in front of you, but it paid you absolutely no mind, only focusing on her.
It lurched towards her, but she didn't move out of the way. Instead, she intentionally stayed still and got crushed by the beast. She didn't even scream.
The audience applauded, a noise you found way too cheery and excited, as her blood splattered across the concrete, some of it even getting on you. It felt warm and slick against your skin, and the muscles in your throat convulsed, trying to gag up your stomach acid. You were disgusted by what you saw. Her organs gruesomely spilt out of her abdomen and onto the stage and her starkly beige bones jutted out of her skin at grotesque angles.
Though, contrary to her morbidly still form, she was still alive and kicking.
It was sickening, however, to watch her exposed pink lungs ballooning, inflating and deflating with every ragged breath she took. The organs stretched as they pulsed and you could see every blue-green vein on them.
She struggled to get up, trapped from underneath the giant's rough palm.
"Slayer," a chilling voice called. You looked up, meeting familiar red eyes. Tomb. He was crouched on top of the giant, leering down at you. He was wearing that outfit you recalled he wore in the convenience store, although in place of his red sneakers, were red clown shoes.
His body weirdly stretched, as if he were a two-dimensional plane, changing his height and width – you know, as they do in dreams. His form floated down from the giant, and you were frozen in place out of fear. He was able to pounce on you, just as he did before. And he held you down by your face, all but his left pinky finger on you. You were horrified, your chest rising up and down with frantic breaths as his hot breath hit your face.
His mouth moved, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. Instead, a series of whimsical bird chirps escaped his cracked lips. Your previously panicked face morphed into a quizzical expression, confused by this. The crowd cheered again. They sounded so artificial, like a rehearsed sitcom laugh track.
He continued to speak, or chirp, and instead of being horrified like you would have if this was real, you found yourself becoming bored by the incessant chirping.
Suddenly, a tightly furled fist connected with the side of his skull, and you were met with those striking golden eyes. Like in your first dream (or flashback) of him, your savior's face was blurred, white scribbles blocking it out his face. Judging by his mature frame, this was very clearly an older version – a present version – of that boy from the orphanage. His mouth opened to speak, but again, all you could hear were those stupid chirps. You wanted to hear his voice.
He held out a hand to you, which you took. Or you tried to take it. Your hand phased through his, making you let out a surprised gasp.
You looked back up at him, and you didn't know if it was you being desperate, but there seemed to be less scribbles on his face. You reached for the white scribbles and curled your fingers around one of the threads. Your lips slightly parted when you felt the strange lightweight material between your fingers.
Much to the golden-eyed man's bewilderment, you tugged on the string. You watched keenly as it unraveled from his face. He didn't object, just standing there as still as a portrait, his eyes curiously watching over you.
You kept pulling and pulling, but you seemed to be making no progress. A large heap of white string had gathered beside you – proof that you were pulling away the seemingly never-ending string. But there must be an end. 'I have to see his face,' you pleaded.
"SQUAWK! HELP! SQUAWK!"
You were back home from the internships. You rolled over in your bed, covering your ears with your soft pillow. It wasn't doing a very good job at blocking out Bookie's distressed chirps and clicks. You couldn't believe this was happening right when you were about to finally see his face. At least you were saved from that weird nightmare though. You need to block Tomb out of your mind.
"Stupid fucking bird," a voice rasped – a voice that was not your own. Fuck. No way this is happening again. And after that dream, too. "I'll kill it."
Instinctively, you launched yourself from your bed, attacking the person and bringing them to the ground. It was him. "What are you fucking doing here," you demanded, restraining his hands as you sat all your weight on him. You tried to use tips you learned from Miruko, utilizing your inhuman agility.
"Quiet, Bookie," you hissed, but the cockatiel continued to squawk. At this point your parents might wake up and, of course, you don't want that. "Quiet," you repeated, using a stern tone you scarcely ever used on your beloved bird. You held a finger to your lips and Bookie finally got the hint.
Your eyes traveled back to the man underneath you. You can't be so scared of him now. You're supposed to be a hero.
"Why are you being so rude to me? We're friends, aren't we? I hate rude people." He childishly whined. You were half-expecting musical chirps to come out when he opened his mouth, like in that dream. You wished chirps came out instead of whatever bullshit he would spew. He was scrunching his face up in pain. "Ow, ow, ow...!" It made you notice his bandaged shoulder, a deep red liquid soaking into the contrasting white gauze. You couldn't help but shift your hand off of his damaged shoulder. You started to feel bad, especially when you heard his sharp, pained intakes of breath being sucked in through his teeth.
Tomb, Shigaraki, smiled up at you, giving you a haggard laugh. He was almost surprised that you moved off his injury, but then he remembered that this was you. The you that always revived him in games and followed him around in COD and guarded him so he could shoot. You're a natural-born, good-natured medic. There's a reason why you have yet to call the cops. Tomura is not one to forget, and he has never forgotten about your offhanded Wiscord confession. You still love him, don't you?
Suddenly, he got a brilliant idea.
"No. Wha... What are you doing here, Shigaraki?" you impatiently inquired, trying to steady your trembling limbs. How can you get him to leave without killing you? And why did he show up after appearing in your dream? It was freaky. Hey, maybe you're a psychic?
His smile faltered. "Hey, stop being so scared of me. We're friends. I'll let you call me Tomura."
"No. No, we're not."
"Yes, we are. You just don't want to see how alike we are."
"We're not. You're crazy."
"I'm crazy? I'm just seeing the world as it is, Slayer. Can't you remember? When we would talk about everything together, [first name]? Don't you remember all the things you said?"
"D- Don't... call me that." You stared at him in horror when he said your name. It sounded ugly. What else have you said? Especially for him to think you had such a connection? "Don't call me anything," you viciously spat.
"I'll call you whatever I want," he insisted, keeping his eyes on you. "I knew you before all those heroes did... They stole you from me. They fucking-" He interrupted himself with a harsh gasp, his face twisting unpleasantly when you lightly pressed down on his bandaged wound. He let out a sharp hiss.
"Shut up," you croaked, raising your voice above Bookie's panicked chirps. "They didn't steal me from you. I'm not a fucking object."
"I never said you were. I said you're mine," he whimpered, glaring up at you through his disheveled hair.
"I'm not. I'm not yours. I'm not anyone's. So stop."
"Heal me," he suddenly demanded, confusing you.
You furrowed your eyebrows together. "I- I don't have a healing quirk. I don't know what you mean." You then quickly added, with much hostility, "And even then, I wouldn't heal you."
"You will heal me. I know you have a med kit in the third right drawer of your dresser." He nodded his head to your dresser.
Med kit? Does he mean a first-aid kit? He's such a fucking geek. You almost couldn't believe you were scared of him – a grown-ass man that speaks in video game terms. You wanted to laugh in his face and call him that – a geek. He was literally wearing a long-sleeved anime tee shirt right now. Hinata Hyuga's face was staring right at you, and it was such a wakeup call. Shigaraki Tomura really is just some loser.
A loser you're still scared of.
But on a more serious note – how did he know that? Has he gone through your stuff? What a creep! Your grip on him tightened as you clenched your jaw in disgust, hurting him. You felt so violated. You wondered what he had seen, or if he had taken anything. He probably has – this creep! Just how many times has he been in your room? Does he visit when you're asleep? The thought was truly nauseating. The whole room has to burn with him in it.
"Why would I?" you jabbed, your voice coming out as an embarrassing stammer.
He slightly smiled, a smug quirk of his pale lips. "Heroes are supposed to help people, aren't they?" he taunted.
Your tough façade slightly cracked, and he could see it in your glowing eyes. You wanted to heal him. If it weren't for those damned heroes, you would have been on his side, he knows it.
"You're a villain. A literal terrorist. After that little USJ stunt you pulled? I can't help someone like you." But maybe you can... Maybe you can fix him.
Nah. I'm just kidding, haha. You're delusional, but not that delusional. This bitch is sick. But why? Why is he so... crazy? Why is he so obsessed with you? You really don't understand.
"But am I really a villain?" he asked.
You looked at him as if he were the most stupid man alive. "Are you a villain?" you repeated incredulously. "Are you a villain? How could you not think you are?"
"I have my reasons for doing what I do," he said.
"Which is?"
"I need to kill All Might so everything can return to its natural order." A baleful smile stretched across his face and you shuddered just looking at it. "Now heal me."
You whipped your head to your window, sensing something flying by. A bird? At this time? It's around 2 AM, isn't it? Confused, Tomura followed your eyes, but he didn't see or hear anything. His eyes went back to your face, which was glaring at the window. "What are you-"
Knock, knock, knock! There were three quick raps against your window that made you cover Tomura's mouth with one of your hands. His mouth gaped open and closed. Is he trying to bite your hand? You desperately shook your head at Tomura, telling him no as if he were a misbehaving dog.
Who is at your window? And how did they get to your window? Your apartment is on the eighth floor of a complex?
Unless... Oh my God, why did he choose now of all times to visit. If he saw you with a literal villain...
You stayed silent, hoping the person on the other side of your window got the hint that you were totally asleep and went away. You assumed it was Takami, but why is he visiting you so late?
You heard one of your drawers crack open, something red wriggling out of the small opening. Takami's feather! This only confirmed your suspicion. You totally forgot about it after hiding it in your drawer. It delicately floated its way over to you and softly tickled you under your nose, the sensation causing you to loudly sneeze. You grabbed the feather out of the air.
Oh shit, you just gave yourself away in the dumbest way possible.
"I know you're awake, [last name]-chan," Takami sang from the other side of your window, a slight chortle in his smooth voice. You were so glad you had thick curtains covering his view of you and Tomb. But why is he here? Why are either of them here? That internship took such a great toll on you, why can't you have a fucking break?
You reminisced about Rumi's words. You're "refreshing." Is that why so many people like you? It's not like you're fucking stupid. You know people like you. Izuku, Ochaco, Ojiro, Kosei – you just don't want them to. Not in that way at least. They try to be stealthy about their stupid little crushes, but no one turns red when their friend makes simple contact with them. You and Aina did an "experiment" a while back to confirm your suspicions.
The thing is – you like them back. But you like all of them back. How can you not? No one's ever had a crush on you before and they're all so sweet. How can you force yourself to decide?
Bookie stuck her beak out of her cage and let out a squawk. Then, you felt a warm, wet muscle flick against your palm, and a look of utter disgust took over your face. He just licked your hand! Of course, you snatched your hand away and quickly wiped it on his shirt. You suppressed the urge to screech a loud, repulsed "ew" that would surely wake up your household.
"Go answer it," he urged, a sinister smile on his face. His voice was clearly loud enough for Takami to hear. You know he did that on purpose. "Not very heroic of you to keep him waiting like this."
"Fuck," you snarled. "You-"
"I'll stay here," he complacently said, though there was a sly, cat-like smile that told you he was lying.
"Don't disintegrate my stuff." You turned to the window, your change in tone surprising even yourself. "Hold on, Ta- Hawks."
That surprised and almost panicked look on Tomura's face gave you a smug feeling of gratification. He wouldn't try something in front of the number three hero, would he? When you slid off of Tomura, you stayed on guard. He let out a small groan and reached to scratch his neck. He stood up, but only to walk over to your bed and sit down on the covers, crisscrossed. This time, he was apparently feeling polite enough to slip off his dirty red shoes.
But he wasn't wearing any socks. Who the fuck wears sneakers with no socks? Psychopaths! Which Tomb clearly is.
You trudged over to the window and pushed the pink curtain aside just enough for Takami to see just you. From his view, he wasn't able to Tomura – thank God. He was sitting on the railing of your window balcony, a handsomely lopsided grin plastered on his face. You unlatched the window and pushed it open, being met with the cool night air. The coldness enveloped your body, soaking into your skin. You should've put a sweater on instead of the tank top you were wearing.
"Hi, Birdie," you casually greeted with a dodgy smile as you waved with his feather between your fingers. You held a hand over your mouth and let out a fake yawn, another one of your hands rubbed nonexistent crust from your eyes. You prayed he would buy your act. "What are you doing here?"
"I was in the area for a boring gala, so I thought I would fly by, Buggy. You know, check up on Hawks Junior," he explained, tugging at his red paisley tie to loosen it from his neck. Oh God, he must know what he's doing. It was now that you took notice of his attire. A dark brown, almost black, suit with matching slacks. It was custom tailored so it fit perfectly and his wings stuck out from the back. He looked good. Too good. Like, you just want to bite him.
Okay, that girl you met on your internship is getting to you.
He was dressed so fancy while you looked like a mess! Granted, you were forced to wake up, like, ten minutes ago and argue with a crazy B-rank villain (who is still here by the way) who's fully convinced you're still in love with him after 12-year-old you confessed to him literal years ago. You ran your fingers over your hair, trying to look more presentable. You also pulled up and tied your loose pajama pants, which were falling down your ass.
"Buggy?" You raised an amused brow, crossing a pair of arms over your chest, but your voice came out unexpectedly hollow as it exited your throat. You hated it.
"Birdie?" he retorted, childishly mirroring you.
"Fair enough. But how'd you even find me?" It was pretty weird and a little frightening that he just showed up. Very frightening actually. Especially so perfectly timed. You don't think you've ever told him your address. It kinda creeped you out.
He pointed at the red feather between your fingers. "I can sense my feathers, ya know. And this one's been collecting dust." To show off, Takami forced the feather to wiggle out of your grasp and swoop around your head. You couldn't deny the fact that you were totally jealous of the man's ability to control each individual feather. You wished you could do something cool and flashy with your wings.
"Well, what do you want me to do with it? Wave it around while singing about how I'm your biggest fan?" you slightly chuckled, pinching the feather still in the air and waving it around.
He shrugged and looked to the side, his tongue smugly poking the inside of his cheek. "I'd like that. Or you can just wear it around your neck."
A lot of Hawks fans wore a golden chain around their necks with a fake red feather attached to it. You cringed at the thought of looking like one of those. "Ew, no. Then I'd actually look like a fan."
He thrusted out his lower lip, jokingly pouting at you with big eyes. "You're not my fan?"
You flinched and gave him a bantering disgusted look, hiding the fact that you thought his face was actually super cute and you wanted to grab it and squish it. "You're a grown ass man, Hawks – don't make that face. Only I can."
His hand reached towards your face, and he unexpectedly grabbed your nose between his thumb and pointer finger, pinching it. You whined as he giggled, wiggling your face side to side. "So what if I make weird faces? What are you gonna do about it?" He playfully stuck out his tongue.
You swatted his hand away with a facetious irritation. "Stop!" Your voice was absurdly nasally because he was still squeezing your nose. But you couldn't deny you wanted to hear him giggle again, haha.
Finally, he freed your poor nose from his grasp and you rubbed your now irritated nose. "So... Are you gonna let me in?"
"No," you immediately snapped, way too harshly for your liking. A flash of disappointment flashed in his eyes and you felt guilty.
"Rude! It's cold out here, y'know." He ruffled his feathers and hugged his arms in an exaggeratedly freezing manner.
"You can't."
"Why?"
You paused, trying to think of an excuse. He heard Tomura earlier, you know he did. "Because I have a friend over." you improvised. The word friend was sour on your tongue, a bitterness more extreme than the green rind of a lime. Your lips twitched, trying to keep them from frowning; that's just what he wanted – for you to admit he was your friend. "Well, he's not my friend."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Takami said, rolling his eyes. He's so sassy. "I'm just here for Bookie, alright? Let me see our daughter."
A tiny blush creeped onto your ears. Our daughter. He must know what he's doing judging by that smirk on his face. "She's not your daughter, she's mine. You're more like that weird uncle I tell her to avoid."
"I can't believe you." His face cutely scrunched up. You wanted to let him in so bad. He was pouting at you, and your eye was irregularly twitching as you resisted the temptation to epically dropkick Tomura out of your window and cuddle with Takami.
What's stopping you?
No, that's a stupid idea.
Your antenna gave a short spasm, sensing movement behind you. That fucking liar.
His brows knit together, and a deep frown crossed his face. "Hey, are you alright? Those things on your head..." He stared at your swiveling antennae, both which were pointing in the same direction – behind you. Is there something behind you? Ah, it's your friend, isn't it? He heard Bookie squawking in the background.
You shook your head. "Y- Yeah, it's just a little cold, that's all." You desperately tried to ignore Tomura sauntering over to you, his footsteps quietly padding against your wooden floor. You wondered if Takami noticed him, if he was planning to punch Tomura when he came into reach. In your head, a scene played: a brawl between the two men. Who would win in a fight? If it was a quirkless fight, obviously Takami would win. He probably goes to the gym, like, every day to keep up with the physical demands of being a hero. But if quirks were allowed... If Tomura was fast enough, Takami would be a goner, wouldn't he? But Takami also has long-range attacks up his sleeve so he could probably immobilize Tomura with his sharpened feathers. But also-
Are you really powerscaling the two right now? God, Izuku was rubbing off on you.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm fine... But I think you should go."
"So soon?"
"Go," a chilling voice commanded, a voice that was neither yours nor Takami's.
You froze, allowing a lanky arm to slowly snake across your chest and sluggardly wrap around your shoulder. Takami carefully watched as the other unfamiliar arm loosely wrapped around your hips. He observed the fearful hitch in your breath and the way your entire body tensed with an apparent frown on his face. Is this your "friend"? Doesn't seem very friendly to him. In fact, you seem terrified of the boy hugging you. His feathers stood on end, sensing some sort of danger nearby. How can he help you?
You bit down on your lip, trying not to scream in terror and abhorrence as Tomura hugged you from behind, his face shoved into the crook of your cold neck. You've never been so thankful for your wings as they separated your back from his chest and your ass from his-
His fingers rhythmically tapped against your hip, a silent threat that he would disintegrate you if you acted out. You grabbed onto his wrists, bringing them down so that his arms were looped around your hips and his fingers couldn't touch you.
"Woah, hey, is this your friend?" Takami curiously asked, staring keenly into the male's rage-filled red eyes peeking through his pale blue hair. The rest of his features were hidden in your neck. You gave him a strained nod, trying to stay as calm as possible. "Well, any friend of [last name] is a friend of mine!" he cheerfully exclaimed, trying to seem as unassuming as possible. He held out his hand, waiting for a friendly handshake. Tomura made a move to take Takami's hand, but you batted the winged man's hand away, and the impact seemed to echo throughout your room. Takami gave you a confounded look.
An expression of quiet horror dawned on your face – your eyes were wide open, your lips slightly parted, and your eyebrows raised high on your forehead. "Sorry," you slowly muttered, but you were apologizing for more than slapping his hand away. "He... He has a phobia of- He's a germaphobe. He doesn't like handshakes."
Takami retreated his hand and held a non-threatening posture. He beamed at you, though you could see the corner of his lip twitch. "Well, introduce us then. You probably already know me, but I'm Hawks."
"This is-" You trailed off, feeling four of Tomura's fingers on your hip, as if telling you to shut the fuck up. "Uh, Tomb. That's his name."
"What? Big guy can't talk for himself?"
"No, Hawks, he's, like, shy."
"Oh, really?" his brows raised, and you knew he didn't believe you. "How'd you two meet then?"
"Uh. We met a few years ago. On a video game."
"Oh, really?" He nodded along. "What game?"
"Um." Fuck, you actually don't remember. Fucking coma. "It was League of Legends. Why? You're asking a lot of questions."
"Just getting to know you two." He shrugged, unbothered by your rude tone. You didn't mean for it to come out as rude. It's just a bit hard to be polite when someone who can kill you anytime they want to is clinging to you.
"But why?"
"Because." He shrugged.
"Make him leave. Now," Tomura demanded in a whisper, his chapped lips scratching against your earlobe. You wanted to shove him away, but you froze, your eyes wide in shock as you felt a slight tug on the hem of your shirt and dust fall against your abdomen. You fearfully looked down to see the bottom of your shirt gone. "Come on, [first name], tell him we're busy. I don't want him here."
Takami hopped off of the railing, his wings bristling behind him and blocking the moon from your sight. His red wings, glowing a soft red under the pale moonlight, loomed over you, shadowing everything in front of him, his face included. You never thought he could look so threatening. "Hey, Tomb, do you have a problem with me, or something? What's up? I'm trying to catch up with a friend, but you keep trying to kick me out." It was so scary how his personality just switched up so quickly. He's all cheerful one moment and then evil the next.
Tomura looked up from your neck, shooting the hero a murderous glare. Takami glared back, trying to memorize his face. His hair reminded him of something, but he would have to contain himself until he confirmed it with the HPSC. He was curious – what are you doing with someone like this? It made no sense to him. "Of course I have a problem with you, hero. You-"
You shook your head. "Y- You should just go. Both of you." Fuck, this is horrible. "Please. I- I have school tomorrow."
"Why?" Tomb asked, still in your ear like the cricket from Pinocchio (but evil). "I was here first, why are you making me leave?" His arms tightened around you, squeezing your wings. You could feel them uncomfortably rubbing against his chest, shedding a few scales.
"This is my room, T- Tomura," you uttered, trying to sound as forceful as you could. "Let go of me and go home."
Takami took a step closer. "Why don't I get you home, Tomura?" he offered, his face relaxed into a smooth smile. "It'll be fast and we can get to know each other."
"I would rather be caught fucking dead than be within 2 meters of a hero like you. And you don't get the privilege of calling me that, you bird bastard." Tomura finally let go of you and took a step back. You could hear him scratching his neck and the dry flakes of skin floating onto your floor. You cautiously moved closer to Takami. "I'll go after he does." Tomura nodded to the winged man, a sneer on his face.
Takami put his hands up in mock surrender. "Suit yourself. I'll go, I'll go." And he shot you a reassuring glance. "Night, Buggy."
"G'night," you weakly said, your voice just above a whisper. You didn't want him to go, you wanted Tomura to go. He gave a solid nod and flew away, his silhouette dark against the alluring moon. You wanted to follow after him. 'Come back. Come back, please,' you begged, staring after his direction.
"Fucking finally. How annoying."
"Go."
The remaining man quietly walked past you, stepping onto your small balcony. He surveyed the area for any trace of the hero. Hawks had left behind a red feather on your dead strawberry plant; it brought a cruel scowl to his face. He grasped it in his palm and disintegrated it, tossing the ashes over the railing. You watched as he did with watery eyes, a wobbly frown on your face. "You can't keep coming over, especially when I'm not here. It's fucking creepy. Now leave my fucking house."
"Wait," he hissed, stretching his fingers towards you. The threat of his fingers touching you forced you to stagger back. He continued to peer into the distance, waiting for the winged hero to return. He didn't. After a grueling 35 minutes, he smiled in satisfaction. "See? No heroes to save you."
"Whatever. Go. I've said it, like, 10 fucking times."
He frowned. "I'll see you. Kurogiri."
"No, you-" Before you could finish your sentence, he disappeared in a whirl of dark purple smoke. "Won't..."
You felt so heavy after all that. You couldn't stop yourself from crumbling to your feet. You leaned your head against the side of your soft bed, letting out a shaky breath. Fuck. "Breathe," you told yourself. You took a shuddering inhale, your eyes trained onto one of the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Upon exhaling, you swayed to the side, resting your body on your plush carpet.
Your breaths are too loud, you decided. You can hear them, and they're so loud. So, so loud. You cushioned your head with two of your palms; they acted like a makeshift pillow. Two of your other hands covered your other ear, but you could still feel your labored breaths vibrating through your chest. You grasped at your antennae, squeezing them until it felt like someone stabbed the inside of your nostril. You don't want to hear shit anymore.
You couldn't help but miss being quirkless. None of this would've happened if you were. You wouldn't have gone to UA and Tomb never would have found you and Takami never would have asked about your wings. It'd be so peaceful.
...
tomura: fuck u hawks. die. kys.
hawks: .....
[first name]: he's just a lil shy 😊
...
wc - 5,565 words
put me in a room w shigaraki for 5 minutes n hes coming out a changed man 😝 also guys i feel like my writing changed help
also did u guys notice bookie is only mentioned when hawks is there LMFAOAO but anyways I LOVE HAWKS SOOOOO MCUHH HE IS GENUILELY ONE OF HTTHE FINEST IN BNHA IDGAFFFFF like i need him to imrppegnate me i just knowww it goes boing oing oing oing