socialobligation
18she/her
104 posts
Latest Posts by socialobligation
needle & nerve | e. kirishima
he came in for a piercing. what he didn’t expect was the artist behind the gloves—sharp-eyed, quick-witted, and maybe his new favorite reason to come back. (987 words)
your shop sat just off the main street—half tattoo studio, half piercing parlor, with walls that held a little bit of grit and a whole lot of story. incense burned low in the corner, masking the sharp scent of disinfectant, and the constant hum of fluorescent lights buzzed beneath the soft thud of bass-heavy music filtering in from the back room. framed flash sheets covered the walls, inked with dragons, snakes, roses, and teeth. some were faded from sun, some fresh, some yours. all of them meant something to someone.
you leaned over the front desk, chin in your palm, scrolling idly through a list of upcoming appointments when the door chimed. you didn't look up right away—it wasn't rare to get walk-ins—but something about the shift in the room made your hand pause over the mouse.
he stepped inside like he wasn’t sure how loud to be. tall, square-shouldered, all muscle and nervous momentum. red hair pulled back in a headband that didn’t quite tame it, and eyes—bright, dark-lashed, darting around the space like they were trying to memorize it before it could change.
"uh—hi," he said. his voice cracked slightly on the first syllable, too loud for the low hum of the shop. "i’ve got an appointment?"
you looked up and found a boy who seemed more like a mountain in training. his cheeks flushed deeper when your gaze caught him.
"eyebrow at three?"
"yeah." he nodded, breath like it had been held since the sidewalk. "that’s me."
"cool. i’m your piercer today," you said, stepping out from behind the desk and gesturing toward the back. "i’m y/n."
he blinked, then smiled like he hadn’t expected introductions to be part of this. "eijiro. kirishima eijiro."
you gave him a nod and a smirk. "nice to meet you, eijiro. let’s make you bleed a little."
he trailed behind as you led him through the studio, past tattoo chairs draped in black leather and chrome trays lined with freshly sterilized tools. his eyes lingered on the art pinned above each station, pausing longer at a piece you'd done last week—three snakes coiled through the jaw of a skull.
"first piercing?" you asked, tugging on gloves.
"yeah." he scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "figured it was time. always thought about it but... i dunno. guess i needed a push."
"it’s a good pick," you said, voice easy, hands already arranging your tray. "subtle. sharp. very you."
he blinked, then smiled. "you don’t even know me."
"don’t need to. i read people."
he laughed, louder this time. "and what do i read like?"
"someone who talks a big game and still gets nervous walking into places like this."
he opened his mouth, then closed it with a grin. "fair enough."
you motioned to the chair. "you’ll feel a quick pinch and then a little pressure. it’s not that bad. just don’t flinch."
"i won’t. promise." he slid into the chair like it was a test. his hands settled in his lap, though you could see the way he kept flexing his fingers.
you moved around him with steady precision. sterilized clamp. single-use needle in its packaging. mirror nearby. you sprayed his brow with antiseptic and caught his flinch out of the corner of your eye—not from pain, but from cold.
he glanced at you. "you do tattoos too?"
"yep. mostly blackwork. fine line, sometimes flash. i draw all my own sheets."
"that snake piece on the way in—that was yours?"
you nodded. "you've got a good eye."
he flushed again, red creeping across his ears now. "guess i’m just a fan of good linework."
you leaned in close, brushing his hair from his temple. his skin was warm under your gloves. close like this, he smelled like clean laundry and just a little sweat, like maybe he’d psyched himself up before walking through the door.
"keep your head still. i’m gonna mark you."
you felt his breath hitch as you pressed the pen lightly to his skin. you could feel the tension in his shoulders—not fear, exactly. more like anticipation wound tight beneath muscle.
"you alright?"
he nodded. "just thinking."
"about what?"
"if this actually makes me cooler or if i’ll just look like i lost a bet."
you smiled. "only one way to find out."
you lined the clamp up gently. "deep breath in."
he inhaled, and you pierced through his skin.
a second passed. then two.
you pulled the needle through, swapped it for the jewelry, and clipped the hoop into place. he didn’t move, not even when you wiped away the smallest dot of blood.
"that’s it?" he blinked at you, like he expected to be bleeding out.
"that’s it."
he touched the edge of the new ring, careful, like it might still sting.
"damn. kinda expected to cry or something."
"give it five hours. you might regret it."
he laughed and stood, slowly, adjusting to the sudden lightness in his posture.
you peeled your gloves off with a soft snap, tossed them in the bin, and reached for the aftercare sheet. when you turned back around, he was holding something in his hand.
a post-it. yellow. handwriting a little slanted, a little rushed.
he stuck it to the counter next to the tip jar. his number written in black ink on the paper.
"in case i want the other side done," he said casually. "or, you know, maybe a snake tattoo. or maybe coffee."
you tilted your head, one eyebrow raised. "you just hand out your number to everyone you meet under bright lights and sharp metal?"
he grinned, sheepish and bold all at once. "only when they’re the prettiest person i’ve ever met."
he waved over his shoulder, and the bell above the door chimed as he left, hair catching the light like a flame, and you were still staring at the post-it note—still smiling—when the door eased shut behind him.
HII!!!
i loveloveLOVE ur smau’s, could u do one for katsuki bakugo? enemies to lovers ?? the storyline and stuff can be anything u want.
pls feel free to add any details u want 😭😭
and no pressure !!!
technical foul | k. bakugo
you're vice captain to his captain on the soccer team. working together was never the problem. staying out of each other's way was.
We should play Minecraft together pleaseee
OMGGG OMG YES (i am so not good at it)
Jade in my head we’re besties I love ur smau I can’t imagine how hard they are to make girl
omfg lets be besties pleaseeee
i love makung the smaus i crack myself up icl im so glad other people enjoy them
aizawa with a pro hero that always get paired up together (did i mention they hate eachother to the point they cant stand eachother)
standard procedure | s. aizawa
you and aizawa constantly get partnered for fieldwork. the job is clean. the dynamic, not so much.
Please bakugo friends to lover! User and him started texting bc of a group project then it goes from there when he texts them constantly if they are missing class or didn’t show up to school at all
standard deviation | k. bakugo
the plan was to finish the slides and turn in your project. not get used to talking every night.
hi cool person!!! i was wondering if you could do texting iida? like any context, but just make it iida as our bf or friends to lovers or something. thankss
manual override | t. iida
dating tenya iida is like loving a perfectly alphabetized fire drill—structured, intense, and somehow exactly what you needed.
MORE TOMU SMAUS PLEASEEEE 😼
temporary housing | t. shigaraki
you let him crash for a week. it's been three months and you're starting to miss him when he's not on the couch.
OBVIOUSLY NOT FORCING BUT MORE SERO HANTA SMAUS PLEASE YOU SMAUS ARE SO GOOD I NEED MORE AND SERO IS HUZZ😔🤍
low dose | h. sero
in which you didn't expect to like your dealer, but he keeps replying to your overly enthusiastic texts like it's normal.
DEKU ACADEMIC RIVALS TO LOVERS WITH READER🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏PLSOLSOKS
ctrl + alt + detest | i. midoriya
you're tied at the top of the class, stuck in a group project, and ignoring the fact that midoriya looks really good in library lighting.
happy birthday bakugo i’m greening out in your honor
happy birthday bakugo i’m rolling one up in your honor
happy birthday bakugo i’m rolling one up in your honor
sorry for my inactivity guys i am so mfing sick holy shit
I fear this whole time I’ve thought your name was socialgoblin
IM GIGGLINGGGG
that too, tbh!!
Hiii so I was wondering if MAYBE you could do a smau with Denki abt reader being jealous of Jiro (Denki x reader/friend to lovers ?) (Pls pls pls)
off the clock | d. kaminari
you and denki are coworkers, best friends, and almost something more—until he starts spending all his time with jirou. now you're just trying your best to not care.
but first i gotta get thru this fuck ass shift!!!
i ripped my cart in the bathroom TOO hard and i’m tweaking at work omfg help
gonna get violently high and fulfill requests tonight im so excited
gonna get violently high and fulfill requests tonight im so excited
meeting a new plug for the first time everyone pray i don’t fucking die
oooh jade that hawks smau was to die for bmf that was genuinely so good
IM SO HAPYY U LIKED IT YAYAYAYAYAYAYYA YES LETS BE FRIENDS 😛😛😛
schedule disruption: you
you and izuku midoriya have been best friends forever. he's busy, responsible, always on schedule—you're not. but when your night goes sideways, he drops everything to come get you. you say something you might not remember. he hopes you do.
the music inside is muffled now—blurry thudding base pressed against the walls like it's trying to escape. your phone glows in your palm for a few seconds longer, until izuku’s "i'm on my way" disappears. you blink, feel the chill air wrap around your shoulders, and finally set it down beside you on the grass.
the night air is cool against your skin, a little too cool for how flushed your face feels. you're barefoot, or at least... one shoe is definitely missing. whatever. it's fine.
you curl your arms around your knees and squint up at the stars, counting exactly none of them.
the front door opens behind you with a roar of noise and then shuts again. laughter spills out into the dark for a second, but it doesn't reach you. you sit there in a haze, cheek pressed against your arm, blinking slow. everything feels floaty. you're starting to regret that last drink.
when the familiar black car pulls up to the curb, headlights washing over the lawn, you sigh in relief. izuku parks in a weirdly straight line, like even now he needs to make sure he's perfectly aligned with the sidewalk. of course he does.
he's out of the car in a second, jogging around to you. "y/n?"
you lift your head and wave weakly, "heyyy, 'zuku."
he exhales through his nose, crouching diown. "are you okay?"
"mhm," you hum, then after a beat, "no."
he doesn't ask anything else. he helps you up with one arm around your shoulders, leading you gently to the car, careful not to rush you.
"you smell like cheap tequila and regret," he says as he buckles your seatbelt for you.
"mmm. that's just perfect."
the drive to your dorm is quiet at first—until it's not.
"izuuukuuu," you sing, dragging out the vowels.
he glances at you, just long enough to check you haven't somehow turned into a puddle in his passenger seat. "yeah?"
"do you think that if trees could talk," you say, eyes glazed and face pressed against the window, "they'd be mad at us for always carving initials into them? like. what if that was their face?"
"...what?"
"like—what if—what if it's like if i just came up to you and went '<3 Y/N + I.M.' right across your cheek with a knife."
he blinks hard, struggling not to laugh. "okay. maybe no more frat parties for you."
"you're not even listening to the message, izuku," you pout.
"i think you should write a thesis on it. present it to the botany department."
"you're making fun of me," you say dramatically, eyes fluttering closed. "wow. and to think, i was gonna marry you."
he almost swerves. "what?"
"hmm?"
"...nevermind."
when he pulls up to your dorm and puts the car in park, you frown.
"shit," you mutter, blinking hard. "i don't have my key."
he turns to look at you. "what?"
"my roommates brought me. they were gonna unlock it when i got back. i didn't... i didn't think i'd need mine."
he lets his head fall back against the headrest, then sighs.
"...okay. you're coming back with me."
by the time you get to his apartment, you're half-asleep and still clinging to his arm like gravity doesn't apply to you anymore.
"okay, come on," he murmurs, locking his car and adjusting his grip around your waist. "let's get you inside."
the walk to his building is slow. you trip on the curb and immediately latch onto him with both arms, face smushed against his shoulder.
"you smell nice," you whisper.
"that's—thank you," he says, trying to breathe through it.
he unlocks his door, nudges it open with his foot, and guides you in gently.
you kick kick off your lone shoe and immediately make a beeline for his bed, flopping face-first into the mattress. he sighs and tugs a blanket over you, tossing you a hoodie too—just in case.
he exits the bedroom and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water, aspirin, and a small trash bin.
you've turned onto your side, face buried into his pillow.
"y/n," he says softly, kneeling beside the bed, "can you sit up for a second?"
"mm. no."
"i brought you water."
"...fine. if you insist," you grumble, lifting yourself up with all the grace of a wet noodle.
he hands you the bottle and the pills. you down them obediently.
then, after a long pause: "you're too nice to me."
"someone has to be," he replies, tucking the blanket around you. "your decision-making tonight was... not ideal."
"hey."
"you were drunk. by yourself. with nobody around that you knew."
you frown, suddenly more awake. "okay, well—sorry my friends ditched me? that's not my fault."
he sighs, eyes soft. "i know. i'm not blaming you."
you grumble something incoherent and flop dramatically onto your side. "felt like you were."
"wasn't," he says gently. "just... worried."
you peek up at him, eyes squinted. "...i guess that's allowed."
"thanks for the permission," he says, and you swear you hear the tiniest smile in his voice.
he starts to stand, but your hand catches his wrist.
"hey, izuku?" he pauses, looking back at you.
you blink slowly. "you're my favorite person. like ever."
his eyes widen a little. he swallows. "...y/n—"
"'s true. dunno when it happened but i love you."
he blinks.
you blink.
"...what?" "i love you," you repeat, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "kinda figured you knew that already."
his mouth opens. nothing comes out.
it's not the first time you've told him that.
you've said it before, offhandedly—over childhood goodbyes, late-night calls, after especially rough days. but something aboiut the way you say it now is different.
it doesn't sound like a best friend.
it sounds like everything else.
"i mean," you continue, voice soft and sleepy," why else would i always call you first? or wait for you to text back before i do anything. or remember your whole ass schedule even though i don't even know mine."
he looks like he's buffering. you broke izuku midoriya.
which means the only plausible thing to do here is keep going.
"oh," you add suddenly, "and you're, like, insanely hot. in a shy, rule-following, chronic overachiever kinda way."
"y/n."
"what?"
"you're drunk."
"yeah," you agree, "but i'm also right."
he laughs under his breath, eyes warm even in the dim light. and then, gently:
"yeah. i... love you too."
your eyes widen just slightly, and he adds, a little quieter, "i just want you to say it again when you mean it sober. so i can believe it's real."
you grin, eyes fluttering shut. "i'll tell you first thing in the morning, then."
he lingers there a second longer, like he's about to say something else—but he doesn't.
just pulls the blanket over your shoulder a little higher.
and softly, almost too softly: "okay. morning, then."
he turns off the light and closes the door behind him.
STOP I JUST CAUGHT UP WITH ALL YOUR SMAUS please they're so good you're so good please dont get into a horrific accident
i’ll try my best!!!!
thank you!! i’m so happy people like my work
Need... Worried asf monoma x barely alive reader who got their ass sent to the hospital... Shit ton of angst and a fluffy ending and my life is yours unc 🙏🙏
what silence held | n. monoma
the mission went wrong. she didn't make it out whole. he held what was left, whispering promises and apologies into bloodstained skin, praying she'd come back just once more. (2407 words)
neito monoma had always been a figure sculpted from layers of meticulous deflection and purposeful arrogance, a carefully constructed image designed to repel rather than invite closeness. beneath that armor, however, lay an earnestness few had glimpsed, an admiration that had quietly rooted itself deep within him, growing stronger with every interaction he had shared with you—an admiration he kept stubbornly hidden behind sarcasm and rivalry.
but now, standing rigid and hollow-eyed before the stark hospital window separating him from your battered form, monoma felt every carefully laid barrier crumble beneath the weight of profound fear. the clinical white lights cast sharp, unforgiving reflections across the polished floors, illuminating your frail, unmoving figure beneath the sterile sheets. the stark contrast between your vibrant spirit—once so full of stubborn resolve—and the battered body now sustained by machines cut deep into his consciousness, a visceral pain he'd never known before.
your body was a ruin.
blood still crusted around the stitches at your temple, a wound that split your skin down to the bone. your left eye, swollen shut, was purpled nearly black. dried blood rimmed your nostrils. deep bruises bloomed across your collarbone and arms, fingerprints in violent shades of plum and yellow. a jagged gash peeked from beneath the gauze on your abdomen, where they'd reopened you twice due to internal bleeding. a rib had pierced your lung. he'd overheard the doctors say it was a miracle you'd made it to the hospital at all.
inside the room, it was too quiet.
the low whir of the oxygen machine, the faint hiss of air being pushed into your lungs, the soft, consistent beeping of the heart monitor—it should have been reassuring. instead, it felt like a countdown, like a fragile metronome ticking away the seconds you might have left. monoma sat motionless in the corner of your room, the plastic chair beneath him stiff and biting. the rhythmic tick of the wall clock carved into his skull with every passing second, each one sounding louder than the last.
he hated it. hated the silence. hated the way it filled his ears and forced him to listen to the slow, labored breaths you weren't taking on your own. hated the sterility, the scent of antiseptic that clung to the air like guilt. he wanted to scream, but the moment he opened his mouth, nothing came. just the sound of that damned beeping.
monoma sat in rigid silence, watching as your chest rose with the help of the machines, not strength. not anymore. all he could do was sit there and remember. not the good memories. no—the last thing he wanted, the thing he couldn't stop seeing, was how it happened. how you ended up like this. how he let you end up like this.
and then he was back there.
⊹ ࣪ ˖
the air was thick with smoke and ash, turning daylight into a choking haze that painted the battlefield in bruised, sickly hues. rubble littered the ground, the shattered remains of buildings cracked open like bone, and the screams of distant civilians echoed behind the veil of destruction. fires burned unchecked, consuming what little structure remained. it was the kind of scene that stripped away any illusion of heroism—just ruin, blood, and the desperate need to survive.
monoma was bleeding.
he stumbled behind a half-collapsed wall, hand pressed tightly against his ribs, where something inside cracked with every breath. he had copied a quirk minutes ago—strength, maybe, or speed—but the user had gone down too fast, and now the power was bleeding out of him like the rest of his strength. he was running on fumes. his vision was doubled. he was useless.
he was alone.
except for you.
you were still standing. just barely.
ahead of him, through the smoke and flame, you faced the villain who had carved through half your team like wet paper. their quirk was monstrous—pure kinetic manipulation, an ability that turned every limb into a wrecking ball. every punch split concrete. every kick ruptured the earth. the sheer pressure rolling off their body was suffocating.
and you stood in front of it.
you were a wreck. blood soaked your shirt, a dark patch blooming from your side where a rebar had grazed your abdomen. one of your arms dangled slightly off-kilter—dislocated or broken, monoma couldn't tell. your face was almost unrecognizable: your cheek had split open, swollen to the size of your fist, and one eye had completely shut from the bruising. blood matted your hair and dried at the corners of your mouth. your jaw trembled with exhaustion.
but your legs held. barely.
"stay down," the villain growled, voice grating through clenched teeth. "i'll make it quick."
you spat blood at their feet. "you first."
monoma wanted to scream.
you moved first.
you ducked under the first blow. the wind it produced nearly knocked you off balance. you countered, striking fast—a jab to the ribs, a glowing blast of energy from your fingertips—but it only staggered them.
then they retaliated.
their elbow cracked against your jaw with the force of a sledgehammer. monoma saw your teeth snap together hard, blood spraying as your head snapped to the side. you crumpled against a lamppost, rebounded, and charged again with reckless, suicidal momentum.
he wanted to stop you. he wanted to grab your wrist and scream that it wasn't worth it.
but he couldn't even stand.
the villain slammed their foot into your stomach, lifting you off the ground. you flew ten feet and landed with a sound that monoma never wanted to hear again—flesh hitting stone, followed by silence. a wheeze escaped you, thin and wet.
you pushed up on shaking elbows, coughing violently. blood spilled from your mouth. you were wheezing, your breath broken like cracked glass. you reached for the pavement, tried to draw strength into your limbs, but your knees collapsed.
still, you got up.
monoma watched in horror as the villain lunged again.
they grabbed you by the throat and lifted you from the ground. your legs kicked weakly, a final show of resistance. your fingers clawed at their wrist, tearing at the skin, but you couldn't breathe.
they slammed you into a wall.
then the ground.
then again.
you weren't even screaming anymore. just hoarse, rasping gasps.
they punched you in the stomach. once. twice. three times. each hit echoed with a sickening crush. blood streamed freely from your mouth and nose. your arms dropped. your eyes rolled. your head lolled.
monoma could barely see. he was crawling—literally dragging himself across the pavement, nails scraping along the broken asphalt. he left a trail of blood behind him, from his own split skin, from your splattered remains.
you made a noise. it wasn't a word. just something small. a protest. a whimper.
the villain dropped you like a broken doll.
you didn't move.
monoma reached you in time to catch your head before it hit the ground. your face was slack, your eyes glassy. blood bubbled at your lips. he could feel the broken ribs beneath your skin, the sick heat of internal bleeding pressing against your side.
your chest fluttered. barely breathing.
your lips moved.
he leaned in. "don't—don't talk. you're okay. you're okay, just hold on."
your fingers twitched. you tried to raise your arm, but it fell uselessly.
and then, the villain turned.
monoma looked up. he met their eyes—calm, detached, like they were already moving past this scene.
he didn't have the strength to fight. he didn't even have the strength to stand.
but he spread himself over your body anyway, shielding what little was left of you.
sirens in the distance. voices. shouting. too far. too late.
he screamed your name. screamed for help until his voice cracked.
when the others finally arrived, they had to pry his fingers off you. he was still trying to hold your head. still whispering, "she's still breathing," even though you weren't.
they started cpr before they got you on the gurney.
monoma watched the chest compressions. the blood that seeped through the gauze. the oxygen mask they fitted over your mouth. the way your body jolted with every push.
he saw them restart your heart.
twice.
he saw the paramedic shake their head.
he rode in the ambulance. he held your hand the entire way.
and he didn't realize he was still whispering your name until they pulled him off at the er doors, dragging him back as the double doors slammed shut between you.
and he stood there, hands shaking, blood everywhere, not knowing if you were alive or already gone.
and in that moment, monoma broke.
⊹ ࣪ ˖
his body jolted forward, dragged violently back into the present. the smell of blood still clung to his nose, phantom pain still pulsed in his chest where he'd slammed against the pavement. but your hand was still there. still in his. and barely—just barely—you were still breathing.
he stood up suddenly and crossed to your bedside, dragging the chair behind him, the legs screeching softly against the floor. he took your hand into both of his, warming it with his touch, rubbing gently like he could coax life back into you through sheer willpower. his thumbs traced the bones beneath your skin, too sharp now, too still.
"you always did chase trouble," he whispered again, throat raw. "always leaping into things like you were invincible. i admired it, you know. even when i mocked you, i admired it."
he swallowed, breath shaking. "you make people braver just by standing beside them. you make me braver. and i hate how much i didn't say it before."
his voice wavered as he leaned forward. "you have to wake up. i need you to wake up."
the monitor continued its measured beeping.
and then, in an instant, that beeping stuttered. changed. slowed.
it was like watching a glass fall from a ledge. monoma's head snapped toward the monitor.
then the alarm.
the shrill wail of the machines filled the room, loud and final. flatline.
"code blue! room 308!"
monoma stumbled back as a tidal wave of medical staff poured into the room. hands gripped his arms, pulling him away, guiding him to the wall.
your body convulsed once under the defibrillator's shock. a nurse straddled the bed, counting out compressions as another prepared the next jolt. the beeping was gone. it had been replaced by that long, singular tone—flat and cruel.
he could see the color draining from your face. could see how your limbs had fallen loose, like strings cut from a marionette. you weren't breathing. your chest didn't rise. and he felt something inside him crack wide open.
the compressions were brutal. blood bubbled at your lips from the force of them, smeared across your cheek as your head lolled uselessly to the side. the nurse's hands were slicked in it. every thrust against your sternum echoed in monoma's ribs like he was being punched himself.
"again! clear!"
the jolt lifted your chest off the bed. still nothing.
one of the nurses looked up at another, eyes wide. "her vitals are too unstable. i—i don't know if we're going to get her back."
"we keep going!" another shouted, voice fraying at the edges. "she's young. she can still fight."
but doubt was a living thing in the room now. it crept through the gaping silence between the shocks, through the gory mess staining your gown, through the flatness of your chest.
monoma shoved against the arm trying to steady him. "please," he said, voice low and strangled. "please just—just do something. don't let her—don't let her die."
he was shoved back as they resumed cpr. he could hear bones breaking. could hear his own blood in his ears, roaring.
he was watching you die.
and then.
a single, weak beep.
then another.
the line began to flutter, erratic but blessedly alive. the flat tone faded into silence.
"we have a pulse!"
monoma collapsed into the nearest chair like a marionette cut loose. his hands were shaking violently. he reached for your hand again—still cold, still limp—but now, thankfully, attached to something living.
he didn't speak for hours. couldn't. his voice felt locked somewhere deep in his chest, behind the weight of what he'd seen. what he'd almost lost.
—
days passed in a haze.
he hardly left the room. ate only when someone forced him. he sat beside you, head bowed, whispering things you couldn't hear but said anyway. apologies. promises. secrets.
he memorized the peaks and valleys of the monitor's readout, flinched at every hiccup in the rhythm. he learned the shift rotations of the nurses, knew which ones brought your meds, which one checked the iv. he hated all of them for seeing you like this.
when your fingers twitched, he almost didn't notice.
then, they moved again.
he sat bolt upright. "y/n?"
your eyes fluttered, unfocused. your lips parted. "neito..?"
the breath he exhaled was more like a sob. "you're awake. you're really awake."
you tried to smile. "i feel like i got hit by a truck."
he laughed, broken and soft. "you look like it too. but you're here."
silence stretched between you again. but this time, it was the kind that held weight.
there were things in the air—things he had left unsaid. things you'd never had the chance to hear.
monoma reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. "there's something i have to tell you."
you blinked slowly, but your gaze was steady. "okay."
"i can't... i can't keep pretending i don't care. you've always meant more to me than i let on. i admire you. i rely on you—" he paused, breath catching. "i love you. i didn't know how badly until i thought you were gone."
your breath caught too—but not from weakness. your eyes softened, a glint of warmth returning to your face.
"i think i've been waiting to hear that for a long time."
monoma swallowed hard, trying and failing to suppress the tremor in his hands. "then i'm sorry it took almost losing you to say it."
you smiled, slow and tired. "i forgive you. but you're not getting rid of me that easily."
he leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. the machines continued to beep, slow and steady. for the first time in days, monoma let himself close his eyes.
"then i'm not going anywhere. ever."
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ON MY KNEES FOR AN IZUKU SMAU WITH HIM AND MC CRUSHING ON EACH OTHER SOOO BAD BUT THEY'RE TWO IDIOTS WHO GO: "oh they wanna hang out one on one? Damn we're such good friends"
just us? | i. midoriya
just two best friends hanging out one-on-one every weekend, doing couple things, and totally not dating (yet)
i know ill find you one day .ᐟ
based off of this song
touya todoroki, your beloved childhood best friend, had passed away when you were just eleven. or at least, that’s what you were told. when the incident happened,, when he was assumed dead — you were devastated. he wasn’t just your best friend; he was your partner in crime, your safe place, and most importantly, your first love.
his loss changed everything. in the aftermath, you grew closer to the todoroki family. his mother welcomed you with open arms, holding you through nights when grief crawled into your chest and made it hard to breathe. she understood your pain in a way no one else could. you missed him deeply.
when you and touya first met, he’d confided in you, shared things he hadn’t even told his siblings. the bond had been instant — two broken kids finding comfort in each other’s company. you tried your best to understand the pain his father put him through, even if it was too big for either of you to make sense of. you made it your mission to bring joy into his life, even if just in little pieces. you wanted to remind him what being a kid was supposed to feel like.
but looking back, you both were doomed from the start.
so when it was reported that dabi — the infamous member of the league of villains — was actually touya todoroki... your touya todoroki… the world around you tilted.
you cried. a lot.
some tears were born from grief, others from joy, and many from sheer disbelief. it felt unreal, like someone had ripped open a wound you’d spent years trying to stitch shut.
anxiety coursed through your veins.
was it really him? was he still the same boy you had loved? did he even remember you? what if he was nothing like the touya you knew?
those thoughts haunted you for weeks. it wasn’t until recently that you learned he’d been placed in a rehab facility — something about endeavor pulling strings to lessen his punishment. trying to save his appearance.
truthfully, touya had never stopped thinking about you either. through the years, your memory followed him like a ghost. sometimes soft. sometimes aching. but always there.
he wondered about you often.
did you hate him? had you moved on? what if you didn’t recognize him — what if all you saw now was the monster he became?
but the moment he was cleared and able to return home, the first thing he asked about was you.
when you got the news he was home, you waited. longer than you wanted to. fear kept you stuck in place. anticipation and doubt battled inside your chest every time you thought about seeing him again.
when you finally did, it was nothing short of bittersweet.
his eyes met yours, and they still held that same quiet intensity—the same storm you used to see in them as kids. you ran to him before your mind could catch up, and he immediately melted into you, arms wrapping around your frame like he needed to make sure you were real.
he whispered over and over, “m’ sorry,” and “missed you s’ much,” voice cracking with every word.
it didn’t feel real. and yet, it felt like coming home.
the two of you talked for hours, and it was like no time had passed at all.
of course, the elephant in the room remained — he had become a villain. he had done things you couldn’t ignore. and he feared you'd look at him differently, that you'd be repulsed. but you couldn’t hate him. not even if you tried.
you weren’t going to pretend nothing had happened, but you also weren’t going to hold his past against him. you knew his trauma ran deep, that the pain that turned him into dabi was never his fault to begin with.
all you wanted now was to show him he was still the boy you loved.
you started coming around every day. on some nights, you stayed over — afraid that if you left, you might lose him all over again. he was still hesitant, still unable to believe someone could love him after everything.
but you were patient.
because underneath the pain, the scars, the fire and ash, he was still touya. still your touya.
one night, as you laid beside him, tracing the burns on his arm with the tips of your fingers, he whispered something so soft you almost missed it.
“when i left... i didn’t know where i was going. i didn’t know who i was gonna become. but even back then... i told myself, i know i’ll find you one day. and here you are.”
you blinked back tears and pressed your forehead to his —looking at him like he never stopped being yours.
it wasn’t perfect. there were still doubts. still moments of silence that stretched too long. still nightmares he didn’t talk about and questions you didn’t always ask.
but now that you finally made your way back to each other, you both knew — you were going to be okay.
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ur so funny pls😭😭😭 plsplsplspls more shiggy and tamaki BLESS UP
chaotic neutral | t. shigaraki
you work the graveyard shift at a 24/7 convenience store. unfortunately, so does he.
Hey, I love all your SMAU’s so much, I was wondering if maybe you could do one that’s Aizawa x reader and they have a kid together?
I think it would be so cute, if not that’s ok, I love your smau’s so much
dorm life, parent life | s. aizawa
co-parenting with aizawa was already hard enough. now you're doing it in the middle of the ua dorms.
hi oomf how r u :c 🧁
HII OOMFIE
im so good! going to see the minecraft movie with my bf tonight everyone cheer
how are you????
ur smaus i cant omg. BMFMMFF ??!?
YESYESYES
i collect mutuals like pokemons lets be oomfs
Kicking my feet and giggling at your smaus teach me your ways
UGH LOVE YOU
the key to making the smaus is being so insane that you just put the conversations you have with yourself in your head into your phone