Loving Is Nothing

Loving Is Nothing

Fandom: Bnha, Mha Paring: Midoriya Izuku x Reader, Midoriya Izuku x Ochaco Uraraka Rating: G Warnings: Angst, Breakup Words: .6k97 A/N: A drabble for when he was your soulmate, but you weren’t his.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Hearing him say it, Y/n almost forgave him. She smiled, putting a hand on his face to wipe the tears that started to fall from his eyes. “I know,”

It’s okay, she wanted to say, I understand. I forgive you. It’s not your fault. There’s no one to blame. She wanted to pull him in and ease away the pain he was in. She wanted to comfort him, but instead she dropped her hand from his skin. 

They sat across from each other in their favorite café, in the booth they shared their first kiss- the same place a nervous high school girl confesses her love to an awkward teenage boy. She smiled at the booth, so many memoires.

“I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am,”

Her lips pressed together and her eyes heated with the tears she’d same until he was gone. Gingerly, she cupped his hands with her own- “There’s nothing to forgive.”

And that was it. The end of their story, the death of the love they once shared, the murder of the future which was being born in front of everyone’s eyes.

The media went into a frenzy, already having taken photos of a crying Y/n walking out of the café alone. After all, it’s not every day the top two hero's breakup. 

Honestly, it was much better than Y/n expected. The people were sympathetic, having watched the young couple grow up together and following their love story- some even felt like they were a part of the broken relationship. 

Deku and Uraraka stared dating exactly three months after the relationship ended- what Ochaco considered a generous mourning period for a loveless relationship. But there was love, bruised, broken, love, but love none the less.

Her tears every night are an offering to the life they could have lived, her dreams a testament to her devotion towards this fallen deity. Every cry of his name while she slept was a prayer, nothing could fill her heart from the apocalypse her faith brought her. 

Her first date was a year after the breakup. “I think you’re beautiful,” The man had told her- a gentle smile on his face as he pulled the chair out for her to sit.

“I want to see you again,” he smiled bashfully, as they walked out the restaurant.

“I really like you,” he admitted over a nighttime stroll, ice-cream in his hand.

“I always want to be by your side,” he whispered into her ear after she called him in the middle of the night, broken from the dream she had.

“I love you,” he smiled over the expensive cake in their go-to restaurant. 

“We’ll get through this,” he ran his finger over the back of her hand, after Y?n got involved in a accident during a mission.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He said over coffee in their apartment, his eyes out of focus as he blankly starred at the wall- having heard his love say a different mans name during her sleep. 

He broke up with her on their two year anniversary. Y/n wondered breifly, as she arrived home to see all of his belongings missing, if she was the broken one. She thought back on all the memories and wondered if she should be in pain right now. 

He had cried after he broke up with her. Should she have cried?

No matter how hard Y/n tried to feel sad about the end of their romance, she couldn’t. She had already met the love of her life- already had her epic romance, the relationship to test the tides of time. How do you love someone else after all that? She sat on the floor of her apartment for hours- legs falling asleep along witht he rest of the world. You can’t. There’s no one else after your soulmate. 

Once you lose the person you’re supposed to spend forever with, al love is empty. She spent all her butterflies on her first love, used up all she had to give. After him- after Izuku- loving is nothing. Not when she had him. Not when he’s gone.

To All The Love We Didn’t Share

Mha B. Katsuki x Reader Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Injury, Catastrophe A/N: Just a drabble of Bakugo and the reader having too much history to be together in any other situation

I should have seen this coming.

The rooftop of her abandoned building turned studio apartment had never felt so much like home. Y/n gazed out to the screaming orange, red, and purple sky. She stood on the concrete roof for an hour, looking for it. 

Just when the cold began to be too much, it appeared- he appeared. Broken and battered, covered in bruises and blood. Her lips parted and Bakugo almost wept at the pure concern in her eyes as he crumbled to the ground beside her. 

Y/n crouched down beside him, supporting him all the way inside. She draped him on her sofa, running to the bathroom and back with her arms filled with a variety of medical supplies.

“Buy me dinner first- at least,” 

Y/n scowled at him and continued to get him out of the bloody costume. “You’re an idiot.” 

Bakugo let out a sharp puff of air and smiled softly, almost afraid to laugh.

Though he was hazy and disoriented, he still remembered everything about her house. “I’ve missed it here.”

Y/n’s quick patch-up work paused at his statement, but started almost as quickly as it stopped. 

His hands catch hers as she disinfects one of the deeper wounds on his chest- “I’ve missed you.”

Y/n looked from his crimson eyes to the chaos outside before turning back again. “I’ve missed you too.”

Bakugo leant back on the sofa, as if he could relax for the first time in years. A small, dopey smile pulled on his lips as he closed his eyes, letting her get back to fixing him up. 

Despite being more out-of-it than ever, more disoriented and hurt than he might ever had been, Bakugo came to her once more. Shaking the implication from her head, Y/n retrieved one of his abandoned outfits from the back of her closet, handing them to him and putting the supplies back. 

She sighed, standing up from her crouch on the bathroom floor and making her way back to the living room, sitting awkwardly next to him.

The silence was a storm brewing, bubbling up her anxiety and biding its time.

“Why weren’t you out fighting?”

Y/n froze, her hand instinctively going to cover her stomach.

“I just.. couldn’t.”

He scoffed- “You’ve never backed down from a fight before- scared were you?”

“Terrified.”

A stunned Bakugo and solemn Y/n sat together. She couldn’t take the quiet, so she turned on the tv- a mistake.

Pro-Heros can’t contain the aftermath of fight, asteroid continues its path

Y/n gasped when Bakugo’s hand squeezes hers reassuringly. She slouched over, putting her head on his shoulder.

“It should have always been like this,”

“What?” She didn’t look up at him, “The world suddenly ending?”

“No,” he rested his head on top of hers, “Us together.”

A bittersweet smile pulled on her lips. “You’re wrong.” A million memories flashed through her eyes, “We never would have worked. We’re too much together, too much push and too much pull. We were never meant to love one another.”

He bit his bottom lip- “You really think that? There was never a way we could have been together?”

Y/n paused- “Maybe when the world is ending?”

Bakugo chuckled, his eyes crinkling. “God- I love you,” he said it breathily, filled with so much emotion and adoration. Y/n froze and sat up, looking him in the eyes.

I love you.

“I have to tell you something,”

This can’t be the end,

“and I’m so fucking sorry,”

I should have seen this coming-

“but I’m pregnant.” 

Misery’s Tango

Fandom: Bnha / Mha Paring:  B. Katsuki x Reader Rating: 14+ Words: 1k28 Warning: Swearing, Alcohol, reference to sex, a little spicy dancing, mentions of bruises/ implied manhandling A/n: A short drabble for two lovers meeting again, dealing with the love they ended and can never get back

Dorris Day was officially getting old. The second her song started the ballroom was filled with partners gazing into each others eyes with a sickening form of endearment. It made her want to puke.

The Hero’s Gala was an annual event that served to honor the brave protectors of Japan and thank them for their hard work, presenting awards and opportunities. Y/n used to love going- getting dolled up to dance her feet raw with a prince charming she’d never meet again. She adored it really, every second was a dream to her.

Now, though, she felt cold. Her beautiful designer dress had been the talk of the night, the well-placed slit and plunging neckline had shaped her as a goddess, but it did nothing to protect her from the chill of the air. 

She swirled her red wine around her glass and tried to think of how many she could drink to heat her up but stay presentably sober. The sudden drop of a suit deep grey jacket around her shoulders jolted her back to awareness, and her face softened at the new company. 

Awkwardly standing next to her but not meeting her eyes, Bakugou scowled. “You’re such a dumbass. It’s the middle of winter and you didn’t bring a fucking jacket.”

She smiled softly and purely at the flush dancing along his cheekbones, “It’s been a long time, Katsuki.”

He hid the sudden hiss he released upon hearing his first name from her crimson lips, pretending not to melt at the way they shaped around the symboles. “Y/n.” Bakugou was breathless, whispering her name like a prayer to the goddess of life, begging for a moment longer to keep the atmosphere as elegant and familiar as it was.

“You look good.”

Her smile struck him in the soul, and he tried not to cry as she repositioned her body to face towards him- a habit she’d picked up when they were dating. It made him feel so important, like he was her sun. 

“So do you.”

Y/n fought to keep the pleasant upturn of her lips, but his strained voice was enough to make her cry. Still, he did look good. He’d cut his hair- shaved the sides while the top was fluffed back. He looked more than good, he looked heavenly. 

She blinked openly at the upward placed hand in front of her, blinking at Katsuki. She waited until he spoke- “Let’s dance?”

Say yes he wanted to cry. Dance with me, let me hold you- let me pretend for just a little longer.  He was sure he only needed one more second, one more night for it to be okay. Just one more hit of her addictive smile, her haze of affection, the high off her lips- just one more time and he’d quit for good. 

A bigger smile pulled on her lips and Bakugou suddenly couldn’t breathe- “I’d love to.” 

The sudden upturn of music didn’t go unnoticed- as their song started to play. Sway had been the first song they danced to together. A college party they were both a little too friendly at. 

Taking her place in front of him with her back turned- her breath hitched as one of his hands settled on her waist. The trumpets sounded off as they began moving- her hands drifting from his neck to his hair, trying to distract herself from his touch. 

Stepping in line with one another, Bakugou tried not to cry as her nails scrapped dully at the nape of his neck. The music worked up to signal the dip Y/n swooped into- clenching her eyes shut to stop herself from reacting to the hot breath against her neck. 

Pulling her up, Y/n twisted into a spin remaining connected only to his fingers. Tugging gently, he guided her back against him as they waltz across the dance floor. 

His eyes were blown with desire, his hands moving against the jacket he draped around her- regretting putting that layer between his hands and Y/n’s skin. 

I’m going to die here. Y/n’s eyes were glazed over as she fought to control her breathing, failing pathetically. He entangled his fingers into her hair as he swooped her backwards- a reminder of how flexible she was. 

Relying purely on muscle memory, Bakugou was taking in every moment he could- not wasting a single second. The music filled the air- the eyes surrounding them were unnoticed as the pair moved together. 

When Y/n’s leg wrapped around his a deep and craving moan came from his throat. He lifted her up across his chest as the dance called for, moving his hand a little higher than necessary- completely worth it for the whimper he received in return.

Each step was a moment closer together- each twirl an act of devotion. Like the sun and moon they circled each other. Like Hades and Persephone they doted on their affection, only to be separated at a moment’s notice. Like Icarus, Bakugou moved closer to his light. Like Catherine, Y/n felt her soul once again join with its identity. 

But the sun melted his wings, and Heathcliff was left without her. The song ended with them against each other- panting and delirious. Their eyes were locked and, just for a second, Katuski leaned down for a kiss. 

“Bakubro.” Eijiro’s voice called out rapidly approaching the frozen pair. Was that disappointment in her eyes? He wondered.

“Y/n/n!” Momo smiled pleasantly, wrapping her arm around Y/n’s. 

They were ripped apart by their worried friends, and, while they both knew it was for the best, they couldn’t help but look over their shoulders.

Could we have worked out? Y/n would think during her hot bath when the night was over- her hair in a bun and feet kicked up against the rim, a familiar crimson wine in her hand. 

What did we give up? Not even Kirishima could pull Bakugou from his thoughts that night, as he drowned himself in ‘what if’s’ and ‘could have been’s.’

Their love was fated for tragedy- romance painted from bruised skin and regret-soaked pillows. A tragedy, Y/n mused as she settled into her plush comforter, how melodramatic.

The Passing Of Time.

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summary: midoriya izuku has always pushed himself to his limits and still believes he could have done more. the world should have known not to give the anxious perfectionist an immortality quirk. cw: crude language and gestures, assault, violence with a minor, violence of a minor, minor character death, domestic violence, discrimination, manipulation, weapons, quirk-flighting, body gore, psychological horror, death (sometimes), alcohol, suggestive themes, morally ambiguous decisions an. okey forget the winter celebration, when have I ever followed through with those? Enjoy this piece of work instead :)

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Boku no hero academia. Think Of Loss And I Can Only Think Of You.

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They saw the world began with a bang and ended in silence. Izuku laid in his hospital bed, sterile but scented of pine. The soft lights only serving to dramatize the shadows on his face. The beeping of the heart-moniker was typically incredibly grounding, but the old hero could barely even hear it anymore.

He took a steadying breath as he rose his shaky hand. "You're such a kind girl."

They also say you shouldn't get hung up on your regrets when you're settling, and Izuku's lucky he didn't regret much. He spend his living desperate for more and never full, constantly giving his all so he'd know for sure he did all he could. He only regrets what he didn't know, and poor Eri having to face so much almost tore him apart.

"Nii-san?" A woman's voice chimed from the door, "I'm so sorry, there was so much traffic and then a crowd formed so I just started running and I, and I-"

"Eri?" He filled with confusion and horror, head snapping to the white-haired girl on his other side, is it Toga? But he only sees a nervous smile.

"Jiji," the girl calls him, crawling up against Izuku's solid frame. Eri's daughter, Shōtoki, so sweet and so kind, "I love you."

"I love you to, little one."

Eri sat by his bed and took his hand, squeezing gently and holding on while she joined the two in bed. He's glad he worked so hard, he wasn't sure if the big bed was a number-one-hero exclusive or not but he was grateful.

He was glad his girls could find comfort from him once more, and he prayed to whatever God was above that it would be enough.

"Thank you, Nii-san. For everything."

"Oh Eri, don't you see?" Izuku heaved a breath and stroked her hair to cover it. "It was all for you."

He took a breath in and it caught sharply in his chest, he went to cough but stopped himself. Shō-chan had fallen asleep against him. He shut his jaw and felt moisture gather in his eyes from the pressure beneath his chest.

Izuku closes his eyes and rests his arms around his girls. He thinks of the arms which would wrap around him, and he smiles. It's been a good life. He's warm, he feels his muscles relax in a way he hasn't known since he was far too young; he falls.

.

"What about you, Midoriya-Chan?"

He looked up and saw a young women smiling encouragingly down at him. "Excuse-me?"

"Have you gotten your quirk yet?"

He quickly glanced around and took in his criss-crossed form sitting on a colorful carpet around eleven or so small children. Probably five or six if he's guessing.

He's in a classroom he guesses, a warm one filled with windows displaying the green court-yard. "Why am I here?" Because honest to God he couldn't remember. It reminds him of when he was in his eighties and began to forget how to get places. He remembers how terrified Shoto was when he found him. He wished Shoto was still alive to find him again.

Wait.

Alive?

Izuku was pretty sure that boat had sailed in a warm hospital bed with the first person who ever made him feel like a hero, and his lovely grand daughter. How the fuck is he here?

"It's okay if you haven't, Izuku. If you didn't hear, many of your classmates haven't gotten their quirks yet either."

As if remembering himself, he managed out an "A-ah."

"Katsuki-kun?"

"Not yet," a little boy grumbled behind him.

Midoriya snapped fully behind him to face the boy. "Kaachan?"

"What the fuck did you call me?!" There he was, in an orange t-shirt and blue denim shorts. Wide eyes he hasn't grown out of and an innocence of sorts shines in his anger.

"Kaachan?" He couldn't believe it. Right there, sat behind him, is a very very young Bakugou Katsuki. How is this possible? "I'm so fucking confused."

"Huuh?!" The boy cried, looking incredulously at the teacher as if waiting for her support.

"Boys!" She scolded instead. "That language is entirely inappropriate!"

Izuku watched her face flush red and he thinks Oh, she's laughing.

"Now go stand in the hall while I have the secretary call your mothers!"

Izuku looks at her and looks back at super-young Kaachan, and realizes he isn't really looking down at super-young Kaachan. In fact, when the blond stands he's significantly taller than him.

Izuku shoots up onto his feet and immediately wants to curl up into a ball and die on the spot. He's super-young Izuku.

He watches the other boy take him in- obviously pissed at being two inches shorter- and dismisses him. He stares when young-Kaachan roll his eyes and walk past him.

"What the fuck."

"Midoriya Izuku!" The teacher gasped, "Outside, right now."

Izuku looked over to her and sighed. "Alright."

He hears Bakugou quickly shuffle away from the door when he gets closer. He rounds the corner and it's insane. He can't understand it. He walks to the opposite side of Bakugou and slides down the wall to the floor.

"You have to crouch dipshit." The angry boy scoffed.

Izuku looked up but only saw the boy glaring down at nothing in the hall. "What year is it?"

"What?"

"What year are we in?"

He watches the boy burn a bright scarlet. "I don't fucking know!"

Izuku watches the boy and begins to smile. How many times had 'angry Kaachan' really been 'embarrassed Kacchan'?

"That's alright. How old are you?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?" He whined.

"Do you not know?"

"I'm six, asshole!"

"Bakugou Katsuki! I sent you out here because of your language! Nd I come out here just to hear that; what are you thinking?"

"Oh no, I'm sorry," Midoriya turned towards the teacher, "I provoked him that time. My apologize."

"That time?" He outraged.

"Thank you, Midoriya-kun, but that's besides the point. Your mothers will be here after school so come back in and join the rest of the class.

Bakugou scurried in and Izuku managed to spot the tips of his ears being to redden. What on earth am I going to do?

With little else to do Izuku spent his time thinking. In that time he realized he had a few choices. He's obviously back in his five year old body, small and fragile and quirkless. Only he has no clue how.

It makes no sense. Izuku's around ninety eight percent sure he died- not a hundred because he's never done it before. But now he's back, and he's younger than he remembers.

He's gone over the options: he thought first he may have been victim to a quirk attack and he just hadn't noticed, but Deku is old now. A monument for history, of course, but beyond his years in more ways than one. After he turned ninety five the attacks stopped coming. It's been a while since then, Izuku mused sparing a glance at the boy in front of him.

Then he considered that this was another trick of one-for-all; another underlying quirk. Izuku's lips quirked up into a smile when his brain whispered that it may be the first users quirk which remained undiscovered. That idea was let go of; he knew all the users and their quirks.

Izuku sat in the empty hallway, contemplating the surreal nature of his current predicament. The memories of a life fully lived, of battles fought, and of loved ones lost weighed heavily on his mind. How could he be back in his younger body? Was this a second chance, a cosmic glitch, or something else entirely?

"What is going on?" he wondered, rubbing his temples as he tried to make sense of the situation. His thoughts drifted to the last moments of his previous life, the hospital room, and the quiet acceptance of a life well-lived. This new beginning, in the body of a child, left him with more questions than answers.

As he sat in the hallway, Izuku observed the bustling school life around him. The vibrant energy of children, the sound of laughter, and the scent of freshly cleaned classrooms—all were familiar yet distant. There was this sweetness in the air.

He noticed the younger versions of familiar faces, like the fiery Katsuki Bakugou who was now just a child, unaware of all that came, all that would come.

"How can I navigate this world again, knowing what I know now?" His eyes traced the movements of the children, soft and clumsy.

"If you're done with the disruptions, your classmates are waiting for you to join them."

"Yes ma'am," Izuku replied diligently, smiling softly when Kaachan scoffed and walked right past her, muttering a small "Yes, Ms. Teacher," when he entered.

Walking to his seat, Izuku couldn't stop stealing glances at himself every chance he got. In the windows, his calculator, the screen's reflection, it was addicting. The small, innocent version of Izuku, oblivious to the complexities of the future, sat there like an unblemished canvas.

He couldn't help but recal the issues he faced as a kid, the fragility he was treated with when first diagnosed. The thought of reliving those formative years brought a mix of nostalgia and uncertainty.

As the day unfolded, Izuku found himself daydreaming. How could he best navigate this second chance at childhood? What choices could he make to ensure a positive impact on those around him? What choices could he make from a moral stand point? The idea of molding the future subtly crossed his mind.

"Maybe I can influence them for the better without altering the course of history too much," he considered. Images of bright red eyes flashed in his mind, followed quickly by many more. The responsibility of knowing the potential outcomes of his actions weighed on him, but it also presented an opportunity to shape a brighter future.

A pencil fell and Izuku picked it up, placing it on the desk next to him. Kacchan nodded a thank you at him and his resolve hardened- I'm going to do everything I can.

.

As the school bell rang, Izuku stepped out into the warm afternoon sunlight, his small backpack slung over one shoulder. The familiar sights and sounds of children playing filled the air, and he couldn't help but marvel at the simplicity of this childhood world; he didn't remember feeling care-free even at this age, but he wished he did. It was pretty here.

As he walked toward the school gate, his gaze drifted across the crowd of parents waiting to pick up their children. And then, his eyes caught on a figure that made his heart skip a beat—there she was.

She stood there, youthful and vibrant, a smile on her face as she chatted while scanning the crowd of children. Izuku's breath caught in his throat. It was her, unmistakably, but she was so much younger than he remembered. The grief he had carried from her tragic death in his previous life surged back, an unexpected wave of sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him.

His steps faltered for a moment, the weight of something pushing down hard on him. The reality of seeing his mother alive and well, after witnessing her death in his first life, was something he really should have predicted.

It made him feel like a bad son, to be brough back in time and not immediately think of his mom; the one who has been with him through everything.

Izuku approached her cautiously, unsure of how to begin. Would she recognize him in this younger form? Could he find the courage to tell her who he really was? The conflicting emotions swirled within him as he neared Inko.

His mother's eyes met his, and for a moment, there was a flicker of recognition. Her smile faltered slightly, as if sensing something familiar in the depths of those young eyes. Izuku felt a lump forming in his throat as he struggled to find the right words.

"Mom," he whispered, the word catching on the mix of emotions swelling inside him. The atmosphere around them seemed to shift, as if time itself were holding its breath.

His mother looked at him, a mixture of surprise and concern in her eyes. "Are you okay, dear? You look a bit... lost."

Izuku hesitated, his mind racing with the weight of the unspoken truth. How could he explain the complexities of his existence, the memories of a life that should have ended long ago? Instead, he opted for a simpler response.

"Yeah, just... a bit lost. It's been a strange day," he managed to say, forcing a small smile.

His mother's expression softened, and she reached out to gently touch his cheek. "Well, you're safe now. Let's head home, and maybe you can tell me all about your day."

As they walked away from the school grounds, Midoriya couldn't shake the haunting sense of déjà vu. He glanced back at the school, at the children playing, and at the woman beside him—the mother he thought he had lost forever. The mysteries of his second chance at life unfolded before him, and he knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges, revelations, and the opportunity to rewrite the narrative of his existence.

.

As Izuku stepped through the familiar doorway of the apartment he once called home, a flood of memories washed over him. The layout, the scent, the creak of the floorboards—all carried echoes of a life he had lived, died, and now found himself reliving.

"I'm home," he called lightly as he took off his shoes.

He took a moment in the entrance hall, surveying the surroundings with a mix of nostalgia and disorientation. The furniture looked smaller than he remembered, and the colors seemed brighter. The weight of the past pressed on him as he observed the framed photographs on the walls—a younger version of himself smiling with Inko, moments frozen in time.

Speaking of his mother, she quickly passed him and made her way into the kitchen, unaware of the complex emotions welling up within him. The clatter of pots and the aroma of a familiar dish being prepared filled the air. He hesitated before venturing further.

Gathering his courage, he entered the kitchen. Inko turned, her eyes lighting up with a warm smile. "Do you want to talk about your day while I get dinner ready to be put in the slow-cooker?" she asked, genuinely interested.

Izuku managed a smile, the weight of unspoken truths lingering beneath the surface. "It was... interesting," he replied, choosing his words carefully. He didn't want to burden her with everything, not yet.

Inko, always perceptive, studied his expression. "If anything's on your mind, you know you can talk to me, right?"

He nodded, appreciating the unconditional support that had been a constant in both of his lives. "Yeah, Mom. Thanks."

It was nice that some things would never change.

Throughout the evening, Izuku explored the house, retracing the familiar spaces that held so many memories. He glanced at the living room where family gatherings had taken place and the small garden on the patio where he had planted herbs with his mom as a child; only there was no garden when he looked.

"Where'd the garden go?" He muttered, stepping back inside.

"Y'know what? A little garden sounds lovely. We'll grow our own tomatoes and beans, and you'll help mama water them, won't you?"

Izuku looked up at her, startled. "Of course," he said with no hesitation.

He was rewarded with a gentle pat and an even softer smile. "My good boy."

In his bedroom, he found traces of the person he used to be—a collection of hero merchandise, sketches of his favorite characters, and the desk where he once dreamed of becoming a hero. It was a surreal experience, like stepping into a time capsule. In another way it was like those moments-before-a-disaster clips. It was harrowing.

The out-of-place feeling lingered, so Izuku figured there was nothing to do but put on his pajamas and go to sleep.

.

"Izu, dinners ready," Inko knocked lightly before opening the door. She smiled, seeing her little boy in his Allmight onesie all curled up under the covers.

"You must have really had a hard first day, huh kiddo."

She nudged his shoulder lightly, "Time to eat, baby."

"Mm," he murmured before snapping his eyes open. "I'm up!"

"Ha!" Inko called, "Slow down, love. No where to be but the kitchen table."

She watched his wide little eyes as he nodded, but still her stomach churned just the slightest bit when the pools of green looked back. "I'll meet you out there."

Once Inko left the room, Izuku finally stood. He'd thought he'd be more comfortable after a nap, but waking up to his mom set off his 'something's wrong' alarm. The nausea would pass.

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a.n.

I hope you all liked it! This is not my typical beat but it just seemed to flow, y'know? Ttyl <3

Helloooo! Are you gonna continue “chains”? I really want to read it ^^

Yes I am!! It’s currently a wip but I’m almost ready to publish the first section! Thank you all so much for your questions about Chains, it really makes all the work feel worth it <3

“I grasp my hair with fervor; for it is the only part of me I can touch and believe it belongs to someone else.”