Pro-Hero Deku, Japan's Symbol of Peace, was labeled a selfless man. He dedicated all of his life to saving others and bringing peace into a crime-riddled world. Everyone and everything loved him. They had to.
Even you did.
But what about Izuku Midor...
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Midoriya x Reader, Bakugou x Reader (eventually/partially)
WORD COUNT: 6,937 words
TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, alcohol abuse, mentions of alcohol poisoning, addiction(s), panic attacks, spiraling, unhealthy habits, poor mindset, depression, unstable mental health, mentions of a mental hospital, mentions of insanity, reader & bakugou & midoriya are childhood best friends, frequent mentions of midoriya (though little actual interaction between him and the reader), cursing, miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff (somewhat, i tried, i swear), mentions and description of horrible family past and toxic friends, memories (good and bad), reader's solitude from others, ominous voice(s) in reader's head, suicide, manga spoilers, mutual pining, midoriya being blind to emotions, Bakugou being observant, cliffhanger
Please be cautious while reading this, majority of the content written about is considered heavily triggering to many. Please take a look at all warnings before proceeding (with caution). If you are struggling with any of the topics discussed, please seek professional help. It will get better.
BEWARE ALL READERS: PROCEED WITH CAUTION. DARK CONTENT AHEAD.
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One last time, you promised to yourself as you laid flat on your bed, body sinking into the mattress. The exhaustion of your previous activities bled through the remnants of your remaining adrenaline, the pain settling deep within your heart and bones.
This is the last time.
Did it really count as a promise if there was no one else but yourself to keep it and hold yourself accountable? Promises were meant to be held by two different souls— whether it be with another person, an animal (such as pet or that random squirrel you kept on seeing in your backyard), or even a stuffed animal (those beady eyes were always judging people, you knew it). Nevertheless, promises still and always required another party.
"Maybe the mind counts as another soul," you mumbled tiredly. Turning your head, the bright and bloody digital clock read "2:37 AM." There was no point in arguing with yourself now.
