Various BNHA X Fem Reader.
Sorta ocish character.
White hair and blue eyes.
Where an inauspicious girl meets her doom and ultimately gets transported into the chaos of My Hero Academia.
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BEING IN LOVE WITH A GIRL who would never love you back was a silent kind of agony, the kind that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed until you forgot how to breathe.
Yaoyorozu Momo knew this pain intimately, had lived with it like an old wound that refused to heal. Because she was in love—with you, Aizawa [Name].
The girl with sea-blue eyes that shimmered like sunlight on water. The girl whose white hair caught in the wind like threads of silver, always a step ahead, always just out of reach. The girl who was strong, untouchable, fierce in battle, and yet so impossibly kind. The girl who made Momo's stomach tighten, her hands tremble, her heart race like a war drum in her chest.
You were a storm and a sanctuary all at once. The fire to her steel, the offensive brilliance to her defensive strategy. You challenged her, pushed her, stood beside her, and before Momo even realized it, she had begun to compete—not just for power, not just for the top ranks at U.A., but for your heart. A competition she had already lost before she had even begun.
She had confessed once. In the midst of lunch, voice steady but hands clenched beneath the table, her pulse hammering against her skin. She had barely finished saying the words when you looked at her with something unreadable in those endless blue eyes and shook your head.
"Momo, I... I don't—"
That was all it took. A rejection so soft it could've been a whisper in the wind, but it shattered her all the same.
She smiled through it, pretended it didn't crush her, swallowed the pain down until it was nothing but a dull ache she carried with her wherever she went. And things remained normal—because you made them normal. You, with your effortless grace, your bright, carefree demeanor, never letting anything turn awkward, as if Momo's confession had never happened at all.
And so, she told herself to move on. More preferably to a boy. Someone who could pull her away from this cruel, unattainable hope. Someone who could make her feel the way you did.
But she couldn't. Because every time you laughed, something inside her broke. Every time you trained together, every time you stood shoulder to shoulder, every time you turned and called her name with that easy smile—Momo felt her resolve slip through her fingers like grains of sand.
