Reason #3 | N. Monoma

errr if i posted writing would u guys like that or should i do smaus only….

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.

december, again | d. kaminari

you wrote "december, again" about heartbreak. you didn't expect to meet someone who'd sing every word back like he'd lived it too.

the green room was quiet—dim and humming with low light, the scent of hot tea and stage dust clinging to the corners. you sat cross-legged on the worn velvet couch, cradling a chipped mug between your palms, listening to the soft static of the soundcheck being patched through the in-ear monitors coiled beside you.

your guitar sat in its stand nearby, already tuned, the strap worn from years of shows and nerves. you had done this so many times before—but tonight felt different.

tokyo was the biggest venue on the tour so far. a full room. a sold-out show. an unfamiliar city and a familiar ache in your chest. you'd played coffee shops, tiny festival tents, even the occasional college auditorium—but this was your first international stage, and the butterflies were relentless.

you glanced at your phone, already on do not disturb, but still lit up with a few unread messages. one was from your tour manager. one from your sister. and one, tucked between them, was a twitter notification.

@lightningmcme

im the guy in the front row screaming every word. respectfully

you smiled without meaning to. your thumb hovered over the screen for a second longer than necessary, rereading the tweet. it was stupidly charming—just like all his other tweets.

you remembered him. the blonde with the ridiculous username. he'd been tweeting about your music for years. always saying something half-sincere and half-stupid, like your lyrics had personally destroyed him in the grocery store or that he'd cry if you ever released a deluxe version.

and he always meant it. every word.

you weren't supposed to follow fans back—not often, anyway. but his account had popped up more times than you could count. sweet. supportive. never creepy. just... soft.

so when you followed him and sent a quick thank you, you hadn't expected the all-caps panic or the flustered spiral of gratitude. you definitely hadn't expected to still be messaging him days later. he was funny. kind. endearingly honest. it was easy.

and now he was here. somewhere in that crowd. front row, he'd said. you hadn't looked yet. didn't dare. not until the lights hit you.

you pressed your hand to your chest, just for a second, trying to calm the stupid flutter that rose there.

"two minutes," someone called from the hallway.

you stood slowly, adjusting your mic pack, and reached for your guitar. as you walked toward the wings, the sounds of the crowd drifted in—laughter, chatter, low excitement building into something tangible. the air buzzed.

the lights backstage flickered as the crew called final cues. you did one last breath check, settled your fingers on the strings, and exhaled.

showtime.

the stage lights washed over you in a warm gold as you stepped out, your guitar slung across your shoulder. a hush fell over the audience, the kind that always made your heart beat a little harder.

"hi," you said into the mic, breath catching on the tail end of a smile. "i'm... really honored to be here tonight. i've been writing songs in my bedroom since i was sixteen, and somehow you all made it feel like something real."

soft cheers rippled through the audience. somewhere near the front, someone whooped.

you scanned the barricade briefly, and there he was—blond hair tousled, jacket sleeves rolled up to his elbows, absolutely beaming. he looked like he hadn't blinked since you walked onstage. mouth already forming the lyrics before you even began.

denki.

you felt a grin pull at your lips.

"this first song..." you said, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. "it's called 'december, again'. it's about holding onto something long after it's let go of you.

the opening chord rang clear. you let yourself fall into it.

i bought your favorite drink out of habit left it in the fridge 'til it went bad wore your sweater out in public just to see if anyone would ask

you sang like you were remembering every ache in real time. the lights were low and soft, like candlelight, and you could hear the audience singing with you.

your name still fits wrong in my mouth but it's the only thing i don't spit out

the lights dimmed slightly, drawing the audience closer. you caught sight of denki mouthing the words, his hands clasped against the barricade like he didn't trust himself not to float away.

it's december, again and i swore i'd be fine but the lights look like your headlights and the cold feels like that night when you left without saying goodbye and i still stand by the door like i'm waiting for you to come back in it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened

the audience went silent as you strummed your guitar. it was a silence that proved they were listening. really listening.

friends ask how i'm doing i lie like it's my second language there's still boxes in my closet of the pieces i can't manage

a girl in the third row wiped her eyes. you caught her movement out of the corner of your eye and softened your voice.

i sleep better with the TV on but you still show up when the volume's gone

it's december again and i swore i'd be fine but the lights look like your headlights and the cold feels like that night when you left without saying goodbye and i still stand by the door like i'm waiting for you to come back in it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened do you think of me at all? when it starts to snow when someone plays our song too slow i burned all the letters but not the words i still remember what i never heard

you opened your eyes again and let them rest on him. denki. he hadn't moved. his expression was soft, reverent, like he'd never seen anything more important than you at that moment.

it's december, again and the silence is loud you're still gone but i'm not proud of the way i keep breaking like it's some kind of vow and i still stand by the door like i don't know how this ends it's december, again and i'm missing you like it just happened

the last chord faded into a hush.

a beat of silence.

then the applause began—gentle, reverent. a swell of warmth.

you scanned the crowd.

denki was still at the barricade.

still glowing.

not in a flashy, spotlight kind of way—but in the way someone looks when they've found something they didn't know they needed.

you played the rest of your set like you were singing just for him.

⋆˙⟡

when you stepped offstage, your hands were still buzzing. you passed your guitar to one of the techs, accepted a bottle of water with shaking fingers, and headed straight for the security staff near the wing.

"hey," you said. "can i ask a favor?"

one of them looked up. "depends. how weird is it?" you smiled. "sweet blond boy. front row. looks like he sings along to everything even when he's about to cry. think you can bring him back here?"

the guy laughed. "yeah, i know exactly who you mean."

⋆˙⟡

denki didn't know how to move.

people were leaving. voices echoing. but he just stood there, staring at the empty stage like it still had something to give him.

he was pretty sure he hadn't blinked since you looked at him. actually looked at him. he had replayed it ten times in his head already. the exact second your gaze found his and you smiled.

his knees were weak.

and then a security guard was walking toward him.

"hey," the guy said. "you're the blond one, right? artist wants to see you backstage."

denki had exactly three brain cells functioning, and all of them screamed.

he followed the guard without speaking. his legs felt fake. his mouth was dry. this had to be a dream. it had to be.

backstage smelled like lights and sweat and something warm—something safe.

he tried not to trip over a cable as the door opened.

⋆˙⟡

you were curled up in a hoodie over your stage outfit, sat in a chair, when the door opened.

there he was.

golden and breathless and so clearly overwhelmed you almost stood up just to steady him.

"hi," you said, heart hammering. "denki, right?"

he nodded fast. too fast. "hi—yeah. yes. oh my god."

you laughed. "it's okay. you made it."

he blinked. "did i black out?"

"maybe a little."

you motioned for him to sit. he did. slowly. like it might be a trap.

"i just wanted to thank you," you said. "like i said, i've seen your tweets. your support. it's... it's meant more than you know."

denki looked like he might combust.

"i'm the one who's grateful," he said. "you wrote the soundtrack to my favorite breakdowns."

you grinned. "best compliment i've ever received."

there was a pause. something soft.

he glanced around, cheeks flushed. "this is... insane. you're, like, the reason i made it through last winter. that song? 'december, again'? i think i listened to it every day for two months. not even because i was heartbroken, i just—i don't know. it made me feel like i wasn't broken for feeling too much."

you blinked. slowly. carefully.

then denki tilted his head and said, "can i ask you something kind of personal?"

"sure," you said. "shoot."

"what got you into music?"

you smiled, soft and a little faraway. "i guess... i always felt a little too much. too loud in my head. writing was the only way i could let it out without exploding. and then one day, i put it to chords, and it stuck. it felt right. like i was finally telling the truth."

denki was quiet for a moment, like he didn't want to break the silence. then he said, "well, i'm really glad you did."

you looked at him, his wide eyes and messy hair and nervous energy. and then, without really thinking about it, you asked, "are you doing anything right now?"

he blinked. "me?"

you laughed. "yeah, you."

denki shook his head. "no, i... i mean, i was probably just gonna cry in a ramen shop alone about this whole night, so—"

"perfect," you cut in. "come cry in a ramen shop with me instead."

he stared. "wait. you're serious?"

"dead serious," you said. "you comin'?"

he nodded vigorously. "yes, of course."

you stood, grabbing your jacket. "cool. i know a good noodle spot. let's go, sweet blond boy from barricade."

and denki followed you out into the cold tokyo night, warm from something that had nothing to do with the stage lights.

and everything to do with you.

about the blog .ᐟ

requests: CLOSED

⭑ animanga content — mha, one piece, jjk and whatever else i find myself fixated on ⭑ i post smau's, fics, headcannons, and rambles ⭑ see rules before sending! ⭑ i am selective with requets ⭑ nsfw will be clearly tagged — minors, please scroll responsibly! ⭑ i use MEMI + chattales + twinote for smaus

updates when inspiration hits. or when i should be doing literally anything else

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.

hi hi hi! i saw ur kiri smau and why are we literally the same person MY HAIRS BLUE RN and i love changing my style and i love kiri! let's be friends pls!

OMG TWINN!!! i just dyed my hair blue recently and i love it soooo much 🙏🏼 but yessss let’s be friends!! (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

your ability to pump out fics is so inspiring I wanna be you when I grow up 🫣🫣🫣

thank you 😛

being unemployed really helps with the ability to get them out so fast LMFAOO

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????

Hihi!! U said ud like to start doing more writings rather than smaus, so I thought I’d leave u a writing request this time! Okay so picture this, it’s post-war with bakugou x mia!reader who was presumed dead but apparently was just stranded in the middle of nowhere (this part is kind of a plothole but if u could figure out something that would be sososo amazing!!) and after like 6 months finally reunite post-war?? Ofc take ur time and stay healthy author !! Love ur work !!<3333

six months too late | k. bakugo

bakugo thought you were gone. for six months, he lived with that weight. but fate had other plans—and now, you're standing right in front of him.

bakugo had never been good at dealing with grief.

anger? sure. fear? he could mask it. pain? he lived with that shit daily. but grief? real, soul-crushing loss that settled deep in his bones and refused to leave? that was different.

and it was eating him alive.

you had been gone for six months.

the war ended, but not without casualties. the city was rebuilding, heroes stretched thin trying to repair the damage. civilians were starting to feel safe again. life was moving on.

but bakugo couldn't.

because you weren't there.

no body. no trace. no closure.

just... gone.

they'd looked for you. he'd looked for you—refused to stop even after the others tried to tell him it was no use. rescue teams had combed through the rubble, searching collapsed buildings and debris for any sign of you. but all they ever found were reminders of how brutal the battle had been.

a boot. blood on the pavement.

but never you.

bakugo had stood there, watching as they cleared the wreckage, hands clenched into fists so tight his nails left crescent moons in his palms. he didn't speak. didn't move.

he didn't cry.

because if he did—if he let that crack form even for a second—he wouldn't survive it.

he stopped saying your name after the first month.

it hurt too much.

everyone could see it. he wasn't the same.

bakugo still trained with the same intensity, still went through the motions of being a hero-in-training, but the fire was gone. his explosions felt duller. his anger, less controlled.

the dorms were quieter without you. your laugh used to echo through the hallways, bright and infectious. you'd tease him relentlessly, calling him out on his bullshit with that signature grin he pretended to hate.

now? silence.

even his friends had stopped trying to get him to talk about it. they didn't ask how he was doing anymore—probably because they knew the answer.

shitty.

he was doing shitty.

bakugo didn't sleep much anymore.

every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

not the way he wanted to remember you—smiling, happy, calling him an idiot when he tried to act cool.

no.

he saw you in that moment.

the war. the smoke. the chaos.

"get out of here!" you'd screamed, shoving him back, your eyes wide with desperation. "go, bakugo!"

he didn't listen. he never would.

but then—the explosion.

a flash of light. a deafening roar.

and you were gone.

bakugo woke up most nights with his heart pounding, breath ragged as he reached for something—someone—who wasn't there.

his bed was cold. the dorm was quiet.

and you were still gone.

he should've been there. should've done something. should've protected you.

bakugo had played that moment over in his head a thousand times, wondering where it went wrong. how he let you slip away. how he—of all people—had failed to save the one person he couldn't live without.

six months. that's how long it had been.

life didn't wait for grief to pass. UA moved forward. class 1-a graduated and stayed on as provisional heroes to assist with the rebuilding efforts. the dorms weren't as chaotic anymore. they were quiet. colder. bakugo still trained like his life depended on it. he threw himself into work with relentless determination, trying to drown out the ache that never went away. his body was exhausted, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness that gnawed at him from the inside.

kirishima watched him with worried eyes. mina tried to get him to open up, but he brushed her off. kaminari—even kaminari—stopped cracking jokes about "grumpy bakugo" because this... this wasn't just grumpiness. this was grief. and no one knew how to fix it.

bakugo didn't say it out loud, but he had given up. he stopped checking the reports. stopped listening when the search teams gave their updates. stopped hoping. because hoping hurt too much.

it was a random afternoon when everything changed. the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the UA campus. bakugo was heading back to the dorms after another grueling training session, his body sore and his mind numb. he was used to this feeling by now—the hollow ache in his chest that never fully went away.

but then—

"bakugo." the voice was soft. almost too soft. his brain didn't register it at first. it couldn't.

"katsuki."

that voice. his heart stopped.

slowly, like he was afraid moving too fast would break the fragile illusion, he turned around. and there you were. standing a few feet away, looking tired, worn, and a little worse for wear. but alive.

alive.

bakugo didn't move. didn't breathe.

"hey," you said, voice barely above a whisper, like you weren't sure he'd even want to see you.

bakugo's knees nearly gave out.

"holy shit," he breathed, his voice cracking as his feet finally moved. he stumbled forward like a man possessed, eyes locked on you as if he was afraid you'd disappear again if he blinked.

you didn't move. didn't speak. and then—you were in his arms.

bakugo crushed you against his chest, arms wrapped around you so tightly it was like he was trying to make sure this was real—that you were real.

"you're..." his voice broke, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like it would anchor him to reality. "you're real."

"i'm real," you murmured, your voice trembling as you clung to him just as desperately. "i'm here, katsuki."

bakugo's body shook. "where the fuck were you?" his voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "do you know how long i—"

"i know," you whispered, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands. "i know. i'm so sorry, katsuki."

his eyes were glassy, filled with too many emotions to name. anger. relief. pain. love.

"i thought..." his voice trailed off, and his grip on you tightened. "i thought i lost you."

"you didn't," you smiled, pressing your forehead against his. "i'm here now. i'm not going anywhere."

"swear it." his voice was barely audible, but the desperation in it was palpable.

"i swear."

bakugo's lips crashed against yours. it wasn't gentle. it was raw, desperate—a collision of lips and teeth and everything he'd been holding back for six long months. he kissed you like he was trying to make up for every second you'd been gone, like he was terrified this was still a dream. but you kissed him back just as fiercely.

and for the first time in six months, bakugo katsuki could breathe again.

you didn't talk about it right away. the first night, you stayed curled up in his bed, wrapped in his arms like he was afraid to let go. bakugo didn't sleep—just held you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin, grounding himself in the steady rise and fall of your breathing. he didn't ask where you'd been. didn't ask how you survived. because right now? none of that mattered.

you were here. that was all that mattered.

days passed before you could bring yourself to tell him. about how the explosion had thrown you so far, so fast, that no one thought to look beyond the city. how you'd been buried under debris, barely clinging to life, until a group of villagers in a remote area found you and nursed you back to health.

how you'd spent every waking moment after that trying to get back to him.

"i tried, katsuki," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you sat on his bed, hands trembling in his. "i tried to come back."

"i know."

bakugo's thumb brushed over your knuckles, his touch gentle despite the storm in his eyes.

"i didn't mean to leave you."

"i know."

his jaw clenched, and he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. "you're not leaving again."

"i'm not."

"swear it."

"i swear."

bakugo kissed you again, slower this time, softer—like he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. and for the first time in six months, he wasn't holding onto a ghost.

you stayed by his side after that. bakugo didn't sleep alone anymore. every night, he fell asleep with his arms around you, grounding himself in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. and every morning, when he woke up and saw you there—he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay again.

it wasn't easy. some days were harder than others. but you were there.

and bakugo?

he wasn't letting go this time.

not now. not ever.

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