#excuse the lack of masks i want to draw eyes thx | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

groundzerobakugo · 5 years

Note

hey there! I have another request of a shinsou x reader- basically; reader is always drawing during class- and after school ends she’s painting in the art room. Shinsou always sees her after training when he passes the art room and watches her for a few minutes- and one day she notices him. They start to talk everyday(art,quirk,etc) until one day she’s not there because something happened; add your plot twist! angst maybe? sorry for sending in so many requests,but thx for working on them! 🖤❤️🖤

i’m doing this one right now because i have a really really good idea bc you said angst and i’ve got a GREAT idea for this. hang on tight heart anon

...

your paintbrush glided over the canvas, a mixed hue of purple and blue merging together to create the perfect shade of indigo you were hoping for. the tip of your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you worked on the new painting, the faint line of your sketch barely visible.

even though you were in japan’s number one hero academy (the general education, at least), art had always been a small escape for you with the stressful events that happened at school. it was one of the ways to efficiently communicate with your quirk, too. you could see small glimpses into the future, and you drew out your visions before you forgot them.

you were never seen without a sketchpad in your hands, and paint somehow always seemed to get into your hair.

it took a moment before you realized you were sketching a pair of eyes, gazing at you through the paper. you could have sworn you’d seen those eyes before. you ran a hand through your locks, a bit of indigo color painting your (hair color) strands. it was just about time to head back to the dorms, so you would have to leave your work as it was. though, the only vision you’d had were those indigo eyes.

you turned in your seat, eyes catching something in the window if the classroom door as you did so. you did a double take, but when you had looked again, no one was there.

shinsou hitoshi left the training room with aching muscles and bruised limbs. he wasn’t good enough to beat his new mentor, but he could tell he was getting better with the restraining clothes. perhaps he’d place within the top three at the next festival, given he was allowed to use them.

he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his uniform slacks with a sigh. he passed by one of the open classrooms, peering into the room for a moment before he stopped. no matter how many times he watched the girl from his class draw, he was always hypnotized to stop and watch her work. they were impressive, and he wanted to know what made her draw what she did.

last week, he’d even saw her draw what he believed were his eyes. he was sure he was the only one in yuuei with his eye color, and somehow the girl had gotten the shade exactly right.

he took a closer look, teetering within the entrance of the classroom as he watched her paint with tired eyes. it was another painting, one that his tired mind couldn’t process was him again, leaning in that very doorway.

you could feel holes burn into your back as you worked, and you took a nonchalant glance at the clock above you. “i still have ten minutes left, snipe-sensei, i--” you turned, words catching in your throat as you noticed it wasn’t the art teacher.

he hadn’t even noticed you staring at him at first, his eyes trained on the drawing.

“shinsou-san?” your head tilted with confusion.

said boy jumped and his eyes came back into focus. “oh, sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude, (last name)-san.”

a smile graced your lips, and you shook your head. “it’s okay, i’m just not used to an audience,” you laughed. you looked back to your painting, and then back to shinsou with your mouth agape. “uh, s-sorry about that. i just--it’s part of my quirk.”

shinsou’s brows furrowed. “huh?” he stepped in and got a closer look at the drawing, now realizing it was him. “oh, it’s me. you’re a really good artist.”

you blushed. “th-thanks.”

“you said it was part of your quirk?” he asked.

“yeah, i-i can see glimpses of the future,” you replied. “but, it’s like dreaming. if i don’t draw it out right away, i’ll forget about it. you know?”

he didn’t, but he still nodded. “that’s pretty cool.”

“mhm!” you beamed. “but snipe usually kicks me out of the art room around, well, now. are you headed back to the dorms?”

“yeah, just finished with training,” he said.

“wanna walk back with me?” you asked, beginning to put away the art supplies and clean up your mess.

the boy smiled, “sure.”

it had become routine for you and shinsou to meet up after school, sometimes even at lunch or during homeroom before your teacher showed up. he would go to training and then head to the art room right after to walk with you back to the dorms. it turned out, you two shared the same sense of humor, and while he was the serious one--though, more tired than anything--you were always pretty bubbly and happy in his eyes.

you enjoyed the hero-in-training’s company immensely. you thought he was interesting and the drive for becoming a pro-hero even more than any of the other hero course kids’ stories you’d heard. you’d grown accustomed to meeting him in the lunch room and walking back to the dorms with him. most times he even helped you with your homework. the last bit helped a lot, seeing as you were almost too busy sketching during class due to your quirk.

and through your constant meetings and relatively new friendship with shinsou, you’d started to develop feelings. it may have been too soon, but his dedication to becoming a hero and his eyes and the way his personality meshed so well with yours, well... you could feel yourself falling for him and his indigo eyes.

you sat in the art room with a blank canvas in front of you. an assortment of colors was laid out on the easel, and you expertly mixed a light hue of indigo together. it started as light, short brush strokes against the paper, and you added bits of red to the mix.

shinsou stood in the doorway once more as he came back early from aizawa’s training. he wasn’t sure what you were painting that day, but he knew that he enjoyed seeing how your eyes glazed over while you painted your visions.

“it looks like a flower,” he commented as he noticed you put the paintbrush down. somehow, the boy knew when and when not to disrupt you, and he would always wait until you finish with your art to start talking.

you nodded. “it’s called an anemone flower, i think. i’ve seen it a few times, and that rarely happens with visions.”

“what’s the red?” he asked, taking a closer look.

to that, you shrugged. “not too sure. it’s about the same color as blood, but i’m sure it’s part of the flower. they come in many different colors, so i wouldn’t be surprised.”

he hummed. “well, it’s pretty either way. you ready to go?”

“just give me a second to clean up,” you replied.

“sounds good, i’ll be waiting outside.” and the indigo-haired boy left the room.

you had just twisted the cap back onto one of the tubes of paint when you felt a dry itch at the back of your throat. you took a quick swig of your water before returning back to cleaning up once again. but, the water hadn’t helped, and you coughed a few times, trying to clear the itch. maybe you were just getting sick.

you closed your sketchbook and reached to slip in back into your backpack when you were met with a rack of coughs. the air grew thin as you hacked your lungs out, your eyes watering with the intensity and lack of air. you could feel something climb up your throat, and you rushed over to the trashcan. doubling over as you began to taste something sickly sweet on your tongue.

petals filtered through your mouth, their lilac tone tainted with a deep red. there were a couple dozen in the trashcan when the coughing fit finally subsided enough for you to regain your composure. they were wet and wilted from saliva, and your eyes widened upon the sight.

you wiped your mouth, shaking your head and trying to put the discovery to the back of your mind. maybe it was some new bug going around, as weird as it was. people had superpowers and you went to superhero school, coughing up flower petals couldn’t be that weird. it would probably go away in a few days.

it didn’t. a week had passed, and you had finally gained enough courage to look up what was wrong with you--hanahaki disease. a disease in which a person coughs up flower petals due to unrequited love. it had progressively gotten worse too, as the days went by.

you had taken to wearing a surgical mask, and often had to be excused to use the restroom and cough up the petals. bags under your eyes had started to form, too, due to the lack of sleep from waking up in the middle of the night. not to mention, with the flowers growing in your lungs, you could hardly breathe anymore during physical education.

shinsou was growing worried, too. your demeanor was slowly deteriorating into a shell of what you used to be. you told him it was just a sickness, that it shouldn’t last long. but, with the bags under your eyes getting darker with each day, enough to rival his own, and the hollowing of your cheeks (it’s a little hard to eat when you couldn’t breath), he was just about ready to drag you to recovery girl himself.

aizawa had dismissed him early once more, and he made his way to the art room again. but, to his surprise, it was empty. he was sure he’d seen you during class that day, and you didn’t say anything about needing to go anywhere after classes had ended. did he forget something? maybe you’d texted him earlier, which would be a shame since his phone had died earlier that day.

he walked back to the dorms alone, worry pooling in his gut.

everyone stared at his lone figure when he got in the door, and he shot them a look to mind their own business. so, they took to mumbling amongst themselves as he thought curiously to himself. he was tired and sore, but he wanted to check to see if you were okay. something wasn’t sitting right with him; your sudden absence from the art room had to be because of the new illness you had.

shinsou’s knuckles rapped against your door, the faint sounds of music coming from your room. he stood in the middle of the hallway awkwardly with his eyes shifting to your door, down to the elevator, back to your door, to his shoes, up at the ceiling, back to your door. he shuffled on his feet slightly, knocking once again.

“(name)?” he called.

he heard clambering footsteps thud against the flooring, and then your door swung open with your tired smile poking through. “oh, shinsou-kun, hey.”

he returned an unsure smile. “hey, you okay? you weren’t in the art room today.”

you nod quickly, “yeah, sorry about that, i tried to text you.”

“phone’s dead,” he replied. he was about to say something else, but the sight of a lone, indigo hue dipped in deep red caught his eye, the petal tangled in your hair. “what’s that?”

“hmm?” your brows furrowed.

shinsou reached a hand to your hair, plucking the petal from the strands. “is this... a flower petal? like the one you drew a couple months ago?”

“uh, n-no! it’s-it’s from, uh, an art project i’m working on,” you mustered up a wide grin. “sorry, uh, did-did you need something, by the way? i--” you coughed into your hands, and you could felt the stems tangle in your lungs, suffocating you slowly as the flower petals blocked your airways. “s-sorry,” you choke out. “i-i--” another cough, and you could feel the faint tickle of the bitter tasting petals crawl up your throat.

you wheezed and dashed off to your bathroom. shinsou stood with worried eyes right outside your door; he only hesitated for a moment before running after you.

he saw your form doubled over the white, porcelain toilet, your arms quivering as you gripped the sides tightly. the coughing sounded painful, and the boy found himself wincing slightly. he could hear your slight wheeze as you cough, but it sounded... wet, like you’re almost throwing up. he grabbed a fistful of your hair and twirled it away from your face, and he placed a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly.

and then the hacking stopped, and you flushed the toilet, indigo petals swirling down the drain. you leaned back against the wall with glossed over eyes; the bags looked even more prominent in the bathroom lighting, or maybe it was because the concealer you’d been wearing wore off.

shinsou’s eyes showed intense worry, his lips pursed. “(name), you have to see recovery girl.”

but you shook your head. “it’s fine,” you voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“then at least tell me what the hell is going on.” he was firm, his figure crouched down beside you.

you sighed, “i can’t.”

his brow shot up. “why not?”

“it’s not your problem,” you mumbled. “you don’t have to--” you felt your head go fuzzy and your body numb.

“(name), i want you to tell me what’s wrong with you,” he demanded. the boy felt wrong to use his quirk on you, and he’d promised he never would without your permission. but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was sure it was one of those situations.

you mouth moved on its own, listening to shinsou’s order as you screamed internally at yourself. you would ruin everything if you told your friend about the disease, and he would never feel the same way about you anyway. “hanahaki disease,” you voice droned.

“what’s that?” he asked.

“a disease in which a person coughs up flower petals due to unrequited love.” you felt the feeling return to your body, and you glared at the indigo boy next you. “shinsou-kun, i’ll fucking--”

“is there a cure?”

you pursed your lips. “not that i know of, and i’ve already gone to recovery girl. she said i just have to wait or until th-the boy i love returns my feelings.”

shinsou’s heart panged at the thought of you loving someone other than him, but he squelched his own feelings because you looked like death. you looked like death because some crazy son of a bitch didn’t reciprocate the love you had for him.

the petals caught in your throat once more, and you took a fleeting glance at shinsou. “shinsou-kun?”

his eyes met yours. “hmm?”

“it... it’s you,” you muttered.

he took in a sharp breath, and uneasiness sunk into his bones. “what?” it was barely there, barely understandable through the breathlessness.

“i love you, and i understand you most probably like won’t feel the same way, but... i figured you might want to know.” your voice was scratched and low, and shinsou found himself straining to catch each word. “i-i hope this doesn’t make it weird, i’m-i’m sorry.”

the boy scrambled to think of something to say, but the words failed him. instead, one hand cupped your cheek, and you could feel his soft lips click into place with yours. he pulled back just as quickly with a deep red blush. “i... i love you, too.”

your eyes widen, and just before you could reply, you could feel another coughing fit. you flew back over the toilet as it started. it had seemed like the petals multiplied in number, but then you could feel something lodged in your throat. you struggled to breath around it as tears pooled down your face. shinsou took bad his place to hold you hair.

you coughed a few more times, and then you gagged. something larger than any petal you’d regurgitated the past weeks were nothing in comparison to whatever it was. shinsou rubbed your back again, and he was watching as you struggled with yet another coughing fit.

and then you spit it out, a small shape rolling off the tip of your tongue. it fell to the floor, and you stared at the single flower with wide eyes, noticing how your throat wasn’t burning anymore.

“i think that means it’s over,” you muttered. you took another look at shinsou as you fell back onto your heels.

his brow quirked up, “it’s over?”

“it can only exist with unrequited love,” you said. “an-and you said you loved me.”

“and i do,” shinsou replied.

“i love you, too,” you smile, kissing him once again.

282 notes · View notes