Suicide King || S. Todoroki x Reader x K. Bakugou

xxi. So Take My Hand And Let's Jump Out The Window

Thanks for all your support!!! Your comments make me motivated, and It makes me happy y'all enjoy this story as much as I do writing it!!!!

The reporter idea came way before the s4 pilot just putting that out there.. And I feel kinda bad for momo..... but hey....... H

And uh I barely really edited this so if it's fucked I'm sorry lol.

Australia - The Shins

The house is dark, even when she's working. Maybe because she's locked up in his room, and always keeps the lamp inside as low as possible. (Y/n) knows this, and doesn't dare disturb her mother while she works.

At the tender age of four, she can no longer remember her mother when she disappears from her life. All she can recall is seeing the back of a woman, wearing a rosy kimono.

But that's okay. Her heroic father is the only person she she needs to rely on. She's too young to go to school, but is entrusted to take care of the house on her own while her father is away, doing what he describes only as "hero work." Her mind automatically thinks to fighting the bad guys and rescuing the innocent, in this clearly black and white world of a superhuman society.

So it's a little strange when two men appear at her home, after her father had been gone all day, and she never sees him again.

The first couple years are a blur, but a blur she can see through if she just wipes the lenses a bit.

That's right. . . The hospital.

"The goal is simple, isn't it?"

She can't remember certain things, like who exactly said that, or what she was wearing. Based on the circumstances, however, it must've been something decently scruffy. Just enough scruff to know nobody cares, but decent enough to not be questioned.

But she can remember some things. The way that the clock's hand on a baby blue tiled wall ticked, counting up every second that she used up. That haunting shade of some kind of amber orange that snuck up on her in her dreams, still hiding inside locked memories simply because of the amount of kindness it showed when she didn't deserve it.

And, of course, her fingernails scraping against her skin every minute she was there.

"Oh, Giga's son. He's not here, sorry. Did you need him for something?"

It's unfortunate, but not a complete waste. At least she won't need to know he's right next door when she kills him.

The hospital is surprisingly hard to find, with too many floors and too many rooms. Eventually, she finds the room. Quietly, she opens the door and slips into the obsidian dark room, which she can almost completely navigate. Her small hands rummage through the shelves, pulling out each row of tiny red bottles and checking the labels.

Her chilling (e/c) eyes finally find the name of interest, and her mind automatically registers it as a mission than a human. (Y/n) pulls out the bottle and pops open the cap, downing the blood in a go.

It's sour, and metallic. Even after she swallows it, the tint of iron still lingers on her tongue.

Yeah, wasn't that the first time. . . Or second. . . I can't remember. . .