#bnha wiritng

[gods-graveyard]

Found this on twitter so here we go!!

Also just realized some of the stuff is unreable so ill post below-

Fav dialogue- (for spoilers names are removed)

“Im so sorry-”

“Are you now? or did watching your desires fall like sand through your hands make you unable to ignore the guilt-”

“What do you want from me”?

“To accept- that your hands are stained red, that those ’nessicary sacrifes’ were just your failures”

“You speak as if yours are not- you lecture me while you live as if your soul is not just as heavy”

“Then you truly do not know me”

And now the fav paragraph which is from a now abandoned BNHA Villain Midoryia fic- Im itching to edit some of the phrasing and what not BUT It was also so fun to write.

[durzarya]

"I have an opportunity to do more good if I'm giving up the way I wanted to do it. Giving up my ideals."

"Are your ideals more important than the lives of others Problem Child?"

"Maybe not Aizawa-san, but I would be giving people hope. Even saving less people I would be giving hope!"

"Hope doesn't stop a villain."

"Hope stops people from turning into one. Isn't that better?"

[yugiohz]

im nottt wiritng on my paper at 11pm, oomf bring me my tablet i need to finish my bnha yaoi fanart

[b1sexual]

Hello! I followed from your ao3 account, and I tried to scope out your tumblr before coming to your ask box to bug you, but have you decided to stop fic writing, or just taking a break? Not trying to be like "wahhh, update", I'm honestly just curious! I understand interests/inspo changes, but since I discovered you long after your latest updates on ao3 in 2021, literally just a few days ago, I don't know if something specific happened between then and now that made you stop 😅 either way, love your wiritng and I've been raiding it slowly to make it last 🤌

hi!!! first of all i wanted to thank you for dropping by im rly happy youve been enjoying my writing! <3

to answer ur question initially i was writing mostly for bnha n i kinda needed some fresh air at that time and wasnt planning to like end w it completely but over time i also lost interest in this particular piece of media. and later on my mental health got to me + instead of writing fic i kinda wanted to get into writing some original stories. i cant say 100% that ill never write fanfics again though bc u never know but im assuming u were reading my bnha fics and im pretty certain i wont go back to writing for this fandom (although ill be always a bit regretful that ive never finished the series i started) :( but i hope that what i had written will bring you lots of joy <3

[yandere-mha]

How would Yandere Dabi react fo Y/N protecting him? Let's put a scenario that Y/N is a villian but protected of the League of Villians. She is sweet to Toga, takes care of Spinner, jokingly annoys Shigaraki only when he is in a good mood, and make sure everyone is alright. Y/N gives out motherly vibes where Toga jokes around of Y/N being a mom. Dabi catching feelings next he is fighting a hero. He got badly injured and Y/N step in protecting him. Taking a few blows for Dabi and killing the hero. Y/N helps Dabi to get up and says, "You got to stop being so reckless. I want to protect you but you keep throwing yourself in danger. "

Ughhhh I love this request so much. I really hope you like this and that my writing is worthy of your genius brain 🙏

TW: ABUSE MENTION, KIDNAPPING, VIOLENCE, BLOOD MENTION, MENTAL ILLNESS.

MAJOR BNHA MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

Toya was numb. His whole world was bleak, meaningless, and utterly isolated. He had no family, ambitions, or sense of self. No one cared about him or any of the terrible things that had been done to him and he didn’t care as well. There was nothing. He didn’t care about anyone else either. Whether he lived or died didn’t matter because he just existed. He may as well be dead, according to his family who had moved on. There was no justice. There was no love. There was no identity. His identity was to be the number one hero, but that had been ripped from him long ago. Toya was too tired to care.

Dabi was angry. Sometimes he became so angry and violent that he would scare himself. He would feel everything at once to the point where he couldn’t breathe. He mourned over the death of his purpose in life and over the death of the plucky little kid who would never give up. He wasn’t that kid anymore and he didn’t like what he’d become. Dabi wasn’t really him though... Dabi was Endeavor. Endeavor made him and he wants more than anything to make him see the consequences of his actions since his family didn’t care enough about him to do that themselves. Why did they forget me? Did I not even mean anything to them alive? He’ll make them pay too. He’s found a new identity and he couldn’t be more happy

You... were warm. When he looked at your beautiful face he felt as if he should look away because he didn’t deserve to see you. He wished you couldn’t see him, yet he craved for you to just look at him. You filled a void within Toya and suddenly he wasn’t so lonely anymore. How could you love someone who wasn’t even a person? Maybe he really was a person. You were so perfect... it pissed Dabi off. You reminded Dabi that he would never be good enough for that kind of love. He would always be second and he was just waiting for the moment you’d replace him with someone else. You’d forget about him just like his family did. You scared him but he couldn’t stay away. Life was unbearable without you. How could you make him feel that way? Hasn’t he already been through enough? You shouldn’t play with people’s feelings, ya know...

What was really cruel was how much you must love to toy with him. You knew how much he needed you - ALL of you, and yet you looked at other people too. He never told you about his feelings but why should he have to when he knew that you knew. You knew of how much pain you were causing him and you didn’t care. Why must everyone treat him like this? He knew there were no good people in the world and yet he let himself fall for you. How pathetic. How weak. He needed to show you what happens when you cross him. He’s tried of being weak and you make him look like some love-sick fool.

When you sacrificed yourself for him, all he could do was laugh. He screamed in pain as he laughed until he felt his face fall apart and his lungs felt like they were about to fall out of his body. It was funny how fucking desperate you were to hurt him that you’d actually hurt yourself like this. What the fuck would he do if he lost you, huh? Who would he be after you were gone? He clamped his hands over your battered form as tightly as he could screaming in your face in the way an animal would scream after being shot. He knew his face was bleeding all over you, mixing with your own blood. It made his heart flutter being so close to you.

After scanning your dumbfounded face, his laughter began to die down and he affectionately swiped a loose strand of hair out of your face to get a better look at you. He really was a tool, huh? He can’t be mad at you for long. You were his wife after all even if you pretended not to know that and he’d be there to protect you no matter how much you piss him off sometimes. Your love truly was written in the stars and no matter what happened, you would always end up together - till death do you part. He remembered all the times he’d dreamed about having a wife as a child and he smiled softly. He was flattered that anyone would care enough about him to do something like this even if it was to hurt him. You must hate him and love him too. 

“You gotta stop being so reckless. I want to protect you but you keep throwing yourself into danger like some fucking dumbass. If you really want my attention so bad, you should have just said so.” 

That was fun and all, but he can’t have you doing that again. You’re gonna be at his place for a long time and he’ll make sure to think of a proper punishment for you too. You have to learn your lesson and hold yourself accountable.

[plush-rabbit]

I Want To Hear You Say It

Chapter 1: Mutter Apologies

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: start of a miniseries, (maybe)yandere!shigaraki x reader, just introductions

The walk home is quiet and brimmed with life all at once. No one talks to you, but the cars fill your ears, tires on asphalt, music muffled by closed windows and the squeal of tires when someone makes a harsh turn. The grip on your phone tightens, the urge to listen to music and make this walk slightly more enjoyable is tempting but the cautionary tales of walking distracted fills you with a slight fear that makes you slip your phone into your back pocket and stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket, backpack softly tapping against your back.

You brush a strand of hair away from your face, an annoyed expression flashes across your face as it falls back where it once was. The air is humid, sky devoid of anything, a darkness that shines throughout the sky, all consuming and empty at once, the silent threat of it spreading with malicious intent as it reaches across the plain and offers no hint of light or shining stars is enough to put you in a melancholy mood. Your arms swing at your slides, a nervous pull of your hair as you try to fight the feelings of incoming desperation, the horrible, sickening feeling that leaves you with no room for happiness but all the room for despair.

The night is broken by sounds of cars, the laughter of friends that walk ahead of you, the soft chime of a convenience store door and the soft whirl of the wind that carries secrets and whispers of the night far away to be forgotten and never heard of again. The wind that ruffles your hair and makes you wish that you hadn’t brought a jacket, that you had at least taken it off before you walked home from your friend’s place. A bead of sweat forms and it’s quickly wiped away with the back of your hand, and weeds that grow between the cracks are crushed under your foot and you almost feel sorry for destroying something that had tried so hard to grow and had succeeded only to be pushed down and stepped on by accident.

The walk grows quiet, friends that trailed off, the cars that lower in views as time ticks onwards and your eyes droop, filled with tears that obscure your vision as a yawn stretches across your face.

The alleyways are dark, the promise of untold dangers are hidden in the shadows, shadows that nip and stretch towards the sidewalk where you walk and the dumb, naive part of you wants to wander in- just to say that you did it, to prove a point to no one- but the more rational part of you, forces yourself to look straight ahead, to keep your legs that grow heavy, in a line that does not part from it’s existing map.

You pass an alley, eyes darting briefly, and you hear a soft cry, a pained whimper that’s so soft it could be mistaken for a rodent that squeaks as a call. And you stop, clutching the straps of your bag and you turn to face the alleyway that brims with nothing but trouble.

You call a soft hello, waiting for a greeting and you’re mentally kicking yourself, digging your nails into your wrist as you take a hesitant step forward, the tips of your shoes peeking and getting lost in the shadows. You lick at your lips, bit the inside corners of them, and you glance around with wide, scared eyes, hoping for someone to come in and tell you to go home as they take care of it- you hope for a hero. But none come. You are alone right now. Alone with only a set of keys hidden in your backpack for protection and with the last rational thought that you have before you enter the alleyway where sharp gasps are being heard and echoed between the brick walls, you pull out your keys and hold them tight in your hand, the figurines that hang from the keyring indent into your palm.

Your steps are quiet and you have to blink a few times before your vision adjusts to the darkness. The light from the streetlamps, the bright glow from neon signs and soft pale light from other stores is gone, extinguished like a flame and you’re walking towards the noise that grows harsher and more pained, a wet, wheezing that makes you cringe and hold on tighter to your poor excuse of a weapon.

“Hello?” You ask, stepping closer, scrunching your nose as you step into a puddle. “Is- Is anyone here?” There’s no response and you feel silly. And scared. It could have been an animal. It could be a set up for human trafficking. You could have just been hearing things. They could be behind you right now with a cloth drenched in chloroform. You shift your weight in your legs, ready to turn and then there’s an awful, wet coughing sound and you turn and stumble onto the opposite wall, backpack squished against the old brick wall, key held in front of you dangerously, and your other hand scrambles for your phone, shakingly unlocking it until a white flash brightens the alley and on the opposite side of you is a man hunched over, legs outstretched and head lowered.

Your eyes widen and you take a few stumbling steps towards him. “Hey, are-” the stench of copper hits your nose and makes you cover your nose with the hand that holds the keys. Your eyes lower and you see his shirt colored in red, a few drops spilling from the hidden face and onto the shirt or between the legs where it hits the asphalt. You clear your throat and look around, the flashlight blinding as it  moves left and right and lands back on the frighteningly still form. “Are- Do-” any questions that flash through your mind sound dumb; of course they aren’t okay, of course they need help- “I’m going to call for help, okay?” There’s no response and you pray that they can hear you.

It’s soft. A simple croak that sounded more like a gasp for breath than an actual answer. “No,” they repeat in a quiet mantra, a limp arm raising, fingers outstretched and tipped with dried blood that flakes off and loses itself against the dark floor.

Your thumb freezes over the number and you stare down at him, eyes glancing to the side, waiting for something to prove that this is all indeed a set up but nothing happens, no sound is made, no cars that pass by, the soundless gust of wind brushes against your hair and you stare down at the figure whose hand lowers onto his lap, palm faced towards the dark and empty sky and you crouch down at the end of their legs.

“You’re bleeding,” you comment, a whisper past your lips that breaks the silence. “You need-”

“‘S not my blood,” the gruff voice responds, dragging their palm against the asphalt.

You gasp and grab at his wrist, pulling it away from the ground. His words register in your head and your grip tightens, your shoulder raising. “Wait-”

He yanks his arm back, his eyes raising and red eyes that glower at you. His nose trickles out with blood, crimson treks out of the corner of his mouth, drying as he stares at you and there are angry red and purple marks around his neck. Under his eye is a dark, purple that has begun to form and you hold your hands in front of your body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Despite his hurt appearance he still sounds intimidating.

“I-” you stutter and the light flashes against his face making him appear in a ghastly glow. “You need help. I-” you swallow- “It’s fine if you don’t want help from authorities but-” your eyes take his appearance where his clothes are ripped at the sides and caked in something that fills the air with a faint metallic scent- “you’re still hurt. I’m not a doctor or anything but there’s a convenience store like a minute away. Do- Do you want me to get you something? Can you stand?”

He stares at you with a confused look, eyes that narrow and he places his hands on the ground, pushing himself upwards only to collapse back down when he’s an inch above ground. He falls with a groan, face pinching in pain, nails dragging along the pavement. “Just get the fuck away from me.”

You swallow nervously and look around hoping for someone to come by. You desperately wish for a hero to wander by and offer to take over for something that you’re clearly unqualified for. You look back at him and let out a shaky breath.

“Okay, just,” you whisper, stomach twisting in harsh coils, “stay here, okay? I’m going to get you at least aspirin and something to clean you up, okay? Just stay here, okay?” He gives you no sign of approval and you swallow tightly before rising, twisting your body to stuff the keys inside the backpack and walking quickly to the convenience store.

The door chimes as you enter the store, greeted by a worker behind the counter and you flash them a nervous smile. You walk through the aisles, your steps are quick through the tiles as you walk, eyes scanning at the shelves and you come to a quick stop when spotting the small medical section. Your hands shake and eyes scan quickly before deciding to grab at a pack of cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, a pack of microfiber towels, a pack of bandages and a travel size pack of tissues. You rise and think you see movement in the corner of your eyes and when you turn you’re met with your reflection into the glass door that holds refreshments, frost around the corners and cartoonish stickers of snowflakes taped to the door and with a careful hold of the supplies you walk towards the freezer section and grab two water bottles.

You give a polite smile at the cashier, their eyes widening a bit before shrugging and ringing you up. The price makes your shoulders and you have to remind yourself you’re doing this to help a potentially hurt person.

With supplies in a plastic bag, you wave a simple goodbye to the clerk and exit the store, walking calmly until you pass by the windows, bringing the bag to clutch to your chest as you jog to the alley, pulling your phone out to light the way and you hold your breath as the light flashes shakily across the crevice until it lands on the slumped figure, still there where you had left him. You breathe a sigh of relief and walk towards them calmly.

“Thank goodness you’re still here,” you say as you crouch down, dropping the bag beside you. “I brought a few things-” you rummage around, the plastic crinkling in night with a shaky flashlight illuminating the both of you- “since I didn’t know what you needed or wanted and I uh- I brought water.” You hold a bottle up, the frost around it disappearing under your touch and you hold it up to him, his eyes narrowed and hair caked around his face. “You should drink some,” you say awkwardly, loosening the cap for him. “I- Do you need help?”

He yanks the bottle away from you and you gasp, looking at him as he holds the bottle up with his pinky raised, greedily drinking the water and resting the bottle beside him. “What do you want?”

“You’re hurt,” you reply, pulling out the rubbing alcohol and the towels. “This might sting but I should clean you up a bit.” You squirm under his gaze and look away, coughing weakly. You take in a deep breath and look back at him with false confidence. “You don’t want any help for whatever reason and that’s,” you pause trying to find the proper words, “on you but you need help. So just let me clean you up a bit, okay?” You place the phone against the bag, frowning as it slips and ruins the lighting, shining awkwardly and you shake your head.

Without waiting for a response, you unscrew the cap and remove the safety foil, grabbing at a towel and clasping it over the opening of the bottle, turning it upside down. Once wet, you inch your hand slowly towards him, the cloth in hand and you prepare yourself, muscles tensing as if you’re the one who’s going to feel the sting.

“It’s going to sting,” you whisper, mouth in a thin line, “so, sorry about that.” You mouth yourself counting down to three, before placing the cool towel against his face. He holds a steady gaze on you, crimson eyes hardening as they meet yours for a quick second.

The drying blood and grime is washed from his face, gently wiping one his forehead, the hair that was caked onto by either blood or sweat is pulled, dirty, blue hair is pushed back with your hand as you move closer to him, mumbling words of comfort under your mouth. He flinches as you inch down to his brow bone, and you mumble an apology, pursing your lips and blowing cool air above the jagged cut.

His face is layered in a thin layer of blood and dirt, short and long strands of hair cling to his face and are pulled away by your hands as you cup his face.

“Um,” you state awkwardly, licking your lips at the close proximity and tense air, “do you think anything is broken?”

“No,” he replies in a raspy voice.

That was no help to ease the tension. “Good, good,” you mumble, feeling sweat prick at your brow. “I uh, you have a few cuts around your face. Are- You said that it wasn’t your blood,” you voice lifts a fraction and you stare at his mole, dabbing the cloth around his face, “so I’m not sure if I’m getting at a cut or at someone- at blood,” your voice catches and you stare at his eyes, feeling a chill run down your spine at the dark look he gives you. You clear your throat. “Drug deal gone wrong?” You joke nervously.

“You could say that,” he says blankly, resting his head against the wall.

You click your tongue and carefully maneuver yourself until your hand is curving over the back of his head, your knuckles scraping against the wall. A questioning look directed at you and you respond with a shrug.

“You hair ‘ll get stuck to the brick,” you glance at the scar on his lip and frown. “Do- Do you have any other cuts?” Your hand washes over and the strong scent of alcohol fills your nose and waters your eyes. “You have a few around your face. I’ll wash them over with water in a bit.”

“Water?” he asks.

You jerk your head to the bag. “I bought another bottle of water. Just to clean around. I probably should have used that first but it’ll soothe over the alcohol.” You dab lightly around his jawline, the grime loosening and staining the towel, cleaning it slowly, dragging it down his neck and he hisses sharply, pushing himself further against the wall, your knuckles pressing against the groove of the brick. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeat, pulling your hands away from him. “I-”

“It’s fine,” he rasps, rubbing his hand over the curve of his neck. “Just stings is all.”

You lick your lips and pull away from him. “I’m going to use water now, okay?” He nods carefully and shuffles in his seat. “What's your name?” He doesn’t answer and you sigh and give yours. “I uh, I work at a cafe. We have macarons that we design and I think they come out nice. I like to design simple animal emoticons on them.”

“Animal?” He closes and opens his fists.

“Cats, dogs, bears,” you list. “Just the usual ones that you can find on any emoticon sites.” You puff your cheeks, pressing the cloth against him, scratching the back of his head as you do, your lips moving soundlessly as you try to comfort him.

He nods and remains quiet. His eyes come to a close as you clean his neck with water, frowning as the bruises appear darker against his pale skin, small and long cuts that are around him and pulled down in a slope around his neck in a twisted decoration.

His chest rises and falls as you clean his neck, drops of water sliding down and hidden between his shirt. “I’ve never had macarons.” he looks at the ground and grabs at his bottle, tracing around the condensation that has formed around it, dirt sticking to the bottom. “Are they good?”

“I like them.” You pull out the roll of bandages and softly hold them in your hand, playing with the flap of the box. “They’re sweet,” you finish, pulling the box open and taking out a bandage. “I’m going to put a bandage on your neck, okay?” He nods, tilting his neck to give you more access. “Thanks,” you mumble.

The bandage is beige, the plastic protecting the sticky part is placed into the bag and you’re careful to place it over the cuts, not wanting to have it stick to a stray cut or tug against a bruise. Your fingers press over it and smooth is over, gliding over the bandage and you pull away, frowning and the many other cuts that decorate his skin. You have the sudden urge to kiss at the wound, something that you had done for your younger cousins and that had been done to you by older family members but you hold back, biting your bottom lip and pulling out another bandage, wrapping it around his skin, repeating the small process from before.

He glances at you through the corner of his eyes. “Are you almost done?”

“Do you have any other cuts?” You ask, your fingers dancing over his apple, your hand softly curving over him, to hold his neck steady. “You couldn’t stand before. Do you think you can now?” His legs bend and you stumble away, falling onto your rear and you pull a face thinking about the stain that it’ll leave. You hand stings as it’s pulled, tugged against and you hold it with your other, adding pressure against the scrapes in order to dull the pain.

He wobbles as he rises, hands that hold himself steady against the brick wall, legs bent and outstretched, kicking his bottle over and hair falling around his face like a curtain. He leans against it, eyes knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line and you scramble to rise, placing your arm against his shoulder. He gives a few pained breaths, a hand lowering to clutch at his abdomen and you fret, fluttering your hand to where his rests only to be slapped away.

His eyes open and he meets yours are furrowed with concern. “Got hit pretty hard,” he explains simply, twitching jaw and moving to stand straighter, but failing as he groans and rests his head against the wall.

“Do you have anyone you can call?” You watch with worried eyes as he remains still against the wall, the grip on his abdomen pulled taut, with a flushed face and heavy breathing.

“Phone broke,” he hisses between closed teeth.

You leave him for a second and bend down to grab yours. You touch at the phone icon and take a step closer to him, placing a hand on his back and rubbing him in slow circles while the other hand holds the phone in front of him. “What’s their number? You can use mine.”

You see his jaw tense, eyes that harden and a hand that shakes as it rises only to fall and dig his nails into the grooves of the brick. “They won’t answer.”

Your hand falls and you swallow. His breathing is harsh and heavy, breaking any lingering silence and blood rushes in your ears. Your hand stops its monotonous movements and you clutch the back of his hoodie. You take a look at him, eyes glancing down at his fragile state and with a nervous bounce of your leg, your body heating up with what could be a horrible decision you’re about to make, you take a deep breath.

“Do you want to stay at my place? For the night? Just to rest?” You keep your eyes at his red sneakers, the black shoelaces frayed and faded. “I- It feels bad to leave you alone in an alleyway with just a bottle of water and a few medical supplies.

You can feel his stare on you. “We’re strangers.”

Your face burns and your stomach churns. “I introduced myself and gave you a fact about me.” You blow out a steady puff of air and tug on the end of your jacket. “You don’t have to but I- if you can get home by yourself-”

“Tomura,” he coughs out. “I’m Tomura.” You glance up at him and he refuses to meet your gaze. “I- I work in a bar.”

“Promise not to kill me?” You ask in a soft tone, holding up a pinky.

“What?” He asks, turning to you, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“I’m not in the mood to get murdered tonight,” you state flatly, curling and uncurling your pinky, urging him to complete the promise.

He blinks once. Twice. And then a wide grin stretches across his face. His pinky loops over yours and he holds it tightly. “No promises.”

You chuckle nervously. “That’s concerning.”

He doesn’t respond and the dread that has made itself clear since the start is weighing heavy across your shoulders. You look at how he leans against the wall and flutter down to stuff everything into the plastic bag, holding it tight in one hand and with unspoken words, he drapes an arm over your shoulder, closing his fist as it nudges against your shoulder, eyes glancing to the spot where you fret over try to hold yourself steady as you stumble, with his added weight.

The walk normally short has doubled its time with the slow pace of Tomura, his head dipped down and legs sluggish as he tries to walk fast. You can feel exhaustion settle in your bones and you want to collapse there on the sidewalk. His hood is pulled up, head down as he struggles to walk next to you and with every person met on the late night- albeit not a lot but quite a few- you give them a polite smile and make a drinking motion to ease any worries that one might possess. It’s silent between the two of you, the occasional question if he’s all right is asked only to be responded by a groan of pain? Confirmation?

Soon your apartment complex comes into view and you breathe a sigh of relief, a burst of energy coursing through you as the promise of a bed and relaxation comes into view. You lead him around and stand at the end of the stairs, internally groaning at the obstacle. “Okay, we just need to take some steps, okay?”

“Steps?” He asks, tone weak and obviously tired.

“Stairs,” you sigh, urging him forehead, a tight grip on the bag as you two walk upwards, eyes wide as the strain against your muscles starts to ache. “I regret getting an apartment that wasn’t on the first floor.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Just hurry up. It’s starting to hurt.”

“We can sit-”

“No,” he hisses. “Just hurry up.”

You nod and make the trek towards your room, trying to keep steady breathing as you both finally reach your locked door. “Okay,” you huff, letting him rest against a wall, “we’re here.” You sigh and roll your shoulders, doubling over and holding your hands against your knees. “Fuck.” You rise and find him staring at you with a tight expression. “You’re heavy and it’s a long walk.” Without waiting for an answer, you grab at your backpack and unzip it, digging around until you grab at your keys, and unlock your door.

You hold the door open for him, and step welcome him in. He stumbles inside, not bothering to remove his shoes and you welcome him to sit down on the couch and without further encouragement, he collapses onto it, scrunching his face in pain and chest rising and dipping heavily.

You kick your shoes off by the entrance and with a distracted hand, turn the lights on inside your home and close the door with a kick. You drop your backpack on a moon chair and the plastic one beside him on the floor. You call his name and he hums in response, a leg draped over the edge of the couch, eyes fluttering open to look up at you, squeezing shut at the light that shines above him.

“Are you going to be okay if I leave you here?” He furrows his eyes. “There isn’t enough room on the couch for me to keep an eye on you and sleeping on my moon is bad for my spine.” He doesn’t answer and slowly his breaths grow steadier and deeper. You brush the bangs that drape across his forehead and sigh. “I’m going to be in my room, okay? If You need anything, just knock. The hallway light will be on, the restroom is the door with the plant sticker on it.” He does not answer, his face relaxed and hands fisted above his chest.

You’re silent as you walk throughout your apartment, stopping every minute or so, to hold your fingertips over his neck to check if he still has a pulse, sighing in relief when he does. You peek into your closet and pull out a blanket, holding it close to you and walk into the living room, turning the fan on and draping the blanket over his still body.

You look at him for a second and rub over your neck where his cuts had laid. “Good night, Tomura,” you mutter, slipping off into your room, the lock clicking behind you as you sleep with a pair of scissors under your pillow.

[violetnotez]

Being a Katsuki stan aswell I have a question for the tsundere, how would Katsuki react to his s/o being smol like 5 foot tall

Hi anon! 💕 Oof Bakugo would be adorable with a tiny s/o no gonna lie~

Warnings: gets a little spicy, but its Bakugo were talking about- I ALWAYS figure out a way to make it spicy when it comes to him-

HC: Bakugo w/ a Short S/O

Baby boy first laid eyes on you he had two thoughts:

1) “God damn their tiny, they’ve gotta be weak as hell” and

2) “Holy shit tho they’re cute”

He is gonna protect you 24/7

Like if he sees somebody getting too close to you, or you feel uncomfortable around someone-

instantly gonna throw some hands with a person

Everyone is gonna be hella thrown off, because Bakugo, the Bakugo, cares enough for someone other than himself???

Bakusquad swears that you have a secret or something

All the girls think its so sweet and constantly tease you about it

You in his shirts???

Theyre like dresses on you and he honestly gets so turned on but at the same time he wants to snuggle you

Very conflicted baby boi

warning- if you wear his clothes there is a 50/50 chance he is gonna take you right then or there OR force you to snuggle him. There is no in between

This bitch tho is going to be mean if he feels like it

Like will put the cookie jar at the top of the fridge where you cant reach

The fucking gremlin how dare you

If your not paying attention to him and he wants to cuddle cause of course he wont just come out and say it he will snatch whatever is out of your hands and raise it above his head so you cant reach it

OMG If you hide behind him when your scared or hold onto his arm-

HE IS WEAKKKKKK.

Also his ego inflated up to the moon

When you hug him its adorable, because your head fits into his chest so well, but if you try to kiss him

HECKA tippy toes

Like you look like a ballerina on pointe

But its adorable and its so cute and he blushes so hard oml-

[zscyber]

Chapter 29 - Hope for the Best, Plan for the Worst - of Triggered Awakening is now up!

(Actually, it’s been up since this morning & I just forgot to post here ^^; )

Chapter summary: Izuku receives a gift he's not convinced he's ready for, and Sero figures out something big.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328106/chapters/88815631

Next update: 12-24-21

[siriusimie]

Basic information

Age: 25

Height: 6’6 1/2

B-day: December 18th

Gender: male

Eye color: lava-orange

Race: Native American/ Korean

Skin tone: light skin

Body type: mesomorph - has 3 forms: humanoid, Wendigo, animal

Quirk: Wendigo

Personality

He’s a gentle giant but he is two-faced; curious, playful, smart; he has trouble controlling his quirk ‘cause it has a mind of its own which is aggressive, feral, and evil.

Out in the open, it makes it a little easier for him to control his quirk. Obviously, in a confined space, it gets really difficult to hold back the quirk’s control (two-faced, huh?). If he is trapped in a small room with people, he will get hungry and will have the urge to eat them. Well, that, unless he takes a liking to them after the first time meeting them. In this case, he won’t feel the need to kill them.

Making him angry will end up with his quirk taking control over him regardless if he likes you or not. When his quirk is used, he turns into his humanoid form at first, then he turns into his actual Wendigo, which is pretty much no longer Min. His mind is completely controlled by the quirk itself, who will push Min to eat and kill people. The more people he eats, the more he starts to lose emotions and feelings. This is the reason why he feeds frequently, to keep his cravings low and stay calm.

During the winter, he prefers to spend his time in the forest, because the cold heightens his cravings; there he loves roaming through trees, he can even cause sudden snowfalls in his forms. His animal form is peaceful, and that’s why he prefers to change into it whenever but chooses not to unless he has a source of food.

Additional Physical Details

He has tattoos: one on his lower v-line, on the left side and back.

He has deer-like ears and a prehensile tail that grows on command; it can grab things and lift them, like an extra arm, but it isn’t as strong as his arms. With his tail, he can lift about 270 pounds.

His ears are hypersensitive due to the predatory instincts of Wendigo, which makes it easier to hunt down prey (people included) when needed.

His nose is also super sensitive, just like his ears; he can smell 10,000 times more acutely than a human. For example, in a store, someone got a splinter and he could smell it from the other side of the store in seconds. He can also smell different chemical changes in the body, like those caused by emotions.

His eyes turn red and his teeth sharpen when he is feeding, feels threatened, or can’t control his quirk. They turn black in all his forms.

Occupation: Freedom/ unknown

Hobbies: singing, reading, building things, playing instruments.

Back Story:

As a child growing up Min had always been different from everyone else in his family, especially once he discovered his quirk.

“Momma....papa....what are you doing with that knife? Momma.....I’m scared…the voice keeps talking to me, he wants me to eat people, I...I don’t want to do that, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I’m so hungry, it won’t go away. I’m a good boy, right? You know that, don’t you? Papa ?” a 3 years old, weird-looking boy whimpered on the floor, trembling, as the blood of the family’s deceased dog covered his entire skull-like face and teeth. He looked at his claws then back at the dog, then up at his parents. They were hiding behind the island in the kitchen, holding knives up as they pointed them at him. He crawled forward to them in his Wendigo form with soulless eyes that could drive fear into anyone who looked at them.

“ST- STAY BACK YOU MONSTER!,” his dad yelled at him, aiming the knife in his direction. Min flinched back, bumping into the corpse on the floor like a petrified animal trapped in a corner, feeling threatened, as the monster inside him crept up to the surface.

He is no father of yours if he can not accept who you are. Kill him. Then find someone who will accept us for who we are.

“I- I don’t wanna hurt them they’re my parents-” Min whispered to the voice in his head, quickly cut off by a streak of pain. He stood up on his hind legs, holding his head as he battled the monster within. His tail whipped and slashed through everything in its path as a terrifying scream left his gaping jaws. Standing at 7 feet tall already in his form made the view for his parents now left speechless. Slowly, his head turned back down looking at his father; the room filled with hitched breaths, and silence that was acting like a monster itself. Min’s movements had no sound to them as he walked closer to the other two people. With soulless pits filled with two white pupils that stared down at his father, he bent down, crawling on all four, finally coming snout to face with his father and the mother who was fearfully hiding behind the man, words trapped in her throat. His father stayed in place not able to move.

“Go away.....” the dad forced his words out, “you’re not our son”

Inside Min's mind, he was fighting the monster, trying to stop him from hurting his parents, as the monster opened his jaw to show off all the sharp teeth. Words escaped the gaping mouth. “No don’t!- you and I both know you want this, don’t stop me- I DON’T WANT THIS!,” The jaw made now a complete 90 degrees as it positioned itself to snap his dad in half before pausing, going blank; the silver pupils in its eyes gone. The father gathered himself as he raised the knife above the creature's neck before forcing it down into it. The sudden pressure to the spinal cord triggered the creature’s jaw to snap shut on his father's legs, making them both fall to the ground, torn from the body, leaving Min’s mother in shock. The man screamed in agony and pain as his legs got crushed to nothing in the heavy jaws, blood gushing everywhere.

“GET THE ELECTRIC TAPE AND CALL THE POLICE AND AN AMBULANCE NOW!” Min's father yells at his wife, but she just stared like a deer in headlights, “NOW DYANI!” he tried to draw her attention again.

She snapped out of her thoughts and did as asked. She came back to a terrifyingly quiet scene: her husband was passed out, bleeding and in pain, while her son passed out from the whole emotional and mental struggle. She put Min's ankles together and wrapped tape around them about 6 times. Then she repeated the action to his and then the skull.

Once the Ambulance arrived, the woman could only stand back and watch the pros take ahold of her husband who had woke up in pain “Get rid of him, he’s dangerous......” She heard his words, but could only nod in response before looking down at her son. She didn’t want to get rid of him but when push comes to shove, she had no other choice. She watched as the ambulance took off down the road with the police right behind them, coming in the direction of her house and pulling into the driveway, police officers rushing up to the house.

“What seems....to...be...the problem....” the officer's voice died down looking at Min’s form, then back at the woman.

“He can’t stay here, he’s dangerous. The ambulance you went past had my husband in it; his legs were crushed in this MONSTER’S jaws and I don’t even know if he will live or not” she cried, watching as the officers took down notes of the kitchen, the blood, and Min.

“Ma’am, do you think you can keep him here until we get back up?” one officer looked towards the basement's open door.

“The basement? what if-,” she asked, already concerned, her eyes sticking to the door.

“ You already have him tied up, and my men are making adjustments to the knots; you’re gonna have to come with us for the time being, so you’re no longer in danger until he is out of this house, and we investigate more of the situation” She listened to his words, nodding ever so often. The officers took her to the police car, reassuring along the way before going back to Min and dragging him down the steps of the basement, not even supporting his head, and letting it bump against each wooden step, cracking his skull open. They set him as far away as possible from the steps before tranquilizing him in advance, even though he was already passed out.

For the next couple of days, the police would check up on Min making sure he was “okay”, just to put him back to sleep if he turned awake. A secret governmental science facility came one night to pick him up. They brought down a cage made of qualitative glass, dragged his large body into it, and locked the doors behind his legs. They picked him up, took him up the steps to the outside world.

When Min started to wake up in the cage, his soulless eyes looked around slowly, taking in the surroundings. He started to panic, unable to move much or speak, his eyes stopping on his mother, who just sat there, looking at him while a man in a black suit handed over a little slip that looks like a money check. His family had never really had a lot of money, so seeing her take the money and using him to get it broke his heart.

She’s abandoning you, selling you off from the start and you trusted your parents were actually gonna come back to help you? We would never be in this situation if you just let me take control.

Black tears escaped Min's sockets as the view of his mother came to an end. Now he was in the dark, all by himself; security all around him, with guns pointed at him, ready to shoot at any angle as they took him away to God knows where. Hours passed since Min was taken away to the secret facility, a place no one knew about or could find. Min curled up into a ball, trying to understand why his mother and father gave him away and refused to help him... ‘I’m not good enough’

it’s pretty obvious dumbass

‘I wasn’t talking to you, leave me alone,........ please’

get used to it, you are me and I am you, we are one

‘NO WE ARE NOT!’ he looked around as the cage was carried down a long white hall with different doors and glass windows attached for examination. Kids like him, with different quirks in each one; some were undergoing painful tests, others were resting, or eating. The men stopped in front of an empty chamber, pulling the door open and connecting the cage to the opening. One of the security staff pushed a sharp metal stick through a hole in the back of the cage in which Min was, sticking him with it in the back and forcing his body to jolt forward into the white-walled room. The kid landed head first and his body folded over, ending on his back. Once they made sure he was inside, they locked the door a couple of times, securing it before sending in some mini-robots to cut the bondages off of him. In response to feeling free Min stood on all four, backing-up to the corner of the room and looked at the window, watching a couple of people in lab coats and clipboards take notes on him.

“Welcome 323, to your new home, get some rest, tomorrow is a new day for you,”

Day 1:

“323, today we are gonna push your quirk, see what makes it tick, so be a good boy and cooperate okay?”

Min was strapped to a metal table; his head, wrists, stomach, and ankles all secure in place, making him unable to move as a big surgical light blinded him. Under that neon light, his appearance was clear to everyone and scientists surrounded him with scalpels, starting to make small incisions on his body. His eyes widened at the sudden stinging pains.

“Stop! Stop it PLEASE! IT HURTS, IT HURTS, I JUST WANNA GO HOME!”

His mind started to cloud with anger and aggression that fueled the monster inside. The smell of his own blood being spilled heightened Min’s senses and the acuity of the beast within. He grew in size, ripping out of the bondages they put him under. His eyes turned red and his teeth sharpened with two main canines that grew even longer than the rest.

Min wasn’t in control anymore, drowning in his monster’s control, forced to watch what it was doing to the scientists, as it stood on the table, large and tall, whipping its tail around and causing destructions. The monster began to consume the scientists one by one until guts, blood, and gore were everywhere. It turned around to the glass window staring into the eyes of the man who brought it here, buying him off of his mother, whom he will never forgive. The creature lifted his bloody pointing finger towards the man slowly. “You’re next,” it growled out before tensing up and falling to the ground as he was shot in the back with a tranquilizer gun.

“Sir what about the scientists who are-” the employee was cut off by a tall man, who seemed to be in a higher rank.

“Don’t worry, they weren’t even scientists, they were prisoners, we can always replace them when needed. As long as people keep doing crime, we can keep doing what we are doing, and figure out a way to give quirks to anyone. Amazing quirks that belong to ancient creatures such as this one. Turns out his quirk had a mutation, somewhere unknown yet in his DNA, during his womb life. His mother has a weak quirk - touching water makes her skin change into ice - and his father is the same with a weak like quirk, he’s able to turn into a deer, which has little resemblance to subject 323’s ears but nothing else. Set up his next task for tomorrow.” the tall man explained casually, then ordered.

“Right away sir,”

Day 235:

“What will happen?” one of the scientists asked, watching Min as they gave him a task to find an injured subject in dense forests. They wanted to test his predatory instincts even though they saw it every day. Just the smell of blood ticked Min’s monster off and it came alive to control Min. It thrashed against the unbreakable cage trying to break free, banging its head against the glass repeatedly. Once they released him from his cage, he took off into the dense trees like a cheetah, turning into a mountain lion or lynx as he jumped high into the tree crown, eventually disappearing. They had drones follow him as he ran, his nose tracking down the injured subject.

Food, freedom. Food, freedom, need to live. Home....... I want to...... go home.....

Even his monster started to understand what Min felt, though it still was a simple-minded creature.

Scientists were fascinated by how Min's body was able to adjust to different tasks. Swinging from tree to tree, using its tail to hold onto different objects as he pasted them. Min’s monster spotted the target and slowly crawled down the tree, face towards the ground. Its head moved with the subject as he noticed Min’s monster taking off within seconds after notice. He wasn’t far behind the subject, getting ready to chomp down on them. But at the last second, the subject slipped on a dirt hole, big enough for one body. Min’s monster growled before digging at the hole, dirt lashing out everywhere. After a few minutes, Min was able to stick his head down in the hole and pull out the subject with his front teeth before tossing him up in the air. Once the body of the subject touched Min’s jaws, he chomped down on it like popsicles. Screams and crunching sounds filled the forest, dying down by the second.

Min’s P.O.V. on his own life

I’ve realized that my parents will never come back to me. They truly did sell me. After all these years when I thought they would come back for me... false hopes, dreams... it was all just a figment of my imagination to think they cared for me. What is love? I hear the word all the time but I’ve never experienced it. Is it hope? Is it freedom? A chance to live? My parents were all I had, all I had known. Being unlike everyone else made them think differently about me. Containing me to never show my face and say "it is for the best".

I remember I had made my dad lose his job, all because I loved nature. I was playing with a lizard while I waited for his shift to end, not having enough money for daycare, whatever that is. His boss came to talk to me and the lizard saw the opportunity to jump on him. He got so scared that he fell and broke his neck. I didn't know animals weren't allowed in the facility; I was never taught to read or write and because of that, my dad lost his position at the business.

He took all of his anger out on me that night; he dragged me down to the basement and beat me until my wilts busted. No wonder my monster did what it did that day. So being down in that basement, taped up in the dark, being put to sleep every time I woke up, made the beast within me more furious, madder, basically at the fact that it was not accepted. They saw what it did as wrong, even though it didn't know how to help itself.

I still deny it within me sometimes, but when push comes to shove with my own life, we agreed to work together and that we will make it through anything, I know I sound selfish, but I'm ready to see the real world outside these white walls. I'm not an animal, I'm a human being with feelings that I'm learning to discover. I want to jump back on the train of living, find out who I truly am, see what I missed and, if I have to work with this monster, I’d rather be free. Maybe someone out there in the real world can help me. All these years of training brought a trick up my sleeves to, at least, keep this monster down at somewhat of a level.

Ready?

"Ready," I said back to it as I walked down the hallway with many security guards around me. I was able to gain the trust of the staff thanks to being able to explain to my monster what I was going to do and that if it cooperated, we’d be free.

So much food around... I want it, I need it, GIVE IT TO ME NOW!

'stop it! I’ve already told you that there are better options outside this facility. Just wait, and you can get what you want when I give you the signal,'

No promises

'Of course......'

The security took me to a training center, isolating me from everyone, so it was just me in there. They knew my quirk wouldn’t act up. It was part of the normal routine I always did, training in all forms of my body. After my workout, they would immediately take me to a different room, to a medical exanimation table. They even used to send me to a room with a subject female. Probably trying to find a way for me to pass my genes on, but, fortunately, every time I tried, the results would come back negative, ‘cause… at the end of the intercourse, I couldn't control my quirk and end up killing the subject. They resulted in using a needle or have me do it myself, to which I preferred the latter. After that, they had me sent back to my cell, to wait for my next assignment. I used to lay there on the floor, on my back, looking up with my hand reaching for the light, letting it pass through my spread fingers, then grip my fist tightly to the point my veins would show.

I’m hungry

‘you’re always hungry’

I’m getting impatient you won’t do anything about it

‘not yet’

you promised food

‘i know what I promised but-

“323, get up its time for your next test” I turned to the door hearing the scientist behind the glass, as she speaks through a speaker. Being here most of my life, I’ve noticed that I never had an issue with going feral, besides the times I was in the rooms they prepared, and the only explanation I found by myself was that they had filtered the air and sanitized it, to mask the scent they give off. At the end of the day, though, I still had to deal with the cravings. I sat up slowly, looking at the woman and I rose to my feet, making my way to the door. The whole time she has watched me. I could see the fear in her eyes as I walked closer to her until the door blocked me from exiting the room.

“No 323, we are going outside today, as always, then after we are drawing your blood, okay?” she looked up at me through the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded in response to her. If I wasn’t respectful, they would’ve starved me, so I made a habit of saying ‘yes ma’am”, “no ma’am”, “yes sir”, and “no sir”.

The locks of the door started to open, making clicks and exhales from the pressure it had to maintain, in order to keep me from trying to escape. The lady opened the door and stayed behind it. I stepped out to be greeted with security as always. One of them poked me in the side with their gun telling me to move.

Can I kill him, please?!

‘I said no, please just listen’

you can’t stop me just so you know

I did as they told me and walked the direction I was pushed towards against my will. We walked to two giant metal doors. They started to open and in a matter of seconds, I was hit by a cool, crisp winter breeze that ran through my hair and fur. I closed my eyes taking in the fresh smell of nature, the one thing that kept me whole, the one thing that never left my side. ‘Freedom’ I thought to myself as my eyes reopened while adjusting to the clouded light.

Once I focused on the surroundings, I could feel my stomach growl. During the winter, my quirk acted up more. I didn’t know why, but it just did. When I tried to ask for help, wanting to understand why I was the way I was, the responses from the scientists and helpers held words like “ monsters wouldn’t understand why they act the way they do”, “experiments stay quiet, don’t talk”, “stop asking what you don’t need to know, you monster”, “you wanna keep talking and I’ll make sure they starve you” At that point, I wanted nothing more than to just be free, and looking at that highly defensive wall and then down at my hands I knew I was ready to take that chance.

“Move. Freak.” I got stabbed in the side and winced a little.

I can’t take it much longer! the smell is overwhelming I need to kill something I will do it. Especially him !!!!

I ignored my monster the best I could as I walked with the security to the station they had set up for me. I noticed a cage with a blanket over it as they sat me down. For some reason unknown to me at first, I couldn’t smell what was in it. They removed the sheets and with that, they revealed something I never wanted to see again. My heart dropped, but my senses heightened from the smell of freshly cut wounds.

“M-Min baby is that you....? Y-you’re alive.....” my mother whined, trembling; she looked abused and worn down to the last wire.

Narrator P.O.V

Min held his head trying to hold back the monster within.

SHE SOLD US OFF DON’T EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT HOLDING ME BACK! SHE WATCHED US GET SHOVED INTO THAT VAN! MONEY WAS MORE IMPORTANT, REMEMBER ?!

He slammed his balled-up fists down on the ground as he fell over, holding his head and slightly turning it to look at his hurt mother with gritted teeth.

“How could you… How could you sell me off for money...?!” he whimpered as he tried suppressing his monster back, who was already trying to take over. Once it gained control, Min lost his emotions, and, as usual, he could end up having a murder spree. “WHAT DID I EVER DO TO DESERVE SOMETHING LIKE THIS?! HUH ?! TELL ME?!” he started to shift forms, growing in size.

“Hone-”

“DON’T CALL ME ANYTHING THAT RESEMBLES SYMPATHY YOU <<HAVE>> FOR ME, I DON’T WANT IT! I DON’T WANT IT FROM YOU!,”

The woman looked down at her own weak and bleeding-out form, then back up at Min’s creature of death and darkness. She knew she has been wrong for what she did. Her child was innocent and young; he didn’t know how to control the quirk he received, that seemed to not be hers or his father’s, but a gift from Hell to an Angel on earth.

“Min.....forgive me......I was wrong, and self-centered,” as she spoke her eyes closed and she felt her body starting to part into two, one stays as one goes. To make the situation worse they told Min his father sold his mother in for money. Min slashed the cage open in the meantime, his claws hooking into her body, cutting her at an angle.

“Min isn’t here right now. I’m the one within him. He may have forgiven you, but I haven’t,” he shoved his claws down into her body more, watching content as blood spewed out of her mouth; her eyes stared at him with disgust and horror, as her being started slipping away.

“Monster.....” she whispered at him as her body went limp. He looked down at the ex-mother with disgust, then walked over her corpse, looking at the wall. He felt sharp pains in his legs and arms, and turning around, he realized he had gotten surrounded by guards with guns and other weapons.

“Min, don’t force us to hurt you. You’ve been a good boy for 19 years, don’t act up now. You didn’t like the surprise? I thought you would like to see your mother.....after all, your father thought it would be a nice gift for your birthday today” the same tall man stood there among the guard crowds. Min backed up, feeling his final transformation take over, even though he wasn’t in control.

“There it is! Look at that beauty, boys! Why haven’t I seen that form since we first got you? And now you wanna use it?! The power it holds... look at those teeth, the design, the nails, the tail, the perfect machine for destruction,” he said as he walked to Min with open arms. Min paced forward to meet the man, lowering his head to the man's level.

“Good boy, 323! Show them who you are !!-” the man spoke but in the blink of an eye, Min snapped the man’s body in his jaws, not interested in hearing the offer. The man got completely crushed under Min’s psi, then dropped to the ground in multiple pieces.

Shot, stabbed, and tranquilized, Min turned his head to the wall and made a run for it in pain. He couldn’t give up... he had to run, his monster had to run. He started climbing, digging his nails into the cement wall, explosions and sirens hearing everywhere.

“ATTENTION TEST SUBJECT 323 HAS ESCAPED THE FACILITY, ALL STAFF ON BOARD!!”

He made it to the top of the wall and looked down at the facility he once came from; the place he was raised in; the place that was both hell and home, but not anymore. He looked over to the forest ahead of him and closed his eyes to take in the new, fresh air of freedom.

See? when I take control everything goes faster

“I’m scared of what you will do in the real world”

only one way to find out

“Right, let’s do it”

(((Okay ALSO thank you @half-baked-biscuit​ for editing this you really mean a lot to me. You’re an amazing writer keep up the good work )))

[mspaintdisaster]

look at you, strawberry blond

hey............ I don't know how this works but anyways I wrote a kiribaku oneshot and i’m putting it up here too.

I posted this on ao3 too, under the username nerbegg: ao3 link

Rated: T (for cursing)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Bakugou and Kirishima are in the summer of their third year, they go out to pick strawberries at a farm. Bakugou is anxious about their relationship. They talk, feelings happen.

Bakugou could feel the sun blare down on his neck, burning the skin that wasn’t hidden under his hair. He always forgot to put on sunscreen, in general—not used to putting any sort of cream on his skin because of his quirk. Kirishima had been insistent on slathering his face with it when they had met up at his house.

They had gone out to pick strawberries in some local farm. He had come here at the behest of Kirishima, who had asked only once. Bakugou was now avoiding him, crouching down behind a bush of strawberries to keep his body hidden.

He picked the strawberries off, one by one, and slowly dropped them into a small basket that had been given to him at the gate of the farm. He liked the method to the act, examining the strawberries for blemishes, making sure to pull it by its stem, and the careful motion of getting the damned things into the basket unharmed.

He was getting kind of bored with it though. The uniformity had its merits, but Bakugou was growing dead bored.

There was a particular fruit that caught his eye. A small thing—barely the size of the nail of his thumb. He pulled it off the bush and gave it a look over—it was bright red all around. The light of the sun reflected off of it, giving it almost a healthy sort of glow.

He ripped the stem off the strawberry and popped it into his mouth whole.

Someone had once told him, long ago, that the best way to eat a strawberry was backwards. Fat part first, then go down to the tip. It was the part of the strawberry that burst with the most flavor, after all. Sometimes, it was good to do things unconventionally.

“Bakugou! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for like ten minutes, dude.”

Kirishima came into view, a genuine smile gleaming on his face. He had his hair down, he tended to keep it down when they went out alone together. Bakugou would never say it aloud—but he liked it when his hair was down. For one thing, Kirishima didn’t smell like an array of haircare products. He smelled more like his house did—an odd melody of fruit scents that came from all the candles his moms had. But under that he just smelled like all the other boys (and girls, if he was being honest) in their class—sweat and dirt and some odd tinge that Bakugou had always assumed was just what teenagers smelled like.

Bakugou looked down at his basket of fruits and huffed.

“Uh, so,” Kirishima said awkwardly—a bit louder then his usual cadence, “wanna get to some shade? This sun is killing me—ha.”

The sun did seem to be notoriously spikey today. It was midsummer, not quite into summer vacation yet. They were using their day off from school to do this. It had been a slow week, no internship drama, no particularly bombastic classes, no infiltrations, no kidnappings. Just sitting in class and taking notes—and whatever Kirishima did.

Bakugou stood up, making sure to take the basket up with him. He faced Kirishima, who wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he said.

It would not be a stretch to say that Bakugou was in a bad mood today. In fact, it was true—he was in a bad mood today.

Well, he was in a bad mood near every day. It was a side effect of being Bakugou—overthinking and overanalyzing everything that happened around you tended to put you on the bad side of the emotional spectrum. But sometimes, Kirishima could help with that.

The problem was, right now, Kirishima was not helping with that. In fact, his presence was doing the exact opposite. Bakugou catalogued his every fidget—every twist of his lips, how he kept cracking his knuckles, the way his eyes looked around at everything but him. And he knew— he knew, he knew, he knew—it was because of him.

They sat together on top of a wooden picnic table, both resting their feet on the bench they were supposed to be sitting on. Their small baskets rested between them, bundled together by a light blue ribbon. Kirishima kept his hands together on his lap, moving his fingers methodically in a distracting sort of way. In contrast, Bakugou had his arms spread out over the table top, leaning against them so that his body was angled back. He was staring up at the near cloudless sky and lamenting the lack of accessible shade.

Kirishima was talking about something, but Bakugou wasn’t listening—and he was sure Kirishima knew. Whatever he was saying, it was more for himself then Bakugou. “I need a fucking hat,” said Bakugou, completely unprovoked.

Kirishima glanced at him and laughed. “I bet the sun is really killing you—that’s what you get for not bothering to put on sunscreen. Now you’re gunna smell like aloe cream for days.”

“Pfft, as if I can’t handle a bit of pain. That aloe shit doesn’t heal anything—no point slathering it on unless you want to lessen the burn,” Bakugou held a hand up and activated his quirk, sending small sparks out of palm, “I’m used to it.”

“You don’t have to be used to it, dude. Sometimes it’s nice to not feel like shit.”

Bakugou shook his head and put his hand back down.

“When is that fucking truck coming though?” Bakugou asked.

Kirishima shrugged. “The sign said the hours were scattered, but they gave approximations. Based on that, it should be here in fifteen minutes.” “My skin’s going to peel off by the time it gets here.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Bakugou hummed. He crossed his arms over his abdomen and leaned forward.

Kirishima tapped his shoulder. Bakugou looked back at him.

“I’m going to head to the, uh, entrance for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

Bakugou didn’t respond. He watched Kirishima get up and walk back to the building they had gotten their basket at in silence. He thought: Man, I’m really fucking up, right?

Kirishima had officially—like for real—confessed to him a month or so ago. They had gone on a few weird pseudo-dates since then, and they had all grown increasingly more uncomfortable then the last. He didn’t reply—he hadn’t said shit. He had kept his mouth shut and nodded—fucking nodded—when Kirishima told him he liked him.

The thing was, he knew. They both had known. Kirishima kept dragging him on dumb little dates and Bakugou went along with them all, unquestioningly. By the time they had gotten into their second year he had not even bothered to be jokingly antagonistic about it. Things were good, things had been good. Why had Kirishima messed it all up by confessing?

But—Kirishima wasn’t in the wrong, was he?

Love wasn’t something Bakugou was comfortable with. His parents were an unconventional mess of tough love and borderline abusive dynamics. He hadn’t formed a single balanced relationship until high school—he had only cultivated friends who praised him and demonized the one kid who ever bothered to see him as some kind of equal. Deku, fucking Deku.

“Honey, look—the truck’s just about here!” said some lady. There had been two other people waiting with them, two women who seemed to be in their late twenties. Bakugou sat up. There was a truck with a few people coming up the dirt road that intersected between the fields. It was the kind that had an open back—no real chairs. Instead it seemed to have bundles of straw as cushions. Bakugou felt itchy just thinking about it. He scratched his neck, regretting it quickly. He flinched at the feeling of his nails dragging over his skin. He was for sure already sunburnt.

“I—I made it—” said Kirishima, out of breath.

Bakugou turned to him. His whole body was heavying. He bent down, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. In one of his hands he had a plain sunhat—the same color of the straw on the back of the truck.

“I got this for you—so you wouldn’t end up messing your skin up anymore. I actually went back to see if they had any extra sunscreen—but they said they had just sold their last bottle. Guess I should have pushed harder to get you to put it on back home.”

“I wouldn’t have done it even if you have been more annoying about it.”

“Figured, that’s why I stopped when I did.”

Kirishima grabbed the bundle of strawberries and dropped the hat on top of Bakugou’s head.

“Mom, that was boring,” said a kid as he jumped off the truck—which Bakugou could have sworn had still been moving. A woman—his mother, presumedly—scrambled after him, tripping over her long maxi dress.

Bakugou sighed.

The women who were waiting with them—who had been sitting on another picnic table, pressed thigh to thigh and leaning their faces into each other, giggling all the while—got up and headed for the back of the truck. Bakugou was still thinking about the straw.

Kirishima grabbed his arm and started to pull him to the truck. Bakugou let himself be dragged. Internally he was going over all the ways to avoid touching the straw, but when he got his first good look at the back of the truck, he realized that was impossible.

He groaned.

The two women leaned against the only proper bale of straw, leaving the rest of the straw filled trunk ripe for the taking. Kirishima jumped up and took a corner. Bakugou followed reluctantly.

The driver got out of their seat and came to raise the door of the trunk. They said something in an incomprehensible language—Bakugou thought, some kind of English dialect? He looked at Kirishima to gauge if he had understood what the driver had said, only to see that he was completely zoned out, staring off at nothing in the distance. “She said to make sure to throw up outside of the car, and that the drive around won’t take more than twenty minutes at most,” said one of the women, “Patricia has a thick accent—she’s from the American south. It takes a while to get used to even if you know the language well.”

Bakugou nodded.

“Patricia and her wife have been running this farm for near thirty years by now,” said the other women. She had large spiral horns on either side of her forehead and was wearing dark circular sunglasses. She adjusted her glasses and continued. “They only just opened up to the public—they wanted to expand their business a bit. I think one of the restaurants they were providing for went out of business, and I suppose the little shop they run up front doesn’t bring in much traffic. They are going to start letting schools tour here—but they are trying to figure out an actual lesson plan to provide kids with to make it worthwhile.”

Internally, Bakugou wondered why she was dumping all this info on him. He didn’t say anything out loud, though. Kirishima seemed to be paying attention to what the horned women was saying.

“How did you two boys find your way here?” said her partner. She was far less remarkable in appearance, though she had odd freckle like spots all over her bare skin. They were just off enough that Bakugou could tell they weren’t actually freckles, but fuck if he could tell what they were supposed to be.

“My moms know the couple that runs the farm,” said Kirishima, “They suggested it when I asked them about where we,” he gestured between him and Bakugou, “should go for our next, um, date—" Kirishima looked at him apologetically.

Bakugou kept his face blank but met Kirishima’s gaze. The women seemed to not notice their exchange.

“That’s nice! It’s good to have verity in a relationship. But you two aren’t old enough to be getting bored of simple date spots. You are both from the city, right? I can tell from your accents. Long train ride? Lots of walking?”

“We took a train, for the most part,” Kirishima said, breaking eye contact with Bakugou, “We walked the rest of the way. It’s a nice area.”

“Where do you two go to school?” asked the horned women.

“We go to UA.”

“Oh! I thought I had recognized you from somewhere! I saw you two competing in the sports festival!” she said.

Her partner cut in with a loud sigh. She leaned her head back so that she was facing the sky and brought her knees to her chest. Dreamily, she said “Remember when you wanted to be a hero, Hana?”

The Hana snorted. “God, yeah, Sometimes I can’t believe how fucking long you’ve known me, Futaba. I was delusional in middle school. These things are useless.” She flicked one of her horns. “I would have to headbutt people for them to be effective in anyway. But man,” she said, leaning closer to Kirishima and Bakugou, “you guys are really doing it—training to be heroes. It’s a real admirable thing to do. When all is said and done, heroes have to give up a lot—people are always talking about how corrupted hero society must be—” Bakugou noted the annoyed look Hana’s partner sent her—“but even the bad eggs have to risk their lives and compromise their social lives. I don’t think I could handle something like that.”

Kirishima laughed weakly. “Yeah, sometimes I don’t think I can either—even with everything I’ve already done”

“Well, what ever may happen, just know we are rooting for you! Plus Ultra!” Hana said, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Both of you,” said Futaba, looking at Bakugou with a placid expression on her face.

By the time they were starting to leave, the sun was going down.

“Eijirou!” called one of the workers that had been managing the shop up front. She was an older woman, at least in her fifties. “Say hi to your moms for me! And tell them to visit!”

Kirishima waved back and yelled “Sure thing!”

“How do your moms know that lady—she seems much older than both of them,” said Bakugou in a passive tone. He had not been speaking much at all though the day, his thoughts lingering on Kirishima’s confession so many weeks ago. He thought—not for the first time that day—that he was starting to cut it close.

Kirishima shrugged. “I think they are part of some gay book club or something. Or like, some online chat? I don’t really know if they are that tech savvy, but I can’t imagine another way they would know people this far out in the country.”

Bakugou hummed in reply. His neck was still irritating him a bit, but it wasn’t as bad as it should have gotten because of the floppy hat Kirishima had given him. The sides of the hat bobbed as he walked, but he didn’t much mind. It was hard to be pissed at anything when he was so deep into his thoughts.

He had to say something about it.

The air was cool—not quite cold, it was nearly summer after all. The sun had been burning his skin so harshly he had not noticed. Now the sun was tamer, setting off in the horizon. It shrouded the flat fields they were walking past with hues of fire—mixes of red and orange that made even the dirt path they were on look like something fantastical.

Bakugou opened his mouth to speak—

“Is there a reason,” asked Kirishima, before any sound had passed through Bakugou’s lips, “that you don’t want to date me?”

Bakugou pursed his lips and looked away from Kirishima. His mind was blank.

“I always figured we had like, a thing going on. And I really like you as a friend—so that’s fine if that’s what you want. But you haven’t even properly rejected me. I get that you aren’t really used to this kind of thing—but you’ve kind of just left me hanging here, dude. I really don’t know what I should be doing.”

“Why should we even get together?”

“What?”

Bakugou slowed his pace and looked forward, staring down the near endless path they were going down. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Pro-heroes—they are like, idols. Their whole lives are dedicated to their work—All Might is old as fuck and he has never had a significant other—”

“Not that we know,” Kirishima cut in.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if we know about it or not. He’s not even married. A lot of pros aren’t—most of the best aren’t. And the others weren’t distracted with something as trivial as a boyfriend when they started their careers.”

“So, you’re saying I’d be a distraction?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I don’t want you to be one, is more like it.”

“You know, there’s plenty of others in our class that are dating—Midoriya and Uraraka? Hello? What’s the big deal with it?”

Bakugou scoffed. “Those two aren’t going to last.” He knew Deku since they were kids, whatever he had with Ochako was nothing special. He could see them drifting further away from their honeymoon phase—soon they would break up.

“You can’t just say that—that wasn’t even my point. What about Yaoyozoru and Jirou? You going to call bullshit on them too?”

“Why are you so obsessed with comparisons?”

“I’m just trying to understand what the problem is!”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Kirishima crossed his arms. Bakugou adjusted the straps on his backpack and picked up his pace. They were almost at the train station now.

“Me,” said Bakugou, talking down to his feet, “I’m the problem.”

Kirishima interjected, “You aren’t a problem.”

Bakugou shook his head, still looking down. In a strained voice he said, “I don’t—I can’t be a good boyfriend. I can’t be your boyfriend. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better—I want you.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Bakugou—look, I don’t get what’s wrong, but you have to know—whatever you think you are, how ever you see yourself—I’m fine with who you are. Us dating isn’t going to change anything.”

“It’s supposed to change everything.”

“I don’t care about what it’s supposed to do. Just –just give me an honest answer.”

“Honestly?” Bakugou asked. “Honestly—I never thought anyone would like me. In fact, I was fucking counting on it. I just wanted to be the number one hero—I didn’t care about anything or anyone else. I don’t want you to be a distraction—you don’t deserve to be one. But I might come to see you as one. And—that scares me.” Kirishima looked at him, but Bakugou didn’t meet his gaze.

They reached the station. It was nearly empty save a few employees that looked like they wished they were anywhere but here. In silence, they both passed through to the waiting area for the train. The next train was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes. It was already dark. If it were not for the dim lights hanging above, they would surely have been enveloped in pure black.

Bakugou leaned against a poll and waited near the edge of the ledge the dropped into the tracks. There was no colored line warning him that he was too close. “You haven’t given me an answer,” said Kirishima. He was standing a few steps behind Bakugou.

“You still want one?” Bakugou sneered.

“Dude, I know you. I know what I’ve signed up for—your stupid hyper focused ambition and all. I don’t think you’re giving me enough credit—I can handle your bullshit. I’ve been handling it.”

He walked forward and stood right besides Bakugou. He looked up to the sky, littered with stars beyond that which they saw in the city.

“I realized, a while ago, that I didn’t want to lose you,” said Kirishima, “I mean—I don’t know what I mean. But—you’re important to me. Whatever happens, what ever you want to be, whatever I become—I want to be there with you. And, we can do that as just friends if you want. I just want you to give me an actual answer. Do you like me back?”

“I feel like I’m in fucking middle school again.”

“Bakugou—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

The both fell silent, but it was not an awkward sort. It was contemplative. Bakugou really did not feel like anything changed—and maybe nothing had.

“I hate moments like these. They remind me that I’m actually human. This sucks.”

Kirishima laughed. “I like that you're human—your manly hero persona is a plus too.”

Bakugou heard a whistle in the distance. He turned to the noise and saw faint lights coming up the tracks.

“Train's here,” Kirishima said.

“It’s about fucking time. Kirishima, the next date we go on better be under some fucking shade.”

“Sure, whatever you say, babe.”

Bakugou stiffened besides Kirishima.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” he said, “no fucking pet names.”

Kirishima just laughed.

[lbwings]

Characters: Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s)

Summary: The family has a regular large meal they eat four times a year; this time it was decided someone else needed to join the family. Even if it is surprise to two of them the other two just can not wait to see what happens.

[zscyber]

Chapter 28 - Guardian - of Triggered Awakening is now up!

Chapter summary: Ochako returns home, and Katsuki and Izuku have an important talk in front of Guardian's grave.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28328106/chapters/88116520

Next update: 12-11-21