#nanahiko if you look at it sideways

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take a break

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i know he'd look cute in her outfit, i know it

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🚅💤

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five more minutes, and then we’re going out! it’s summer!!!

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Torino and nana hanging out. For there day off ? Nanahiko❤️

whatever sorahiko's reading, it is NOT as juicy as nana's manga

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I1 Nanahiko, with D5 Toshi :3

the nanahiko is slight, but i promise it would be there if i fleshed out this scenario. and yes, toshinori the snowboy is alive.

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if i sing to the sky... (mha op 3)

og screencap posted past the read-more

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Nanahiko movie night ?

they're both the kind of people who do live commentary while a movie rolls, but they're also the kind of partners who have wildly different interpretations of what a movie should be, leading to - this

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Can you do a story where toshinori is out with his friends but sees a civilian needs help carrying foods and decides to help but accidentally ends up scaring the person (he came up behind the civilian) and the civilian ends up hitting toshinori with his/ her age quirk toshi is about 3 - 4 years old. So his firends the next day end up going to UA early (like around the time the teachers have there staff meetings) or around lunch break and give him to Gran Torino or any teacher that they could find at the time they end up explaining the situation saying that the civilian couldn’t control his quirk so toshi would be stuck like that for around 3 days which wasn’t bad - compared to the other times it accidentally happend Obviously nana ends up finding out from recovery girl his firends take him there first to make sure he’s not stuck like that and to make sure he will be ok and that there isn’t anything else wrong with him. Recovery girl calls Torino and nana and they end up explaining the situation again. Dad Torino and mom shimura moments🤩 / nanahiko sorry I’m getting used to writing like this also if you see the other one I made I thought that one disappeared so I made this one! In more detail so in a way im glad I started over 😅 if you see this THANK YOU for reading my long paragraph 😭💖

Anon, I’m gonna give you a ficlet, but I’m also prefacing it with a disclaimer: you have the fic. You’ve given me an outline from start to finish, which means that this could have been a reverse situation where I as a reader, starved of Mom Shimura and Dad Torino Co-Parent Their Summer Child fics, would get to go ‘YEAHHHH’.

I won’t go so far as asking prompters to follow a format, ‘cause that seems deeply limiting to the imagination, but… I was this 👌 close to not manifesting your fic. wc: 1.2k

//

Nana’s cellphone rang in the middle of the day, right as she was doing a grocery run. Only a few people had her number, and at least three of those people should be occupied at U.A. right now.

She checked the contact name and immediately accepted the call.

“Is this a personal or a business call?” she said, sandwiching the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her hand--the one not occupied with holding the red plastic basket--grabbed for several frozen microwaveable meals.

“It can’t be both?” Chiyo asked dryly. “It’s about your boy.”

Her hand nearly crushed a box. “Toshinori? What happened? Where’s Torino?”

“He’s here, just occupied.” A strange wailing sound came through from Recovery Girl’s side, and Nana cringed instinctively, out of sympathy for the--parent. Because that was the cry of a child, a child much younger than the teenagers that filled U.A.’s halls.

“Give me the phone!” barked Torino.

“Don’t shout, you’re just scaring him more!”

“What on earth,” Nana said, rapidly recalculating how urgent it was to restock her freezer. She replaced the meals and debated on leaving the basket to a store employee altogether. She hadn’t picked up that many items. “Chiyo-chan? Are you still there? I need a report!”

“Relax,” said Chiyo. “Yagi-kun had an incident with some civilian and their Quirk, and now he’s the size of a preschooler, with the memories and mindset of one too.”

“Torino has experience with preschoolers, though, so why is Toshinori crying? Wait. Actually, get me this answer first--why did Gran Torino just find out?”

For Toshinori’s third year, Nana asked Sorahiko if he could clean out the spare bedroom in his apartment and give it to her successor. His apartment was more spacious, and more importantly, wasn’t housing the memory of a small boy running around its walls.

She supposed that would no longer be true.

“When did Toshinori get hit? How long will it last? Why did Gran Torino just find out, Chiyo-chan?” Nana double-checked her basket and found it missing any frozen or refrigerated foods; she set it on a stack of soda cases, made an apologetic face at the nearest employee, and fled the premises to go rescue her partner.

“Torino just found out because the boy’s friends just hauled him to my office, and I called him. There was an early staff meeting, so they didn’t walk to school together. The Quirk is temporary. Depends on his emotional balance, so for the love of God, Torino, stop scowling!”

“I’m heading over,” said Nana. “You can give him the phone and save Toshinori, please.”

“No,” Chiyo responded sourly. “If he’s going to be living with the kid for the next few days, Torino had better learn how to deal with a five year old now.”

“Doesn’t he have classes to teach?”

There was a miffed silence, and then Chiyo heaved a sigh. “You’re only the voice of reason at the worst possible times, Seventh Wonder.”

“You should see my comedy routine with Gran Torino,” she joked.

“I know his sense of humor too well to be tricked into that. Torino, here’s the phone.”

“Shuuzenji, you--!” Sorahiko bit off a curse, probably to spare Toshinori’s ears. Maybe he remembered how Kotarou had a habit of picking up swear words. “Nana, are you there?”

Her eyebrows jumped at the slip in professionalism, and the desperate edge to Sorahiko’s tone, unhidden and panicky. “Go for Nana,” she said.

“Oh, good.” Sorahiko took a deep breath, then expelled it in a huge rush. “He’s tiny. He doesn’t know our names, and as far as I can tell, he doesn’t know about your, uh, gift.”

“I KNOW I’M QUIRKLESS,” a young voice bawled. “I’M SORRY!”

Nana winced as Sorahiko’s first response was to say, “Kid, it’s fine, I told you it doesn’t matter! Nobody is asking you to have one!”

“Torino,” said Nana chidingly. “I’m on my way, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Put your gear on, or he’ll clock you for a social worker.” This last instruction was muttered under his breath, like he was wary of Toshinori being triggered into another sobbing breakdown. She hummed in acknowledgment, said a quick goodbye, and hung up. Shimura Nana would have been stalled at every public transport point; Seventh Wonder had no such boundaries.

//

Sorahiko let Toshinori sob into his cape’s collar because there was really nothing else to do. His student had gone from a tall, bulky (if airheaded) tank of a teenager to a short, scrawny kid of indeterminate age. He looked younger than Kotarou.

“Everything’s fine,” he soothed, rubbing the space between Toshinori’s shoulder blades. His gloved hand was large enough to cover the whole area. The thick padding blocked Sorahiko’s hand from sensing how hard Toshinori trembled, but he didn’t need the feeling to confirm his very clear view of a crying kid.

“Where am I?” the kid hiccupped. “I thought--I thought Shinra-san liked me--”

He knew neither of Toshinori’s foster parents had the name ‘Shinra’, so clearly, Toshinori’s childhood had him bouncing between more than one home. Sorahiko held his tongue and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. Chiyo, gratifyingly, was taking one for the team and talking to Principal Shi about the unexpected leave of absence.

It would only last for the day--substitute teachers, surprise, surprise, weren’t easy to come by for a high school pro-hero program.

“I was being good…”

“Yeah,” said Sorahiko, “I know. You’re a good kid.”

Footsteps. Rubber soles slapping down on linoleum, spaced out to the point where Sorahiko could recognize a subtle use of Float--the nurse’s office door flew open to admit one Seventh Wonder, beaming brightly, as if there was no problem in the world that she couldn’t fix.

The tightness in his spine eased with her appearance.

“Seventh Wonder,” he said.

“Gran Torino!” she answered cheerfully. “I hear we have a new sidekick!” Nana crossed the floor in one, two bounds, before coming to a stop beside Sorahiko. “Hello, Toshinori-shonen, has Gran Torino told you anything about me yet?”

Toshinori’s sniffles came to a bewildered stop. He pulled his face from Sorahiko’s collar (aw, gross, he needed to throw this cape into the wash) and stared at Nana, blinking wet blue eyes. “Who…?”

Nana hesitated, then just--went for it. “I’m Seventh Wonder, Gran Torino’s partner at Sky High Agency. You can call me Shimura-san, though. Pleased to meet you!”

“Pleased to meet you,” the kid echoed, fumbling with his words. “Wh-What’s going to happen to me? I don’t… I don’t have a Quirk, so I can’t be a hero.”

“Not yet,” she corrected. “You’re not big enough to be in the skies with us just yet, but as long you stick with us, Toshinori-shonen, you’ll be the best hero there ever was.”

Sorahiko pulled a face at her. What was the point of promising a temporarily-deaged Toshinori all that? There wasn’t a guarantee that Toshinori’s younger self had been pulled forward, and would retain all this. He rearranged his expression into something neutral when Toshinori whipped back around and chattered, “Torino-san, Torino-san, is that true? Am I really your sidekick?”

From behind Toshinori, Nana narrowed her eyes into a stern glare. Play along, she ordered.

“Yeah,” said Sorahiko. “We’re in charge of you for a long time, kid. You’re staying with us.”

“Oh,” Toshinori uttered, and started weeping again.

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Ok so I have been think about this for DAYS but was sorahiko ever hit with a quirk that messes with this emotions so far he’s been hit with quirks that change his appearance but has he even been hit with one that makes him clingy ?😂 nanahiko 💖

'clingy quirk' is like two degrees to the left of 'sex quirk', y'know. unfortunately for you i fell more to the ‘pre-relationship’ period of nanahiko, so there’s less failed repression of lust. x)

wc: 1,044

//

“I heard the villain got a hit on you,” says Chiyo brusquely, hooking the lip of her oversized syringe’s plunger at Sorahiko’s collar, yanking him down so she can inspect the fading bruise on his cheek. He suffers the treatment with only a grimace.

“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t think it did anything. No new appendages to report.”

“Thank goodness. And I don’t think you look any older or younger, so there’s another blessing.” Chiyo presses a dry kiss to his forehead and shoves him back up. The drain on his energy is… odd. Sorahiko feels his heart judder in his chest; a wheeze escapes him. “Eh? What’s wrong?”

“Dunno. Aren’t you supposed to be a doctor or something?”

She squints up at him and calls for Nana, who immediately makes her excuses to the policewoman in charge of arresting the villain and bolts for their location. Nana sidesteps Chiyo and, in a fit of theatrics, starts patting Sorahiko down.

“Is he alright? Did he sprout a dog’s tail again?”

“Let that go,” Sorahiko gripes, cheeks flushing.

“Only if there’s nothing to let go,” Nana shoots back, and pivots to face Chiyo. As her hands leave, Sorahiko experiences the incredibly damning impulse to reach out for them. He smothers this desire with long-practiced ease.

Chiyo asks, “Did you catch what the villain’s Quirk was, by any chance? Why he’s being saddled with a Quirk misuse ticket?”

“He’s part of a burglary outfit. They’ve all got Quirks that help them pull off the perfect heist. The guy who slapped Gran Torino,” Nana recites, ticking points off on her fingers, “is a non-combatant. His Quirk is, uh… Gran Torino? You good?”

Sorahiko blinks. One of his hands is clutching a handful of Nana’s cape, a tight fist forming creases in the white fabric. Under Sorahiko’s flight suit, his skin is crawling. He doesn’t feel right.

“The Quirk,” he says. “The registry called it ‘Holdfast.’”

“Gran Torino, if you glued yourself to my cape, I reserve the right to smother you in it.” It’s said jokingly, but the worry in her eyes is real. 

“Can you let go?” asks Chiyo. She plants the tip of her syringe on the pavement and drums her fingers on the plunger’s flat top. The keen stare unnerves Sorahiko; his fist trembles and refuses to listen to him. Actually, what happens next is: Sorahiko shuffles closer to Nana and ducks his head.

His throat is dry.

“I’m guessing that’s a solid no,” says Nana.

“The people who got robbed,” Sorahiko rasps. “I’m pretty sure this is why they never reacted in time to prevent it.”

“It must be a psychological thing,” Chiyo muses. “If Heal didn’t cure the effect, then Holdfast isn’t a physically-impairing Quirk. How long did it last for the previous victims? Three days?”

He cringes at the thought of being like this for three days, especially considering the fact that a fourteen year old brat hovers around Nana the exact same way. Sorahiko reassures himself that there’s no way Holdfast lingers that long. The witness statements had been taken individually, and within twenty-four hours of the crime.

“A couple hours, if that,” Nana says absently, and she checks the scene. “I took care of the hand-over, and they know to send the paperwork over to Sky High. Recovery Girl, need us to stay for anything?”

“If you’re certain the Quirk won’t last any longer than that,” says Chiyo. She waves them away. Sorahiko thinks he manages a casual goodbye, but Nana hooks an arm around his waist and heaves him with her to the skies.

“Seventh Wonder!” he curses, legs kicking out a Jet to stabilize their trajectory. 

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Warn me next time! I can’t read your mind!’ Well, I could tell you wanted out of there, so I got us out! Can I get a thank-you instead?”

“I don’t want to find out that Holdfast gets progressively worse mid-air!”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, as it turns out, is Sorahiko being incapable of detaching himself from Nana’s side, even as she experimentally readjusts her hold--his brain thinks ‘Oh no, she’s abandoning me,’ and then his nerves go on the fritz. He redoubles his grip without thinking.

“Too tight!”

They flail for a bit, until Nana drops to the flat rooftop of a commercial property, at which point Sorahiko’s new clinginess topples them over. Small mercies: not only is Sorahiko being the one pinned to the roof, but also his burning face is tucked between her neck and shoulder instead of anywhere inappropriate.

“Okay,” Nana says frankly. “Let’s reassess.”

“Sure.”

“Holdfast isn’t something that can be healed. It’s not even a Quirk you can loophole your way out of, which means that you have to ride out the effects for the next several hours. What’s your body telling you right now?”

“That I need a drink.”

Nana huffs, and thumps her fist against his waist, right over the belt. “Real funny. I’m serious, Gran Torino. If we can’t fly back to the agency, then we need to be able to fly somewhere, or else we’re sitting ducks on this roof.”

“Can’t you just carry me back?”

“What, like--like over my shoulder? Piggyback? Bridal?”

Sorahiko scowls and thumps his fist against her back, even as his fingers struggle to unclench and grasp at her cape. “The second option. Full-body contact helps, skin or not.”

“Ah-h-h,” says Nana like she’s had a revelation.

“What?”

“I got this,” she says, completely ignoring his question. “Okay, I’m gonna call Iwata-kun. He has the set of back-up keys to the office, and can close if we’re not back in a few hours. Then we’re going to your place, and we, Gran Torino, are going to cuddle.”

“Gross,” says Sorahiko reflexively.

“Hush.” Nana’s arm shifts; she’s pulling out her phone, unzipping the pocket hidden in her red half-skirt, and soon enough, he hears the blunt thud of a gloved thumb pressing hard against the reinforced glass screen. Their secretary’s voice comes through clearly, but with all of Sorahiko’s senses attuned to Nana, it fades to mere background noise.

She’s got him. She’s not going to let go.

“Gran Torino? Torino, did you just fall asleep on me? Or, well, under me, but--hey!”

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ficlet, "you misdial at a telephone booth and ask in a very upset voice if I can pick you up, and I don’t know why, but I ask where you are so I can pick you up", nanahiko

“Shimura?”

Nana cocked her head back, puzzled and ever-so-slightly suspicious, because of all the men in her life who’d call her landline, none of them had a voice like gravel, low and hoarse. Her interest piqued, Nana readjusted the phone and politely said, “Hello?”

“… Are you Shimura En?”

“That would be my cousin.”

“Oh,” the man said, and then stumbled through saying, “wait, so you’re also—you do work in the—you’re the cousin who flies, right? Can I pay you to pick me up?”

Definitely interesting, she thought. “Name and location, please, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Torino,” he answered, and gave her the location of En’s gym before adding in a cranky tone, “There’s a bunch of pissed-off idiots lurking outside, and they don’t seem to be the type to fight without Quirk use.”

“I’ll take care of you first,” said Nana, and smothered a smile at his startled coughing.

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So I have a head canon about gran Torino I seen some where that he liked old westerns (Clint Eastwood type) and all I could think is that he listens to country music, him and nana just jaming out

Anon I’m so sorry for the delay but this is a fascinating headcanon. Did you know Japanese country music is a genre??? Inspired by American country music, and then developed into its own thing during the 1970s... (even more fascinatingly, a famous album, Hosono House, is available to listen to on YouTube and Spotify)

(Incidentally, you hit two of my worst nightmares to draw: hats and instruments)

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and make it double!

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Royalty AU that's all imma say

oh boy. ohhh boy. disclaimer: I know approximately nothing about history, and I rarely touch Royalty AUs. STILL. THANK YOU FOR THE ASK.

1) European Medieval Royalty-Fantasy AU, where Nana is a wandering Knight/Paladin of OFA, and Sorahiko is [x] member of royalty (like... third-in-line or something, so he’s trained in combat enough to travel with Nana, but not so important that he can’t leave court)

2) Japanese Heian Period Royalty AU, where Nana is a member of the imperial court and Sorahiko is a samurai. More specifically, her samurai. 

3) Modern Royalty AU, but that just feels more like a throwaway scenario, so I didn’t art for it. And there’s really a whole lot more, but the above two were what I was focusing on more.

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how about comfort AU's like from nightmares fear etc

bless u | continuation of my nana survives!au (also known as “i lived, *censored*”)

If Toshinori ever asked, Nana would claim to be a light sleeper. Easily roused, and quick to move into action. It was a good trait for a pro-hero to develop, since disaster waited for approximately no one. Fortunately, Toshinori’s interest in the pro-hero lifestyle extended to diet, exercise, and workload - Nana could save the ‘this is what they never tell you in U.A.’ lecture for… well, they had all the time in the world now, didn’t they?

Nana surfaced from sleep groggily. Something had woken her, and she was cozily entangled in blankets for once. Her aching body twitched with phantom lightning when a burst of cold air invaded the warm burrow.

… Blankets. Cozy. Aching body.

She rolled over and murmured, “Sora’iko?”

There was a brief silence, broken by a rough sob; she cracked open an eye and instead of seeing Sorahiko’s back, or his ruffled silver hair, she saw the dark fabric of his briefs. Rather quickly, her brain crabbed up to speed. Sorahiko was sitting up, and leaning his elbows against his knees, burying his face in his hands, trying to stifle the ragged breaths escaping his lungs.

“Hey,” Nana said, alarmed. With a groan, she propped herself up onto her elbows.

“Go back to sleep.”

She ignored the muffled order, and carefully maneuvered closer. There wasn’t any conceivable way Nana would be able to sit up without crying a little; All for One had left palpable scars, and it would take time and medication before Nana’s easy grace returned. If it ever did. Nana pressed against Sorahiko’s leg and asked, “Nightmare?”

He scrubbed his eyes. Exhaled sharply. “I can handle it.”

“Well, yes, you could,” she agreed diplomatically, “but you don’t have to.”

“You’re my best friend, not my therapist.” When Nana squinted up at his expression, so difficult to see in the poor moonlight, Sorahiko clicked his tongue. She could tell he moved his head to turn his face to the side; his hair was a dead giveaway any night. “What woke you? The noise?”

Nana thought about it. “No,” she said, and flexed her lower leg muscles. “I think you kicked me.”

A beat of silence, and Sorahiko shoved himself to the edge of the bed. “I’ll move to the couch, sorry--”

It pulled at her scars, and Nana wasn’t able to hold back the pained gasp, but she successfully snagged his shirt and yanked him down. He yelped, but went with the motion. Dizzily, she saved the move for future reference--if she moved fast enough, without thinking, then the consequences wouldn’t manifest fully until she stopped for a second.

And Sorahiko was in her arms, so it wasn’t a lose-lose situation.

“... Ow,” said Nana weakly. She hugged him close and rested her forehead against his back, and for good measure, hooked a leg over his. Earlier, they had been on polite ends of the bed. A pillow wall would have just been for show. Now, Nana was tossing all propriety to the wind. She hurt, goddamn it, and when they used to be kids, Sorahiko had been her best teddy bear. “Stay?”

“I used my Quirk in my sleep, Shimura,” he said, his voice tight with all the things he was probably gearing up to say. “Not exactly the bed-partner you’d want right now.”

“You fit the bill,” she muttered.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nana blinked hard. She tried to pick apart the tone: Sorahiko sounded certain, and terrified, and guilty all at once. There was no textbook answer for comforting your partner, or even your best friend. “I won’t even wake up with a bruise. Are you sure this isn’t you asking for dignity? Because I have an argument for that too.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Promptly, Nana shot back, “Your dignity went swirling down the drain twenty years ago, after we got caught by those supermarket employees for taking the carts on a joyride.” He snorted, and so encouraged, Nana added in a quieter voice, “If you go, I’ll have nightmares.”

She heard his throat click. “That’s some argument, Shimura.”

“Don’t front with me, just agree that your bed’s too nice to leave.”

His head thumped into the pillow. “I did pay a lot of money for it,” he mumbled. They breathed in synchronization, and Nana felt herself easing to drowsiness when Sorahiko said, in a small voice, “I left you behind. You told me to leave you behind.”

“That was the plan. I’m not going to blame you for following the plan.”

Sorahiko’s hand, large and square, warm and slightly sweaty, fumbled for hers. Nana wrinkled her nose, but decided against pulling away. His palm was only pressing against the back of her hand after all. “I can’t do that again, Nana.”

She wished she could promise that he wouldn’t have to. But Toshinori was barely out of high school, and if Nana could distract All for One with evidence of her survival, then she’d do it in a heartbeat.

“Don’t make me do it again.”

“Okay,” Nana said, aching, aching, aching at the sound of him begging. She tightened her hold, tangling them close so her entire front was warm by proximity. “It’s alright now, Sorahiko. You don’t have to worry about it. Go to sleep now, okay?”

“I’m holding you to that,” Sorahiko rasped. He inhaled, exhaled, and settled into (at the very least) a light doze.

“Goodnight,” she murmured.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

no defenses now