akataiii

[akataiii]

Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?

Well, have I got the html for you!

Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!

Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">

Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">

nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">

yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">

It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):

Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)

[akataiii]

Lipstick stains (A Bakugou x Female! Reader)

"Ah, shit."

You look down at the empty lipstick, pursing your lips in annoyance. It was your favorite shade, and you had just run out, meaning you'd have to replace it. With a sigh, you slap on some clear lip gloss and head out of your room.

"I'll be back," you say to your boyfriend in passing, grabbing your handbag from the table where you had previously left it.

"Where you headed?" Katsuki asks, looking up from his phone in curiosity.

"I ran out of lipstick," you admit, making your way to the front door to put your shoes on. "I'm just going to make a quick run to the store to get a new one."

"At least get a different shade this time," Katsuki calls from behind you. "The one you had was ugly as shit."

You whip your head around, dropping your shoes before marching back to the couch to glare down at the blonde, who had gone back to looking at his phone. Upon noticing your stare, Katsuki's gaze drifts up to you again, and his brows draw together in a frown.

"What?" He grunts.

"Don't act like you don't know," you scold, crossing your arms across your chest and deepening your scowl. "That's my favorite shade you're insulting."

Katsuki's frown turns to a glare as well, and he shuts his phone off, tossing it to the side as he folds his own arms across his chest, mirroring your pose. "I'm not taking it back," he informs. "Ugly is ugly."

You resist the urge to punch him in the face, reminding yourself that he wasn't being mean on purpose. You do narrow your eyes at him, though. Silently communicating your rage.

Then, suddenly, an idea pops into your head, and you uncross your arms, letting them drop to your side. Katsuki picks up on your sudden shift in moods, and you can see him pull a grimace, knowing he was about to be pulled along for a ride he did not want to be apart of.

"If you hate the shade so much," you start, letting your lips spread into a smirk. "Then how about you tag along and pick one out for me?"

Katsuki lets out a pained groan, throwing his head back against the couch. "No way."

"Come on," you say decidedly, grabbing ahold of his wrist and hauling him to his feet. "Be a good boyfriend for once."

Katsuki makes an offended noise. "Fuck you. I'm a great boyfriend."

And that was all it took to get him out the door with you.

.

"How am I supposed to pick a shade when I don't know what it looks like?" Katsuki questions, watching you present him with several options.

"What do you mean?" You ask in confusion, holding a lipstick up to explain. "The color is literally right here on the bottom."

Katsuki makes a show of rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest, staring at you like you're an imbecile. "I mean," he grits out, narrowing his eyes at you. "How can I pick a shade when I don't know if it looks good on you or not?"

You let out a quiet 'Ohh' of understanding, bringing the shades closer to you again to examine the options.

"You could have just asked me to put them on, you know?" You say, smiling at yourself in the mirror when Kastuki's anger flares up behind you again.

When you've applied the lipstick to your lips, you spin around to show it off to the blonde, quirking your brows in the question, 'What do you think?'

Katsuki makes a face, scrunching his nose in consideration before he shakes his head, 'no.'

You sigh and dig a wet wipe out of your bag to wipe the lipstick off of your lips. Then, you pick out the next shade and put it on, smacking your lips before showing it off to your boyfriend.

"No," he says almost immediately. "That one looks even worse."

You shoot him an unamused look. "Seriously?"

The blonde shrugs, tilting his head to the side as he says, "You wanted me to be honest."

You purse your lips in irritation, thinking of a way you can get the blonde back for his pickiness. When you get an idea, your eyes light up, once again alerting Katsuki that he was in for a ride, whether he liked it or not.

"How about I see what it looks like on you, hmm?" You question, and Katsuki's eyes shoot open in response as you start to approach him in slow, almost predatory steps.

"Fuck no," he protests, holding a finger up in warning. "You are not putting that shit on my lips."

Your smile widens in response, and you keep stalking closer to the blonde, sidestepping him once, twice, before slinging your arms around his neck and placing a fierce kiss onto his cheek.

You let go of his neck, grinning in triumph as Katsuki stands there, stiff as a board.

"Yeah, you're right," you say, turning around and wiping the lipstick off of your lips again. "That shade is pretty ugly."

The blonde doesn't utter a word when you spin around to show him the next shade, still stunned from your earlier actions.

"What about this one, Kats?" You question, getting no response except for a strangled noise from the back of his throat.

"Let's see if I like it on you," you say, placing another kiss on Katsuki's opposite cheek, finally shocking the blonde back into motion.

"That one's ugly too," he says, and you don't miss the blush that creeps onto his cheeks, slightly hidden by the pink and red lipstick marks you left.

"Really?" You prompt, letting out a giggle at his flustered state. "I think this one's rather nice on you."

Getting no answer apart from a click of the tongue, you spin around and wipe your lips for the third time, putting on the next shade.

"How's this one?" You ask as your eyes leave the mirror. When you turn around, you're surprised to find that Katsuki is no longer a few steps away and is now standing almost on top of you, looming over your form with a smirk plastered on his face.

"It's perfect," he breathes before bending down and capturing your painted lips with his own.

A short but breathtaking kiss later, Katsuki pulls away with lipstick on his lips identical to your own, smiling down at you with affection flashing through his crimson gaze.

"Great," you whisper, still breathless from the kiss. "I'll get this one then."

"Damn right," Katsuki says, creating some space between the two of you as he takes a step back. "Now give me that wet wipe."

You chuckle, handing it over and watching as Katsuki starts furiously wiping at his face to get the lipstick marks off.

"Good?" He asks when he's done, looking at you for approval.

Your eyes widen before you quickly inspect the label of the lipstick you're holding. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, looking back up at Katsuki with an apologetic gaze.

"What?" He questions, brows furrowing expectantly for when you drop the bombshell that has you looking so worried on him.

"Katsuki. I am so sorry," you say, unable to hold back your laugh when Katsuki grabs the lipstick from your hand and inspects the label for himself.

"IT'S FUCKING TINTED!?"

.

In the end, you got a new favorite shade of lipstick, and Katsuki... Well. Katsuki got some very positive feedback from the civilians he passed on patrol the next day.

[akataiii]

(For writers) You ever just have a moment where you're editing your story but end up getting so invested in the plot that you forget you're editing and look past the spelling errors to progress in the story?

Or is that just me?

[akataiii]

PPB & HS (Dabi x Female! Reader)

“FUCKK!”

Dabi startles awake from his nap on the couch of the League’s hideout, blue flames flickering alive in his palm and eyes darting around the room to find whatever it was that woke him up. 

“I'm so done!” He hears again, less loud than before but still at a relatively high volume. Enough to induce a headache.

Dabi allows his flames to die out, dragging a hand along his face in exasperation. Still, a tiny voice in the back of his head nags at him to get up and go check it out. He knows who the voice belongs to, after all, and he is loathe to admit he's always a tiny bit worried when said voice is in distress.

After hearing another frustrated yell, Dabi hauls himself off the couch with a grunt and makes his way up the stairs to the top floor of the hideout.

Bless Shigaraki’s thought process when he decided to move the hideout from the bar to an abandoned motel. The bedrooms were a much-needed upgrade from them sharing the cramped living room-esque space of the bar to sleep.

Dabi reaches the door he's looking for, hearing another angry yell from inside and letting out a resigned sigh. Whatever he finds behind this door—he will deal with it like the responsible adult that he is. He will not engage in any childish behaviour like baseless bantering, petty insults, unnecessary taunts etc, etc.

With a final sigh, Dabi swings the door open, ready to offer his support and—“Oh. My god,” he says before he can stop himself, the hand not holding the doorknob coming up to cover his agape mouth.

Y/N swivels around in her seat, eyes already narrowed and glaring as a forewarning. Dabi tries his best—really, he does—to not laugh at the absolute abysmal horror that sits atop Y/N’s head. 

Her hair was already naturally frizzy on a good, humid free day, but come rain and the morning after, and she turns into some kind of Persian cat that got thrown into a tumble dryer. Just her luck that there happened to be a nice rainstorm the night before.

Y/N notices Dabi desperately trying to hold back his laughter, and she raises a hand, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Don't you dare,” she warns, eyes narrowing into thin slits until her pupils are barely visible.

He loses the battle. After the first snort makes it past Dabi’s lips, he's done for, dissolving into a fit of laughter that has his stomach aching and has him believing he ripped out a staple or two. 

“I didn't realize you were leaving villainy behind to pursue the life of a clown,” he manages to taunt through his first bout of giggles, doubling over when Y/N lets out the most offended scoff he's heard from her yet.

“Fuck you. It's not funny!” Y/N calls out from where she's sitting by the vanity, an array of hair equipment laid out on its surface.

Dabi attempts to tell her that, ‘No, it's not funny, it's fucking hilarious,’ through his giggles, but he's unsuccessful as his body is racked with another laugh every time he tries to get the words out.

“Dabi! Stop laughing and get over here!”

It takes him several minutes to finally stop laughing and make his way over to Y/N, towering over her and the mop on her head that's supposed to resemble hair. 

He almost starts laughing again.

“Okay. So, how exactly am I supposed to help?” He asks, watching as she stares back at him from the mirror.

“I don't know? Just—try something! I'm done struggling,” she answers, letting out an angry huff and folding her arms across her chest with a pout on her lips.

Cute, Dabi thinks, letting a smile graze his lips as he focuses his attention on her very frizzy, poofy hair. He runs an experimental hand through the (h/c) strands, pleased to find that it follows a smooth course.

“Good news,” he pipes up from behind Y/N. “There aren't any tangles, so I should be able to brush it down.”

“Hah,” she barks out a laugh. “What do you think I've been trying to do for the last hour of my life?”

Dabi rolls his eyes at her dramatics, holding a hand out in front of her. “Just hand me the brush,” he instructs, and the item is forcefully placed in his outstretched palm.

He takes his time running his hands through her hair and brushing through the (h/c) strands, admiring the way it has a certain shine to it when the dim lighting in the motel room hits it at just the right angle. Appreciating the way Y/N relaxes into his touch instead of flinching away from it like she did all those months ago when she initially joined the League.

Alas, even with all the gentle care and tedious brushing, Dabi has no luck taming this tumble dried Persian fur, and he lets out his own frustrated sigh.

“A valiant effort,” Y/N comments from her seat, taking the brush back and earning her a flick behind her ear from Dabi.

After a few moments of pondering, and a few moments of eyeing Y/N’s hair, he gets another idea. 

“Hand me the straightener,” Dabi orders, hand already held out and ready as he continues to study the frizzy hair in front of him.

While frizzy, yes, Y/N’s hair usually laid flat and straight when tamed. If he could just run the brush and the straightener through it, it should be fine. He's had plenty of practice helping Fuyumi straighten her hair, so he won't be going in blind.

“Hate to break it to you, Hot stuff, but there's no straightener here,” she says after a few seconds.

Dabi dips his head to scan the items on the vanity from over Y/N’s shoulder. There was a brush, hair ties, bobby pins, and a spray bottle with some whitish concoction in it all displayed on the surface of the vanity. No straightener, or curling iron, or even a hairdryer in sight.

“The fuck?” He scoffs. “What kind of motel doesn't even have a hairdryer?”

“This one, apparently,” Y/N answers unhelpfully, and Dabi shoots her a deadpan look that screams, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’

He straightens back out and paces back and forth in the room, mind going through ideas and other possible solutions. Surely there was something he could do, right? 

Out of habit, Dabi starts to snap his fingers. It's an action he started doing as a sort of stim, usually pairing it with a little heat from his quirk to ignite tiny blue sparks. It kind of reminds him of a sputtering lighter. Barely hanging onto life but still trying its very best.

After around the fifth spark, his skin starts to feel the heat building up, the healthy skin of his fingers able to feel the burn from his Quirk. Dabi stares down at his stitchworked palm, and it's then that he gets his brilliant idea on how to tame Y/N’s hair. 

He stops his pacing to stand behind her again, placing two warm hands on both her shoulders respectively, and catching her gaze in the vanity mirror.

“How much do you trust me?” He questions, earning him a quirked brow in return.

“Depends,” Y/N answers, skepticism shining through in her tone. “Why?”

“Just—I'm going to need you to trust me this once,” he says, removing one hand from her shoulders to ask for the brush.

Y/N’s eyes cycle between his hand, the brush, and his eyes, eventually signing herself over to fate with a pained sigh, and handing him the brush.

“Better not ruin my hair any further,” she mumbles, and Dabi snorts in return.

“Doon’t worry, Princess. Nothing I do can top the mess you made,” he teases, narrowly avoiding the hand that comes up to smack him.

“Enough chitchat. Get to it,” she orders, resuming her pouty pose from before.

“Mhm.”

And so, Dabi puts his plan into action, gripping the brush with his left hand and creating a peace sign with his right; he starts the familiar process that is straightening hair. Granted, it wasn't as familiar given he was doing it with his heated fingers instead of an actual straightener, but the motions were all still the same.

It takes a solid 30 seconds before Y/N starts to question Dabi’s actions.

“What are you doing back there?” She asks, trying to spot what he's doing in the mirror.

“Stop moving,” Dabi scolds off handedly, and Y/N stills with a frustrated huff.

He laughs at her childlike pout, moving onto the next section of hair. “If you keep squirming I might make a mistake,” he says a few seconds later, earning him a sideways glance from the mirror.

“Dabi. What are you doing?”

He has to fight back a chortle at her wariness, instead running the brush through the now-smooth section of hair.

“Don't worry your pretty little head,” he quips back, pleased when he earns another frustrated huff from Y/N.

He works in silence for just about 2 minutes before there's an audible gasp that has his heart doing a backflip straight out of his ass.

“Are you straightening my hair with your fucking Quirk!?” Y/N asks, affronted. Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head where she's caught sight of Dabi's fingers clamped down against her hair.

“Maybe,” he fires back, if only because he's never been able to give a straightforward answer in his life. Maybe also because he's a sadist and enjoys seeing the panic flashing through Y/N’s eyes.

“I swear to fucking—Dabi if you burn my hair off—” 

“Didn't I tell you to trust me?” He cuts her off, and she sputters weakly in protest. “It's been working so far, no?”

Y/N takes a moment to scan her head of hair, which now lays mostly flat against her scalp, save for the few sections Dabi still has left to straighten.

She pouts for the umpteenth time, unable to argue with the visible results. “Just don't burn what's left,” she mutters, wanting to get the last word.

Too bad for her, Dabi is a certified yapper, who always has something to say, and doesn't hesitate to say it, even when it's uncalled for. He always gets the last word.

“I won't burn your new job wig,” Dabi teases, referring back to his earlier statement about a clown profession.

“If you burn my hair, I will never steal you a chocolate bar ever again,” Y/N says, casting him a threatening glance in the mirror.

Dabi does not get the last word that time.

—

“All done,” Dabi says, running his hands through Y/N’s now-flat and straight hair one last time before allowing her to do it herself.

She makes a show of turning her head from side to side in the mirror, nodding slowly as she insepcts each part of her hair in close detail. Her contemplative hums fill the air, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.

“Hmm,” she hums a final time, straightening her back and flipping her hair over her shoulder. Her (e/c) gaze catches Dabi's in the mirror, and she has a large grin plastered on her face.

“Did I meet your demands, my lady?” Dabi questions with a teasing lilt in his voice, knowing Y/N wouldn't be mad at it this time around.

“You did,” she says, eyes softening at him with gratitude as she tilts her head to the side. “You even earned yourself a new title.”

Dabi chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what might that be?”

“You've upgraded from the term ‘favorite comrade’ to ‘personal portable hair straightener,’” Y/N says, eyes shining with mirth. “‘PPHS’ for short.”

He can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole situation, falling back on the edge of the bed behind him when his knees grow weak from the laughter and having stood for so long. 

“I was hoping to reach the term ‘boyfriend’ before all that,” Dabi shoots back before he can stop himself, words leaving his lips and spilling the feelings he's kept to himself for so long.

Y/N doesn't reply with the expected shocked words, ‘You like me?’ Instead, the grin still painting her face seems to double in size and she's sitting on Dabi's lap before he even has the chance to blink.

“Maybe I can tweak the term a bit,” she says, grin turning playful. “‘PPB & HS.’ Personal portable boyfriend and hair straightener.”

His hands find their way around her waist and he pulls her in closer, gazing up at her ever so slightly and beckoning her down in return. 

“I can live with that,” he replies, eyes subconsciously fluttering shut and face drifting closer to hers, the actions of a starved man whose appetite can only be satiated by one particular thing.

“Good,” Y/N whispers before her lips connect with his in a searing, passionate kiss that shows just how similarly starved she's been. It's warm, and pleasant, and so good. It's everything so opposite of the villains they present themselves to be.

And Dabi hasn't been able to feel this satisfied since Toya died on Sekoto Peak. He's only ever wanted to burn everything that reminded him of who he used to be. He still wants to burn his family, and the society that brought the pain upon him.

He wants to burn heroes and everything they hold dear. Hell, he wants to burn it all. The world and anything in his path to lessen this raging hatred inside of him.

But with the lips moving hungrily against his, and the hands running needily along his chest, clawing at his shirt and grazing the staples that hold together his skin, Dabi knows that there is one thing; one person in this fucked up world that he will never want to burn.

[akataiii]

omg it can't be??!! More BakuDeku sketches???

I'm working on trying to improve! Might try and make a comic type thing soon

[akataiii]

"Endeavor hate is so forced" it's actually not, it comes very easily to me goodbye

[akataiii]

Rumbles of a new beginning (KiriBaku)

Katsuki Bakugo is an aggressive 17-year-old UA student with ash blonde hair, piercing red eyes that scream 'Get too close and I'll kill you,' and a quirk called Explosion. He is on his way to becoming a pro hero, now a third year at UA and a part of the new Big 3.

Katsuki Bakugo is also deaf.

As of now, he sits with his eyes glued to a math textbook. People have always praised him for his good grades, especially his classmates who often say they're jealous of how 'naturally gifted' he is. Truth is, it's not natural at all. Katsuki puts in a ton of work to achieve what he does, which is why he is currently busy staring at shitty quadratic formulas and endless graph slopes with tired eyes.

As he stifles a yawn, he feels a slight rumble below him. He waits for a few moments and when nothing else happens he shrugs and returns his attention to his work. Since he became fully deaf, he often sees or feels things that aren't really there, so he's not too bothered. But then, there's another rumble and Katsuki jumps, lifting his gaze to observe his surroundings.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. His folded laundry sits neatly on the chair where he left it. His shoes are still chucked into the corner of his dorm. Hell, even the curtains haven't moved an inch. With a slight irritation crawling under his skin, Katsuki lets out a sigh and focuses on his work once more.

It's only when he feels a third and more powerful rumble that he slams his workbook shut and chucks his pen across the room. He angrily turns his gaze to the alarm clock on his bedside table, which now displays the time '1:53 am.' No wonder he's so annoyed. He never stays up this late.

With an annoyed grunt, Katsuki decides it's high time he settles down and goes to bed. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and walks over to the light switch. He flicks it off and the room is swallowed in darkness. Waiting for his eyes to adjust, he lazily glances at the window and his eyes widen upon realizing that it was raining.

With a bitter feeling forming in his stomach, he steps closer to the window and looks out into the night sky. Just then, a sudden flash of white light illuminates the room and causes Katsuki to jump in surprise. With a newfound anxiety, he flees to the safety of his bed and buries his head under the comforter. Great, just what he needs.

A thunderstorm.

His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and his breaths come out as shaky and uneven gusts of air. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, willing the nausea in his stomach to go away. As his body steadily rids itself of the adrenaline, he racks his brain for solutions to his current predicament.

Katsuki loathes to admit it, but he's terrified of thunderstorms. Not the rain or the bright white flashes of lightning part of it, but the heavy rumble that thunder causes. Yeah, sure, his quirk produces literal explosions, but at least he knows when they're coming. He used to adore thunderstorms. They used to be soothing. But now, they're his greatest enemy.

He hates not knowing when the earth below him would shake. He hates not being able to hear the warning sound before thunder rolls out. He hates not being able to prepare himself for it.

Katsuki's train of thought is interrupted by another mighty rumble and he shuts his eyes so tight he sees stars. He counts to ten. Forward, backward, anything to calm his mind from the unrelenting thunder. Occasionally, he would glance at the window in hope that the rain had stopped, but he's just met with a feeling of dread as the drops of water continue to roll down his window.

At around 2:30 am, Katsuki still hasn't fallen asleep and is just about ready to lose his mind. He picks up his phone and turns it on, wincing at the harsh light of the screen. When he's used to the light, he scrolls through his contact list, not really searching for anyone in particular. Then his eyes land on a certain number and his tired brain finds a solution.

He dials the number, waiting for the person at the other end of the line to pick up and watching as the Facetime rings. There is no answer. The screen flickers back to the chat screen before eventually shutting off completely. Katsuki closes his eyes and he sighs in defeat. It was worth a shot.

He makes peace with the fact that he likely won't be sleeping tonight. He clicks his phone on again and looks for a video to distract himself. He's about halfway through the video when he receives a text and a small smile spreads across his face when he sees who it's from.

Shitty Hair

Seriously Kats? At 2:30 in the morning? I was having such a good dream too. (02:56)

Katsuki chuckles at the message. Kirishima was usually a pretty cheery guy, but wake him up from his REM cycle and the guy has enough irritation to rival Katsuki's own. He eagerly types a reply.

Me

Yeah, yeah whatever. Now that you're up though... How's the weather up there? (02:56)

Shitty Hair

We're on the same floor? And you're taller than me! (02:57)

Me

Kirishima. The weather... (02:57)

Shitty Hair

What? (02:58)

Oh! I'm coming! (02:59)

Katsuki shuts his phone off to stare at the ceiling as he waits for Kirishima to arrive. It's not long before Katsuki's lights flicker on and off; Kirishima's own personal way of signaling his arrival.

The blonde sits up in his bed as Kirishima flicks the lights on once more. Katsuki's dorm lights up and it takes a moment for the blonde's eyes to readjust. Once he's settled though, he focuses his attention on Kirishima who sits and waits at the edge of the bed with a soft smile.

"Hi," Katsuki mumbles. He hopes it's loud enough, given he can't exactly tell apart from how hard the vibration is in his throat.

Kirishima waves a hand at him. 'Hi,' Katsuki reads his lips.

'What's up?' he reads again, and he brings his shoulders up in a half-hearted shrug.

"Thunder," Katsuki mumbles.

Kirishima nods his head in understanding. 'Want me to...' Kirishima starts, his words trailing off until his mouth forms a perfect O and he's looking off to the side. His hands are frozen mid-air where he had started signing to accompany his words.

Katsuki quirks a brow in question. Back in first year, he would probably be lashing out at the guy by now and calling him a dumbass, but Katsuki knows better now. So he sits and waits patiently for Kirishima to finish.

Katsuki is efficient at reading lips and the rest of the class knew that, so they never really put in the effort to learn sign language. All except for Kirishima. Katsuki felt honored that Kirishima put in the extra hours after school to learn sign language just for him. He was far from perfect but he was certainly getting there. And Katsuki won't lie and say he doesn't enjoy it when Kirishima randomly shows up in his dorm to show him some new signs that he learned. It was something Katsuki looked forward to, really.

It takes a few moments, but Kirishima eventually continues after some thinking. 'Want me to sleep with you?' he signs.

Okay. So, maybe Katsuki really is losing it, or maybe he's just tired and his eyes are playing tricks on him, but at that moment he feels his face heat up and his breath catches in his throat. Did Kirishima seriously just ask to sleep with him??

The logical part of Katsuki's tired brain kicks into gear and scolds him and his teenage hormones. Kirishima was a good guy who cared about his friends, so obviously he had meant it in a very innocent and caring way. Like sleeping on the floor next to Katsuki's bed. Not like it would help.

Right that moment another white flash lights up Katsuki's room and a second later there's a rumble beneath them. Shit. Katsuki completely forgot about the stupid thunderstorm. He jumps and lets out a yelp, if the vibration in his throat is anything to go by.

Katsuki scrambles on the bed and latches onto Kirishima's upper arm, burying his face into his chest. Before he has a chance to regret his actions, two strong arms wrap around his torso and pull him closer for a hug. Katsuki is enveloped by a scent that could only belong to Kirishima; like earth with a musky undertone. It reminds Katsuki of walking through a rainforest and the scent fills him with a sense of peace.

His arms that were holding onto Kirishima's upper arm move down to wrap around the red head's torso as well, squeezing him tightly. Katsuki buries his face in the crook of Kirishima's neck, basking in his scent and allowing it to distract him from the weather.

They sit like that for quite some time, one of Kirishima's hands rubbing gentle circles on Katsuki's back. The blonde closes his eyes and appreciates the comforting feeling that Kirishima provides.

The bright flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder that used to be daunting fade away into the background as Katsuki focuses on Kirishima's gentle breathing and his hand which is still rubbing random patterns onto the blonde's back.

At some point though, Katsuki feels the red head's muscles tense and he's forcefully pushed away. Katsuki blinks his eyes open and is assaulted by the bright light of his room. Kirishima looks panicked as he hastily starts to sign something.

'Stay. Stay. Stay,' he frantically signs and Katsuki furrows his brows in confusion. He tilts his head to the side and scrunches his nose to show he is very lost.

Kirishima's cheeks are painted red in embarrassment as he starts to explain. 'I meant to ask if I should stay with you not sleep with you.'

As soon as he finishes signing that, he buries his face in his hands and turns his body to face away from Katsuki.

Katsuki blinks in surprise before he feels himself start to softly chuckle. And before long those chuckles turn into full-blown laughter that he has to stifle with the back of his hand so as to not wake anyone else on the floor.

Kirishima lifts his face from his hands, embarrassment quickly giving way to joy as he starts to laugh along with Katsuki. The blonde opens his eyes to see Kirishima's body shaking with laughter and a sudden wave of sadness washes over him.

Maybe not sadness per se but rather a feeling of longing. He can see Kirishima laughing but he can hear nothing. And he misses it. Misses hearing the red head's obnoxious yet strangely infectious laugh. He misses being able to pick him out of a crowd, solely by the sound of his voice. He longs to hear it, just one last time.

"I miss your voice," Katsuki says and he hopes he sounds okay. The vibrations in his throat felt right.

Kirishima blinks at him for a second or two, the gears visibly shifting in his brain before he eventually figures it out and smiles at Katsuki. His eyes are filled with so much fondness. So much care and kindness it almost makes Katsuki want to cry.

He doesn't get the chance though, as Kirishima signs, 'I think the thunder is done.'

Katsuki takes a glance at the window. There's still rain pattering against the window but he notes that the lightning has seemed to have calmed down, and there hasn't been a rumble in a while.

He feels his heart beat lighter with relief. Katsuki turns to look over at Kirishima, surprised to find the red head had moved closer from the edge of the bed and was now sitting square in front of him.

He feels a warm hand rest on top of his own and Katsuki's eyes flit down to take a look. When he looks back up, Kirishima's face is inches from his own.

Katsuki swallows, heart beating wildly in his chest at their close proximity. He has no idea what is about to happen or what Kirishima is thinking.

Katsuki feels his hand being brought up before it rests on Kirishima's rising and falling chest. Katsuki can feel his muscles through his T-shirt, proof of Kirishima's hard work and determination to become a hero. The red head had put that same effort into becoming a hero for Katsuki, one of the few people who learned sign language.

'Hey,' Katsuki reads Kirishima's lips. The red head smiles softly before speaking again. 'I know you can't hear me, but can you feel it?'

Katsuki can only assume he means the vibrations coming from Kirishima's chest, so he nods, gently grabbing hold of the T-shirt's material.

'It's not much, but if you ever just want to feel me talk, I'm here.' Kirishima's eyes were filled to the brim with unbridled fondness, and this time Katsuki couldn't stop the tears from falling.

It wasn't that he was full-on sobbing, just a quick one or two tears before he felt alright again. Kirishima's free hand came up and wiped those lonely tears away.

"You don't have to stay," Katsuki whispers.

'I want to,' Kirishima replies with a soft smile.

And who is he, Katsuki Bakugo, to argue? They set up some blankets on the floor for Kirishima and try to sleep. Katsuki would have loved to chat more but they are heroes in training and time waits for no one. They needed some sleep.

Katsuki welcomes the darkness that is sleep easily, tired eyes drifting shut and breathing evening out until he's slowly slipping away. And if he feels his mattress sink with the weight of another human, he says nothing. And if he also feels himself being pulled onto a strong chest to feel the soft vibrations of humming, he says nothing about that either.

And if he feels his heart beating happily with love for a certain red head– Well... He might just say something about that in the future.

[akataiii]

reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol

[akataiii]

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

[akataiii]

Go ahead and try (A Hawks x reader)

“It'd be so easy, you know?”

Tearing my eyes from the ballroom floor and casting my gaze to the right, I'm met by the sight of a smug-looking Kiki; a short woman with curly, purple hair and a pair of white dove wings residing on her back. She is also known as one of Hawks' most trusted sidekicks.

I turn my body so I'm facing her fully, readjusting my grip on the glass of champagne in my hand. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, tilting my head at her and quirking a puzzled brow.

“I'm sorry?” I ask, voice portraying the confusion I was feeling.

Kiki huffs, bringing her own glass of champagne to her lips and taking a languid sip while shifting her attention to the opposite side of the room. I follow her gaze, finding what, or rather, who she is staring at.

Hawks' pretty, red wings are unmistakable; standing out in the crowd and demanding immediate attention, almost as if screaming, ‘Look at me!’ And I did look. I always looked at my boyfriend.

I looked at how he gave his best every day, striving to be an amazing hero and somehow managing to muster up enough positive energy to make up for my lack of daily optimism.

Me and Keigo were pretty much two opposite ends of a coin, and yet we somehow worked together perfectly, making up that coin in perfect harmony each and every day.

“What I meant was,” Kiki starts, drawing my focus back to her, where she's taking another sip of her champagne. “It would be easy for me to steal Hawks from you,” she finishes, turning to look at me with a smug smirk.

I blink at her, momentarily stunned. Well, that came out of nowhere, I think to myself, (e/c) eyes widened in surprise. It doesn't take long for me to get over the initial shock though, instead letting out an amused huff before folding my arms across my chest, careful not to spill my champagne. 

“Well then,” I say, letting my features fall into a relaxed and unbothered expression. “By all means, have at it. Try your best,” I prompt, trying my best to suppress my laughter at the astonished look Kiki sends my way. 

“Seriously? Just like that?” She questions, looking slightly disappointed at not receiving any kind of negative reaction from me. “You're just going to give him up?”

I shrug, bringing my glass of champagne to my lips and looking over at Keigo’s bright, red wings again. “I don't see how it's necessary for me to put up a fight,” I reply, a faint smile grazing my lips as I catch Keigo laughing at something Mirko said.

“You have no respect for your relationship,” is the last thing I hear Kiki say before her heels are clacking loudly against the tiled floor, and she's marching away from me.

Nope, I think to myself, feeling smug and self-assured at my own thoughts. I just have that much faith in my boyfriend.

—

I stretch my arms above my head, hastily bringing one hand back down to stifle the yawn that slips past my lips. The cement of the sidewalk feels hard under my feet as I walk back towards me and Keigo's apartment, returning from the day at my boring, mundane, civilian job. 

I don't regret my choice of not becoming a hero. The whole flashy, saving people lifestyle just never suited me, and I was perfectly alright with that. Even if my job was mundane and void of any flashiness, it never failed to fill me with a sense of joy. 

How could I ever hate the flower shop I worked at when it's where I met my lovely boyfriend? I still remember the day Keigo came in, fresh on the job, and picking up the flower order for the grand opening of his hero agency.

Even if our relationship was rocky at first, filled with countless bickering and endless antagonizing (all from my end, oopsie), we ended up together and in love anyway, and I could never be happier than when I was by his side.

Of course, life is never that simple, and neither are relationships, especially that of a pro-hero. Keigo was never allowed to let the public know about himself, always forced by the Hero Public Safety Commission to hide behind the Hawks exterior they curated for him.

A select few people did know about our relationship, though. Mostly the heroes Keigo worked alongside and the sidekicks at his agency.

Which is where Kiki comes in.

It's been a week since her random confession to me at the Hero Gala me and Keigo attended. It didn't bother me; instead, I was only curious to see if Kiki would actually carry through her plan of 'stealing Hawks from me.’

Thoughts of how I could possibly ask my boyfriend about it swirl around in my mind as I continue my trip home. My feet hit the pavement in a rhythmic pattern, lulling me into a state where I was only half paying attention to the world around me. Suddenly, the red feather around my neck gives a violent jerk to the right, almost knocking me off my balance.

I stumble on the cement below me, regaining my footing before glaring down at the feather in confusion and irritation. It had settled back down and was resting innocently against the skin of my collarbone, like it didn't just almost choke me half to death.

Knowing it had a mind of its own and was likely trying to show me something, I shift my gaze to the right, the direction in which the feather jerked in. Immediately, my eyes latch onto the two red wings on the opposite side of the road.

Keigo stands talking to Kiki, hands raised in surrender and seemingly waving away something she's saying.

What a pleasant surprise, I think to myself, moving to lean against the nearest lamp pole. My arms are folded comfortably across my chest as I watch whatever situation is currently playing out in front of me.

I watch as Kiki says something else to Keigo, her lips curled into a wide, mischievous grin as her finger lightly pokes his chest.

Kiki is Hawks' most trusted ally, always going with him on patrol and assisting him on missions. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were close, and the media even went into its usual conspiracy theories that the two might be dating.

Keigo, polite as always, denies the accusations every time, waving them away with his usual smile and saying nothing other than, ‘She’s a great sidekick. Nothing more.’

I was never the jealous type and never would be. Hawks may be some flirty, charming hero persona created by the HPSC to be shown to the public, but in private, Keigo was happy to just be. While he was still a flirty and charismatic person in general, when he got off the clock and came home, he was free to do whatever he wanted.

I smile to myself, thinking of all the nights the blonde came home and immediately attacked me with a flurry of chirps and kisses, letting his suppressed bird instincts free. I would always dissolve into a fit of giggles when he twittered and chirped in my ear, telling me how much he loves me and how much he missed me that day.

Point being, I had complete faith in my boyfriend and trusted our devotion to one another.

Back to the current time, the feather around my neck gives another jerk, this one much less violent, catching my attention and causing me to frown down at it in concern.

In theory, or well, confirmed by Keigo, the red feather around my neck was just an extension of his body and Quirk, meaning the feather reacted the same way the feathers on his back did. Which could only mean…

I lift my gaze to inspect the pair of heroes across the street. Kiki had made her way further into Keigo's personal space, now standing only inches away from him and running a hand along his chest while looking up at him from under half-lidded eyes. Even from where I stood, I could read the seduction in her actions, and it caused me to physically cringe. Is she aware of just how desperate she looks?

I feel the feather twitch again, and with my gaze focused on Keigo, I catch the way the feathers on his back twitch as well, a clear indication of his discomfort. 

As previously mentioned, I had complete faith in my boyfriend, and I'm also aware of how the HPSC controlled his actions and personality in public. I also know that Keigo is a considerate person and cares deeply for the people he works with. It's for those reasons that I don't blame Keigo for not immediately shoving Kiki away or yelling at her to keep her distance from him. Lashing out at her would only get him in trouble and nag at his subconscious.

I think for a few moments, mind filing through ways I could possibly save my boyfriend from the predicament he was in. My gaze falls on the twitching feather again, and my eyes widen at the newfound idea in my mind. 

I kick myself off of the lamp pole, unfolding my arms and reaching a hand up to gently pinch the feather between my fingers, knowing exactly how sensitive the item is. With measured actions, I tentatively bring the feather to my lips and softly graze it against them, smiling when I catch Keigo stiffening across the street. 

“Hey Kei,” I whisper, knowing the blonde could hear my every word.

Keigo's head whips around: beady, golden eyes immediately finding me and lighting up with a happiness I recognize all too well. He hastily pulls Kiki’s hand from his chest and makes his way over to me, all in a matter of mere seconds. A man too fast for his own good, I chuckle to myself, finding amusement in my own thought.

“Hello my love,” Keigo greets, arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and pulling me close.

I smile, soft and almost unnoticeable, but Keigo knows it's there nonetheless, and I bring my hands up to cradle his face in my palms.

“Hello,” I mumble, gaze fixed on the way Keigo's lips are spread into a wide smile, and his eyes are filled with that fondness always aimed at me. If there was ever any doubt as to whether or not Keigo loved me, all that you needed to do was analyze the way he looked at me. In those golden, sunset irises, you’d always find the undeniable answer written between his affection.

Keigo lets out a soft chuckle before pulling his face from my hands and closing the distance between us, nuzzling his face against my cheek with quiet chirps escaping his lips.

“Missed you so much,” Keigo coos, planting soft pecks against my cheek.

“You're going to get into trouble with the commission,” I warn, making no effort to put a stop to his actions of showering me with affection.

“Don't care,” he says, voice muffled where his face is buried in the crook of my neck.

“I know, but I do,” I say with a giggle, softly running a hand through his hair and pulling out a small twig that likely got stuck there when he was flying.

“I wanna kiss you,” he admits quietly, the sadness shining through in his tone. My brows draw together in a sympathetic frown, only able to imagine how trapped he feels, bound by the HPSC’s rules and regulations.

As much as I would have loved for him to kiss me right then, I knew it only spelled trouble for the both of us. The way his arms were wrapped around me now was already bordering on the limits set for us by the commission. Anything else would definitely end in ruin.

“Kei,” I gently warn, and he gets the message hidden behind the word, pulling his face from my neck and standing upright, releasing my form and taking a small step back. His lips are jutted out in a pout, and his brows are settled in a light frown, pulling yet another soft giggle from me at how adorable he looks.

Picking up the feather around my neck again, I place it against my lips to give it a kiss, and Keigo's cheeks flare up in a blush. 

“I'll give you a proper kiss when you get home after patrol, Pretty Bird,” I promise, never missing the way my boyfriend’s eyes light up in excitement. Like a kiss from me is some holy gift bestowed on him from above.

“I'm holding you to that,” Keigo says, wings flapping behind him and sending a gust of wind my way as he rises up in the air. He gives me a final wave and blows me a kiss before he flies away, leaving me alone on the ground. 

My eyes fall from the sky and land on Kiki, who is staring forward with a stunned expression, mouth hanging open in pure bewilderment and shock, as if I'm the one that just tried to steal her boyfriend. The ridiculous notion causes me to laugh, catching her attention and bringing her focus back to reality.

With a smug, self-satisfied smirk, I pull the feather between my fingers again to hold it out on display for the woman, my other hand raising to flip her the bird. (Pun fully intended.)

˗ˋ Bonus ˊ˗

“Hello my love.”

Keigo tackles me into the couch’s cushions, and I giggle freely at the chirps filling the air and the lips tickling my ear. I scrunch my nose at the sensation, hands burying themselves in Keigo's hair to try and reel him in a little.

“Hi Pretty Bird,” I greet back, earning me a happy chirp at the nickname. “I missed you too.”

“Hmm,” Keigo hums, placing another peck on my cheek and pulling back to place his forehead against mine. “Where's my promised kiss?”

My lips tug into a smile, and I can't resist the urge to tease him at least a little.

“Where's my—”

I'm interrupted by Keigo’s phone ringing, his ringtone blaring from the coffee table and disrupting the peace of our shared apartment.

We stare at the lit-up screen for a moment, both of us able to recognize the caller ID as that belonging to the HPSC. My stomach twists nervously, and I shoot Keigo a concerned glance.

“Did you get into trouble?” I question, fearing the answer would be yes. 

Keigo looks to me as well, ignoring the phone still ringing in the background. His lips are pulled into a guilty smile, brows furrowed nervously. “I wouldn't exactly call it trouble,” he says, tilting his head to the side. 

In his attempt to avoid any events that may have transpired earlier that afternoon, I find my concern melting away, replaced by fondness and endearment.

“Shouldn't you answer that?” I question, pointing to the phone still ringing on the coffee table.

Keigo sends a feather out to retrieve his phone, inspecting it in his hand before pressing the ‘decline’ button and tossing the device over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says, lips curling into a lazy smirk. “I'd rather take that kiss now.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes, cupping his face all the same and pulling him closer to slot our lips together; the action so fluid and natural. Like it was always meant to be Keigo's lips and no one else's.

[akataiii]

7 shots - Kaminari/Shinsou, Teen & Up, 17,168 words

Summary:

“Okay,” Hitoshi says, dropping his hand again and glaring at the blonde. “What will it take for you to leave with 6 shots instead of 7?”

Surprised, the blonde looks to the side, taking a moment to consider Hitoshi’s words. It takes longer than he would have liked, but eventually the guy turns back to him with a wide smile, and oh. Hitoshi just made the biggest mistake of his life, didn't he?

Or -

Hitoshi Shinsou works as a barista at 'Cozy Cafe,' tired of taking over night shifts until one night, he's graced by the presence of a gorgeous blonde who comes in ten minutes before they close and places the most absurd order he's come to hear of. Chaos unfolds when Hitoshi grows concerned for the blonde and gets roped into a week of events he never would have thought he'd be a part of.

[akataiii]

crazy how fanfic authors drop the most beautiful and gorgeous pieces of work ever, leaving you speechless and sobbing at three in the morning as you quietly contemplate the masterpiece you just read

and they don’t get paid for it they just do it because they’re having fun and they want to share their joy with you

like I would literally die for all of you fanfic authors out there reblog to swear your allegiance to fanfic authors

[akataiii]

I'm telling you. Some of the things I read deserve prizes.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[akataiii]

Snap, crackle, and pop. (A Bakugou x reader)

Snap.

Katsuki’s eyes snap up from his work, angry eyes scanning the classroom in search of the perpetrator responsible for making the noise. It sounded oddly like…

Crackle.

There it is again! Katsuki spins around in his seat, eyes immediately falling on the head of green curls behind him. “Oi, Deku,” he prompts, and Midoriya looks up from his work as well.

“Yes Kacchan?” Midoriya answers, green eyes wide in surprise and curiosity.

“Did you just break a bone in the middle of class?” Katsuki questions, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and doing a quick once-over of the boy behind him. The blonde’s question may as well have been rhetorical, as Katsuki could clearly see with his own two eyes that Midoriya was (for once in his life) void of any purple and bruised skin, meaning his bones were all fully intact. 

Pop!

What the fuck is that!? Katsuki rips his eyes from Midoriya and continues to drag them across the room, paying extra close attention to every student before his gaze finally lands on the offender. Y/N, busy stifling a yawn behind the hand that she just cracked the knuckles of. 

Now, realistically, Katsuki can’t blame a person’s body for reacting the way it does– however. The only way he’s able to forgive someone for making such a godawful noise is if the cracking occurs naturally, like when a bone spontaneously pops back into place when they stretch, or accidentally cracks when they stand up after sitting down for too long.

Point is, it has to be natural for Katsuki to be able to get over the noise. But when someone does it on purpose. Intentionally placing strain on a body part to make that irritating, grating sound that is a bone cracking, Katsuki just about loses his shit.

He takes a deep breath, ripping his gaze from Y/N to get back to his schoolwork, thinking (hoping) it was just a one-time thing and that her knuckles needed some release after gripping a pen for so long. He’ll forgive it just this once– but only because Y/N was one of the few people in class he actually respected and considered a friend. He could give her the benefit of the doubt. 

Except… It’s not a one-time thing. 

Over the course of the next few days, Katsuki is repeatedly faced by that same maddening noise that is bone scraping against bone. 

Snap, crackle, pop.

Snap, crackle, pop.

Over and over. Again and again, as Y/N continuously cracks the knuckles of her hands. 

Every time, Katsuki tries his absolute best to write it off and forget about it, giving her the benefit of the doubt time and time again. But Katsuki can only take so much; and between dealing with Deku’s incessant muttering on a daily basis, and trying not to blow up Mina and Denki’s faces for their frequent endeavors to seek out trouble– Katsuki really could not fucking handle the snapping, crackling, and popping of Y/N’s knuckles on top of it all. 

So, he did what he does best. Seek out the source of the problem and fix it with the same drive he has to become the No. 1 hero. 

He finds Y/N in the common room one afternoon, talking to Sero and Mina about their upcoming training sessions and, much to Katsuki’s dismay, cracking the knuckles of her hands one by one. Katsuki nearly breaks a molar from how hard he’s clenching his jaw, and his own knuckles ache upon seeing the pain Y/N is subjecting hers to. 

It’s only when he hears a loud pop, much more prominent than the ones from before, that Katsuki finally springs into action, storming his way over to the couch and wrapping his hands respectively around both of Y/N’s wrists, ripping her hands away from each other, and holding them on either side of her head.

She stares at Katsuki, stunned, and the blonde can feel the piercing gazes of Mina and Sero trained on his back, but he ignores them as he yells, “Do you know how fucking annoying that is!?”

Y/N blinks at him dumbly, seemingly not having a singular clue as to what he was talking about. But then he can see a hint of mirth flash through her eyes as her lips curl up into a mischievous smirk.

“What? You mean this?” She questions, curling her thumb around her index finger and pressing down to release a near-deafening crack into the air.

Katsuki lets out what can only be described as a demonic screech, tightening his grip on Y/N’s wrists and stopping himself just short of exploding them. She didn’t have Kirishima’s hardening, so Katsuki has learned to restrain himself a little around her, at least when they weren’t busy training. 

“Stop that!” He scolds, earning him an amused giggle from Y/N. “You’re going to get arthritis!”

Y/N only seems to find more amusement in Katsuki’s declaration of concern, letting out another round of chuckles, and Katsuki could also hear Mina and Sero stifling a snort behind him. Seriously, why are they laughing? He’s trying to be a good friend here, damn it. Kirishima would be proud of him for being so open and honest.

“You do know that isn’t true, right?” Y/N eventually manages through her laughter, earning an aggressive ‘Huhh!?’ from Katsuki.

“There are countless studies that show you can’t actually get arthritis from cracking your knuckles,” Y/N explains, as if it were common knowledge. It’s definitely news to Katsuki, who went pretty much his entire life avoiding picking up the habit for that exact reason, no matter how much his knuckles ached with the need to be cracked after using his quirk too much. 

Still, though. The fact that Y/N isn’t facing a crippling condition does nothing to change the way Katsuki feels about the subject. It doesn’t matter that there weren’t any side effects to cracking your knuckles. The sound was still as irritating as ever.

“Just drop the habit,” Katsuki says, voice firm and commanding. “You make me want to claw my ears off every time you do it.”

Good job, Katsuki. You unlocked the achievement for ‘communicating your feelings.’ Kirishima better be jumping in joy wherever he is right now.

Y/N regards him for a moment, tilting her head slightly to the side as she considers his words. Then she says, “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

“Damn right,” Katsuki retorts, finally letting go of her wrists and stuffing his hands back in his pockets. 

“Still, though,” Y/N voices, and Katsuki lets out an audible groan. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to just stop. It’s kind of become second nature by now.”

Katsuki can’t help but glare, faced with a brand new problem to solve. The whole ‘caring for your friends’ thing still baffled him from time to time, because why should he be bothered to care for some random extra that couldn’t take care of themselves? But now… Katsuki’s learned some new things and actively tries to apply them to his new friend group on a regular basis.

So, he thinks. Sifts through possible solutions in his brain until he comes up with an idea that might just help his friend to get over her nasty habit. 

“Alright extra. Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, trying his best to fight the embarrassment creeping its way onto his face. “Every time you feel like making that disgusting noise, you find me, and you hold my hand instead.”

The silence is unnerving, and Katsuki has the indisputable urge to take back his words and run away. Y/N stares at him with a blank look that makes Katsuki want to explode her face, and even Mina and Sero, who watched this entire spectacle unfold and would usually be throwing out mindless comments right about now, sit quietly in their seats.

“Listen. If you don’t wanna hold my fucking hand, all you had to do was say so–” Katsuki starts, but he’s effectively shut up by the warm hand that digs his hand out of his pocket and intertwines itself with his own. 

“Better hope you don’t regret this~” Y/N sing-songs, shooting the blonde a wide grin that has his stomach doing somersaults.

Katsuki can feel his face break out in a flustered blush, and he brings his free hand up to try his best to hide it. With Sero’s wolf whistle and Mina’s adoring coos in the background, Katsuki can barely focus on his friends being assholes as the warm hand of Y/N gives his own hand a thankful squeeze.

Kirishima. Universe. Random deity… Please. Pray for Katsuki’s heart.

[akataiii]

Doodless~

[akataiii]

Finally got around to drawing my genshin OC (Natlan got me inspired or wtv hehe)

ANYWAY! Meet Tonalli and her Saurian companion, Ayghul.

I might put together a page with her abilities and stuff depending on how much interest she receives.

So lemme know what you think~

[akataiii]

Trouble in paradise (An idea I got while I was washing the dishes)

It was a peaceful day at Heights Alliance. Everyone in class 1-A was full of new life now that exams had concluded, and they had some much-needed downtime. 

That is– it was peaceful until…

“DENKI KAMINARI!”

Denki bolts up from where he was lounging on the floor of Sero’s room, eyes widening upon realizing that he was completely and utterly screwed.

“I’m in trouble,” is all he says, staring at the door to Sero’s room, expecting it to be thrown open at any given moment.

“Dude,” Sero whispers, looking over at his friend in concern from his spot on the bed. “What did you do?”

“I may or may not have…” Denki starts, voice trailing off into a jumbled mutter as he looks guiltily to the floor.

“Speak up,” Mina calls from Denki’s right, now also sounding mildly concerned. 

“I may or may not have gone into Y/N’s room!” He admits, and at the exact moment that the words leave his lips, Sero’s door is thrown open with a violent bang, effectively shutting the entire group up. In the doorway stands Y/N, Denki’s (usually) loving girlfriend, although she doesn’t look very loving at the moment.

“I’m so glad you’re taking responsibility for your actions,” Y/N says, voice steady and firm. A telltale sign that she was very, very angry. 

“Nice knowing you, bud,” Sero says solemnly, watching as the shitshow that is Y/N starts to approach Denki. 

The blonde has already sprung to his feet, holding his hands up in surrender as he’s backed up against the wall. 

“Hi Y/N. My love, my darling dearest,” Denki squeaks, yelping when his back hits the wall.

“Don’t darling me, Kaminari,” Y/N grits out, bringing her fist up threateningly in front of the blonde’s face. 

He lets out a nervous chuckle, shooting a pleading look over the girl’s shoulder at his group of friends, who were all staring back at him with identical looks of sympathy. They weren’t going to lift a finger to help him. Traitors.

“Oh my god!” Denki yells with the most dramatic gasp the world has ever heard, pointing a finger behind Y/N. “Is that Mister Aizawa in a Hawaiian skirt?”

Much to Denki’s immense relief, Y/N spins her head around to look at where he was pointing, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip away and bolt out the door and down the hallway.

He can hear the distant yell of Y/N behind him, shouting something along the lines of ‘So dead, Denki Kaminari,’ but honestly, he’s too busy running to catch the exact words.

He foregoes the elevator, knowing the stairs would be much more in his favor right about now. So, he bounds down the stairs leading from the fifth floor, skipping over some steps, and nearly losing an ankle in the process. 

He makes it to the fourth floor with his bones intact, taking a quick moment to catch his breath before he’s forced to sprint across the hall for the next set of stairs. Honestly, he needs to have a serious word with Principal Nezu, because in what part of the brilliant little mouse brain did he think it was a good idea to have the stairs alternating sides?

“Where are you, you little shit!?” Comes Y/N/’s voice again, eerily close to where Denki was currently standing. With a stangled cry, he jumps back into motion and starts his trek across the hall, using it like his own personal track field.

In his pursuit to the finish line, he passes Bakugou’s door, which swings open to reveal a very irritated-looking blonde and a concerned red head by his side. 

"Pikachu, what in the actual fuck are you–” Bakugou scolds, about to start on one of his usual tirades, but Denki cuts him off.

“Hey Kacchan. Hey Kiri. Sorry, can’t chat. Gotta run!” He rushes out in his passing, picking up his pace when he spots Y/N at the foot of the stairs behind him. 

He’s already halfway down the stairs to the third floor when he hears, “Get back here, you human sparkplug!” from Y/N.

Somewhere, far out of Denki’s earshot range, Bakugou and Kirishima are standing stunned in Bakugou’s doorway, blinking dumbly at the sight they just witnessed. 

“You think we should step in?” Kirishima asks with his brows furrowed in concern.

“Nah,” Bakugou answers, slowly swinging his door shut. “Best to leave it this time ‘round.”

Denki doesn’t make it to the second floor, instead being tackled to the ground by Y/N halfway on his road to escape. 

“You better have a very good explanation, or else you’ll be looking like Midoriya when I’m done with you,” Y/N threatens, pinning Denki down with a glare and a fist raised and buzzing with her quirk’s energy.

Denki goes to cover his face, rushing out an, “I’m so sorry!” in the hope that he’ll be able to see the light of another day.

“Enough apologizing. Explain,” Y/N grits out, lowering her fist closer to Denki’s hidden face and tightening her grip on the front of his shirt.

“I was just curious,” Denki cries, shrinking away from Y/N’s enclosing fist.

A few tense moments pass in which Denki prays to any deity that’s able to hear his pleas, before Y/N eventually lets out a heavy sigh and deactivates her quirk, letting the energy fizzle out as she sits back on her heels.

"Look, Denki,” she starts, and the blonde looks up at her, slowly lowering his hands from his face. “It’s not that I don’t trust you– because I do.”

Denki shoots her a grateful smile, which is easily returned, albeit a bit strained. Y/N averts her gaze from Denki’s, cradling her hands in her lap and picking at her fingers.

“I’m just worried about you, is all,” she admits. “I don’t want you to go into my room, because it contains a lot of equipment that’s especially sensitive to electricity. I don’t want you to accidentally get hurt.”

Understanding dawns on Denki, and he suddenly feels very guilty for causing Y/N so much worry. He reaches a hand up to cup her cheek and turn her head so she’s looking at him, and her eyes are filled with so much care and concern for him, causing Denki’s heart to swell with affection. Despite her frequent anger fits, she really is a loving girlfriend, and Denki couldn’t be happier to call her his.

“I promise I’ll stay out of there from on,” he assures, shooting her a comforting smile and stroking a thumb across her cheek. Y/N leans into the touch, nuzzling her cheek against his palm and placing a featherlight kiss there. 

“Sorry for tackling you,” Y/N eventually apologizes, pulling Denki to his feet.

“No worries,” he says, flashing her another grin. “Not like I have any more brain cells to lose.”

“You’re not an idiot, Denks,” she chides as they start their walk back to Sero’s room, intent on spending the rest of the afternoon in the peaceful atmosphere. 

. . .

Okay, Denki can’t help but tease her on her angry outburst at least a little. So, with a playful nudge against Y/N’s shoulder, he asks, “Have you been hanging around Bakugou recently?” 

“HUH!?”