#bnha post apocalyptic au

[birinboom]

Post-Apocalyptic Shopkeep Bakugou

This came from me being tired and skimming a prompt for another piece - coffee shop/bookstore au or dystopia au with Bakugou - and my eepy brain turning it into ‘dystopian bookstore Bakugou’. I ended up imagining less of a bookstore per se, and more of a shop from a dystopian/post-apocalyptic game where you’d buy weapon upgrades, treasure maps, etc from an older and incredibly tired Bakugou.

WARNING! This is quite a bit darker than what I usually write, it contains mentions of blood and death (the reader recalling seeing someone being shot). 

Shopkeep Bakugou, linguist reader Post-apocalyptic au, mentions of blood, mentions of death, mild swearing, fluffy ending 🌸 1,205 words

Making the trek across the dried-up seabed was always a challenge, even as civilization slowly expanded, creeping closer and closer to the old shipwreck. You adjusted the piece of fabric you’d tied over your nose and mouth; the dust kicked up with every step was hazardous if inhaled. It would cut your lungs to shreds - or so you’d heard. You didn’t want to take any chances.

Finally you spotted the wreck, tucked into a dip in the ocean floor. As always, you took a short detour to marvel at the bones jutting from the ground close to the wreckage. You always liked to imagine that this giant creature was the one to take down the ship, tearing it to pieces before letting it sink to the bottom of the ocean. Maybe it died from its wounds? Maybe it had cut itself on the metal of the hull and bled to death? Or - much more likely - the creature was a victim of the ocean drying up, completely unrelated to the wreckage. You shrugged, reaching out to touch the sun-bleached bones. It didn’t matter what the truth was. You’d never find out anyway, and the idea of a battle between ship and sea monster was fun. 

Moving on, you started the climb onto the shipwreck, careful to not cut yourself on the rusty metal. Your gaze crept up to the bow of the ship where the name had once been painted. It had bleached enough over the centuries that it was almost invisible, all you could read was ‘MS Ba--’ Maybe that was why he’d picked this place. Far enough from civilization that only serious buyers would make the trek. You had started to think of the wreckage as the ‘MS Bakugou.’ Another thing to amuse yourself with. And amusement was exactly why you’d come.

The air cooled around you as you moved deeper into the wreck. Finally, you reached your destination, a door with the words ‘stay the fuck away!’ painted on it. Ignoring the warning, you began spinning the handle, your labored breath almost drowning out the muted sounds of the latches clicking into place on the opposite side of the door. Then, you heaved the door open, instantly raising your hands as the door clanged against the wall. 

A battle-hardened crimson gaze bore into you over the barrel of a shotgun. You stood still, knowing well that moving before he’d recognized you might cause him to pull the trigger. You’d seen it happen when some idiot decided to attempt to raid the wreck while you’d been present. His rattling breath still haunted your dreams. 

“It’s just me,” you said softly.

“You again?” His voice had a tinge of irritation, but he lowered the gun.

You entered, carefully stepping over the tall threshold, lest you trip like you did on your very first visit.

“What do you want this time?” Bakugou’s voice was tired. You couldn’t remember when his tone had changed from the snark it’d had that first time; when the hard edge had appeared. But you supposed that it happened to everybody over time.

Placing your hands behind your back, you looked around the room, inspecting the shelves.

“You got anything new?”

Bakugou gestured behind him before he picked up an oiled cloth and a rusty handgun receiver. “Bought a couple of crates from a traveler yesterday. Haven’t had a chance to look at them properly yet.”

Slipping behind the counter, you crouched next to the crates, slowly searching through the contents. Despite how irritated Bakugou had sounded when you showed up, it was testament to his trust that he allowed you to be behind him. It had taken years of visits before he’d stopped watching you like a hawk, longer still for him to relax in your presence. Turning your head, you just watched him for a while, watched his broad, scarred shoulders move under his tattered, sleeveless shirt as he cleaned the rusty handgun, gaze focused on the weapon. His movements were fluid with decades of practice. Hypnotizing. 

Bakugou spared you a glance. “Found anything?”

“Not yet,” you replied, eyes snapping back to the crates. 

You heard a soft chuckle but chose to ignore it as your fingertips brushed over something papery. Digging your hands further into the crate, you pulled out a stack of books, their pages yellow with age. 

“Bakugou, look at this!”

He turned, one eyebrow rising when he saw the stack in your hands.

“Heh, only a nerd like you would be so happy over books.”

“I’m a scholar, you old fart!” you retorted.

Bakugou bundled the oiled cloth in his fists, preparing to throw it at you as punishment. His hands sank when you took no notice of him, too busy looking through the books. He had to fight to keep the fond smile off his lips when you looked back up, your eyes shining with glee.

You held a book out to him. “Check this one out!”

Bakugou just looked at you for a moment. “You know I can’t read that old-ass language - what did you call it again, English? People like you pick up the most useless skills.”

You shrugged, looking back at the book. “It’s useful for treasure hunting. And you know my lock-picking skills are excellent.” Tapping the cover, you added, “It’s a book of fairy tales.”

“Keh, children’s drivel,” Bakugou replied. “Sounds like it’ll be right up your alley.”

Ignoring him, you moved on to the next book. “And this one… ‘maps of the contiguous United States.’ Okay, this one is useless.”

Looking through the rest of the books, you deemed everything but the book of fairy tales unworthy. Holding out the book again, you asked, “How much?”

Bakugou scoffed. “You can have it. Can’t sell that shit anyway. Might as well give it to someone who’ll enjoy it.”

You beamed at him. “I’ll read it to the kids at the village in your honor.”

He shrugged, returning to his gun-cleaning. “If you must.”

Settling on the lid of one of the crates, you spent a moment looking at the movement of his shoulders again.

“Why don’t you ever come to the village? It’s safe there, and I’m sure your fighting experience would be appreciated. You don’t have to live by yourself.”

Baugou stopped for a moment, just staring at his hands, fingers flexing. “I don’t get along with people,” he finally said.

“You get along with me…”

“You’re an exception.”

You looked at the book again, fighting to keep the heat from rising in your cheeks from the unexpected compliment. Looking over the faded cover picture of five mice dancing around a cat, you then opened the book to the first tale.

“Want me to read it to you? It’ll let me practice reading for the kids.” 

He shrugged again. “If you want.”

You started reading, pausing on occasion to think of a good translation or to explain some archaic term. During one of these times, you noticed that Bakugou had stopped working. He was leaning on the counter, hands still, eyes soft and unfocused as he listened. 

He frowned, his eyes slipping back into focus. “Why’d you stop?”

“Just thinking.”

You continued reading, a smile blooming on your lips.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks (on and off anon) are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Em 💖

[nekoo3001]

Some 相澤 in zombie apocalypse au,probably will do a pt2

Pt.2:

[thewildmeadowz]

Chapters: 26/26 Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader, Kirishima Eijirou/Reader, Kaminari Denki/Reader, Sero Hanta/Reader, Ashido Mina/Reader, Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader, Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou/Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta/Ashido Mina/Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader, Poly!Bakusquad/Reader, Midoriya Izuku/Reader Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Kaminari Denki, Ashido Mina, Sero Hanta, Shinsou Hitoshi, Jirou Kyouka, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Reader, Rody Soul, Asui Tsuyu Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), everybody love everybody yo, Polyamory, Smut, Blood and Gore, Threesome, Unrequited Love, Tattoos, the readers missing an eye isn’t that cool, Violence, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, im not writing an orgy but I promise it’s good, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Kirishima Eijirou is a Ray of Sunshine, Top Kirishima Eijirou, Bottom Kaminari Denki, Bottom Ashido Mina, the reader has a really cool dog, Dual Timeline, Polyamorous Character, Unrealistic Sex, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Past Character Death, Black Ashido Mina, this is just me pushing my everyones in love agenda, lots of the zombie anatomy is pulled from twd, Gun Violence, Shameless Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, kirishima is a massive fucking man, Latino Sero Hanta, shinsous in the Bakusquad suck my dick Summary:

In a world where the dead have begun to rise again, trust is a very rare commodity. Rarer, perhaps, than saving the lives of six strangers in the woods. But these people are… different, in many ways. Maybe trust isn’t actually that hard to come by.

So you take them in and learn to trust while dealing with things from your past. Can you learn to separate the things that happened to you then from the opportunities for companionship that you have now?

[crimsondreamprod]

A little backstory and a lotta angst! Man, bird boy could use a hug about now...

[thetrashywritingwitch]

look, LOOK

you can't tell me Bakugo wouldn't be an explosives expert in Fallout!AU with a customized Fat Man nicknamed All Might YOU CAN'T ARGUE WITH ME-

[dannyphantom-fenton]

OK, I am so seeing this as an AU of Amity Park.

Like, the zombie apocalypse, or something started while all of Danny’s class were in a GIW camp for expirements. Due to injuries, most of them were De aged , and the only responsible adults left are Lancer, Ida, and Jazz. (Ida and Jazz were definitely trying to break people out)

If you wanted to make this crossover, you could have pretty much anyone newcomers. Most vigilantes in media cannot take care of themselves very well, so they would definitely fit. They are also kind enough that they would want to help. They would definitely try to help Jaz with the kids I can see Tony Stark getting along so well with child Danny, or Tim Drake talking to Wes. I wanna see these disasters trying to work with the kids.

They could also have one adult person with them. If you’re going to DC route, it could 100% be Alfred joining them. If you’re going my hero academia route, I can definitely see either Aizawa or Nezu joining the group.

I want a book about post-apocalyptic world, it starts out with these four survivors, who are all in their early to mid twenties, with the oldest being 25. They are trying to find other survivors/find out what started the apocalypse. I want them to be traveling, getting close to where they think the apocalypse started and surrounded by a group of creatures (I’m thinking zombies, but if you can be more original, let me know.)

Just when they are starting to despair, a car horn sounds. A minivan careens into the circle, killing several of the horde of creatures. Adore is thrown open, and a preteen girl, picture her head out and screams at the top of her lungs “ GET IN!!!”

They start scrambling into the minivan, while the monster shuffle at them. When the last person gets in, the girl throws the door closed and yells, ” Step on it, Rosie, and don’t hit another building!”

They turned to see a nine-year-old girl in the driver seat, with a 13-year-old boy looking like he was about to hurl. They drive so fast that one of the passengers definitely gets close to sickness. The nine-year-old keeps giggling, and whoever’s point of view it is is death scared of this little girl.

They get driven to this camp area that has obviously been turned into a hideout, with a gate enclosing it. There, they are greeted with a gaggle of kids, ranging from 7 to 16, with two elderly women, and a girl who stands out as being the oldest and probably the leader. She seems to be a lot older, and is very confident, giving directions to everyone. She takes the four of them to a side room, and shuts the door. All four of them are pairing for some sort of shovel talk. None of them are expecting to see this girl. Sigh, Nina against the wall and ask “Are any of you homophobic? because I am not willing to deal with that during this whole thing.”

Turns out, this place used to be a conversion camp that flew under the radar, and this girl had been breaking her little sister out of it when this whole thing started. Most of the kids have been fine, as they’ve been on lockdown due to her entering, almost all the faculty was dead or had abandoned the kids when everything started. The only adults who were left were the lunch ladies and the grandmother of one of the kids, who had been there visiting her grandson.

This 19-year-old had been put in charge of a gaggle of kids, and three older women who did not know how to take care of that many children. She asked the team for help dealing with the kids, crying that she needed an adult.

The group of four look at each other. Only one of them has experienced with children, and that is with a few kids from daycare, who are arguably younger than these ones. All of them are grad students, who barely survived the apocalypse due to sheer dumb luck, antisocial behavior, and their ability to dodge people attempting to bite them (grad students get crazy and cranky when you tried to wake them up or take them away from their work). All four of them are human disasters, then they look at this kid, who didn’t even get the chance to go to college, who is begging for help, and looks like she’ll cry if they refused to help.

They all collectively decide that They will be the responsible one. all of their other friends are human disasters, so they have to clean up their behavior and take care of this girl and the many children she has under her care.  they know they’re going to help.

The problem is, they are all human disasters, who barely know how to cook. They are trying to be responsible, but they only have one brain cell, and it passes between them with no warning.

The rest of the story should be a mixture of comedy(these 20 year old trying to take care of a bunch of kids) and apocalyptic drama (these old ladies, trying to figure out why the apocalypse started, with a few appearances from Timmy, the grandson, who is seven years old and was sent there without the grandmother’s knowledge.)

Just, let the responsible grandparents figure out how the apocalypse started and why, while the grad students try to be responsible for 20 to 30 kids.

[daisiescomelate]

(this one is complicated, ready?)

au where the war all for one started ('normal people' vs people who began to be born with quirks) never ended because at some point one for all got lost. all for one was gravely injured and had to go into hiding, but with no figure with a power to bring peace, chaos never ended.

the country was divided into two groups:

the equalists (the position of the japanese government): the population's powers should be supervised. they support laws that protect people without power [with time the premise evolved to "protect people with no quirks or weaker quirks"]. note: people with no powers are scared of people with quirks. fear develops into hate.

the rebels (leader: all for one): people who think quirks are a natural result of evolution and therefore shouldn't be censured. they are against the monitoring of quirks (registry of quirks) because this could be a threat to the privacy of the person and could put people in a tight spot because of prejudice against their power (in front of the government, police and other authorities. people with “bad quirks” could be rejected from school, jobs, etc). people with powers are scared of being persecuted because others fear them. note: they are classified as terrorists

katsuki is hiding his quirk. izuku knows kacchan has a quirk because he bragged about it when they were kids because he didn't know better. katsuki's parents didn't register him because they knew he would be registered as a dangerous quirk bearer. as a non registered quirk bearer his existence is against the law.

the war has been going on for so long the world looks post apocalyptic. this is a highly militarized society. people without quirks or people with registered quirks (as long as they are not deemed dangerous) are allowed to live inside a walled city. it's not that they can't leave the city, but outside is where all dangerous quirk users are exiled. afo's factions are out there and it's a place very hard to survive in.

izuku knows kacchan's secret. katsuki lives a life trying to be as quiet and invisible as humanly possible. katsuki isolates himself for his own safety, he doesn't want friends, not even izuku (not that he thinks the nerd will rat him out or anything).

izuku wants a world where people with or without quirks can be truly in peace, but for that they have to hunt down all for one, who has been dragging this war for decades from the shadows.

all able bodies are forced to join the army to fight the faction of the rebels. izuku and katsuki join the army and have to leave the walled city on expeditions to take down quirk users and look for people of the rebel faction.

it is outside the facilities where they accidentally meet little yagi and discover the power he bears. they just have to keep him close and protect him until they figure out how to use a 6 y/o to overthrow the government and afo.

(many of the characters from bnha were born quirkless - quirks are not as common as in canon)

[husbandograveyard]

Multichapter fics I want to work on (soon-ish) - Previews? Accountability? Interest check? Something in between? I am bad at summaries, when i write them out properly, I will do better hihi. I promise the plots are actually good haha. All these are reader insert, OC fics are also in the making, but more in my personal folders than ready for sharing.

(working) title: untitled | Series: BNHA | Rating: E Pairing(s): Kirishima x Reader | Genre: Drama, angst, romance ↪ cw & tw: sex work, alcohol consumption, insecurities, bleak world ↪ Synopsis: Nearing his 40's, pro hero Red Riot is one of the few in his friend group that hasn't managed to settle down and the loneliness and yearning is starting to weigh on him more and more. He turns to a high-end sex worker, more for the girlfriend experience than anything else, but realizes pretty fast that he is falling for her. Based of one of my favorite Reddit Stories.

(working) title: the right place | Series: Haikyuu!! | Rating: M Pairings: undecided x reader (2 characters, one main pairing) Genre: college (AU), romance, humor, light angst, slow ish burn? ↪ Cw & Tw: AU, childhood friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, SO MUCH pining, miscommunications, failed relationships ↪ Synopsis: You and [character] have been friends since diapers. When you both decide to go to the same college, you make plans to live together in the big city, navigating school and living without your parents for the first time together. There is obvious romantic tension between you two, so why does he keep dating around? And why are you suddenly hanging out with his best friend?

(working) title: Bound in body and blood | Series: JJK (AU) | Rating: E | Pairings: Geto Suguru x Reader | Genre: horror, dark romance, dead dove

↪ Cw & Tw: Vampire AU, Vampire!Geto, Priest!Geto, Blood, so much blood, wounds, mild gore (nothing worse than canon tbh), bullying, traumatic upbringing, abuse, Catholic guilt, Catholic references, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, loss of a spouse, character (un)death, sexual assault, Geto is NOT a good guy ↪ Synopsis: You return to your small hometown you so desperately tried to escape as a teen for the community and support after a traumatic happening. You're struggling to find solid ground again when your childhood friend, another 'escapee' returns a few months after you. He's gone through similar things as you did, and you find a lot of comfort in his presence. But strange things have started happening in the town ever since he arrived, and you're torn between staying in the dark or digging deeper, old love and recent loss.

(working) title: Enstrangled | Series: Genshin Impact (AU) | Rating: E | Pairings: Baizhu x Reader | Genre: horror-ish to dark / monster romance

↪ Cw & Tw: Naga!Baizhu, survival horror?, wounds, stalking, unhealthy relationship dynamics, obsession, talking snakes (Changsheng), monsterfucking, TBA ↪ Synopsis: Every year you spend some time solo hiking and camping to clear your mind and get out of the city. This time the forest you are hiking in has some dangers other than the average predators. And one of them has got his eye on you.

(working) title: Untitled | Series: Naruto (AU) | Rating: M (mature themes, no explicit smut) | Pairings: Itachi x Reader | Genre: medieval AU! Romance, drama, soulmate AU with a twist

↪ Cw & Tw: domestic abuse, doomed soulmates, unhealthy relationships, minor character death, Itachi with visual impairment, family estrangement, healing journeys, trauma, illness ↪ Synopsis: Most people are born with a mark on them indicating their soulmate. Those who aren't, called the 'soulless', are there to marry each other, and those who can't find their soulmates. And you? You wish you were soulless, cause your soulmate is the worst person you ever met.

(working) title: Untitled | Series: Haikyuu!! (AU) | Rating: M (mature themes, no smut) | Pairings: multiple x Reader - endgame undecided | Genre: Post apocalyptic AU, horror, survival, thriller, romance is but a subplot, angst

↪ Cw & Tw: Post apocalyptic society, volunteers, but in a hunger games kind of way, nature has taken over the world, blood, death, gore, wounds, illness, major character death, conflict, arguments, overall dark content ↪ Synopsis: It's been a few years since the incident, and your encampment is running out of resources. You and a handful other 'volunteers' get sent out to find more. But it's a wasteland of survival out there, and who's to say you're alone?

[destiny-in-the-universe]

I’m bored out of my mind so now you get a mini list of my current au’s for my interests! I’ll do a bigger version later but again, right now, I’m trying to finish Whumptober and adulting is also a very fun thing happening in my life!

Isn’t that swell? /s

This is very informal, but I’m more than willing to talk about any once Whumptober is finished! As mentioned before, this is a multi-fandom blog so… you’ll be surprised at what you can find here! I’m also ADHD and just like to infodump!

So.

Here’s a silly list of au’s and crossovers! Read below the cut for them!

Cars (Pixar)

Infection AU

The Roads We Take: post-apocalyptic/virus inspired universe where an outbreak occurs and Doc Hudson makes it across several state lines in search of Lightning, hoping to bring home. Back to Radiator Springs, but of course, it won’t be easy.

The Radiation Verse: Bad End Infection AU. In an apocalyptic setting, luck is scarcely on Lightning’s side and well, after witnessing a distressing event - he only has Cal to rely on and trying to reach Radiator Springs won’t be easy.

Merlin (BBC)

Court Magician AU: In which Arthur legalizes magic and Merlin becomes a Court Warlock- I mean, Magician. Unfortunately, this comes with a little bit of resistance.

[REDACTED]: Post-Canon Continuation. Merlin has long resigned himself to the thought of Arthur not returning and now runs a little shop, but it seems destiny’s about to give him and so many others a second chance.

Godling Merlin AU: Merlin is more than just a warlock. He’s the patron deity of magic and now that Uther’s declared war on his people, well, there’s no telling what might happen.

BNHA

Guard Dog Dabi AU: Tread with caution when it comes to this AU. It’s not for the faint of heart. Touya Todoroki meets a different path and Endeavor’s willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the future and legacy of the Todoroki family - even if it means handing his eldest son to the Hero Commission. And things won’t be the same. In which Touya is subjected to borderline pet whump and has become property of the Commission.

(There is another AU, but I’ll talk about it later!)

Wordgirl

The (Mis)adventures of Technofire and Lexidoe: A Role Reversal AU with a twist. Where Tobey is a superhero and Becky is a supervillain, shenanigans are about to ensue.

Lab Rat AU: Ongoing Whumptober Prompt/DD:DNE. Wordgirl is captured by the government but of course, it’s met with retaliation. Heavy Content will be present in this.

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

Tales of the Nine: Randy’s chosen to bring back the Norisu Nine but the journey to their success is perilous but maybe, just maybe, they’ll be able to finish what the original clan started.

(There’s honestly too many for me to lift if I’m being honest- and because this fixation lasted for many months, I’ll just write all of them in a separate post. This fandom holds a special place in my heart!)

Multi-Fandom AU’s

Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons: Crossover between Rise of the Guardians, Brave, Tangled, and How to Train Your Dragon. This is my own spin on it. A separate post will be dedicated to it!

Secret Quartet: Expanded Version of the Secret Trio. American Dragon: Jake Long, Danny Phantom, Randy Cunningham, and Miraculous Ladybug all rolled into one!

Superwholock + Merlin: Developing Crossover between Supernatural, Doctor Who, and Sherlock! As well as Merlin. The crossover was not begun by me, but this version is mine.

Mystery Kids: My Own Spin on the Mystery Kids AU, but since I haven’t seen Psychonauts - it’s replaced with Danny Phantom. Because I can

[raebae0001]

BNHA fic recs~~

Bakugo Katsuki

hold me close

A duke’s son and a baron’s daughter

Morning

Silent Treatment

Post-Apocalyptic AU

Secrets

[9:35pm]

until i meet you again

i say something loving

Gone to bed angry

No one but you and me

in the lane

It goes like this

In moderation

Competition

Birds of a Feather ~ part II ~ part III (tba)

Paper Hearts ~ part II 

Be Kind

Unworthy

It goes like this

lame

the devil who adores you

sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

The Old Soul of the Bakugo Family

Todoroki Shoto

Circles ~ part II

December Baby

Midoriya Izuku

Competition

It goes like this

empty heart

Takami Keigo

pidge

Dabi

Hold on.

“You’re Bleeding”

spoiled

[bnhafandomcalendar]

BNHA Fandom Calendar: Sept 3 - 9

Zine sales/preorders:

BIAZ, an idol au zine (closing 4 Sept)

@invictuskrbkzine, a KiriBaku scars zine (closing 30 Sept)   

Leftover Sales:

NEW: @lovfanzine, a League of Villains zine (closing 30 Sept)

Free Digital Zines:

Halo-Halo, a Filipino BakuDekuBaku zine

Vile, a League of Villains fashion zine

@bnhavictorieszine, a BNHA sports zine

Starburst, a Mina Ashido zine

Contributor Applications

Volatile, a post apocalyptic zine (closing 6 Oct)

Interest Checks

@mythicalbkdk, a BakuDeku mythical creatures zine (closing 3 Sept)

NEW: Iida Zine Vol. 2, an Iida zine (closing 30 Sept)

NEW: Kacchako’s Kitchen, a Bakugou/Uraraka cookbook zine (closing 22 Sept)

[sadlynotthevoid]

Rating some things I've dreamed

Jason Todd and Saiki Kusuke are bfs.

Weird.

I don't remember most of it besides Kusuo entering into Kusuke's apartment flying and finding Jason there. They proceeded to look at each other without moving until Kusuke came from other door and throwed a glowing yellow ball at Saiki.

Kusuo and Jason got along for some reason and I think that's nice.

Kusuke didn't like Bruce and he was so petty about it.

Has potential for a crack fic.

7/10. Could improve if I knew more about it.

A whole bnha AU where AFO successfully took over Japan's government and there's a resistence.

Pretty good, actually.

Izuku was part of the resistence since it's founding days when he was, like, ten years old. His mom let them reunite in their home until it was growing way too big and they had to get other place.

Dabi and Shoto both joined the resistance for separated and for different ways. They went a long time without knowing about the other until they met on a basement.

Mei was there doing her thing.

At some point, Hawks accidentally crashed a meeting and then just kept appearing and sleeping there. They kinda adopted him as a member or a pet and I don't remember which one was.

AFO had these big jail cities where no one was allowed to go away and it was quite scaring, actually.

There were also ruined cities that had been abandoned by the government but that AFO couldn't take over them.

It was strange and I think there was an octopus involved.

8/10. Post-apocalyptic dystopic society is not my jam, but it was interesting.

The one where Danny had a sword duel with a vampire (a real one, not Vlad) in a museum.

This is an old one, so most of it is blurry.

There was something about doors, mythical gates, and some guy named Janus. Who I think is a mythological god about who I read once.

At a moment Tucker threw off the curtains, but it didn't do anything? What kind of cheap vampire was it?

Sam knocked out a guy. Good for her. (I don't know who tho).

Btw, the duel was while he stayed in his human form. Which, cool, but Wes was not happy.

I think Tucker had sand control and Sam trained squirrels to attack him. Probably because he was being annoying.

6/10 I don't remember more than that, and the little I do sounds like crack.

[k8katdoodles]

This is super self indulgent thing for the post-apocalyptic au, but I'm really proud of if regardless.

[captain-k8kat]

Here's a little preview of a drawing that I'm doing :P

[crimsondreamprod]

Two pages in full color to start us out with a bang! Hope y'all enjoy the first upload of "Firebreak" a post apocalyptic Villain Endeavor & Hawks fan comic!

[spoopiloops]

OMGG DUDE I LOVE THIS i can't wait for the part 2 acccckkk

[ nsfw ] - post-apocalyptic au (mentions of guns, blood, war, fighting for survival) ; probably ooc bakugou because of the setting ; implied/minor shinsou x reader ; smut (18+) (may or may not be exposing my spit kink with this one LOL)

[ word count ] - 7.5k

"y'want me to do it?"

it smells like copper.

when you press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, you taste blood; a preemptive warning for what's coming, what you'll spill. for some reason, the rifle feels heavier than usual today.

"c'mon, what're you waiting for?"

maybe it's because you can't see his face. seems immoral that way. maybe it's because showing your back to someone is a sign of weakness in the world now and everyone knows that; him walking backwards to the safehouse, one arm barely raised in surrender — that's trust. that you won't do exactly what you're planning to do to him.

"gonna let him knock on the front door or what?"

"would you shut up?" you hiss, snapping back to fix your watch-partner with a glare. "i'm trying to focus."

he only raises one eyebrow, lazily gesturing back out to the road where the figure is stumbling along. despite hitoshi's easy facade, you can tell there's a sincerity to his words, even more evident in the tight hand he has around his own gun. he's allowing you the time, the chance to make your own decision, but he's as much a guard to the house as you are.

holding your breath, you look back through the glass reticle and find the man again. the gun aizawa gave you is from before the war, but it'll still take a raider's head off if you aim it right, and it won't be clean about it, either. even from where you're sitting in the watch blind, you have him clear in your sights and all you have to do is rid the tension from your shoulders and ease out your breath and —

the man crumples into the dirt, and stays there. a dusty lump of skin and bone and uncertainty.

when you pull back to look at hitoshi, he ignores you, frowning at the sight. the rusted chair he's half-leaning back in creaks when it hits the floor, screeching as he scoots to its edge to better survey the road. it's been a few days since he's shaved, the skin underneath his sprouting hairs irritated from where he's been scratching.

"this is a trap if i've ever seen one."

"so what are we supposed to do?" you pull the rifle from where it'd been perched on the ledge — something that deepens hitoshi's frown; a finality. "just leave him there?"

("we can't lose our humanity," aizawa told you, both, as you all stood on the screened-in porch, watching eri make dolls from sticks and straw in the yard. it hadn't been long after you joined their encampment, and you'll never forget the way he looked at you. with trust, pleading, that you wouldn't become everything they feared. "or else we'll be no different than the damn machines.")

hitoshi finally looks at you with his heavy, withdrawn eyes, and he looks the same as he did the night he found you in that ditch, all alone and bleeding out. he could have just left you to die on some excuse about not having the room or space or resources to take on another mouth to feed, but —

frustrated, he shakes his head, chasing away his compassion and memory in staunch self-defense. "this is a trap."

it's been a few days since either of you have seen another person this far out west, even longer since raiders have come along and met their own graves. a sweeter aspect to having the safehouse on a hill: you can see anything coming for miles. it gives you all the time you need to prepare for bandits and thugs, the wayward todoroki corporation 'droids that scan this edge of the earth.

you can see anything coming, even the end. and it can see you, too.

you don't argue because his concern is rooted in truth; what little peace you've had is bound to expire. it never lasts very long. people are getting desperate, moreso than usual. aizawa predicts a fourth of the population won't make it without food and shelter and something to keep warm when the next winter hits — which isn't far off.

out on the road, the lump never moves.

"fuck it," you grunt, kicking your chair back as you stand. your rifle strap slips over your head easily, the weight of it grounding as nerves light with unease. "just—cover me."

hitoshi glares, but doesn't move to stop you. "you're explanin' this to shouta on your own."

you shuffle down the rickety ladder, jumping off as soon as you can because you hate the stupid thing. the dehydrated skeleton of a bush snaps when you clamber through it, kicking along dead limbs and branches and thorns until you reach the barren, dirt road.

once you're out in front of the blind, you give a thumbs up and you don't move until hitoshi's light flashes twice, hidden by what remains of an old pine.

even from where you're standing, you can hear the man breathing, wheezing audibly enough that your own chest tightens in response. could be from the storms and their acidic haze, or prolonged exposure to radiation that's started to eat him up from the inside; either way, you don't think it sounds like he has long.

before you can fully approach, the up-close sight of him stops you dead.

half-alive. battle-torn, much more than you expected; your mouth fills with saliva at the dried clumps of blood clinging to one side of his face, crusted over with debris and muck. his right arm is — fucked, to say the least, and he's at least lucid enough to know it, cradling it close to his body as if you're going to steal what's left of it.

only his left eye is open, probably the only one that can still make out a damn thing, and he watches you, half-lidded.

an explosion of some sort; probably set off a mine in that airfield north of here. must have walked near 50 kilometers in this direction, which would explain why he's in such a piss-poor state. rifling through his pockets produces hardly anything, save for some lint and a small folding knife — that you do take, for good measure. not once does he try to stop you (as if he even could), choosing instead to take you in the only way he can.

you sit back to check his ears, and his head moves without fight. maelleable. surrendered. his right one is hard to find, underneath the blood. "can you hear me?" unsurprisingly, you receive no response. probably can't hear a thing. "hey. can you hear me?"

but then — he blinks, twice and slow.

behind you, the nuclear glow of night begins to unravel and you can feel it nipping at your skin; cold and chemical, a fresh burn under running water. another quick flash of light means to hurry you along, but you just raise a hand to hitoshi.

"you can hear me?" your voice drops considerably, to a narrowly audible whisper. the kind you would use with a newborn, or when trying to calm a wounded animal. "blink twice."

he does.

something softens in your chest, something that's long since crusted over. you've become so used to finding the threat in everything, you've forgotten what it looks like to need help, and now it's staring you in the face. carmine and bleary and scared. you can't feel his skin beneath your gloves, but you touch the sharp curve of his brow, wiping away the grime.

"hitoshi," you call, "get the horse. and the stretcher."

aizawa doesn't say anything when you get back. no one does. not even him.

it takes effort to care for him, which you think is the lesson you're meant to learn — the hard way. after he's loaded into the house, the hands that tend to him are your own and no one else's; the water you boil for your own bath goes to him, trying to carefully wash his wounds as he watches you, unchanged; for the first two nights, you give him your rations, until you're so hungry that you have to split them.

he doesn't speak to you. doesn't make any sounds, not besides his ever-present wheeze — which you have to get used to sleeping beside. you give him your sleeping bag, though you don't mind the floor as much as you thought you would.

there are no grunts of pain, not even when you have to peel the tattered remains of his clothes from his arm, just to wrap up the gristle that's still attached to him. he'll probably lose it, if he's lucky, but you've got nowhere near that kind of medical expertise and kayama hasn't been back for a few months. longer than anyone has expected. he'll have to wait, just like everyone else.

there's — little you can actually do for him besides bandaid-ing him together, because you're so afraid of hurting him or making any and all of his situations worse that you take your time. too much maybe. pulling a shirt over his head and squeezing warm water out of a towel down his grisly body and even feeding him; you're hardly able to take care of yourself. doing it for someone else proves to be a challenge. lesson learned, though the regret never comes.

three weeks go by, before he tells you his name.

you're sharing a granola bar and a can of peaches from your own personal stash, enjoying the peace and quiet of the dining-room-turned-barracks. hizashi has been taking your watch shifts and in return you've been helping eri out in the garden, tending to the field behind the house so that you can be close, just in case.

("is he going to die?"

she's afraid of him. you can tell by the careful way she watches him, shallow little breath held whenever you help him to stand for another round of clean bandages. she rotates who she sleeps with because she doesn't have a bed of her own, and since you've given your pillow up to your half-man, she's kept her distance, both when awake and not.

"what?"

she swallowed and turned her attention down to her nails, picking at the dirt underneath them as you tossed another potato into the bucket she was holding.

"him. hitoshi said—"

"i don't care what he said." you barked, harsh and in a way you would feel guilty for later, but it made sure she didn't ask again.)

the right half of his face is completely bandaged up, making him look more mummy than man, and his eye is trained on the spoon of peaches you keep feeding him. he takes it patiently, but there's an eagerness to his bite that has you worrying he's going hungry.

he's much bigger than you; that, you could tell even before you got his clothes off. his shoulders are wide, broad, and the strength they carry couldn't have been born from anything but healthy labor. it's been a long time since you've seen someone so well-fed and it makes everyone seem smaller and more feeble in comparison, has you wondering where he could have possibly come from, before he got nearly blown to hell.

you don't care what hitoshi is saying. that he's questioning everything now.

defiantly, you think that maybe if he'd helped with the wound-washing and bandaging, he'd know how much meat and tissue and muscle lies beneath your half-man's skin. no wires or tracking chips. no metal. just human.

you can't explain why he doesn't cry or speak or even cringe, but emotion is in there, somewhere. maybe next to his hunger and his trust. the sense he has to touch you with only gentle, considerate intent.

a 'droid wouldn't do that. all of you know it, from experience.

"i have to go into town soon,"

he watches you carefully, teeth clicking against your spoon when he closes his mouth around it. food gets shoved into the left side of his cheeks on instinct and it reminds you of some rodent you're sure doesn't exist anymore.

"i'll be gone a few days, but i have enough food squared away that no one should bother you." even if they don't want him here, you know the rest of the house won't put him out, not with you gone — but still; you want to take care of the only tension they could have with him. "i'll leave you my pack if it will—"

"i have to go to kamino."

stunned, you look up at him, spoon midway between the two of you. your half-man stares back, blinking as if he's just woken up from a long and fitful sleep.

"you can talk?"

"yes." his brow furrows, as if your question is irrelevant or maybe stupid. "i have to go to kamino."

"uh," now you blink, trying to picture a map in your mind. the miles stretch on the further you think about it. "i don't think you'll get very far with the state your in."

he nods, suddenly grim, and goes quiet. retreats to a place that's not here, with you, as his eye glazes over and sticks to the floor. you feed yourself a peach in an attempt to sweeten the sour feeling that bubbles up inside you.

you wait as long as you can before speaking again, until you can't take it. "you'll be moving on, then?"

he turns his head, focuses more on your face with his one eye and — you get the feeling it's the first time he's ever looked at you, really. which you know is stupid because he's done nothing but watch you, but now: alive and aware, he catalogues your face, the dip of your shoulder, a stray scar that's jagged across your collarbone.

assigning it to memory, maybe.

"yes. when i'm better."

you shrug, and try to keep your mouth from curling down like it wants to. "might be a while."

"someone's waiting for me."

it makes you feel bitter, though it shouldn't. as if he's throwing all you've done for him in your face even though he's not.

you feel — overwhelmingly embarrassed at yourself, but it doesn't stop the burn that builds in your waterline.

people are so scarce these days, an endangered species. finding one to tuck into a worn sleeping bag, to rinse the dirt from their hair and help them with their clothes, to become reliant on the white-nose sound of their wheeze — it happened too easily. lesson learned.

your half-man shuffles in front of you, nodding back at to the granola until you're feeding him again. a spell has been broken now, and because he's talked and shown plans to leave, you think he should maybe be feeding himself. but what the hell.

cheek full, he asks, "you know where kamino is?"

again, you picture the map in your mind, frowning at the distance. "it's not close."

"can you take me there?"

you shake your head; whiplash. two days ago, he couldn't stand on his own and now he's trying to lead an expedition half-way across the country. briefly, you picture it: him and you, snaking down the beaten path, avoiding the highways and finding old 100-yen shops to sleep in. using the aisle shelves like a bunk-bed, him on the bottom. wheezing until you're lulled to sleep.

when you look back at him, he's frowning. "i-what? me?"

again he makes that face: furrowed brow, mouth slanted like he can't comprehend your question — or why you've asked it.

"i can't just," you glance back, checking the room for open ears. "i can't just leave them."

"why not?"

"because," now you frown. "they've — been good to me and i don't want to abandon them." you close your eyes and you're in the dark again, being eaten up by ants and the dry, nuclear heat of summer. left to die, all alone. "they saved me."

it's silent for a long time, his voice echoing in your ears now that you've heard it. when you blink back into the here and now, he's just staring down at the floor again, already gone.

"besides," you continue, more eager to hear him speak than you're willing to admit. "i don't even know who you are."

"bakugou katsuki," he murmurs, automatic. his eye flicks to you and — you think it could be glowing, in the low light. carmine, like the burn of a fire. "my name is bakugou katsuki."

you and hitoshi find treasure in a nearly ran-sacked pharmacy; enough antibiotics to last a while, maybe longer if everyone is careful enough to avoid scrapes and burns and scratches. there's a tub of vaseline and a dented can of coffee grounds, something that aizawa will be ecstatic about, even if he doesn't have a half-decent way to use them.

it takes a day and a half to get into town because you only travel at night, and you spend a chilly evening under a crumbling overpass, housed in the rubble. shinsou even shares his beans. all around a win-win, in your book.

it's not until you're on the way back that disaster strikes.

you get comfortable, pig-headed from the weight of the haul on your back, and you cut across a desolate highway in an attempt to shorten the trip. both of you are too eager to get back and share your spoils, and it makes you careless.

hitoshi is in the middle of probing you about bakugou, when aqua lights flash off the failing frame of an old house.

"'m jus' sayin'," he grunts, shrugging. "he's pretty weird, don't you think?"

you don't want to answer him, but his question is so childish that you can't help it. "so are you, but i'm not judgin', am i?"

even in the dark, his wide smile is obvious, and he opens his mouth to retort something that will surely infuriate you when it seems as if the whole sky lights up. you know it doesn't really, but the neighborhood has been nothing but the skeleton of the world before, and to see the light after only traveling in the dark almost has you blinded.

hitoshi grabs you by the arm and you're being dragged through the dirt before you have time to blink. he doesn't have to tell you to keep quiet; you hold your breath, mouth open, tasting only the salt from his palm and your own fear.

the night-cover is meant to protect from raiders and feral animals. 

aizawa says that the 'droids are heat-seeking.

aizawa says, "there's no hiding from them."

you're both bent awkwardly behind a mound of rusted scrap metal and old rubber, legs and back folded to better blend in, though you have no idea if you even will, and the light flashes like a heartbeat in the distance. a block or two down, you think, if you're as good with distance as you think you are, and you track the echo of it underneath the remaining war-haze that blocks the stars.

not even a thought crosses your mind as it trails across the horizon, getting further and further away until it stops completely. and then fear sets in like a cold sweat.

during what few run-ins you've had with the todoroki 'droids, they've never just — gone away; they have to be dismantled, head pried from their shoulders. a thick piece of some kind of metal you've never known the name of sits at the base of their skull, soldered beneath their fake, translucent skin, and getting it off is a bitch and a half.

but if you don't, it won't stop. ever. 

you have to get out of here, far away before it gets closer and hears the rapid drum of your heart, but — should you run? no doubt it'll hear your footsteps across the ground, every breath that rushes from your lungs, and it'll reach you way before you can get —

hitoshi moves his hand from your mouth and your eyes flick up to his, the direction he points to — south, back to the safehouse — but it's hard to move your limbs from where they've frozen over with cold fear. your hands are shaking, shoulders, too, but you slowly push yourself to your feet, crouching close to him.

he doesn't say anything, and he won't; you've just got to trust him.

it's been so long since you've encountered one. since you've even seen one this far out. you're half a day from the house, but that's still close, in the grand scheme of things. dangerously, your mind dips into dread, imagining the copper smell of your encampment, if they've been found first.

you can't go there. not now.

hitoshi takes low, careful steps away from the corroded junk metal, crossing from dead tree to dead tree as softly as he can, and you follow even as tears well up in your eyes. 

all you can see is eri's little face. the last thing you said to her. how shouta gripped hitoshi's shoulders, murmuring something meant for only him.

how bakugou looked, forlorn, on the inside of the porch screen as you headed off into the night.

you can't go there. not now.

walking so close to the ground strains the muscles in your calves and they burn, full of fire and tension, but you trail him as long as you can, for what feels like hours before you're finally out of the neighborhood and back on the barely-trodden trail. it's not until you can stand that you finally breathe — or at least, that's how it feels, with how tightly your lungs have shriveled — and shinsou turns to stare at you, wide-eyed.

"what the fuck!" he whispers, harsh, before pointing to where you've come. "what the fuck!"

"i know!"

"no, not 'you know', this isn't a fucking coincidence!"

all your fear crescendos, crumbles into fury. "what?" you snap back from him as if he's slapped you, teeth bared, feral. 

"he's a goddamn infiltrator!" no names need to be said in order for the message to get across. "another fucking hunk of tin!"

"you don't know anything," you say it for nothing, because he won't stop talking over you. "i've had his blood all over my fucking hands, hitoshi! his arm is nothing but a wad of meat and bone, and you'd know that if you—"

"hello."

hitoshi spins around before your argument finishes settling on the air, placing himself between you and the half-crouched figure watching you from the tree line. hands raised in surrender. just like bakugou.

in no time, the both of you have your rifles loaded, staring down the reticle with the stranger's head in your sights.

"i'm alone," the man says, and you see a flash of white hair as he fully stands. the first thing you notice about him, is how immaculate he seems. untouched by the wasteland. "i just need some help."

"back off," shinsou barks, bumping into you as he takes a step backward, urging you to do the same. "turn around and forget you ever saw us."

"i just need some help." he says again — but his eyes glow blue in the shadows, hands clicking beneath his fleshy exterior, and then before you know it, an alarm screams, ringing so high in pitch that you're forced to drop your gun and cover your ears.

it doesn't last long; hitoshi manages to fire his rifle, clipping off half of its head just as it lunges for the both of you. it stumbles to the ground, sparking and zapping as it repeats "i just need some help, i just need some help," over and over and over, until hitoshi is firing down on it again, right at the height of its neck.

the world goes so silent, it hurts; you can feel a deep and thrumming pain in your ear canal, and when you pull your hands from your head, they're wet and dark in the hazy night glow. hitoshi tries to say something, but it's muffled, and then he's pushing you along in the night until you're both sprinting. running as fast and as far as your body will carry you.

it's day, when you reach the house.

aizawa doesn't care half as much about the coffee as he does about the noise you've made, that they heard all the way out here. he toys with his eye-patch, headache apparent on him as he rubs at the vein protruding in his forehead.

he's not mad at you, he says, but you'll have to be on the lookout. for what's sure to come, in the following days. boarding up the house, starting the generators around the property, just for the extra heat and distraction. you'll have to take longer watch-shifts, all of you. even eri.

day-old blood trickles down your shoulders and into the tub, when you dump a bucket of water over your head. it's the first thing you do — try and wash the excursion from your skin — and even though the water is warm and fresh-boiled, you can't stop shivering. digging your fingers into your arms as you hug yourself, head throbbing.

maybe it's because you haven't slept that you still feel like you're in that neighborhood, holding your breath as the neon warning flashes. if you close your eyes, it breathes behind your lids, white-hot and blinding. and your ears —

you barely register the door creaking, eyes snapping open as bakugou peeks his head in.

a fucking infiltrator.

your jaw loses tension as soon as it finds it, has you wincing from the ache, and you close your eyes and turn away from him. he should be able to take the hint. if he's human, then he'll understand how badly you want to be left alone. how badly you need to weigh your options, as the end looms over you all.

something buzzes in your ear, and when you turn to look back at him, he's sitting on the edge of the tub, staring down at the cloudy water.

"what?"

his eye snaps up to your own. aizawa's loaned an eye-patch to him and all his head wrappings are gone, leaving him to look, truly, like a half-man; scar and tissue and pink, with all his tenderness.

another fucking hunk of tin.

("you have to destroy they back of their neck. you have to, eri, do you hear me?"

she looked so young, so tiny, with a gun in her hands.

"they're all connected, and they can all track each other. one after another, they'll keep coming.")

you miss what bakugou says to you again and you shift, angling your head before shaking it.

"can you hear me?" he repeats, and you read the soft words against his lips. "blink twice if you can hear me."

and you do, slowly, leaving them closed as they burn with unshed, nuclear-hot tears.

it makes you jump, when his finger lightly touches your forehead, near your brow, and he watches with simple interest as water droplets collect on his skin. he trails lower, just under your ear, and then his brow furrows. that red gleam returns to his eye, like he's just waking up again.

"y'r bleedin'."

"not anymore," you can feel yourself talking too loud. "it's — fine." you mean for him to move his hand away, but he doesn't. and you don't make him.

instead it goes to your hair, where it's down and plastered against your skin, and he very carefully tucks it behind your ear before angling your head, as if he can see the damage better. he leans close, eye intent on where his skin meets yours.

and you can't take it anymore, as the tears finally run over your cheeks. "what the fuck are you?"

bakugou is half through a wheeze when you ask, and he stutters and coughs and — you just don't know. you can't fucking tell. 

how human he seems. how gentle he can be.

how different he is.

"what?" he rasps, signature confusion decorating his half-face. "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"i'll tell them," you seethe, though you don't mean word of it. "if you don't tell the truth right now, then i'll tell them what you are." a bitter laugh huffs out of you and his eyes narrow, annoyed almost. "who am i kidding? they probably already know and are just waiting to take your ass out. as soon as i give the word."

"i don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about."

"don't fucking lie to me," the words are lost to your ears, echoing somewhere in your skull — and even then, you can tell how desperate they sound. his eye tracks a fat, hot tear that slips from your own. "please don't lie."

bakugou doesn't answer, just frowns at your cheeks, and then he moves his hand to stroke the fat of them, gently. as always. he collects the tear on his finger and inspects it carefully, closely, before tasting it with the pink tip of his tongue; you and all your salt.

when he fixes his eye on you — so bright and red and alive — you lurch forward in the water, grabbing his face in your hands before yanking his mouth down to your own.

he grunts, loud and surprised, and he's hardly able to catch himself, hand going flat against the ceramic between your legs. you breathe him in deep through your nose: the subtly sweet scent of his sweat, the bitter fall air that's clinging to his soft skin — decayed leaves and earth and stratosphere, something foriegn and strangely clean.

your lips part his and your tongue slips into his mouth and he gasps lowly, sliding his hand in the water closer to you, moving in to press back against you with just as much hunger. it fans the flames to life in your belly and you drag him further into the water, until he has no choice but to fall in, knee thudding against the tub as he lets out a quiet "ow" against your lips.

you don't care — don't know how or what to care about — and you pull back from him to yank at the bottom of his shirt, stretching it out until he's able to slip it off his head, around the bandaged remnant of his arm with a little more concern; funny, how it's always him that's being careful. 

in a world like this one, maybe that really does make him the outlier. maybe that really does mean he's something inhuman.

the thought threatens to make you sick and your lips tremble, scooting closer to hug your face into his warm, toned body as he struggles with the button on his pants. they're soaked and sticking to him and he gives up half-way through, instead moving to cup the back of your head so he can kiss you again. you note that he still tastes like peaches, just as saccharine.

you help him out of his worn jeans — which really is a struggle, thanks to you and your forcefulness — and you try not to be so obvious in your inspection of his dick. on a handful of occasions, you and hitoshi have fooled around and it's always been just like this: desperate. the need to feel skin on skin. to know that you're still alive.

when you wrap a hand around him, he sucks in a breath and groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the tub so he can hike your legs up around his hips. your not as ready as you could be, but you don't even care about that right now; you wet your fingers with your tongue even though you're half in the water and circle the swollen tip of him, watching the lip he digs his teeth into, his eyes as they lid as if he really feels it.

and you want him to really feel it.

the burn is good. the burn is what you want, though the quiet "fuck" he gasps into your ear has you shuddering. bakugou places a clumsy kiss on your cheek, where your tears have dried, and you want to hate him. for what he may be. for how soft he feels, as the water sloshes out onto the floor with every slow grind of his hips.

you want him to fuck you until the ringing is finally gone from your ears — but instead he's careful like he wants this to last, and it only cements something deep in your weary chest, something you might never get out.

his tongue drags across your lower lip until you open your mouth for him and he kisses you deep and messy and wet, so that a thin line of saliva connects you two when he pulls back, and the sight has his hips snapping a little harder. he watches you so intently, hooked on the drop of your mouth, when you tilt your head back to gasp at the ceiling. 

"fuck," he hisses again, leaning in to lick a hot stripe up your throat. "y-y'r so—"

you want him to shut up and stop making your heart thunder in your ears, so you press your lips back to his, even if the two of you are just gasping and groaning into one another. there's never been enough time or privacy for anything sentimental and everything between you and shinsou has been quick and wordless, something the two of you hardly acknowledge outside of the moments you need one another.

but this is entirely unfamilair; you can feel yourself growing impatient, a hot desire coiling at the base of your spine as you slip down a little more against the ceramic, to angle your hips up so he can fuck into you hard enough to bring new tears to your eyes. your fingers scrape against the bottom of the tub and he squeezes his eye shut, muffling a long moan into the skin of his shoulder when you clench around him.

his cheeks are warm, you realize, red in the crappy light filtering through the foggy window. flushed, burning with all his blood, and you reach a wet hand up to trace his face, just as he had yours. the action makes him slow, and he angles his head into your palm like a cat, nosing at your dripping fingertips until a small laugh huffs from your nose. bakugou watches you quietly, though a smile ghosts the edge of his lips.

the first one of his you've ever seen.

gently, you slip your fingers under the strap of his eye-patch and he tilts his head so you can pull it loose and —

you don't know what you're expecting: another neon bulb, just like the aqua glow that had tracked you in the dark or maybe a dim light, powered by batteries and wires and his mechanical heart; instead you just find an eye, human and destroyed. cloudy, like the sun behind a post-war haze.

"c'mere," you murmur to him, slipping your ankles up to his shoulders as he thrusts into you shallowly once, stuttering through his breath as he sinks all the way in. you wait until his shoulders are trembling, until you're barely able to speak with the whine in your voice. "i'll—go with you—to kamino."

bakugou nods once, eye so full of something warm and soft and human before he kisses you, punctuating each press of his lips with a harsh rut of his hips. he moves his hand to the edge of the tub, gripping the ceramic so tightly that it creaks before his pace increases, as he drives you closer and closer to the end. one you welcome.

you wrap an arm around his neck and dig your nails into his skin and whisper into his ear, encouraging him; "fuck, yes, katsuki, right—oh—" and he shudders, hardly able to steady himself through your orgasm before his own hits him, has him pulling out late to cum on your half-submerged stomach.

he groans lightly and slumps down onto you, devolving into another lazy, messy kiss as his fingers tangle into your hair. lips sliding against your own, just because, like he can't get enough of it.

bright, aware, alive, he quietly murmurs into the heavy, damp space between you, "don't abandon me."

and you fear that you couldn't even if you tried.

two days trail by in charged silence.

eyes are open at all times in the house, ears, too, as the quite invites itself into every nook and cranny. at times you catch even bakugou holding his breath, muting his still lingering wheeze; it's not getting any better, and you hate to think of what that means, but it's not getting any worse, either, and so you take that for what it is.

he becomes — touchy, obviously so. always feeling you in some way; fingers trailing up the inside of your arm or tucking strays behind your ear, thumbing your lobe gently, as if he's afraid to worsen the damage you're still healing from. you share the sleeping bag and he sleeps with his nose in your hair, breath against the nape of your neck.

sometimes he lays with his head on your chest, just listening to the drum of your heart.

hitoshi doesn't speak to you. hardly looks, with bakugou by your side — and he always is. you can't tell if he's still angry or if it's dissolved into something worse; a wound eating up his skin. the silence from him makes you feel guilty, as if there are sides now and you've picked the wrong one. betrayed him somehow.

the remorse never lasts long though, not when bakugou is following close behind you to the barn out back, sighing into your mouth and hugging your body to his, tight, like he wants to breathe through you.

he's very touchy. eager, as if this is something he hasn't had before.

you suppose you haven't either. not like this.

you're coming out of (what used to be) the kitchen when you see it. brushing tangles out of your hair with your fingers, distracted by the shape of his silhouette in the front of the window.

he's peeking through the boards, always on high alert as aizawa has instructed him to be. his back is to you and you count the crescents you've left on his skin, frowning at how easily they disappear into the constellation of his scars.

now that his head wrappings have come off, you can see the new growth of his hair, what was singed off in the blast he's still never told you about. he's a little damp, just like you, fresh from the bath neither of you really took, and his skin looks extra pink and tender, soft.

and there is a little gray symbol on his scalp, faint and ruined, trying to survive among his wreckage.

maybe you gasp and that's why he turns around; you don't know because you still have a hard time hearing and you disconnect completely from your body, ears ringing like they did only nights ago.

he's without his eyepatch. it's still sitting on the counter, where he tossed it before slipping into the water, between your legs as his mouth found yours. insistent. hungry. like he knew what that even meant.

you don't say anything at first. don't even move. and you watch the recognition come to life in his eye, as his hand slowly goes to the back of his head.

carefully, he says, "it's not what it looks like."

when you don't respond, he takes a step toward you, coming up short when you retreat; a marionette of his movements. whatever is wired in him to display pain does, finally.

bakugou sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before trying again. "i'm not—"

"liar."

his expression falters. a glitch, you tell yourself.

"you're a liar." it's such a simple truth and yet it cuts so deep, all your trust blown to bits as he becomes exactly what you feared he would.

a goddamn infiltrator. another fucking hunk of tin.

you feel sick, suddenly, swollen with regret as your stomach churns. the todoroki corporation must be making them differently, attempting to blend them into what remains of the human population by weaving veins and replicating tissue and sculpting muscle and —

"it's not what you think."

what even spills out of him, when he cums? you've never thought to look before, too distracted by the addicting press of his lips, how he strokes your tongue with his own as if he could never get tired of it. there are only so many places you can find to yourselves; the barn is dark and he wipes your skin off with his own shirt; the bathtub is half-full, sometimes murky from the dirt that the water washes away.

"don't—listen, 'm not like them. it's not like that."

he must be programmed that way to protect himself. to lie, to deflect. all the gentle touching is another line of code they've perfected, meant to leave you thinking of nothing else except for how he feels inside of you.

and you fell right for it. lesson learned.

it's not a little flame that identifies him, like the rest of the 'droids, but a small, cartoon bomb. lit, ready to explode.

aizawa keeps a loaded handgun underneath his pillow, and you lunge for it just as he dives for you.

you hit the floor hard, but so does he, and he's damaged, rusted, and you're able to scoot yourself far away from him, smooth material of the sleeping bag hurrying you along.

bakugou — or whatever he is. it is — only rises up on his knees, arm raised in surrender. just like before. just like the last one.

the second he — it — opens its mouth, you're already screaming, furious.

"fuck you!" the safety clicks; even you hear the echo of it, in the silence of the house.

"no, listen," it begs, alarm and panic and fear generating across its face. sickening, how real it seems. "i need your—"

you bark out a laugh, and it's because your cheeks swell with it that you realize they're wet and that your nose is dripping. "what, my help? digging all our graves, or do you even do that? do you even know what that—"

you choke, suddenly, voice breaking as he — it — tries to scoot closer. you should fire a warning shot or — no, you should just kill him. it.

when you shoot this gun, everyone will come running. they might have already overheard your shouting, with how quiet the property is, and you know once they do, it's over for him.

it.

"you have to believe me."

a trick, you tell yourself. meant to distract you, to take your unease away. scripted to find the softest parts of you, to poison.

sickening, how real it felt.

when you close your eyes, you go back to last night, listening to the audible breath that scratches in your ear. that vibrates against you neck, so that you can feel him, that he's there and safe and alive.

him. bakugou.

you can't look. it's hard enough to find your voice. "how long d-do we have? at least tell me that, before they get here."

"i don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about," an echo. a repeat of the lines he's learned to say to you. "because i'm not one of them, listen—"

bakugou — it — goes silent, and when you open your eyes, the barrel of a rifle is peeking in from the other room, only a breath away from his head.

hitoshi rounds him carefully, slipping around the back of him, urging you to move out of his line of sight. so he can blow him to hell, once and for all.

it.

quietly, the voice — one you know, one you've listened to — tries one final time. "please," it says, cloudy eye pinned to you, as he wears an illusionary sorrow. "don't abandon me."

hitoshi watches you carefully, waiting for you to move and —

(bakugou tucks a hair behind your ear, running the pad of his thumb gently across your browbone. just as you'd done, on the night he lay crumpled at your feet.

good to you, good to each other, in a world rigged to blow.)

you don't.

instead you drop your arms and shake your head. surrendered.

"sorry," you croak, running a hand across your face. "my ears, he—just scared me, that's all."

hitoshi doesn't retreat. if anything, his grip tightens, something flashing in his deep eyes. "don't bullshit me, not me. he's fucked and you know it—"

"you're right," you nod, bottom lip trembling as it — bakugou — watches the tears slip down over your jaw and onto your neck. "but we're leaving."

you close your eyes, blinded by the breath of light that flashes behind your lids. the image of bakugou pressing a kiss into your cheeks.

"i have to get him to kamino."