#deku looks hot when he'S borderline broken

[koshehehe]

my hero academia is making me feel a lot of things rn this is not healthy-

this is a whole shit show-

[axther]

every second i get

in which Midoriya is forced to deal with his friends trying to get him and his crush together. 

for @patt-writes-stuff

Midoriya tried not to make regrets. 

This might’ve sounded strange, maybe obvious. But he took chances when he had them. He took the leap, hurtled off edges that others might’ve been worried about because he was finally able to do what he always wanted to. He put a thousand percent into everything he did. 

But this? This was some bullshit. 

Recently, as an example of goodwill, U.A. took in several exchange students from other countries. They were all valuable and magnificent in their own right, with talents that Midoriya could only awe at. One had the ability to rewind time under a full moon. Another could breathe underwater. 

But most of all, one could read minds. 

YN LN rarely used it, but it was said that there was a villain attack back at her own school, and she defeated them by only spamming their mind with cringy, outdated Ugandan Knuckles memes. It was funny, of course, but also incredibly powerful. Some mentioned that she was in the same boat as Shinsou, but she seemed to take it much better than he did. 

Oh, and she was cute. Really cute. 

Midoriya would catch peeks of her in the hallways, waltzing to her class with her books close to her and her eyes shining in the afternoon light. She always seemed to have someone at her side, talking softly with them, or maybe laughing loudly. But she was popular, kind, and strong.

Everything that Midoriya felt he wasn’t. 

Of course, he had friends. His quirk was certainly useful, though it had it’s drawbacks. But she was gentle and sweet. Even Bakugou tolerated her and didn’t give her a nasty nickname, which was definitely new. 

So when Mina waltzed up to him with a sneaky grin, he was worried. 

“Heyyyyy, Deku!” She tittiered, leaning on him in a way that was more than friendly but less than flirting. “You like YN, right?” 

“H-huh?!” Midoriya flushed bright red, flailing his arms comically as if to fend off the accusation. “N-no! I mean, she’s really nice b-but I totally don’t have a crush on her and I don’t want-er, really need to dater her, I mean if she asked I would say yes but I don’t have a crush and it’s really not-!” “We get the idea, loverboy.” Mina cut Midoriya off before he could ramble any more, and turned him around to see Sero talking with Denki and Todoroki. “Sero’s gonna have a party tonight. And guess who’s gonna be there~?” “Y-YN?” Midoriya’s flush went down, but barely. 

“You got it! All the transfer are going to be there, and we’re going to rope her into a game of truth or dare!” Mina cheered, but Midoriya recoiled. 

“Wait! What?!” “Yeah! And you’ll get to find out if she has a crush on you!” “What?!” Midoriya leapt away from her, bright red again, and gasping. “That’s-!” “We’re fuckin tired of seeing you pine, asshole.” Bakugou bit from his seat. “Either get your shit broken or date her. I don’t give a fuck.” “Oh, don’t lie like that!” Mina chastised him and swatted at his head, making him growl in response. “He does care! It was his idea!” “Shut the fuck up!” 

Midoriya felt nervousness crawl up his spine, a chill settling in his heart. What if he got publicly rejected? Oh god! What if she said she liked him? How would he react? Would he hug her? Thank her and bow? Kiss her, even? Oh my god! Kiss her?! What kind of response is that?! 

His mind was on overdrive, thinking in all caps and screaming at the top of his proverbial lungs. All sorts of scenarios played through his head, most of which were not meant for public consumption. It was pure chaos until he realised he was being shaken by Tsuyu grabbing his shoulders. It made his head roll around until he came to. “O-oh! Tsu! Sorry!” “It’s okay, kero.” She let go, pointing at her chin. “If this is how you act now, I wanna see how you act with YN in the same room.” “S-same...room…” “Shit, it’s happening again! Someone! Stop him!” 

Midoriya was a foot away from her. 

They were sitting on the couch together, with Denki between the two of them. The room felt like it was filled with lava; bubbling, hot, and too full. Every other second was spent glancing at YN, who was preoccupied with a game of twister that Jirou and Bakugou were fully absorbed in. They were practically doing aerobatics, growling at each other in a refusal to step down. The tension was climbing until one of Jirou’s ear jacks conveniently got under Bakugou’s hand and made him slip. It was almost artistic how she still stood where he fell, but in the end, Bakugou lost, and most of the class was willing to overlook the foul. 

And then came the dreaded truth or dare. 

For whatever reason, Sero brought a bottle, but spin the bottle was quickly shut down once everyone realised they would have to tape Mineta to the upside of the ceiling. They chose to tape him anyway, which led to some confusion on what they were going to play, but it remained truth or dare. 

The first to go was Ochako, who dared Tsuyu to smack Kirishima with her tongue. She did so and almost knocked him out, but he assured her he was fine and the game went on. Late into the night, borderline dangerous dares (“Hey, Bakugou, can you explode in your mouth?”) and embarrassing truths (like the time Todoroki froze over his own underwear and used Midoriya’s All Might underwear, which Midoriya found more mortifying than Todoroki did) were traded around, until it landed on YN for the first time all night. 

“Eh, YN.” Ochako murmured past the thirteen marshmallows in her mouth. “Do you hath a cruth on nnieeone?” “Huh?” YN tilted her head, crossing her legs with a bit of sass. “Now, isn’t that a bit…?” “Nobe!” Ochako chirped, her face splitting into a grin. “Anthwer!” “Ocha…” YN extended her hand, sighing. “I, well…” “You tho! You tho!” Ochako cheered. Midoriya didn’t realise he was on the edge of his seat until he almost fell off. “Thay it!” “Well, maybe…” She pursed his lips. “I can tell you he’s in this room.” Midoriya’s heart skyrocketed. In this room!? There was only him, and Bakugou, and Todoroki, Sero, Denki, Mineta, and Shoki and Tokoyami, Aoyama, Iida, Ojirou, Kirishima, Koda, Sato… Midoriya’s hopes plummetted. It didn’t narrow it down by a lot. 

“Yeah?! Who?! Who?!” “He has...a darker palette?” YN tapped a finger to her chin, trying to dance around the question. It cancelled out Denki, Bakugou, Todoroki, Sato, Ojirou, Aoyama, Koda, and kind of Kirishima if Midoriya squinted. 

“And he’s really smart, and does really well in class.” That definitely outs Kirishima and Sero. Ojiro, Koda, Tokoyami, Aoyama, and Shoji weren’t exceptional in class, either. So all that was left was…

Midoriya’s brain stopped. It stopped fully in its tracks. 

All it left was him. 

It was like he did a mental stutter, the couch feeling like a rock and his hands feeling far too sweaty for his liking. He wiped them on his jeans, but they seemed to be just as sweaty as before. He swallowed. He slicked back his hair a bit. His eyes wandered. Every second felt far too long. 

“That’s not enough, YN.” Mina whined, tipping back so she was laying on the floor. “You have to tell tell us!” “Nah.” She reclined into her hand with a soft smile, blinking slowly. She seemed satisfied, despite the other girl’s begging for more information. Midoriya coughed into his fist, trying to regain his sensibility before slowly rising. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna head to bed!” “Whaaaatttt?” Mina crooned, leaning forward. “Why? Not even Bakugou has gone to bed yet.” 

“Shut up!” “I’m just tired,” Midoriya rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, trying to edge away. Before he could, though, YN rose up and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to bed, too.” She smiled, nodding her head. “We need to get sleep while we can, right?” “Ughhhhhh,” Ochako groaned, finally swallowing the marshmallows. “Fine. But it won’t be the same!” 

“That sounds like a you problem.” YN sassed before walking past Midoriya, glancing at him when she passed. It was as intimidating and romantic as eye contact could be, and made his knees grow weak. 

“R-right.” Midoriya said, though no one asked him anything. “Sure.” “Huh? Dude, are you okay?” Kirishima leans over, but Midoriya just shakes his head as he watches YN walk away. “Y-Yeah!” He juts his thumb towards the hallway, wondering how long leaving was going to take. “I’m just...gonna go.” Before anyone else could say anything, he booked it until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He was panting, but less out of the running than it was nervousness. He kept looking behind him, like he was expecting one of his classmates to come barrelling at him. He turned a second corner, only to bump directly into YN. She had been standing, waiting there for him, with a deep stare. “Hey, Izuku.” 

Midoriya jumped, nearly hopping out of his skin at her gentle, quiet tone. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes were bearing into him. 

“O-Oh! YN! Hi! Hey! I mean, uh, I thought you were going to bed.” He started backing away slowly until his back hit the wall. “Yeah. But I wanted to talk to you.” YN brought her arms up and promptly slammed them on either side of Midoriya’s shoulders, effectively trapping him between her and the wall. “You’re bright red.” “R-really?!” His eyes looked everywhere and nowhere, speeding around until they landed on her. Her brow was furrowed and her nose was scrunched. 

“Yeah. Say...do you have a crush on anyone?” She leaned in, eyes glancing down onto his lips before flickering back up. 

“M-maybe!” He squeaked, desperately trying to figure out how he should respond. Everything about this was something out of a manga, not real life. 

“You know…” YN leaned in again, this time not only looking at his lips but keeping her eyes on them. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss you."

Midoriya felt his face flush again, then go cold, then flush redder than before. It was a constant rapture that seized him, lifting him up higher than he could ever consider. 

“What?!” He yelped once his mind caught up with what was going on. “Shh!” She hissed, putting a finger over her lips, which looked very cute. “You don’t want the whole dorm knowing, do you?” 

“Oh…” Midoriya wasn’t sure if he did want everyone to know, but YN kabedonning him made his brain keep on stuttering like a broken record. 

“Hey…” For a second, there was a flash of uncertainty in her eyes. “Do you like me? All the girls say you do, but still…” 

“Yes!” Midoriya nearly shouted, jumping and almost bonking heads with YN. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

“Wait, really?” YN leaned back, surprise on her face. “I thought I was going to scare you off, or something.” 

“Not at all!” Midoriya started waving his hands, a happy flush growing on his face. 

“Then...do you wanna date?” “Yeah. “ He sighed softly. His eyes were wide and his heart felt like it had soared to the moon. The moment was pure ecstasy, and he couldn’t come down from this high.

“I would love that.” 

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

and the autumn is bright

So this is officially the longest Kiribaku fic I’ve written to date! For the sentence starter: “You’re a what?!” Also on ao3!

Bakugo was going to fucking murder Kirishima.

He was going to explode the fuck out of his stupid fucking shitty face until he was just a pile of fucking ash. And it was going to be fucking fantastic.

No more shitty red hair, no more annoying requests to hang out and play video games or watch movies, no more being stuck eating lunch with a bunch of talkative fucking idiots. And there would be no more ridiculous, borderline inappropriate hero costume; no more constant exclamations about what was or wasn't 'manly'.

No more late-night study sessions that always resulted in Bakugo wanting to pull his own fucking hair out because as eager as Kirishima was to learn, he couldn't wrap his head around the simplest fucking math problem. Bakugo was still trying to drill the fucking quadratic formula into Kirishima's thick skull.

And maybe, just maybe, if Bakugo blasted Kirishima into fucking space there would finally be no more stupid, confusing feelings to keep him up at night. No more distracting thoughts about kissing Kirishima's stupid face and holding his stupid hand.

But before that, he had to actually kill Kirishima. Because, first, the asshole had managed to convince Bakugo to go to some stupid ass Halloween party at Ponytail's fucking mansion even though he knew damn well that Bakugo hated any kind of party that involved him being around other people.

The party was all anyone from Class-A could talk about for weeks since Ponytail had announced it a week and a half prior. She had invited everyone, even the creepy little grape-headed perv, promising a wonderful night of fun.

Bakugo had immediately written the party off as stupid and not worth going to, planning to instead spend the night in his dorm room reading. But, of course, Kirishima had other plans.

For days, Kirishima had done everything he could to convince Bakugo to go to the fucking party. From begging and pleading to bribing and cajoling, Kirishima had tried everything.

Eventually, Bakugo had grown sick and tired of Kirishima's exaggerated pouting and fluttering lashes and finally relented. He had begrudgingly agreed to go to the party, just to get Kirishima off his case.

Not at all because he genuinely didn't like seeing Kirishima so disappointed when there was something he could do about it. And it certainly wasn't because of the way Kirishima had smiled at him like he was the best thing in the world when he had agreed to go.

But now, the fucking asshole decided to flake and text Bakugo that he wasn't going to the party. And Bakugo was so not going to put up with that shit.

Not after he dragged himself to some shitty Halloween store to get a stupid fucking costume just to appease Kirishima who had insisted that he couldn't show up to a Halloween without a costume. Nope.

So, after receiving Kirishima's half-assed text, a clearly rushed sentence of 'sick, not going 2 party, sry,' Bakugo had immediately stomped out of his room to stalk over to Kirishima's.

To his surprise, Kirishima's door was locked. Because Kirishima never locked his door.

Since moving into the dorms, he had been very vocal about his open door policy, inviting anyone and everyone to feel free to come to his room if they needed anything.

Most people took advantage of it to just pop in and talk to Kirishima about their problems like he was their fucking therapist. Dunce Face would drop by to play video games and sigh about his crush on Headphones or Four Eyes would visit to discuss ideas for teamwork exercises or some other bullshit, deferring to Kirishima and his uncanny ability to bring the entire class together.

Even that Icy Hot bastard had awkwardly knocked on Kirishima's door to talk about his fucking daddy issues or whatever.

Others in the class used it as an opportunity to get some training tips. Namely, Round Face who would drop by to get some extra help with her hand-to-hand combat skills or fucking Deku who would stop in to ask Kirishima for weight training tips.

Bakugo usually just used it to stride into Kirishima's room whenever he felt like it, usually to invite him to go spar with him. But rather than fixate on the fact that he couldn't just barge in like he was now accustomed to doing, Bakugo balled his hand up into a fist and pounded it against Kirishima's door.

He waited for a response. When there was none, not even an acknowledgment of the fact that he was knocking, Bakugo impatiently snapped, "I know you're in there, hair for brains! Fucking answer me!"

From the other side of the door, Bakugo could hear a deep sigh. Kirishima's voice was clearly hesitant even as he loudly called, "Go away, I'm sick!"

"I don't care if you're dying, you're not fucking bailing on me, asshole!" Bakugo yelled back, banging on the door again with one hand while setting off a series of small, frustrated explosions in the other. Pausing his insistent knocking, he pointed out, "You're the one who convinced me to go to this stupid thing!"

"Well, I'm not going!" Kirishima said, voice slightly muffled. Whether it was because of the distance and the thick wooden door between them or due to some mysterious illness he had magically contracted in the two hours since Bakugo had last seen him, he wasn't sure.

Bakugo resumed banging on the door, beyond infuriated and seriously contemplating just kicking the fucking door down. He only stopped when he heard Kirishima speak. "You should be happy! Now you don't have to go!"

Seriously? What the fuck was that about?

"Don't be a fucking coward, Kirishima!" Bakugo groaned, though he wasn't exactly sure why. It wasn't like he actually wanted to go to the fucking party and Kirishima had just given him the perfect out.

But he wasn't a fan of Kirishima flaking on him. And he definitely wasn't a fan of Kirishima being a little bitch about it. He was about to bang on the door again when Kirishima beat him to the punch.

"I said go away!" Kirishima yelled loudly, the severity of his tone immediately disorienting Bakugo. He had never heard Kirishima raise his voice in anger. Never.

Out of excitement? Sure. Frustration? Plenty of times. But anger? Not once.

Something was seriously wrong. And Bakugo was going to figure out what.

"Fine, you fucking jackass!" Bakugo screamed at the door, kicking it for good measure before turning around to stalk back into his room. He slammed his door behind him, counting on Kirishima hearing the loud bang that shook the walls.

Kicking off his shoes in the hopes that it would muffle his footsteps, Bakugo made his way to his rarely used balcony. He shoved his blackout curtains aside to wrench open the sliding glass door that was blessedly quiet.

He shivered at the cold air as he walked out onto the balcony, grumbling to himself under his breath. This far into October, it definitely felt like fall after the long, hot summer they had been forced to endure.

The ornamental trees that dotted the UA landscape were all bare, naked branches dancing in the frigid breeze. They certainly screamed Halloween.

Above the trees, hanging in the sky like nebulous curtains, skeins of gray clouds sluggishly drifted by. Behind them, illuminating the dark night sky, the moon was full and unimaginably bright, like something out of a movie.

It was a perfect night for a Halloween party. Even Bakugo could admit that.

Turning away from the sky, Bakugo peered over at Kirishima's balcony and mentally calculated the distance between it and his own. They were only about an arm's length apart, if not a little less.

All it took was a relatively small, rather quiet explosion and Bakugo was touching down on Kirishima's balcony. He waited a moment to see if Kirishima had heard him, waiting for him to peek out onto the balcony.

After a minute, Bakugo tiptoed over to the sliding glass door to see if it was locked. It wasn't.

Bakugo let himself in like he owned the place, moving Kirishima's ridiculous fiery red curtains out of his way. As he did, he heard Kirishima repeatedly curse under his breath as there was a loud ruckus, a series of heavy thuds followed by an odd scratching sound.

"Get out!" Kirishima yelled, sounding inexplicably panicked from wherever the hell he was. It was dark in Kirishima's room, all of the lights turned off, leaving him sitting in the dark like that weird bird-headed guy from class.

Bakugo squinted into the darkness, tugging the curtains open a bit more. Just enough to let some moonlight filter into the room, enough to cast shadows around the room so he didn't end up tripping over one of Kirishima's dumbbells that he never fucking put away after using.

It didn't help much, not bright enough to let him see much. Bakugo was about to set off a couple small-scale explosions just so he could see where the hell he was going when he saw a hunched over figure on the bed, clearly Kirishima, outlined in silver.

From the little bit that Bakugo could see, he could discern that Kirishima was sitting in the center of his bed. He was bent over in a position that looked vaguely uncomfortable, face buried in his hands as he continued muttering to himself, too quiet for Bakugo to hear what he was saying.

"The fuck is up with you?" Bakugo sneered, nudging the tip of his socked foot against the side of Kirishima's bare one. Kirishima yanked his leg back so fast it shook his whole bed when his heel hit the bed frame.

Bakugo frowned. "You actually sick or something?"

Kirishima nodded. At least, Bakugo thought he did. It was hard to tell in the low light.

"C'mon, don't be a fucking baby," Bakugo instructed, rolling his eyes. Leave it to Kirishima to play through the pain of broken bones to take down villains but act like a total overdramatic wuss when he was sick.

"Go away," Kirishima groaned, voice stifled by his hands. And people called Bakugo dramatic.

Bakugo knocked his foot against Kirishima's bed frame, shaking his head when Kirishima jolted a bit. Bakugo snorted, "Man the fuck up. It's not a big deal."

That seemed to set something off in Kirishima. He immediately snapped his head up, demanding, "Get out!"

But all Bakugo could do was stare at Kirishima's eyes. His eyes that were fucking glowing.

Bakugo had never seen them do that before.

"Your eyes..." Bakugo managed to say, taking an instinctive step backwards. He stared dumbstruck at the bright red eyes that were glowing like smoldering coals in the dark. He raised a shaky hand, pointing at Kirishima as he whispered, "What the fuck's wrong with your eyes?"

Kirishima stood, going from hunched over to his full height as he stalked over to stand in front of Bakugo. He seemed to tower over Bakugo despite the fact that they were the same height, more so than usual.

He took a small step closer to Bakugo, the blond taking another step back. Eyes glowing angrily, he repeated himself, growling, "I said get out!"

A bestial snarl accompanied his words, sounding like it had been wrenched from deep down inside him. It echoed in the small room, seeming to shake the walls themselves.

Out of reflex, Bakugo set off an explosion in his hand. The blast cast just enough light for him to see Kirishima's face.

What he saw shocked him more than he could have ever expected.

Kirishima's face, usually so open and warm and happy, was twisted up into a vicious snarl. His too-sharp, too-white teeth were bared, somehow looking larger than normal.

His eyes — his weirdly glowing eyes — were narrowed in an uncharacteristic glare, brows drawn down angrily. His hair was an even worse mess than usual.

There was something off about him besides the weirdly glowing eyes. Something that felt disconcertingly primal, almost animalistic.

"Get out, Bakugo!" Kirishima yelled again as Bakugo's explosion fizzled out before he could look closer. The scent of burnt sugar filled the room as Kirishima stalked closer.

Desperation bled into Kirishima's voice as he insisted, "It's not safe! Just leave! Please!"

"What the fuck is going on?!" Bakugo demanded, feeling like he was going fucking crazy. He had to be seeing things, right?

"I'll explain later!" Kirishima barked. "Just go!"

"No, you'll explain right the fuck now!" Bakugo argued, taking a step towards Kirishima who skittered backwards like a startled animal. He seemed to trip over his own feet, falling with a shocked yelp before clambering up onto his bed.

With his eyes gradually adjusting to the dark, Bakugo could just barely make out the outline of Kirishima curling up again, burying his hands in his hair as he whined. Whined. Like a fucking dog.

Determined to get to the bottom of this fucking clusterfuck, Bakugo followed Kirishima's lead. He walked further into the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

Pointing a finger at Kirishima, who curled in on himself even more, he ordered, "Spit it out, shitty hair. Just tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"I can't!" Kirishima insisted, shaking his head, tightening his grip on his hair. Trembling so much it rattled the bed, he softly moaned, "It's not safe!"

"For fuck's sake, Kirishima!" Bakugo snapped, wanting to pull out his own fucking hair. Why the hell was he being so god damn fucking difficult about this?

"When the hell have I cared about what's safe?!" Bakugo pointed out, slamming his hand down on the bed, regretting it when Kirishima jumped. "I can take whatever you can dish out. You know that."

Kirishima kept whining, clearly stalling. Bakugo folded his arms over his chest, prepared to wait as long as it took.

Eventually, Kirishima dropped his hands with a deep sigh. He mumbled something that sounded like a reluctant 'fine' under his breath.

"Probably easier to just show you..." Kirishima relented, reaching behind himself to flick on the lamp on the shelf above his bed. Bakugo drew in a sharp breath as light filled the room.

Kirishima, though still immediately recognizable, looked vastly different. Aside from his eyes that were still fucking glowing, he had grown a plethora of other physical abnormalities.

He had apparently sprouted long, sharp claws on his hands. They were wickedly curved, looking capable of tearing a person limb from limb.

His teeth, already naturally sharp, seemed to have indeed grown even larger, giving him a rather noticeable overbite. The sharp tips of his canine teeth poked out from beneath his upper lip, clearly visible.

Sticking out from his wild shock of hair was a pair of furry red ears that Bakugo couldn't believe he had missed earlier. They were flattened against his skull, like Kirishima was doing everything he could to hide them from sight.

"What the actual fuck?" Bakugo asked no one in particular, staring dumbly at the patches of red hair extending down Kirishima's sideburns like a pair of ridiculous crimson mutton chops. He was about to comment on them when something else caught his eye.

Eyes wide, he peered around Kirishima's back to see that he had apparently also grown a fucking tail, too. The same bright shade of red as Kirishima's hair, it was tucked behind him, clearly in a futile attempt to keep it hidden.

Noticing that Bakugo was staring at his tail, Kirishima cleared his throat, moving his tail behind his back. Bakugo blinked a few times, stunned that Kirishima could move his tail.

"I'm a..." Kirishima started, trailing off as he muttered something unintelligible. He kept his head down as he rubbed at the back of his neck. His left ear twitched a bit as he spoke.

"You're a what?" Bakugo pressed, frowning deeply as he tried to decipher what the fuck Kirishima was saying.

"I'm a werewolf!" Kirishima yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Like Bakugo was the one being thick-headed. "Y'know, with the full moon and the silver bullets and shit."

"What?!" Bakugo nearly screamed, drowning in skepticism. There was no way Kirishima was being serious.

Shoulders nearly up to his pointed ears as he curled in on himself again, Kirishima avoided looking anywhere near Bakugo, keeping his eyes down. With a sigh, he reluctantly explained, "It's a Quirk. Well, it's the effect of one."

He glanced over at Bakugo before looking back down at his lap, pulling his legs up to hug his knees to his chest. Resting his chin on his knee, he continued, "I was like five and I was playing with some kid at the park and he bit me."

"He bit you?" Bakugo blurted, inadvertently interrupting Kirishima's story. Kirishima just nodded with a small shrug like five year olds biting each other was a common thing.

Maybe it was. Bakugo didn't know. Even when he was five, he hadn't kept many friends. Fucking Deku didn't count.

"He bit me," Kirishima confirmed, resuming his story. "Turns out his Quirk is Werewolf. Pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Including the whole passing it on with a bite thing. So... He sorta passed it on to me."

"The fuck?" Bakugo snorted. Did this mean Kirishima was like that piece of shit Deku? Fuck, how many Quirks could be passed on to others at will? "You have two fucking Quirks? Why the hell don't you use it?"

Kirishima shook his head, ears flopping around comically. Bakugo was immediately reminded of a dog shaking itself dry. He wisely kept his mouth shut about it.

"I can't control it or anything," Kirishima said, meeting Bakugo's eyes for a moment before lowering them again. He turned his head to look out the sliding glass door, staring at the luminous sliver of moon visible through the clouds.

The way the moonlight hit Kirishima's eyes seemed to intensify their glow. Kirishima's eyes remained fixated on the moon as he spoke, like he was captivated by the sight.

"It just sorta happens every full moon," he explained, voice soft as he continued staring out the door. Bakugo hummed in acknowledgment.

The mask of Kirishima's hero made a lot of sense all of a sudden. It had always struck Bakugo as rather canine, like a dog muzzle or an oni mask.

"I'm really sorry," Kirishima murmured, tearing his eyes away from the moon. Looking at Bakugo, he clarified, "About the party. I didn't realize tonight was the full moon. I'm usually a lot better at planning."

"Does anyone else know?" Bakugo asked.

Kirishima nodded again. "Yeah. All the teachers know. Principal Nezu and Recovery Girl, too. Technically it's a medical condition."

Bakugo supposed that made sense. Sprouting ears and a tail every month definitely qualified as a chronic condition. But he still didn't get why Kirishima had never told him before. They were supposed to be friends, damn it.

"So that's the big fucking deal? Why don't you just tell everyone?" He asked, shrugging casually. Kirishima let out another low whine, an involuntary response judging from the look of pure embarrassment on his face.

"I can't!" Kirishima said, shoving his hands into his hair again as he hopped to his feet beside the bed. Pacing in the middle of the room, he insisted, "It's not safe!"

He waved one of his clawed hands around, gesturing around the room. It drew Bakugo's attention to the disheveled state of Kirishima's room.

There was trash scattered across the floor, mingling with Kirishima's dumbbells and broken bits of what appeared to be the remnants of Kirishima's desk chair. Food wrappers and empty sports drink bottles littered the ground, both full of claw marks like Kirishima had been too impatient to open them properly.

The mini fridge Kirishima kept tucked under his desk was open, the interior a mess. The shelves were off their hinges and void of all their contents save for a single protein bar that had apparently survived Kirishima's ravenous hunger.

One of the legs of the desk was covered in claw marks. There looked to be a smear of blood on it as well.

Kirishima continued to pace back and forth as Bakugo's eyes followed him to and fro. Biting his lip, he went on, "I'm so hungry. No matter how much I eat, I always want more."

That certainly explained the sorry state of the poor mini fridge, a victim of moonlight cravings. But why that would be considered dangerous escaped Bakugo. Until Kirishima spoke again.

"And when I'm like this I get all aggressive," he said, tightening his grip on his hair, looking about ready to tear out chunks. He bared his teeth as he growled, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

Of fucking course, Kirishima felt that way, the selfless idiot. Putting other's needs before his own, even when he was dealing with the weird side effects of some crazy fucking Quirk. The big damn hero.

"You should go," Kirishima said, pulling Bakugo out of his thoughts. He had stopped his pacing, standing in the middle of his room, looking down at his bare feet. They, too, were tipped with sharp claws.

Another whimper echoed through the room. "I don't wanna hurt you."

His words sent a bolt of warmth through Bakugo, settling in his belly as a swarm of butterflies took flight in his stomach. Bakugo could feel his cheeks fill with heat, clearing his throat as he willed his blush away.

"Fuck that," Bakugo scoffed, leaning back against the wall. He grabbed one of Kirishima's pillows and propped it behind his back, not trying to fuck up his spine.

"I'm not leaving you alone like this, dumbass," he announced. "You'll probably end up doing something stupid like go chasing cars or howl at the moon."

Kirishima raised his head sharply, pouting at Bakugo. He dropped his arms to cross them over his chest. "I would not! I've been dealing with this for years, dude! I can handle it, I'm not stupid. I'm just so... Ugh!"

Kirishima threw his hands up again, letting out a frustrated groan. Hanging his head, he pouted again, the expression even more comical with his too-long teeth.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo frowned, narrowing his eyes at Kirishima. What the fuck did that mean?

Bakugo knew he wasn't the most emotionally intelligent person ever but he was pretty sure 'ugh' wasn't an emotion.

"There's just so much going on," Kirishima whinged, gesturing at his head with sharp, jerky motions. He looked about ready to start pacing again as he complained, "Everything's so loud and I can smell everything and it's all just too much and my head's all weird. Like there's this constant...buzzing."

So the effects of the Quirk also affected Kirishima's senses, enhancing them to the point that Kirishima was susceptible to sensory overload. Well, that definitely explained a lot.

"C'mere," Bakugo sighed, patting a spot on the bed beside his hip. Kirishima frowned at him, tipping his head to the side in a purely canine manner.

Bakugo rolled his eyes. He patted the bed again. "Just do it."

Kirishima obediently followed his instruction, cautiously climbing onto the bed to sit beside him. His ears were back, tail practically tucked between his legs.

He kept his head down, tucked up into a ball as he tried to make himself as small as possible, like he was afraid of taking up too much space in his current state. Glancing at Bakugo out of the corner of his eye, he folded his legs up beneath himself, keeping some distance between them.

Slowly reaching around Kirishima, not wanting to startle him, Bakugo grabbed Kirishima's other pillow. Kirishima watched him closely, ears swiveling around to follow the sound.

He set the pillow in his lap, making a show of fluffing it and arranging it to be as comfortable as possible. Patting the center of the pillow, Bakugo nodded towards it, repeating, "C'mon."

Kirishima looked between Bakugo and the pillow, seemingly weighing his options. He bit his bottom lip, apparently retaining his bad habit despite his even sharper teeth.

"I ain't leaving," Bakugo stated, matter-of-factly, ready to be as stubborn as necessary. "You either let me fucking help you or not. And I've got nothing else to do tonight. You know I don't wanna go to that stupid fucking party, anyway."

"But, dude..." Kirishima started, peering up at Bakugo with his big, guileless, glowing eyes. "What—" he cut himself off to swallow heavily "—What if I hurt you?"

"Then I'll kick your fucking ass," Bakugo said simply, shrugging a shoulder. Kirishima looked baffled, like he had never thought about the possibility of someone holding their own if he got a little bitey or whatever.

After a moment of deliberation, Kirishima crawled over to Bakugo, lying down beside him and setting his head on the pillow in his lap. His ears perked up a bit, tail swishing behind like he was an overgrown puppy and not a werewolf.

He pulled his legs up to his chest, rolling over onto his side, facing Bakugo. He curled his tail over his hip, the tip twitching a tiny bit.

Scoffing at Kirishima's eagerness to please, unchanged by the moon's influence or perhaps even magnified, Bakugo reached down to tangle his fingers in Kirishima's hair. Kirishima let out a breathy sigh, leaning into the familiar touch.

They had done this before. Several times. When Kirishima was having a particularly bad day or feeling shitty about his Quirk again. When he was doubting himself.

Bakugo would just run his fingers through Kirishima's hair and let his friend talk about his problems and his insecurities and his fears about the future and what it might hold. And Kirishima would rest his head in Bakugo's lap and look up at him with a soft smile after getting everything off his chest, thanking him for everything.

And Bakugo would sneer and roll his eyes and say 'whatever' while fighting the urge to just lean down and kiss that stupidly cute smile.

Now, Bakugo absentmindedly played with Kirishima's hair, feeling the tension seep out of his body. Kirishima's tail was wagging steadily like a metronome, smacking against the mattress every so often with a muted thud.

"You're overstimulated," Bakugo explained, running his blunt fingernails over Kirishima's scalp before taking a detour to scratch behind one of his furry ears, purely out of curiosity. Kirishima let out a soft huff, almost a purr.

"Your senses are heightened, aren't they?" He wondered aloud, though he was fairly sure he already knew the answer. Kirishima nodded, letting out a quiet mumble that might have been a 'yeah'.

"It's called sensory overload," he went on, scratching behind Kirishima's ear with more purpose. Kirishima's leg jolted a bit, like he was two seconds away from shaking his leg like a common mutt. "Happens when your senses get all jammed up with too much stimulation. Like all the smells and sounds that come with living in dorms."

Kirishima hummed his agreement, eyes falling closed as he leaned heavier against the pillow under his head. Bakugo smiled to himself. Dangerous, his ass.

Kirishima was just a touch-starved puppy, overwhelmed by a monthly overabundance of heightened senses and in need of a good ear scratching, wagging his tail at the smallest touch. For a second, Bakugo thought about whether or not Kirishima had ever been touched while like this.

Had his parents been too worried about getting bitten or scratched to sit up with him at night and comfort him? Had Kirishima growled at them and begged them not to go near him, the same way he had with Bakugo?

There were so many questions swirling around in Bakugo's head, about the past and the future and the present. But he knew now wasn't the time.

"Just focus on me, okay?" He instructed instead of asking any of his multiple questions. Carding his fingers through Kirishima's surprisingly soft hair, he instructed, "Forget about everything else. Just relax and focus, yeah?"

Kirishima nodded, burying his face in Bakugo's t-shirt, nuzzling against his stomach. Bakugo hummed in encouragement, smiling softly down at Kirishima as the redhead nestled closer, tail still wagging as he started to drift often.

Through the sliding glass door, moonlight streamed into the room, turning Bakugo's hair silver and deepening the red of Kirishima's hair. There was a promise in the moonlight, of a bright tomorrow and peaceful night, of a curse that maybe wasn't much of a curse after all.

How could it be when it brought two people together? Two people who were destined to be together, illuminated by the moonlight.

[katsukikitten]

Late Night

Have some fluff since I can't sleep and apparently cannot finish any of the request I start to work on today.

You remind him of shitty Deku as you sit in your office chair, thick frame hidden in a much too large sweatshirt muttering to yourself as you stare at the computer screen.

*His* much too large black sweatshirt that swims on you that he assumes you've worn for atleast three days. Your career choice allowing you to work at any time and any place sometimes dispelling your biggest demon.

And sometimes encouraging it as you sit unkempt at 3am voice softly slurring curses as your fingers clack away quickly on the keyboard.

Rare bags hang beneath your stunning eyes as exhaustion pulls heavy at your features, face thinning as you live solely off of caffeine trying to meet your deadline.

A deadline you'll make by the skin of your teeth. You grind them before lips part to mumble some more. Chewing on that damned pouty lip as you go on about *"But would they REALLY act this way or am I projecting..."*

As if you didn't create these characters, as if you didn't fuse heart and soul thinking of these two dimensional beings that somehow become three d.

They become bright and vibrant as they leap from the dull inky pages, they fight demons, hug, comfort and wipe away tears for readers.

And here you sit, the Goddess of these sentinel beings that wait for your every command through the stroke of a key debating with yourself if this is how they'd really act. If this is how they'd really fucking feel.

It's funny how he despised Deku's stupid fucking muttering but finds your's undeniably cute.

A scoff escapes him as he knows better than to disrupt you when work is flowing from your finger tips after what's felt like an eternity for you and your writer's block.

It didn't matter if your writer's block happened for one hour or one month. Once the story whispered itself into your ear the rest of the world faded away.

As you breathed life into a new one.

He uses a broad shoulder to shove himself from the doorframe softly descending the steps while carefully avoiding the creaking boards although it would go unnoticed by you anyway.

Still he knows that your concentration cannot be broken, especially not by him.

He sets his luggage as gently as his gruff demeanor allows into the laundry room for tomorrow, estatic his hero hell mission with Deku and shitty hair had finally come to a close.

And a day early at that. Seven days cramped in the small cabin of a car for sixteen plus hours in addition to sharing a studio hostel room was more than enough to make the hot head pull his ash locks out. Especially since the mission was a disengage if spotty type of bullshit.

As if Bakugou Katsuki could ever do anything incognito.

He slips steel toed boots from prideful aching feet more than thankful to begin his next four days off. He stretches one strong arm overhead, yanking at the fabric near the nape of his neck letting the black sweaty shirt fall to the bathroom floor.

Next come the rest of his clothes as he hastily undresses unable to ignore the siren call of scalding hot water streaming from the shower head. He steps in and immediately his heart flutters. Faintly he can smell the remanence of your last shower, warm citrus, tropical coconut, and a hint of ylang ylang attempt to cling to his skin. He cannot wait to trap you in his arms until he deams your body heat too hot although he hates to turn away. A hiss forces it's way from his lips before he wets his head. Running calloused hands through soft locks hypnotically as the weight of the week catches up to him.

The longer he runs his hands through his hair the more he wishes these hands were yours. Nails scrapping on his scalp, running down his nape before, and maybe with some convincing, they leave little pink welts on his sculpted back while you gasp out each sinful syllable of his name.

The thought perks him like a warm cup of coffee on a weekend morning. He washes himself in his usual scent of mixed spices that enhance his already mesmerizing caramel smell.

His sweat already a borderline hallucinogen and with the addition to this body wash there was no way you could resist him.

He knew because he tested it and each time you'd jump his bones without his asking or for him doing anything more than walking into your shared bedroom draped in a towel or black boxers.

He decides to do that now, drying as best he can before slipping on a clean pair of boxers that you've so lovingly folded in dresser.

He pauses in the low light of the room and notices that the bed is made, on it his shirt he decided to leave last minute hinting that you haven't been to sleep.

At least not here. More symptoms of your self neglect reflect with each passing room, bills, papers and some cups litter the kitchen and dining room. The sink remains empty and the few items in the trash are three large gallons of premade unsweetened tea and a pizza box with XX/3, just a day after he had left.

He grinds his teeth, angry that you did not care for yourself as you said you did. The thought of you cleaning your evidence of neglect up on your last day comes to his mind. He wonders if you do this EVERY time he is away for work.

Which, much to his fucking dismay, was often as of late.

Oh you were in for it now, your work and deadline be damned.

He bounds up the stairs two at a time to your little office, stepping in with slightly popping hands.

He's angry you lied, but more so angry you lied about your own wellbeing.

"You've been a bad kitten, lying to your Ki.." The sentence dies in his throat as scarlet eyes fall over you.

He drinks you in as you're head is down buried in the crook of your arm as a delicate snore mixed with an exhausted groan echoes back to him.

He sucks his teeth, cheeks flushed from how cute you are as he approaches. Long lashes kiss smooth cheeks as your lips are parted slightly, your usual pigheaded self presented in an unimaginably soft tone. He brushes hair from your face to get a better look.

Even after five plus years you still manage to shove butterflies down his throat that flutter wildly in his stomach. Some how malnourished and sleep deprived you send his heart racing as he scoops you into his arms. Careful not to disrupt your sleep. You snuggle into his chest breathing in his scent deeply.

"Bakugoo..." You mumble before a giant smile plays on your lips. He snorts then gently taking you back to your shared nest.

He manages to pull back the covers after readjusting you slightly before he folds the comforter back over you. He crawls into bed, muscles now screaming just how tired he is when his palm touches your skin. You turn to face him, nuzzling into his chest as your snoring increases. He yawns, slowly being pulled under by your own relaxed vibe.

"Fuck, you're luck you're so fucking cute." He settles into you, arms wrapped possessively around his greatest treasure, "But not cute enough to get out of your punishment tomorrow."

A feather soft kiss is pressed to your forehead before the hot head is pulled into a deep, much deserved sleep.