#wormed its way inside bnha

[chaossery]

Some thoughts regarding chapter 419

I needed some time to stomach the revelations of chapter 419, but now that that’s done I think the story’s been building up to that moment for a very long time. It’s an extremely painful chapter to read, but, in my opinion, it had to happen. I’ll try to explain why I think so.

Tomura’s lack of/struggle with agency had always been a core theme of his character, perhaps even the central theme. However, I feel like this aspect of his character often got overlooked in favor of other aspects like his bond with the other members of the League of Villains, his development into a more competent and threatening villain, his issues with the shortcomings of BNHA’s society in general and heroes in particular, etc. Well and then, chapter 419 happened and brought this core theme to the forefront with a vengeance, pretty much overshadowing everything else. (It was really kind of a… challenging read.)

Personally, I think this chapter’s purpose is neither to make Tomura more redeemable nor to let Nana and Kotarou off the hook for the decisions they made. I doubt that people who were against Tomura’s redemption before chapter 419 dropped, are on board with it now. And I can’t really imagine Horikoshi expecting them to change their minds with this reveal. (He would have to be beyond naive to believe that.)

The decisions, Nana made, were entirely her own – chapter 419 changed nothing about that. And regarding Kotarou: Just because a cherished friend gives you parenting advice, you’re not obliged to follow it. Especially, since All For One didn’t even tell Kotarou to be strict with Tenko, he merely encouraged his strict ways. He encouraged what was already there. He used what was already there to his advantage. This chapter may bring Tomura’s agency into question, but it certainly doesn’t do so with Kotarou’s.

(Furthermore, I don’t see anything in the story that indicates All For One as the cause of all of society’s flaws. He merely knows how to use these flaws to his advantage. He threw quite some bombshells at Tomura and us in this chapter, but he never mentioned having anything to do with all those civilians ignoring little Tenko in his hour of need. If he were also behind that, why wasn’t he bragging about that as well? Now would be the perfect time.)

So, what is the purpose of this chapter, of All For One’s revelations? I think it’s to finally shatter Tomura’s illusion of agency. It’s to pull the rug out from under his feet and push him into the deepest depths of despair. At its core, Tomura’s story is a tragedy in its purest form (or at least it has been up to now) and chapter 419 marks the lowest point.

In chapter 379, Tomura is able to one-up All For One and regain control over his body for a while. He manages to do so by clinging to his origin as Tenko Shimura. At this point, he is already aware (at least to some degree) that All For One has groomed him since picking him up after the Shimura tragedy. He knew that “Tomura Shigaraki” was All For One’s creation. But at least he still has “Tenko Shimura”. “Tomura Shigaraki’s” decisions may belong to All For One, but “Tenko Shimura’s” decisions are his own. Or so he thought.

“Tenko Shimura” was his final weapon against All For One, the shield protecting him from getting completely overtaken by his abuser. And also the life ring he was clinging to to keep himself from sinking into despair. But now, All For One has destroyed that, too, and Tomura has nothing left to hold onto.

“Tenko Shimura” is All For One’s creation as well. “Tenko Shimura’s” decisions belong to All For One as well. All that is “Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki”, all that ever was, all that ever will be, belongs to All For One. “Tenko Shimura/Tomura Shigaraki” is not his own person. He is nothing more than a tragic figure in the story All For One is writing. Or so All For One wants him to think.

What I believe All For One has done in this chapter is to destroy Tomura’s illusion of “I have control over my life and the decisions I make” by setting up a new illusion for Tomura: “I have and never had any control over my life and my decisions whatsoever”. He pushed Tomura out of one extreme narrative straight into the next one. Both of which are at odds with the truth, however.

When dealing with All For One, we mustn’t forget that he is a liar and a manipulator, a groomer and an abuser. (In fact, he is so good, that he can even manipulate the fourth wall and make the BNHA fandom believe every little thing he says.) Naturally, he’ll always tell his victims what makes it easiest for him to manipulate them, be it lies, the truth, or a little bit of both.

Thus we should be careful to take his words at face value. He is definitely exaggerating when he claims that all of Tomura Shigaraki’s/Tenko Shimura’s decisions actually belong to him, his abuser. One example: Does anyone really think it was All For One’s decision that Tomura cares for the other members of the League? That he grew to genuinely trust Himiko, Twice, and even notorious anti-team-player #1 Dabi? Befriended Spinner? Fed Mr. Compress all the sushi he wanted? Decisions like these go completely against All For One’s modus operandi.

For me, the key to growing to appreciate this chapter and its revelations was to bring together all these extremes regarding Tomura’s struggle with agency, Tomura’s flawed perception of himself, other character’s flawed perceptions of Tomura, All For One’s exaggerated claims about Tomura and well… I guess to kinda conciliate them with each other. Tomura was groomed by All For One and thus has struggled with agency. He made many decisions All For One groomed him to make. But he also made decisions of his own.

Tomura is not a transcendent being. He is not a god. He is not destruction incarnated. He is not the angel of death. He is not an innocent little baby boy (not with a kill count like that). He is not a character in All For One’s story.

He is a victim but not just that. He is a villain but not just that. He is a hero to some but not just that.

In fact, I think the story (namely chapter 411, courtesy of Izuku Midoriya) already gave us the perfect term for what Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura truly is: a human being, nothing more, nothing less.

And I guess the key to giving this story a happy ending is to convince Tomura of that as well; that he is a human being whose first 21 years were shaped by All For One’s toxic influence, yes, but there is also a future for him without All For One. Where he can truly be free, make his own decisions, and grow into his own.

[redbirb]

Omegakiriweek 2021 | Day 7

Fandom: BNHA | MHA Pairing: implied FatKiri & RappaKiri | implied Fatgum/Kirishima & Rappa/Kirishima Rated M: Mature, omegaverse, omega!kiri, kiri w/ a pussy, beta!fatgum, alpha!rappa, sexual harassment, mention of violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, implied underage

D1 | D2 | D3 | D4 | D5 | D6

-

Day 7: Free Day! (Solo angst with a happy ending / implied FatKiri & RappaKiri)

He wakes in a hospital and his first thought is, I’m not dead?

Everything aches, he’s bandaged from head to toe, and incredibly hungry.

Vague blurs of memory start to resurface: desperation to help his mentor, pain ricocheting through each limb, a hardened resolve pushing them to victory.

He feels elation for five seconds and then crushing self-doubt. Had he done enough? He’d taken more damage than he should for someone claiming to be a ‘sturdy hero’.

He expected to face villains that were mean, big and scary. Rappa was more than big, very scary and a little mean. An alpha that towered over him with a grin that held a dark promise. He didn’t hold back punches even if Kirishima was an omega and barely came up to his waist.

‘Pretty thing can fight.’ Rappa had laughed, rows of pearly whites set in a grin. ‘I like that in an omega.’

He shivers remembering it. Every hit had him sweating, pushing himself harder and harder. Rappa’s mix of praise and harassment got his blood pumping hot, the need to prove himself. Fatgum had been right there all the way, both of them trying hard not to think of Suneater hanging back to give them this chance.

Struggling to sit up, a large and warm hand stops him by the shoulder, gently urging him back.

“Easy, Riot. You need to rest,” a tired voice instructs.

Crimson eyes blink and look up into a familiar face. Fatgum is in his skinny form, something that still makes his mind reel. The warm hand moves to sweep red locks out of his face in a soft caress. It’s that care that breaks the final wall down, crumbling into sobs.

“M’sorry, I was tryin' t'be strong—”

Shame felt hot on his cheeks, tears falling down quick. This terrible feeling has wormed its way into his chest, something ugly and cold with clawed hands that squeeze his heart painfully.

Rappa’s deep rasp had made him slick. The adrenaline and presence of a powerful alpha, scent unbearably thick and dominant in the room, had been enough to make him dizzy. His scent blockers were soaked, sliding off in the middle of the fight to add to the cocktail. Worse yet had been his arousal, watching Fatgum protect him with an unwavering smile.

Rappa had laughed, tongue licking over his teeth in hunger. ‘Little omega likes the show.’

'Eyes on me, pal!' Fatgum had snapped, the first true sign of anger Ei had ever seen out of the giant beta. He'd stood in Red Riot's path immediately after, blocking the hulking alpha's view. 'He ain't yours to toy with.'

The alpha's smile had only grown bigger. 'S'that so? Does that make him yours?'

He should've felt humiliated, beaten into a corner, pussy leaking from all the conflicting scents. He was supposed to be stronger.

But when the beta dug his heels in the floor and yelled 'he's mine to protect!' the omega felt joy burst like a bubble inside him. It splattered inside his chest and down into his belly, honey-sweet and sticky. Something bloomed there, something suspiciously like hope and determination.

And in seconds he was back on his feet giving it his all, forcing himself to go harder, harder, harder.

His fists clench, knuckles bruised and aching. Was any of it enough?

A finger pokes his forehead, gently applying pressure until his head is laid back on a soft pillow. His gaze tilts up, blinking to see clearer past the drying tears.

"Ya did real good out there, Riot. Don't be thinkin' any different, ya hear?" A finger crooks, taking care to wipe away any errant tears. “I’m proud of ya, real proud.”

His lip wobbles, but he refuses to cry again. “But I—”

“No buts, pup,” a soft admonish, fondly by a soft boop to his nose. “I know ya thinkin’ all these thoughts, drivin’ yerself crazy. And I’m tellin’ ya it’s okay, you did good, real good out there.”

He opens his mouth to say something, a raised brow stopping him. Eijiro’s pout turns into a huff, fighting a smile as Fatgum laughs at his little defiance.

“Being a ‘Mega doesn’t make you weak.” The Pro Hero sinks back in the uncomfortable plastic chair he’s occupied for the last four hours. “Ya proved yerself today tenfold. I knew you had it in you.”

The pain in his chest starts to ease, caused by the kind comfort of his mentor or the dose of medicine running through the IV, he isn’t sure. He truly sinks back into the hospital bed, trying to get comfortable.

“I want to get stronger,” he whispers, eyes drooping.

“Ya will get there,” is promised back.

He falls into a strange dream, one filled with big smiles and hands, soft touches to his cheek. Happiness mixed with longing, the smell of fresh baked bread and dumplings invading every little crevice of his mind.

He doesn’t wake when Fatgum gets up again an hour later, pressing the sweetest kiss to his forehead.

[rox-reads]

the present mic stuff only really happens during the tournament arc, for most of the story its actually just the manga itself giving you the info you need, either non-diegetically or most likely by having another character describe whats going on (time honored manga tradition)

i only brought it up because i think (its been a while since ive kept up with bnha forgive me) that early bnha would occasionally have deku fanboy about popular heroes and it would serve as both a character affirming moment and convenient exposition

of course this isnt the only way we get info on the characters and their powers, mostly because... in bnha its not really needed! we’re not bound to deku’s pov all the time, we dont live inside his head so we arent required to only know the things he knows. horikoshi can tell us in a lil textbox or outright show us and it’s just fine 

meanwhile in worm, since its text based and bound to taylor’s pov (outside of the interludes), any info we have on someone’s abilities is either something taylor knows or something she speculates.

if its something she speculates then we can only learn about it once some hints have been shown, not to mention having her speculate too much and be usually right (because if shes not usually right its not useful to the reader) could be a bit contrived depending on the situation

but thanks to the introduction of the capes wiki we can start learning about someone’s power even before they use it, we dont need to wonder where it comes from because duh, its the wiki, and we can rest assured that the info is likely mostly correct and if it isnt we still get to learn in which way and how taylor eventually overcomes the lack of info

[ae-unsympathetic]

NSFW BNHA

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (aged up)

Summary: Midoriya is jealous and horny.

...

Midoriya popped his head into the kitchen where you were leaning over the counter, absent mindedly scrolling away on your phone.

You had recently become obsessed with very interested in a particular pro hero who was new on the hero scene. From his costume to his quirk, pro hero Gizmo had really caught his eye. It had started last week when he had incidentally been the hero to come to your aid when some low level villain had tried to rob you on your way home late at night. Since then, despite your best efforts, you hadn't been able to get that guy out of your head. Though one could say that your boyfriend, pro hero Deku, was suffering for it the most.

You were scrolling through a number of Gizmo fan pages on instagram when you felt Midoriya's arms snake around your waist.

"Hey hun," You mumbled half heartedly.

"Hey y/n, what're you looking at?"

"Just insta," You sighed, but Midoriya's own, melancholic sigh drowned out yours.

He buried his face into your shoulder, "Again with this Gizmo guy?" He moaned.

"I'm just looking."

"At fan pages!"

"Yeah I'm a fan, what of it?" You doubled tapped to like someone's fan art and took a quick screenshot too, "Don't worry, I'm still your biggest fan, Deku."

"I know, I know..."

"Then stop pestering me."

The word pestering made Midoriya's skin crawl. He propped his head on your shoulder, purposely digging his chin into your bone and aggressively bucking his hips into you.

"Ow, Izuku!"

"It's not pestering if I'm concerned about you!"

"Oh I see, when you obsessively study a hero it's cute and endearing but when I do it, it's a cause for concern?"

As you continued scrolling on your phone, you happened upon some erotic nsfw fan art that made you choke for a second. Midoriya didn't like that at all.

"Is that what you want Gizmo to do to you, y/n?" Midoriya asked in a low, almost threatening, voice, intimidatingly close to your ear. He slowly began humping your backside and it made you shiver a little.

"N-n-no, don't be silly," You huffed, quickly scrolling away from it.

Midoriya's arms around your waist tightened, "Why did you stutter, y/n?"

You began to sweat, "Genuinely, Izuku, there's nothing to be concerned abou-"

"Don't bother," Midoriya nuzzled his face back into your shoulder and began humping you a little faster, "Keep looking at that fan art, since you like that guy so much."

"Don't be like th-" But before you knew it, he had you pressed flat on the counter. One hand wormed its way down your pants as he humped you furiously. The feeling of his cock hardening against you made you grin a little. His fingers found your opening and played around down there as you continued to scroll through your phone.

"Your fingers are cold, Izuku," You mumbled, unable to help yourself from moving in time with his humping and fingering.

His other hand found your nipple and pulled it, "Then warm them up in that delicious little pussy of yours."

You giggled, barely noticing that you had stopped holding your phone. You managed to pull down your pants a few inches, so Midoriya could slide his penis inbetween your cheeks through his boxers. He grunted at the softer sensation.

"Izuku," You breathed, as your boyfriend rutted against you quicker and harder, but the sound of his name escaping your stubborn lips was too much for him to handle. Giving your nipple one last squeeze, cum quickly dampened both of your underwear and some parts of your thigh. He sighed and let go of you.

You turned to face him, beginning to peel off the rest of your clothes but he stretched and put on the kettle.

"Um, aren't we-"

"Nah, I don't feel like it anymore," Midoriya said, sounding as sweet and kind as always, "Do you want tea?"

Your heart was pounding, Midoriya had finished but you were just getting started. "No, I want you inside me."

He laughed dismissively, "I think you mean you want Gizmo inside you."

"I never knew you were so much of a tease," You grumbled with narrow eyes, trying to act nonchalant, "But fine, it's whatever."

You continued with your phone, still half dressed should Midoriya return for round two. But, truly, it seemed that your boyfriend was over it. He sat at the table, sipping tea and scrolling through his own phone. You only lasted about 5 minutes before you had to leave the room. You were so annoyed. How could Midoriya get away with making you all hot and bothered like that? Ridiculous.

You wandered into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. If you'd slammed it, he'd know how frustrated you were. If he didn't realise where you'd gone, perhaps he'd come to look for you. You kicked off your underwear, ready to finger yourself to pass the time.

You laid on the bed on your back, phone in hand, glaring at some more nsfw fan art of Gizmo. As cool as you thought he was, it wasn't like you'd really go for him over your darling Izuku. Frankly, nobody could beat your adorable, slyly possessive boyfriend, even if they tried. Maybe I need to chill with all this Gizmo stuff, you thought. You couldn't even be bothered to touch yourself anymore.

As if on cue, Midoriya's head popped around the bedroom door. "Babe?"

You gave him an unimpressed glance, before rolling over to turn your back to him and continuing on your phone.

Midoriya caught a glimpse of what you were looking at over your shoulder and, with barely any hesitation, he stormed over and clambered onto the bed by your feet.

"You really want Gizmo inside you that much, huh, y/n?" He said through gritted teeth, as he took your knees and pulled them away from each other.

"Izuku!" You yelped, but he'd already put you on your back and planted his face between your thighs before you could complain, "Let's talk first-"

His tongue was already at work, dancing around your clit. You dropped your phone and grabbed his head, "Hun, you're not lis-"

But his tongue sipped over a sweet spot which stopped you in your tracks. Your mouth was left hanging slightly as Midoriya incorporated his lips into his work. Your eyelids fluttered as you ran your fingers through his hair.

He suddenly looked up, "Where's your phone? I want you to keep looking at Gizmo."

"You don't need to be sarcastic anymore," You snapped with a pout, "I get that you were jealous and I'm sorry. I don't care about that guy anymore."

Midoriya pouted at you from where he lay between your thighs, "But he's-"

"No. I want you inside me," You whined needily, "Izuku, please."

He couldn't say no to you anymore. The sound of his name in your voice slowly resurrected his boner. He got up on his knees, "Call me by my hero name."

You grinned, opening your arms wide, "Come here, Deku."

With that, he kicked off his boxers and positioned himself between your legs. It wasn't long before he he was pounding into you, arms either side of your head, staring into your eyes as if you would disappear if he blinked. His thrusts were deep and almost rhythmic, but his grunts were desperate and all over the place. You weren't any better. You threw your arms around his neck, loving the sound of his balls slapping against you. You could feel the blood and excitement pulsing through his veiny dick. You couldn't believe how in love you were with this jealous little man towering over you. You began to tear up at the speed and force Midoriya was using to fuck you senseless, "Deku, I love you so much, Deku."

"I love, uh, uhhh, I love you too, hahh, uhh, y/n. Sorry, I'm abou- uugh, nh, - about tah, gyyynuughhh."

Needless to say, you had no reason to talk about Gizmo after that.

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week Level 2, Day Four: Control | Edge

A return to a scenario I brainstormed up last time with/for @codenamesazanka: the “Shigaraki and Spinner Karma Houdini their way out the end of the series and run off to be vigilantes in BNHA!Macau” AU.  That and, “Shigaraki’s hanging onto Mr. Compress’s quirk while he lays low,” is all the context you really need for this, but if you want more, it’s here.

Of course, back in August, there was still a lot we didn’t know yet about Shigaraki and vestiges...

(Content Notes: sleep paralysis, some body horror, AFO being Too Close.)

———–      ———–      ———–      ———–

“So how are things going with you?” Compress asks him, the wind snapping so loud in his coat that he has to raise his voice to be heard over it.  Somehow his hat doesn’t blow off, though, despite the fact that they’re having this conversation on top of New Oumun’s high-speed monorail.  “Putting me to good use, I trust?”

Shigaraki sits sprawled across the roof of the train car, watching the buildings blur past, old alternating with new.  It’s too bright out, but that’s how Compress’s dreams usually are—all vivid colors and frivolous moving parts to distract from what’s going on below the surface.

He shrugs in answer.  “Used you to help us jump a high roller in his own suite last week.  Threw all his chips out the window when we were done.  We figured it’s what you would have wanted.”

Compress laughs, twirling his cane.  “I hope you saved enough for a lobster dinner.  I would have considered that an important component of my evening.”

“Would’ve had to pay for dry cleaning first,” Shigaraki replies, the smile tugging at his face still feeling strange after all this time.

“Ah, yes, the spectacle of you in a dress suit.  You—”  

Shigaraki looks up when the vestige breaks off with a hum of dissatisfaction.  “What?”

Compress tells him, “Hold on.”

Movement in the corner of his eye, something broad-chested but quick, and then the cane’s hitting him dead in the chest.  Pushed over the side, he plummets, catching just a glimpse of the form as it jumps after him.  Overhead, the train flickers by, light rebounding off the windows, the sound of it a high, sibilant humming.

There’s a flash of black; the wind dies.  

In the dark, the whistling movement of the monorail transitions to the long, even sweeping of a blade over a whetstone.  There’s a familiar heavy sensation in his chest.  Shigaraki’s eyes flick open.

Sensei.  Ass planted on Shigaraki’s chest like it’s just the nearest patch of clean ground available to sit on.  The weight burns, clips his breath short.  Sensei looks down at him, head wreathed in smoke that doesn’t quite cover the edges of his hair, the brightness in his eyes.  He smiles—a fitful, twitching little quirk of his lips like he’s trying not to laugh at something—and raises one finger to his mouth.

Get out, Shigaraki tries to tell him, but his lips won’t move.  Sensei just reaches down and brushes at his hair, combing disarrayed strands out of his eyes.  The boundaries of the room throb in time with his depressed heart rate.  The cool rasping of metal on stone continues unabated.

Shigaraki’s body pulls up into a sitting position.  His head swims with vertigo.  Sensei’s sitting behind him now, chest to his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders. The edge of the cologne he used to wear back before All Might collapsed his skull worms its way into Shigaraki’s nostrils, warm musk and a hint of sage.

“A little walkabout, Tomura,” he breathes.  A gnat in Tomura’s ear, one he can’t lift an arm to swat at.  “For old time’s sake.”

Get out.  Shigaraki’s eyes burn; his shallow breathing stays regular, level, even through the rising of frantic anger in his throat.  His heartbeat roars low in his ears, rattling through the walls of their tiny apartment like a tidal wave about to make landfall.

All For One stands him up, tugging his loose shirt into place from where it got twisted around in his sleep.  His heart pounds harder, but still so damn slow; dull clouds of red afterimage drift around the ceiling as his arms stretch up, fingers kneading at empty air.

Sensei fists his hand in Tomura’s shirt—his flesh twists in the grasp; he can’t breathe—and pulls him forward, and finally the whetstone sound scratches to a halt.

“Shigaraki?”  Surrounded in knives and polishing cloths, Spinner looks up at him from the low table in front of the couch, his favorite katana fallen still mid-stroke halfway across the stone.

“Be it ever so humble, hmm?” Sensei asks, his tone amused as his glance takes in the peeling paint, the uneven floor, the clutter.  Shigaraki’s eyes move away from Spinner and over to the window.  “Ah, Tomura; what to do with you?”

Let me go, old man!  You lose this every time!  He tries to force his eyes closed, to focus, but between All For One and the damn sleep paralysis, he’s apparently not authorized for use of his muscles right now.  As his feet walk him over to the window, the smells of the city spin free association images across his vision—the tired smile on the woman running the gai daan jai stall on the corner; Spinner working polish into his and Toga’s blades in their downtime during those weeks against Machia; Sensei sitting down beside him in his old bed and rubbing his shoulder until he could move again, winding a supportive arm around his back as he shook through the remnants of panic afterward.

In the distance, the casino towers climb over everything, obelisks stamped black against the sunset, periodically caught in the sweeping beam of their own spotlights.  Sensei leans in from behind him, fingers knitting together over the top of Shigaraki’s head, elbows on his shoulders, and sighs appreciatively. The vibrations of it buzz through him in a steady thrum.

“We should be up there, you know,” All For One says.  “And that’s just for a start.”

Spinner says something behind him, specific words muffled by the blood rushing in Shigaraki’s ears.

The feel of the sword resting on the side of his neck is a lot clearer.

All For One chuckles, and Sensei slides his arm down Shigaraki’s clavicle, fingers hooking in beneath skin and bone, flesh melting into flesh.  He pivots them around to meet Spinner’s stare, steady at the other end of an outstretched sword-arm the apartment only barely has room for.

“Still so dedicated, Iguchi-kun,” All For One drawls, the grin stretching wide to show teeth.  “But are you really satisfied with the one you chose to follow just scraping by in a place like this?”

Like the Doc’s lab was any better, Shigaraki thinks at him with all the vitriol he can muster. The katana isn’t quite turned all the way in, the flat of the metal cold and grounding, its freshly honed edge just a reminder of a promise.  

“We have our own kitchen and enough space to curtain off the bedroom.  That’s luxurious compared to how some people here live,” Spinner answers, curt anger in his eyes.

“But fear, too,” Sensei says, easy bordering on idle even as All For One is responding using Shigaraki’s tongue, Shigaraki’s mouth.  Sensei’s broad fingertips trail one at a time over Shigaraki’s ribcage, and if Shigaraki couldn’t breathe before, he barely wants to now, trying to keep his lungs from so much as brushing up against those probing hands even as pain starts to clang between his temples.  “He’s never been able to hide how afraid of us he is.”

And that’s not even worth arguing with.  Shigaraki stares into Spinner’s eyes—the anger, yeah, the fear, sure, but there’s awareness there, too, because they talked about this before, and Spinner knows what he’s doing, beyond just keeping himself out of grabbing distance.

Spinner’s mouth moves, and the motion of it doesn’t match what Shigaraki hears—“Shigaraki, you got this?”—but it’s what his eyes are saying anyway as the edge of the blade turns in.

It’s barely anything, hardly even enough to raise the white line of a papercut, much less draw any blood. But, hyper-aware of his locked-up body, Shigaraki latches onto it, the impossibly fine variegation of the blade pattern pressing into his skin with as much clarity as Spinner’s open hand, the scales a rough, insistent comfort.

He reaches up and closes his good hand around the bare blade.  Pain, sweet and hot and real, scores his palm and the insides of his fingers, and there’s a tsk of annoyance from Sensei as All For One falls away under the sudden sensation of slick wetness oozing past his knuckles.

Spinner catches him as his knees give out and the sword clatters to the floor.

“Shit,” Spinner breathes, and, “Let me see.”  He lowers them down to the ground, one arm clutching Shigaraki tight around the waist.  With his other hand, he gingerly turns Shigaraki’s palm towards the light.

“S’fine,” Shigaraki mumbles, rubbing at his face with his left hand.  He’s trembling, which is annoying, but typical of coming out of a sleep paralysis spell—all that strain he was putting on muscles that couldn’t respond right until just now.  The pain’s already fading, his regeneration kicking in just like it was designed to.

Spinner watches the wounds close up anyway, and conspicuously exhales once they do.

“He still talking?” he asks in an undertone, knitting their fingers together and dropping their hands back into their laps.  His thumb rubs absently over Shigaraki’s knuckle, claw scratching across his skin.

“Nah,” Shigaraki answers, tucking his head up into the curve of Spinner’s neck.  “He’s pretty quiet these days.”

“Not quiet enough,” comes the grumble, and Shigaraki huffs in agreement.  They sit that way for another minute, quiet as the noise of the city carries on around them.  Shigaraki breathes it in, lets it ground him—as he’s been finding for the last couple years, the more he’s got to ground him, the better.  Wanting to tear down everything doesn’t give you a very stable foundation to fight for control from—go figure.

Finally, as the first moth finds its way in to start fluttering around the lamp, he straightens up, tugging free of Spinner’s hands.  His partner gives him a plaintive look, at which Shigaraki grins.

“Scum of the city’s not gonna off themselves, Spinner.”

Spinner shakes his head, but he’s already fighting off a grin himself.  “Yeah, yeah.  Let me clean my sword off and I’ll be good to go.”

[smol-and-trashy]

Botched Rescue (BnHA vore) 1/5

A/N: This contains some manga spoilers. Not a ton, but still some. M/mmm non-sexual vore with unwilling prey/fearplay

__________________________________

The hum of generators increased, getting louder and louder by the second. Izuku froze, his grogginess escaped him, and he shot up, suddenly alert. He squinted in the darkness; despite the buzzing of generators, he couldn’t actually see anything. The inky blackness before him was thick and suffocating. Izuku’s heart rate accelerated, and his arm hair prickled up. Something about the pitch darkness was extremely unnerving, he couldn’t explain it, but he knew nothing good laid ahead. The green-haired teen had a mass of questions: Where was he? Was he alone? What happened?

His head was both throbbing and spinning at the same time, Izuku kneeled over, trying to stabilize himself. All he could remember was that he was out on patrol with Endeavor, Bakugou, and Todoroki. There had been a call about a villain with a telekinetic quirk wreaking havoc nearby. Despite Endeavor’s initial reluctance to bring his interns along, he eventually obliged. He could remember the villain clear as day; after all, how often do you see a man donning a strainer on their head with knives taped on their knuckles? Izuku remembered Endeavor’s face when first laying eyes on the villain. He thought it was some sort of joke or just a homegrown villain, definitely didn’t seem affiliated with the LoV or the Liberation Army. What he didn’t expect was the influx of villains that had ambushed them after Strainer Head’s first attack. Izuku had recognized two from the League: Toga and Twice, but the rest were completely unknown. The trio was sorely outnumbered, and it was clear the villains used that to their advantage. Endeavor was trying to protect the interns while simultaneously fighting the villains that came after him. Quirk after quirk, it seemed after one person got defeated, another would take their place; it didn’t help that Twice had gotten more proficient with his clones as well. Izuku recalled somberly thinking, there’s no easy way we can win this fight. If a pro hero, the number one at that, is struggling at taking out all these villains, how can we defeat them all? They must’ve planned to use Strainer Head as a decoy and used him to center their attacks. We need to retreat and— The last thing he remembered before getting knocked out was a bright flashing light and a villain standing over him with a binding quirk.   A loud clang brought him back to reality, and the sudden flicker of a light switch nearly blinded Izuku. The teen squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reopening to get them adjusted to the blaring lights. Once the fuzzy dots in his vision faded, the first thing Izuku noticed was that he was in some sort of oversized conference room, a whiteboard being the size of a football field and looming chairs weren't the subtlest of hints. Izuku’s eyes focused, the room was not only large and oversized but also slightly distorted, as if looking through a funhouse mirror lens. Panic wormed its way back to Izuku once realizing how out of scale his surroundings were. The door flew open and an unfamiliar man waltzed into the room, donning a mask over his eyes and a uniform; it wasn’t the unfamiliarity that worried Izuku; no, it was just the simple fact that the man was absolutely gigantic. As he grew closer, Izuku could finally see just how large this man was, easily around 20-30 feet, he wondered if he was dealing with a villain who held a size quirk. If Mountain Lady has a growth quirk, it can’t be that unlikely that another person would have something similar, possibly to alter himself and his surroundings? The fact that the room is slightly contorted could possibly be a side effect of his quirk as well. The man finally came to a stop right in front of Izuku. He felt his heart drop as he stared way up at the man who carried a nasty smirk, seemingly finding his entire situation amusing. “Have you figured out what’s going on yet, Midoriya Izuku?” the man’s booming voice held somewhat of taunting lilt, it was infuriating yet his fear was stronger. The first year was paralyzed, this had to be a ploy from the LoV, how else would they know his name and directly target him? He jumped once the man rested a hand on the table, gleaming green eyes taunting him. “Y’know, the big boss really wanted to kill you himself. But then, he heard the truth about your powers and well, the rest is history!” Izuku went rigid, Shigaraki knew where his power derived from? How? What would All Might say? But of course, the man continued monologuing. “Yeah, he decided the best way to shock All Might would be murdering his student and then finally going for his kill. After all, his primary goal has always been eradicating the symbol of peace, whatever happens to you really doesn’t matter, plus he’d finally get rid of One for All!” his grin widened, “But capturing the other two were pure luck. Who’d a known we’d also get that angry explosive kid and Endeavor’s son!” What does he mean? Did he kidnap Kacchan and Todoroki too? No…Where? He whirled around, finding himself face-first to an unconscious Bakugou and Todoroki. “Guys...?” he whispered, how could he miss them? Izuku crawled to his friends and placed a hand on the side of Bakugou’s motionless body, “Kacchan!” he shouted, trying to garner a reaction out of his childhood friend, but the sandy blond remained unconscious. He looked over to the right, heart thumped rapidly against his chest, Todoroki was the same way. Eyes squeezed shut with even breathing, Izuku unconsciously tightened his grip on the boy’s side once catching a glimpse at the mass of bruises that littered his body, but Shouto remained out cold. Izuku let out a heavy sigh, there was no chance they were going to wake up anytime soon. A chuckle disguised as a cough redirected his attention to the giant man before him. Izuku looked up at the villain with blazing eyes, “What did you do to them?” he demanded. The man looked taken aback; yet, the corners of his mouth tugged up, and he broke into hysterical laughter. “Oh-ho-ho! You really are something, aren’t you?” “What did you do to them?” he repeated, slowly growing sick of the villain’s games. Smirking as if he held the world’s secrets in his hands, the villain pulled up a chair and leered down at him, “You’re supposed to be smart, right? Figure it out, Midoriya.” Izuku surged forward intending to use Detroit Smash, but he stopped short once he noticed the lack of power coursing through his veins. He paused, no. I can still feel traces of One for All inside me, I just can’t use the ability. How…? Quirk erasing bullets? No, Eri is safe at U.A... Quirk suppressor cuffs? Aren't they often used on inmates, could they have gained ahold of some? But, I don’t feel the heaviness of those. Unless, he looked below and mentally slapped himself for not noticing sooner, of course, they stuck miniature quirk suppressors cuffs on our ankles. I had no idea those existed, I had thought they were normally big and bulky, not these small things. They must’ve knocked us out in the fight, kidnapped us, and stuck these bracelets on our ankles to ensure we couldn’t use our quirks, but— he gazed up at the villain, who was looking more and more irritated. Izuku slumped down, and his eyes widened, noting slipperiness of the floor: Everything finally clicked, we’re trapped in a jar. The slightly distorted room isn’t a side effect of his quirk, no, he shrunk us. Or someone else did, at least. We’reentirelyathismercy,evenmoresothanifhehadasizealteringquirk. Howcouldwe— The villain stared with now unamused eyes at the green-haired teen, still utterly unaware that his ‘silent’ thoughts had transcended to rapid mutterings. The villain groaned, “Just can it, kid.” Izuku immediately ceased his ramblings at the interruption and stepped closer to the cool glass, “I understand now,” he placed a hand on the smooth surface, “We’re shrunk, trapped in a jar, and you put quirk suppressants on us.” The villain gleamed, his former irritation wiped clean off his face, “Well well well, how’d you come to that conclusion?” Izuku didn’t answer, it wouldn’t make a difference. The villain was so much larger than him and he was already contained in the jar. The best he could do was break his fist through the glass, but then what? Get stepped on or crushed? He stood in the middle of the jar, between his unconscious friends, at a loss of what to do. Though evading the question, he took a deep breath, deciding to use the power of talking to get the villain distracted from Izuku’s former revelation.   “You said before, Shigaraki doesn’t care how we die, so why did you shrink us and kept us alive? Wouldn’t it have been easier if you killed us right then and there?” looking up at the villain’s piercing eyes, Izuku prayed he didn’t give him any ideas. The masked man laid his head down before the jar and Izuku scuttled back at the newfound closeness of the enemy. His lips curled up in blatant amusement. A predatory glint gave Izuku the notion that the man thought of their encounters as nothing but a game, “Ah, you misheard. I said Tomura wants you dead, did you actually think you would get a painless, meaningless way out? No, he wanted you to go down painfully and without a shred of dignity. We’re just getting the preparations best suited for All Might’s disciple~.” Before Izuku could answer, a tired groan interrupted them. Swiftly whirling around at the sound, Izuku came face first to a groggy Todoroki. “What happened?” the teenager said simply, slowly removing himself from the ground. He took one look at the gigantic villain before him and turned back to Izuku, “Oh. So, he shrunk and put us inside a jar,” Todoroki turned to face to villain, “Release us.” Izuku and the villain stood there completely dumbfounded. How did he even come to that conclusion? Both thought in unison. “Ah-aha, you got it much quicker than me, Todoroki!” Izuku being the first to break the silence. The duo quirk boy nodded and briefly glanced at the passed out Bakugou, “Yes…” he said briskly, “What do they want with us?” “Well—“ an obnoxious ring tone disrupted him and the villain above turned foot, his face twisted in annoyance, but he left the room quickly without saying much of anything. The teens blinked back at each other in disbelief. Now that there was no one guarding the room, they could try to escape! “Midoriya, try to slam your body on the glass. I’ll do the same.” Todoroki demonstrated by running back and slamming his body on the jar, it tilted the glass a bit. Izuku mimicked him. For a good five minutes, both boys were body slamming the glass, trying to make it topple over and break. A couple of times, the glass would tilt forward, but it always resumed its original position. “Dammit, we are too small. It’s not making a difference.” Todoroki slumped on the wall, thoroughly frustrated. Izuku slammed onto the glass once more, but it wouldn’t budge. He sighed, if they both had their quirks, they would have been able to break through the jar no problem. “We can do this, Todoroki! We can’t give up yet.” Todoroki stared at Izuku; his eyes still had a spark in them. He stood up and nodded, “Let’s do this.” Simultaneously, they both rammed into the glass. It wobbled a bit on its edge, the teenagers struggled to maintain their footing, but Izuku grinned at Todoroki. “See? It’s—“ Just as he spoke, the glass teetered back upright. Exhausted, they slid back and tossed their heads up. “We were close,” Todoroki stated, glancing back at the now anxiety-filled Izuku. “We can try again if you want?” Izuku sighed, the reality of the situation was crumbling on him once again. “It’s fine, we’re just going to die here. It’s fine.” Todoroki tilted his head, “What do you mean? Doesn’t the leader of the League want to kill you himself?” “No, he mentioned that Shigaraki wants me dead, painfully, but doesn’t care who does it. However…they could’ve killed me during the fight, or even now, that would be plenty painful. Why didn’t they?” The boys whipped their heads to see the door creak open. Izuku’s heart jumped to his throat, clutching onto Todoroki’s arm while holding his breath, he waited for the unknown. 

[angst-king]

my bnha love children bios pt 1

(I’m a multi-shipper with bnha..I have my main canon ships and then my side ships that I could live for..also these are my main kid ships. Also trigger warning has mention of rape, murder, and abuse) 

(Bakushima)

Azori Kirishima is a young male who's 5'11, with lightly tanned skin, blood red eyes, his hair is straight shoulder length with red high lights that look a little more hot pink. He has sharp teeth like Eijirou, he's got big hands like Katsuki as well as a temper and attitude. Azori is still a pretty sweet guy, though he cusses like Katsu, he's a lot like Katsuki but has more patience and does smile a lot more. He loves spicy food, music, hanging out with friends, singing, sparring, playing basket ball, and video games. He also likes to cook, Katsu didn't want two crappy cooks in the house. His quirk is basically called pop rocks, Azori has both of their quirks but its more combined. Azori can harden any part of his body like a rock, he can use it defensively or offensively. He can cause explosions if he's hit or hits someone else. Still he's able to use the quirks separately.  He's pansexual cis male but is a little more into boys, but still doesn't mind anything else. (Iidaraka) Jasuma Iida is a young male around 5'6, medium tanned skin, light blue eyes. His hair lands to his lower jaw kinda a pixy cut that's brown cascade to blue. He has soft pink cheeks, his face is a little rounded out, he's not chubby but has a similar structure to Uraraka. He's very sweet and smart, he does his best to keep his straight A's in school and is commonly called 'Dork' by Azori who uses it as an affectionate nickname. Jasuma is a femboy, but also likes sports and plays lacrosse. He loves to eat sweets but has a weak stomach like Uraraka's quirk draw back, he also can't handle spice at all  and dies a bit inside when he watches Azori eat. Jasuma's quirk is called earthquake, he's got some pretty powerful legs and stomping the ground can make the it shake or collapse out from under you. Kicks to any body parts can be lethal for said victim of Jasu's quirk. He's very fast as well but its not really his quirk just from the training. His legs don't look that strong but like his father, he's the opitemy of 'never skipped leg day' His quirk is stamina based. Jasuma is a gay Femboy, he doesn't cuss much but if you get him in the mood he wont hesitate. (tododeku) Tomiko Midoriya is a young male around 5'8, some what pale in complexion and has light blue eyes. A mix of light green, dark green, and black ear length hair. He does have freckles scattered more around his face and not just his cheeks. He can be a bit shy but wont hesitate to freeze someone an ice capsule. Tomiko loves to read, listen to music, play with his bunny 'shibun', loves the dark academia aesthetic and his dorm is decked out in it. His quirk is ice, like Todoroki's ice side he can use ice how ever he pleases. Tomiko is still questioning himself. He feels asexual but is developing feelings for Ruki. (tododeku) Amilia Midoriya is a young female around 5'7 is Tomiko's twin, sharing the same complexion with freckles, but she has emerald eyes. Long shoulder length slightly wavy green ombred down to white hair. She's very out spoken and protective of her younger twin brother who she nicknamed 'Tomo'. Amilia is into both fem and butch like clothing choices. Her quirk is fire and fire manipulation, she can breath fire, heat up her hands to warm things up and and can burn things. Its basically a mix of Mido's bio dad and Todoroki's quirk. Amilia is bisexual (Dabi’s boy..I lowkey ship twice and dabi, but for now its platonic) Kenji Todoroki is a young male around 5'6.5, has a not dark but still tanned skin. He has turquoise eyes. He has an emo-ish style red and turquoise hair, that reaches the base of his neck. He's kind and caring, he's pretty chill and liked to hang out with his friends as well as his dad (Dabi). This kid is based off of an AU where the villains who are able to be captured are given the choice to 'restart' or take the death penalty. Dabi chose restart, as did twice..Twice is like the fun uncle who humors Kenji with his clones. Kenji's quirk is the same as Dabi's creamation/blue fire. Kenji is a transgender male who's bisexual. his dead name is Hana (shinkami) Makuyama Shinsou, a young male around 5'8, not pale but in the middle. He has golden yellow eyes, and yellow and purple hair that's messy and kinda curly, he does have the lightening strike in his hair. He puts some of his hair back when he skate boards. Maku also has a plus and minus symbol on both sides of his neck. Maku's very joking and sweet (think lance from voltron), still he can get serious when he needs to. Maku's quirk has a dark past to it. Maku was a rape baby, Denki was raped by a creep who had a quirk that allowed him to  break locks, make someone's body paralyze on them or have them pass out. With Denki's electrical quirk and creep's quirk combined. His quirk is called Scrambled, the plus and minus symbols are actually charging points like a battery and he can use it to charge up his quirk to make electricity. When electrocutes someone hard, the victim will end up with hickey like burn marks. He has orange pads on his finger tips and palms to hold the electricity. The draw back to his quirk is that he coughs up blood since the electricity stems in his throat which can irritate the lining and cause him to cough up blood. It's alarming but by now he acts casual about it. Makuyama is pansexual (adoptive shinkami) Akuma Shinsou, is a young male 5'8, he's a bit pale but not unhealthily pale. He has grey-ish silver eyes, and medium length black and purple hair, some sticks up Dabi's hair style. Akuma is shy and introverted due to his past. akuma used to be homeless after the death of his parents. His father was a side kick hero who died of suicide while his mother tricked Aku into using his quirk to kill her. He was on the streets when he was six until he was eight or nine. Aku is quiet and prefers to be alone but can be around people. He likes spooky things, halloween, horror movies, pumpkins, and other things. Akuma's real name is Gaara Yamashita but earned the name 'Akuma' due to his quirk which is called soul control. Aku is able to control a person by using their soul to control any part of them even their shadow. Akuma's name was given to him by parents of his old school and the name started to stick and erase his old one. Akuma is Demisexual (erasermic) Ruki Aizawa is a young person, 5'6.5, they've got the same complexion as Aizawa. With dark green eyes, they have shoulder length black to blond hair, they had a bit of an under shave design that allows them to style it depending if they want to look a lil more masculine, feminine or neither. Ruki is a bit introverted like Shota but will get a bit loud and excited over small things like books. Ruki is a book worm and is also into dark academia like things. Ruki's quirk is called 'Audio erase' they can erase sound just by glaring, he has a pretty chilling glare and he likes to use his quirk on Hizashi when the blond gets way too loud in the morning. Ruki likes naps, reading, cats even though he's mildly allergic to them. Ruki's dead name was Ezra, they're genderfluid, mainly going by he/him and they/them still Tomo uses they them and refers to Ruki as his 'book baby' than boyfriend or girlfriend. Ruki prefers a little mor masc, neither, or both but will wear skirts and dresses.

[keatsblue]

Hawks Are Migratory Birds

Hot take: Hawks & other winged BNHA characters migrate annually. It’s a huge deal.

He’d never been one to wonder at his heritage.

From a mother whose drunken delirium he barely remembered to an absentee father whose face he could no longer recall, the disparate snippets that formed his childhood were as sand slipping through a sieve, gone too quickly to be truly perceived. The president, who was like a mother and yet not, told him that was for the best. Older now, and motherless by his own design, Hawks was beginning to agree.

And yet, every day he felt the pull.

He pulled his flight jacket tighter to his form, fingers slipping-numb as he beat up with his wings. They were on fire from exertion, muscles straining even in the cold weather from the ever-so-draining tension of building a career, an agency, a life, building, building, building.

Patrols had been rougher, since some ragtag group of villains had launched that spectacular failure of an attack on Endeavor’s alma mater. Most of those involved had been apprehended, but it seemed it didn’t matter. Villains were getting bolder, slinking out of the shadows and onto city streets, where he was forced to deal with them.

He didn’t even want to begin with this Hero Killer business, but fuck. If the locals didn’t wreck that one’s shit, soon, he imagined he’d be called in on the case, as well.

The low rooftop he’d been perched on grew smaller underfoot, disappeared. Another beat, and the rest of Fukuoka’s darktown went with it.

It was always worse, when it got colder. Like an itch he needed to scratch. Sometimes he would fly out to the edge of town, eyes glued to the horizon, just for some relief.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere , far beyond the city lights (they glimmered below, like tiny, happy fireflies). Lush, green landscapes haunted his dreams in visions of places he’d never been, yet somehow knew.

They’d first come to him when he was of a young age, though not so young that he didn’t already comprehend the phenomenon as something not to be shared with his handlers. It was an abnormality, certainly, yet it was one that could be successfully hidden--unlike fingernails that grew into talons, or feathered crests that necessitated a trip to a quirk cosmetologist every few months.

Abnormalities that could be hidden, it was safe to say, were always preferred.

He’d kept his landscapes, the pretty pictures in his head. He hadn’t told a soul, and when he woke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, trembling from equal parts frigid air and longing , Hawks couldn’t help but smile. It was his last bastion, the only part of himself he doubted he could be trained out of.

He was so tired.

The shrill tone of his phone’s ring interrupted his reverie. He dug a hand into a pocket on the inner lining of his flight jacket, goosebumps breaking out across his flesh as a rush of winter wind wormed its way through the opening. “Yo.”

“You really ought to be more professional when answering a call, Hawks.” His handler’s tinny voice cracked over the speaker, and Hawks suppressed a sigh.

It was an effort to affect his usual oblivious veneer. “Ah, can’t hear ya, man. Poor reception when I’m flyin’ this high. Come again?”

“Never mind,” his handler said, though his undertone was telling. “There’s a new mission on your docket. We’ll need you to report in to discuss it further.”

“Another so soon? C’mon, it’s the holidays.” But he’d already adjusted his course, eyes narrowing. What could they want with him now? He’d only been kinda kidding about the Hero Killer thing.

“You act like that has some sort of meaning for you,” came the clipped reply, and damn, they really liked to hit him where it hurt. “I expect your arrival shortly. You wanted to be a hero, didn’t you?”

He barely had time to grumble out a rebellious yes, mom before the man hung up, leaving Hawks with a million questions and a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t until later, well after he’d planted his bony ass dead center on his handler’s too-firm, stiff-backed office sofa, that he was validated.

Hawks crossed his arms. “No. Absolutely not.”

His handler’s lips thinned. Fingers that had been busy clacking away at their keyboard paused in their work, so dead silence reigned. “You seem to be under the false impression that this is optional.”

“Am I a joke to you?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” the man said, finally, finally looking away from his monitor. He fixed the hero with a blank look. “Your mission is of the utmost importance-”

“It’s not my mission if I haven’t taken it yet.”

“Hawks.”

“No,” he repeated, with as much vehemence as he could muster. It was still a challenge, even now, not to immediately retract his statement. He wasn’t a little kid, anymore. “I’m not spying on the League of Villains.”

And there it was. The crux of the matter, thrust out into the open like so much dirty laundry. He wasn’t even trained for espionage, didn’t have the skill set for it, much less the desire to dabble. And he wasn’t that pathologic of a liar.

He wasn’t evil.

His handler released a deep breath, one that reverberated from deep within his lungs and rattled on the exhale. “You’re the only one who can do this.”

Hawks would’ve had to have been deaf not to catch the sudden shift in tone, subtle enough that it couldn’t be anything but intentional. He’d seen this song and dance, before. “No one’s gonna believe it. Me, falling to the figurative dark side? I’m the third-ranked hero, for fuck’s sake.”

When he only received another blank look, he raised a brow. “Really?”

“Your lackadaisical attitude lends your public persona a certain… côté méchant,” the man intoned, and Hawks couldn’t actually believe what he was hearing.

“What about Endeavor? Dude’s awesome, but he scares little kids.”

The response was automatic. “Endeavor is an upstanding man, destined to be the next pillar when we inevitably lose All Might. He would never stray to villainy.”

Hawks blinked, and beneath his skin, blood simmered and raged.

Then, he smiled. “Alright.”

Both of his handler’s eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Alright, you’ll do it?”

Hawks stood, and pretended to brush some stray debris from his pant leg.

“No.” He took great pleasure in the way the man’s face crumpled, like he’d just flushed his holiday bonus down the drain. And who knew? Maybe he had. “I meant, alright, I’m done with this conversation.”

He didn’t look back as he dropped from the office balcony, no less than fifteen stories up. Didn’t turn around to answer his handler’s increasingly frantic cries.

No, Hawks kept his eyes on that tantalizing horizon. And this time, when it beckoned, he didn’t have the heart to resist.

He thought of lush landscapes. Of heroes, and villains.

Everyone’s waiting for me to snap.

So goddamnit, I’ll snap. 

***

He flew for hours. Days, perhaps. He’d lost track.

After a kilometer or dozen had passed him by, the near-constant noise from his jacket pocket had begun to grate on his ears. It had been simple, to pull out the offending object and drop it.

His phone. He’d dropped his phone.

He might’ve been flying over ocean at the time.

After that, the only thing filling his ears had been the welcome roar of the high winds, and the occasional monotonous chatter of customers in small-time general stores where he stopped for snacks.

Upon entering one such establishment, the shopkeeper had taken one look at his bedraggled wings, his windswept hair, and offered him a free meat bun. Hawks had wolfed it down before thinking to make conversation, much to the other’s apparent amusement.

That shopkeeper had been an old, portly man, with a patchy mustache to match thinned nails and faded tattoos. He’d regarded the hero with kind eyes, and spoke in warm tones.

You’re a little late this year, aren’tcha?

“Hah?” Hawks had replied, intelligently. In his defense, he’d been speaking around a mouthful of meaty goodness.

The shopkeeper laughed. “It’s okay. I know you winged fellas have your ways. My wife dated somebody, years before she met me, who made the journeys.”

At the time, Hawks had been speechless. Before he could think of a reply, the old man had disappeared behind the counter, calling out from a back room that the hero could also grab himself a cold beverage on the house.  

Hawks had chosen a can of green tea that’d tasted like shit going down, then promptly high-tailed it out of there. Now, though, he wondered if he should’ve stayed.

The skies around him had grown dark, and it wasn’t only due to the late hour. There was a brief flash, then thunder soon followed, rolling in from the distance to confirm his worst suspicions.

“A storm,” he murmured, and he couldn’t tell if he was speaking from inside his head or out of it. Fucking great.

Another boom of thunder threatened to split his eardrums, and Hawks careened to the side, before righting himself. Something wet landed on the crown of his head, trailing ice-cold down the back of his neck.

Fucking-

More raindrops fell in a sudden deluge, and he was instantly soaked to the bone. Maintaining altitude became more difficult, as he wrestled screaming gusts of wind for control of newly-laden wings.

When Hawks risked a glance downward, and saw only the obsidian spearpoints of violent, cresting waves, he knew he was in trouble. His chest heaved, but he couldn’t hear the sound of his own breath, over the static in his ears.

Freezing rain clouded his vision like salty tear tracks, except Hawks couldn’t blink them away. He rubbed at his face, dug his fingers into the crevices between his eyelids, to no avail.

It started to dawn on him, that he was going to die.

He was going to die a hero, but one that everyone suspected would turn villain.

No.

He wanted to live, he wanted-

Lightning cracked just in front of him, searing bright, and close enough Hawks could smell the ozone even through his waterlogged nostrils. His heart leaped in his chest, alive on pure adrenaline.

Were the waves below getting closer? Or was that just-

Another powerful gust sent him spiraling, beaten back and forth by the elements. Sharp pain and the taste of copper erupted in his own mouth--he must’ve bitten his tongue. When Hawks finally managed to stabilize, he’d definitely gotten closer.

Scanning his surroundings with renewed vigor, he knew he had to find land, or he was toast. Fried chicken. It was difficult work, through salt-reddened eyes, as the only thing darker than the squall surrounding him was the deadly water below. And contrary to popular belief, Hawks lacked the pinpoint vision of his namesake. He was forced to wait between deadly illuminations, to make any headway.

Flash.

Flash, and-

There. A hulking shape, an island, standing proud against the storm.

Hawks’ stomach leapt, and then sank.

It was so far away. He would never make it.

He strained toward it, anyway, reaching out a hand with fingers outstretched, as if that would make any difference when seaspray from the crests of waves was already lapping at his feet. His calves.

His back was on fire.

The world went dark once more on the dying breath of yet another spiderweb of lightning, though Hawks hardly noticed. He’d already been forced to shut his eyes against the strong headwind that’d just slammed against his front, pitching him back and into the unforgiving embrace of the sea.

Hawks’ first thought as the wings that’d formerly granted him freedom became sodden deadweights in the vice grip of the ocean’s gyre was damn, this water’s cold. His second was that this was, without a doubt, the worst possible reality. How else could he explain perishing of his own stupidity?

Then, black currents dragged him down, and he didn’t think at all.

***

Something rapped against his forehead, threatening to wake him. He didn’t want to wake. He ached all over, his eyes stung, and that incessant tapping was going to give him a migraine. He groaned, and tried to stretch a hand up, to shoo the tapper away. His arm didn’t quite comply, but it had the intended effect.

The assault halted abruptly, and there was a skittering of voices from above, too low and too fast for Hawks to catch. The sound of footsteps, retreating.

It was too late, though. He’d already been stirred to wakefulness, wings twitching minutely as he attempted to shift into a more comfortable position. He opened his eyes, which proved to be a mistake, as he immediately had to close them again for the brightness that pierced his retinas.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn’t supposed to have woken, ever again. He just couldn’t remember why.

“I see you survived,” a voice called, different from the others he’d heard. He forced his eyes open, once more, squinting.

Slowly, the fuzzy shapes surrounding him started to coalesce. He adjusted the level of his gaze, and locked eyes with the one he presumed had spoken.

The newcomer was an older woman, from her appearance. She had grayed-out locks that framed a wizened face, all angles and sun-scars, though that was far from the most striking thing about her.

No, this woman had wings. They loomed large over her shoulders, slightly translucent and veined, like a bat’s. Hawks blinked to clear his vision, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quite connect what he was seeing with reality.

It had to be part of her quirk, though he’d never seen someone with wings as large as his, before. They weren’t quite the same, but they looked capable of flight.

At his continued blank stare, the woman tilted her head. She smiled, to reveal pointed canines. “You’ve taken quite the tumble, mister. Didn’t you read the advisory? It’s not safe to fly alone, around these islands.”

Fly alone? Who would he fly with?

His voice croaked as he voiced the question, throat scratched all to hell. The woman only laughed, as if he’d made a particularly funny joke.

Then, of all things, she smirked. “Guess I can’t blame you for wanting to catch up, though. You’re lucky the tide was coming in.”

Catch up? Why did people keep saying that?

Fuck. The general store. The storm.

“I have to get back to Kyushu,” he breathed. He didn’t know what came over him. He’d abandoned his agency, his sidekicks -

Now, it was the woman’s turn to blink in confusion. Her voice was carefully level. Quiet. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Hawks frowned. “Know what?”

The woman only shook her head, like he’d said something incredibly sad. Then, she stretched out a hand, waiting patiently until he took it.

He followed her out of the shade, which he could now see had been formed from a makeshift hut. Bare feet padded on soft grass, and he didn’t know where his boots had gone. Probably lost at sea, if he had to guess.

Despite everything--his aches and pains, the old woman’s strange demeanor--Hawks couldn’t help but be taken in by the greenery all around him. It was lush, vibrant. So unlike the concrete jungle he’d claimed to love all his life.

It seemed… familiar. Pulled straight from his dreams.

They turned a corner, and Hawks gasped.

At first, all he could see were the wings. There were so many different colors, different textures. Plumage, furred, leathery. He could even see some that were scaled, gathered together on the fringes. Horned, like a dragon’s.

Then, he noticed the people. They were also of varying colors, though not as glaringly so. There must have been hundreds, if not a thousand below, from what he could make out from their vantage point.

There were children playing. Adults, sharing foodstuffs between campfires.

Some were flying.

He turned, a million questions on his tongue. They all died when he found the woman already looking at him, her expression solemn.

He let out a nervous chuckle. Reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I’ve been missing something big, haven’t I?”

The woman ignored his question, in favor of asking another. “What is your name, young man?”

“Keigo,” he sputtered, before he could say Hawks. “Takami Keigo.”

His companion nodded, like he’d revealed something of great importance, instead of just stating his name. She stretched out a withered arm, gesturing toward the scene below with sharp, taloned fingers.

He hadn’t even noticed that, when she’d taken his hand.

“Keigo,” she said. “Welcome... to the migration.”

Uncertain of his welcome, he took a cautious step forward. Then, emboldened by the encouraging look the older woman shot him, he took another. Stretched out his own wings, unafraid of frightening passerby, or knocking something over. Maybe, he thought, I can stay. For just a while longer.

He took flight, and it felt like coming home.

Deep within his gut, the pull lessened.

Wavered.

...

Disappeared.

***

côté méchant = villainous, nasty side (via Google translate; I don't actually speak French)

[ticklefits]

I got a prompt for you!!! (Hi there-!) Bakugo, tense back, gets massages, but then ends up snorting because he has a sensitive back, then it becomes a fight to protect his back-(I was either thinking this with KiriBaku or BakuKamiKiri-)

ahh here u go ! thank u for the prompt !!

AO3 LINK !

bnha | kiribaku | words : 1484

It’s amazing how many knots of tension a person can get in a matter of hours, whether because of stress itself or rigorous varieties of training. Bakugou is a victim to both, despite keeping the former concealed rather well; as he strives to become the pinnacle of what a hero means to him, he stands his ground at the oncoming stress of daily life and deals with it the only way he seems to know how -- bottling it up and forcing it down by the throat. It isn’t a healthy way of coping with the trials and tribulations that come with pro hero preparation ( especially not when you add in the weight of regular high school ), but Bakugou can’t be bothered with fixing his methods when there’s so many more important things to focus on. That’s what Kirishima is for.

Even if there isn’t much he can do in terms of directly aiding his explosive boyfriend in facing his mental vulnerabilities head on, the least he can do is knead and press away the tension with relaxing massages. 

It’s become a bit of a routine between them: Bakugou will usually train and workout for a set number of hours and Kirishima will dutifully check up on him, feeling for any strained muscles once he’s done, and that generally leads up to a massage. Bakugou doesn’t even really need to ask for it ( not that he’d be able to fight past his own embarrassment to do so ) and he appreciates how attentive Kirishima is to his body. It isn’t as though Bakugou hasn’t tried to return the favor, but the other student just politely refuses, usually coming up with some sort of excuse that the blond doesn’t wholly believe, but also doesn’t press the issue.

“Woah.. you’ve really got some bad ones today, huh? What, were you trying to bench press steel?” Kirishima muses, tackling some pretty twisted kinks underneath the skin of Bakugou’s shoulder blades.

“Shut up dumbass, of course I wasn’t..” His voice leaks out softer than usual, more of a jellied groan than his normal growl, thanks to Kirishima’s absolutely magical fingers. He definitely worked harder than he did yesterday and even then, he had pushed past a limit that struck one of his palms numb - he keeps that to himself, however . He doesn’t need his boyfriend more concerned about him than he already is.

“Whatever you say, babe. How much more do you have of this insanity training thing? It’s good that you’re finding new ways to push past the limits of your body and all, but you should still be careful, y’know?” As attractive and manly as it is, the last thing Kirishima would ever want is for Bakugou to rocket too far and hurt himself. He’s already seen what that sort of honing and power has done to Midoriya, he couldn’t bare the thought of Bakugou enduring that kind of pain too.

Bakugou knows this too. He recognizes and values the vast amount of care Kirishima has for his well being, even if thinking about it churns the insides of his stomach like butterflies in a whirlpool. Sensing the tips of his ears painting over in a soft shade of pink, he opts for switching the subject around in favor of avoiding the abashment that dares to rear its ugly head.

“Mmf… move lower.. to the left..” He instructs, shifting the slender musculature of his back in order to better pinpoint where he wants Kirishima's hands.

“Here?” The redhead touches down on a particular area slightly underneath his shoulder blades, to the left just as he had said, closer towards his under arms -- and the answer he was granted wasn't exactly what he was expecting. As soon as he applied pressure, Bakugou let out a snort and jerked an arm backwards, as if to catch his hand and halt his movements. Kirishima blinks, registering the reaction he just got from where he touched. Experimentally, he reenacts the same motions on the same spot and was still surprised to have been gifted the same cute reaction, complete with a curse and a glare backwards this time.

“Kirishima, not there--”

“Why not? What's wrong with that spot?”

“--! I .. Just, don't touch right there damnmit, I don't gotta explain shit to y--!” His barking is interrupted by another trail of squeaky snorts, Kirishima's hands having snuck back to play at that area once more, this time without the intention to massage and soothe. Bakugou's squirming is immediate as he throws his grinning visage into the pillows beneath his chin, giggles fighting their way through his willpower whilst hands are blindly shoving at his boyfriend's in order to get him to stop - not that it works of course.

“You know what's really cute about you? You're always ticklish in the least expectant places. Hahah, I'm always getting a surprise.” Kirishima's teases come from a 100% genuine love and that's why they're simultaneously the best and the worst kind. Bakugou's heart flutters in the hollows of his ribs, with warm sensations spotting all around as if daisies were blooming between the spaces.

Of course, Bakugou can only respond with a resounding “Sh-shuhuhut the fu-uhuck uhuhup!” to which Kirishima rebuttals with a grin of his own and deeper digs into the flesh while still maintaining something of a feathery stroke, already beginning to drive the blond mad. But he knows Bakugou's body better than the other might care to believe, so he decides to explore instead of remaining at the one spot in case Bakugou built up a temporary immunity.

As he skitters calloused apexes down bare skin, he makes certain to keep the sensation ticklish enough that Bakugou is still rendered nothing but a squirming worm against the sheets, until Kirishima locates a new area that causes the other male to jerk almost aggressively and force out an actual squeal ; Kirishima might have melted right then and there if it were possible.

“Ooh, I found a jackpot huh?” He teases, and you can definitely feel the beaming simper through his words, the utter delight in his voice managing to both piss off and alarm Bakugou all at once.

“D-Don't---! fuck, don't yohohohou fucking dahahare--” Yet Bakugou's demands fall on deaf, excited ears and it isn't long before his curses and growling giggles evolve into broken squeals and belly laughter as Kirishima works the oh so sensitive dip of his back. He thrashes underneath the redhead, attempting to buck and throw him off, or even force his spidering fingers away from that spot long enough to regain some breath and focus on escape. It proves to be much easier thought than done; Kirishima's hands are basically glued inside and around that curve and goddamnmit, he isn't building any sort of immunity to the sensations the longer the other stays on it -- if anything, they started to become even stronger.

At this point, it's becoming increasingly difficult to try fighting off Kirishima. Every breath of laughter that escapes him only further drains his energy. Utilizing his quirk would be in vain; Kirishima probably expects him to, especially after the minuscule fireworks that crackled in his palms as a warning. He'd just harden up and protect himself before going in for more.

“St.. stahap…!” One thing's for sure though and that's the way Bakugou's body now feels: softened, tired, and pliant - a total opposite to the rigid aches he was plagued with an hour prior. This may very well have been Kirishima’s plan the entire time, or, perhaps it was just good luck on his side. Whatever the case may be, as Bakugou’s head lulls to the side to release lazy giggles while Kirishima’s fingers finally begin to cease their assault, he can’t deny how much easier it is to just relax and permit his frame to go limp against the bed’s surface. Soft pants echo around stray chuckles that don’t match the glare he shoots his boyfriend’s way.

“Aha.. I know, I know,” Kirishima muses, leaning to plant a swift kiss to the blond’s slightly sweaty forehead before he can try to languidly shove at him for the attack, “You can kick my ass after you have a nap. You look exhausted.”

“Mnn… don’t talk t’me like I’m fuckin’ five.. it’s all your fault.. anyway..” But the breaks in his sentence from short yawns and the dewy glaze of sleep tugging at his subconscious give him away without a doubt. Medium lashes flutter gently before thin lids hover over crimson, slowly falling until sight is given to darkness and Bakugou begins to drift. Kirishima takes it upon himself to settle a slim blanket over the other male, granting him a soft, loving smile, before rising and migrating to the nearby desk across the room. With Bakugou sound asleep, he can probably get some homework in before he wakes up… and decides that does want revenge.

[paperficwriter]

All That Glitters (BNHA, Fantasy AU, Kiribaku)

I’m sure you’ve noticed that shapeshifting is kind of in my wheelhouse, right? How could I resist?

Dragonboy!Kirishima was very much inspired by @xkumah‘s beautiful, adorable pic of Bakugou getting sweet hugs from scaly boi. Dragon form Kiri was heavily inspired by...well, this guy.

Enjoy! Cut is for length, not for content.

---

“Get back here, you piece of shit!”

Bakugou’s feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the woods after the red creature. Bits of grass and dirt stuck to his skin, only making him angrier. Angry at himself for stopping to wash off in the stream, angry at the elk that had bled so much that he had had to stop to wash off in the stream, but especially angry now at whatever the hell had decided to take off with his bone and stone necklace his mother had just given him.

Not that he cared that much about the thing, but she would murder him if he came home without it.

“It’s stupid and gaudy,” he remarked when she put it around his neck. There were several layers to it, with red rocks from the mountains, shiny ocean glass, and what seemed to be bear claws. Okay, that was something he liked. “And heavy.”

She smacked him upside the head. “Don’t be a jerk. You’re old enough to know that you need to start carrying it. What are you going to give your mate when you find them, huh? That raggedy wolf pelt?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

“Or maybe one of those boots that smell like horse shit?”

“I get it, woman! Gods, your endless screeching is annoying.”

That had led to a night spent with the hounds. Wouldn’t be the first or the last, though. But if he had gone through all that trouble to now have it stolen by a mangy animal of some sort…

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He had just managed to get his pants back on, but his feet were bare, catching little cuts from the brush and bramble as he tore through it. He hadn’t even managed to get a good look at whatever it was, but he knew a few things: it was quick, had a long tail, and moved on four legs that left taloned marks in the ground beneath its feet. And its skin - not fur, that he knew from how the sun shone down on it as it slipped through the thicket - was a rich crimson. Maybe he could make a leather from it…

When the woods opened to a clearing, Bakugou figured this could be his best opportunity, because there was only a short distance before a cliff that dropped a quarter of a mile. He grinned savagely. “Okay,” he said, pulling his knife from his belt, pausing only when the animal turned, and he realized what he was dealing with.

It was the smallest dragon he had ever seen, with short legs and a stocky, muscular body. It blinked at him with wide eyes that shone like garnets, and it flicked at the treasure hanging from its mouth with a small pink tongue. “Drop it,” he ordered, because now that he has seen what it was, he knew he couldn’t just kill it like any other beast. It was a commonly accepted tradition that hurting a dragon - let alone killing it - could bring great misfortune, since they were considered wise and ancient creatures of the earth.  

But then the so-called “sacred” being tossed its head back and swallowed Bakugou’s necklace like a damn bird with a worm, and Bakugou lost any sense of cautionary tales.

“That’s it!” Taking off at a sprint, he dove at the dragon, tackling it. He tried to bring his knife down at his flank, and the shock ran all the way up his arm. It was like stabbing a boulder, a hissing, kicking boulder. Bakugou jumped back to his feet, but as he did, he failed to take into account the massive tail until it had struck him in the middle, knocking the air out of him and blowing him back several feet.

But instead of hitting the ground, he bounced. Right over the edge of the cliff.

The wind whipped around him as he fell, head over heels, his limbs flailing, no telling which way was up or down. He reached out for the rocky face as it blurred at his side, but it only succeeded in cutting his arm. Too fast. Way too fast.

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Yet, it was.

And then, something else entirely was happening. A whistle by his ear, and then he hit a surface other than the ground, and for a second it seemed like the inside of his body was still being pulled by gravity. He chanced opening his eyes slightly, and all he could see was red. And then he heard and felt the thrumming of wings, of muscles moving beneath him, and the reality made itself known: he wasn’t dead. He was flying. On a dragon. On the dragon.

It was only a few more seconds until they landed, and when he put his feet on the ground, his knees buckled. They had arrived at the base of the cliff, and when he looked up at it, the edge where he had started seemed too far away to see clearly.

That had been too close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, gulping down a few more breaths. When he glanced up, the dragon crouched on the grass in front of him, staring at him cautiously, as if it was expecting him to attack again. Perhaps he had been too shocked to let go, but Bakugou realized he still had the knife in his hand.

Slowly, he set it on the ground between them.

And damn if the dragon didn’t take that too.

“The hell?!” Bakugou snapped, but instead of running away again, the creature trotted past him and wriggled into a bush by a rock. Bakugou followed him, finding a small hole that dropped into a cave beneath, cool and silent but for the trickle of water that had made its way from a spring deeper in the plateau and collected in a pool.

The hoard - if it could be called that - was in a bed-sized pile in the center. But instead of gold and jewels, there were fairly common items: many river stones, a broken saucer, a few coins that were more pocket change than treasure, a pot lid, a mirror, a polished chain. Perhaps the most unique item was a sword, which the dragon nosed at to make room for Bakugou’s knife, and then…

“Fucking gross!” Bakugou protested as the dragon arched its back and threw up the necklace like a cat expelling a hairball. It was covered in a film of saliva, but it seemed satisfied as it placed it around a garden statue. The massive beast moved a few more of the items with its tail before it sat on top of the collection of flotsam and puffed its chest out. “I don’t know what the hell you’re so damn happy about. This is the shittiest hoard I’ve ever seen.” The dragon made a noise. “Did you just growl at me?”

It got up and walked back toward him, and Bakugou bent his knees, ready if it tried to snap at him, but it didn’t. However, it did stand up on two of its leg, the shape of it morphing and changing, and then...it wasn’t a dragon anymore. Not exactly, anyway.

“I said it’s not shitty!” The young man who now pouted in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, still wouldn’t exactly be what Bakugou would call “human.” His tanned skin was still scattered with red scales in places, especially down his arms, and the frill around his head had become vibrant hair, pointed ears and two sizable horns. And with his still-present tail and wings, Bakugou couldn’t help wondering what the point of this form would be, because there was no way he could pass for being a normal person. “I’m still working on it.”

“Do you even have any gold?”

“Yes!” He turned back to the pile and moved things around, producing several shiny rocks flecked with yellow. “Look!”

Bakugou smirked. “That’s pyrite, you idiot.” He was surprised how immediately he regretted saying it, because his face fell, and Bakugou wondered if today would mark another first: seeing a dragon cry. He pointed at the sword. “That’s pretty cool, though, I guess. And there could be gold in the pommel. If you cleaned it up.”

“Really?!” Immediately, the sad expression switched to one of absolute glee. “I thought so too! But I don’t want to damage it. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Did you steal all of this?”

“Steal?” A small laugh and a tilt of his head. “I found them, if that’s what you mean.”

“Uh. You stole my necklace. And my knife.”

“You gave me your knife,” he pointed out. “And I found the necklace.” Bakugou glared at the very pointed way that he didn’t say it was his necklace.

“And the fact that I was running after you when you took it wasn’t any indication that I still wanted it?”

“I thought we were playing!” The man grinned, showing off sharp, pointed teeth.

“I tried to stab you!”

“I knew you couldn’t get through my hide.” His smile faded. “I didn’t mean to knock you over the cliff though. I’m sorry. I got a little too excited, and you got hurt.”

Bakugou noticed for the first time that blood was still dripping from the cut on his forearm. When he looked up again, he startled a bit, because the dragon boy had stepped up close to him, peering at it. His eyes had stayed the same...or it felt like it, at least. Before he could stop him, he grabbed Bakugou’s hand and licked the wound.

“The fuck are you doing?!” Bakugou shoved his face, but he held on, swiping it again with his slightly pointed tongue. “Get off!”

Finally, he did, and when Bakugou went to wipe his arm against his pants, he was surprised to find that the wound had closed entirely. Once the blood was rubbed away, it was like the skin had never been broken. The man grinned at him again. “The elders always say not to eat humans because they taste bad. But you taste pretty good!”

Bakugou’s face went red, and he shouldered past the strange creature and reached down to retrieve his necklace. “You might have thought you found this, but it’s mine, so I’m taking it back.”

“All of it?” There was that pitiful expression again, and he gestured with a black, pointed nail at one of the sticky threads.

“Yes, all of it!” He sighed at how disappointed he looked, and finally he removed the piece with the knotted sea glass, placing it back in the pile. It wasn’t like a dragon understood the implications, and his mother probably wouldn’t ask about it. He hoped. He considered taking the knife too, but that was more easily replaced, and he did kind of owe it to him for not letting him become a smear on the forest floor. “Fine. Here. Happy?”

He was. “Thanks!”

“Quit smiling like that.”

“Like what?” It only brightened, and then he was once more in Bakugou’s personal space, wrapping his arms around him, his tail snaking around his ankles. An odor like sulphur and burning leaves tickled Bakugou’s nose, and he stood awkwardly, not sure what to do. Was he…hugging him? “I’ve seen humans do this when they like one another. Am I doing it right?”

“It’s...okay.” Bakugou paused. “It’s not usually this long, though.”

“Oh.” He let go. “I’m Kirishima. What’s your name?”

Could he tell a magical creature his name? Wasn’t there some rule when it came to that, about them being able to bind someone if they knew their true name? Maybe just his family name would be sufficient. “Bakugou.”

“You’re going to come back, right, Bakugou?”

“How the hell could I do that? Don’t know if you noticed, but I nearly died getting here. I can’t exactly climb down easily.” Come to think of it, he didn’t know how exactly he was going to get back to the village now either...

Kirishima’s face scrunched up as he thought, then he clapped his hands together. “We can meet at that stream! Would that work?” Realization dawned on his face. “Do you want me to fly you back there?”

Fly him…? “No. I can make my own way.” He climbed back out of the hole by the bush, staring up into the sky, which glowed pink and orange as the sun slowly descended toward the horizon. Kirishima followed close behind him.

“Are you sure? It’s a half day’s hike up the side of the cliff, and then you have to climb up, and it’s really sheer…it would be quicker and easier! I don’t mind!”

Bakugou frowned at his sincerity, still wary. But to be frank, the thought of trying to make his way back up the incline did not seem appealing, especially since it was late in the afternoon now. “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Bakugou was going to have to learn quicker that he needed to be more direct with Kirishima, because no sooner had he said it than he found himself lifted into his arms and they were airborne. And Bakugou would never say that he yelped, but he certainly was surprised, and he wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s neck as he watched the ground disappear. “It’s okay!” Kirishima called over the wind. “I won’t let you fall! I promise!”

Every bone in his body screamed that he shouldn’t believe him. But he did.

And maybe that was why when he was finally on solid ground again he was willing to agree to see him again. “Tomorrow, then!”

Even if he was annoyingly eager. “Tomorrow.”