toshiyesri

[toshiyesri]

Lex / argentconflagration's fic year in review 2019!

Part 3: Overall thoughts

Questions are taken from @pearwaldorf​! (x) Part 1 and Part 2 have links to all the fics.

TOTAL WORD COUNT: ~45,000 words!!! That’s so many! I’m so happy!

OVERALL THOUGHTS: Looking back, I feel like I made a lot of progress as a writer this year!

PERSONAL BEST/FAVORITE: Thanatos. It was so difficult to write but it turned out so good! That was the one I had people screaming at me over, and I’m so glad I got to have that experience.

MOST UNDERAPPRECIATED (IMO): In Wake Of Nishi Ward Incident, A Tender Moment for Suneater, Red Riot. But it’s such a tiny ship, I can’t be too mad that it didn’t get more attention.

MOST POPULAR: The Official Mr Fell Quarantine Thread. Gosh, whose soul do I need to sacrifice to get that kind of attention for every fic I write?

STORY WITH THE SEXIEST MOMENT: if spirits embrace. I’m not going to put a quote here, but metaphysical sex is hot, yo. And metaphysical sex happening simultaneously with physical sex is even hotter.

MOST FUN STORY TO WRITE: The Blessed Postal Service. This was hard to choose. I experience so many different emotions while writing, and it’s hard to single out one of them as ‘most fun’. But The Blessed Postal Service was really easy to write, it all came out in a rush in the early hours of the morning, and it was exciting. 

STORY THAT SHIFTED MY OWN PERCEPTION OF A CHARACTER: Thanatos. There are a lot of good answers for this one, too, but I’m particularly remembering a comment by @intimatopia​, who wasn’t familiar with the characters. They had a very different experience of getting to know Tamaki as a character, through my fic, which was kind of eye-opening for me, and definitely a cool experience.

HARDEST: Thanatos again. This fic was so angsty it was painful to write. I nearly gave up several times.

BIGGEST SURPRISE/S: The reception that The Official Mr Fell Quarantine Thread got really blew me away.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT: The most frustrating thing I experienced this year was not being able to write out The Sun’s Rays to the length that it deserved. I would love to have a ~5k MiriTamaKiri fluff fic in the world (or 10k, or 20k …), but I knew that would be biting off more than I could chew.

MOST UNINTENTIONALLY TELLING STORY: Most Grievous Fault, hands down.

FAVOURITE LINES/SCENES: There’s absolutely no way I can choose one favorite line out of 45,500 words, and if I list all my favorites I’ll be here all night. But my favorite underrated joke from The Official Mr Fell Quarantine Thread is the line: “he jacks up the price of anything that anyone seems a little too interested in (seemingly by sleight of hand, like, you’ll be holding the book the whole time and go to check the price and it’s gone up)”. It just cracks me up to think that the bookshop customers think Aziraphale is skilled at sleight of hand, given Aziraphale’s actual abilities in that regard. But there are two hundred and thirty comments on the fic and no one has mentioned that line.

LINES/SCENES YOU’D CHANGE: In Let the mountains skip with gladness, Aziraphale makes an offhand comment about restarting the universe once humans figure out everything about it. And I get what I was going for (obviously) but it seems callous/OOC for them to joke about ending the world given the context. It’s also a reminder that I’m not that great at writing their banter.

TOP FIVE SCENES YOU WISH WOULD BE ILLUSTRATED (in no particular order):

The demonic binding in No other news to report.

The cat touching Tamaki’s body in Thanatos. Or the kiss between Kirishima and Mirio. Or the cuddling at the end. Really, any scene from Thanatos.

Aziraphale and Crowley mid-swap and mid-intercourse in if spirits embrace. This sounds extremely difficult to draw, ngl, which is why it would be so interesting to see someone try.

A still from the ‘video’ in In Wake Of Nishi Ward Incident, A Tender Moment for Suneater, Red Riot. 

Aziraphale and Crowley’s true forms in Let the mountains skip with gladness.

2020 WRITING AMBITIONS: I want to write more! That’s what I focused on for much of this year, and it certainly seemed to help.

[toshiyesri]

Endless bnha (1/?)

[toshiyesri]

Title: spend some time with me (i really like your company) Pairing(s): Galo Thymos/Lio Fotia, background Gueira/Meis Summary: Galo Thymos is the worst hostage ever, and Lio regrets kidnapping him with every waking breath. Rating: Explicit Tag(s): slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, bed sharing, frotting, canon rewrite, canon AU, Word Count: 73,000 words

Link to AO3

Gorgeous header commissioned from @mayexplode on twitter

======

This is my baby I wrote for nanowrimo, inspired by the insert song Nexus from Promare. Contains (not quite) kidnapping, bickering, handcuffs, idiots who are not stupid, and bagel bites.

Hope you guys enjoy it!! I love this movie and these characters so effing much ugh.

[toshiyesri]

It might be said that the postal service is the backbone of a nation (or, more precisely, its nervous system). Countless devoted civil servants work tirelessly through rain and hail, fog and sleet, and recently even death itself, to ensure the mail reaches its destination on time, intact, and untampered with.

Carla Wright was not one of those people. Carla Wright was the kind of civil servant who read people’s personal letters when she was bored. She knew the pen-under-the-flap trick, and a dozen others besides. She told herself she wasn’t hurting anyone, that these were only strangers’ letters and they’d never know. And truly, in the great reckoning of all human evil, it was a relatively harmless vice. Nobody’s perfect.

The front of today’s most promising envelope said “Anthony J. Crowley” in beautiful calligraphy, and below that was an address in Mayfair written so neatly it seemed typed, though it clearly wasn’t. The return address was simply a bookshop.

Carla unfolded the letter to see the same beautiful script written without the slightest flaw, as if the author was very practiced at handwriting, or had rewritten this letter many times until they could do it without error. There was a return address and inside address at the top, like a business letter, but entirely handwritten.

The letter read:

My dearest Crowley,

I know you’ll think me hopelessly old-fashioned for this, but I felt I had to do this properly. I know if I tried to say these things to your face I’d seize up and be unable to find the words, and you deserve to know beyond all doubt that this is how I truly feel. Surely you can indulge me, just this once.

I love you. I know you know this, but I think I ought to say it plainly, when I have done everything but say it plainly for centuries. I didn’t always realize it myself, but nothing makes sense without my love for you. I have loved you for so long, burning so bright and hot that I feared it would consume the both of us.

[Read more on AO3]

Keep reading

[toshiyesri]

the real gay solidarity was the friends we made along the way

“Bakugo put his head in his hands.

His bros were going to go gay. For him. Collectively. This would be a trainwreck to watch. He didn’t know who was more to blame- Kaminari, or himself. Was there even a chance that this didn’t go badly?

More importantly, how many ways could this go horribly wrong?”

-

Bakugo was . . . nervous. 

It wasn’t every day he tried to come out to one of his best friends. He could already feel himself turning a guilty shade of red. A glance confirmed the hallway was empty. 

Still . . . 

Rolling his shoulders and releasing a shaky breath, he knocked on Kirishima’s door. The wood under his knuckles gave way almost as soon as he’d rapped a quick staccato tap tap. 

Kirishima. A furrow appeared between his eyebrows, clouding his usual obnoxiously sunny disposition. 

And just like that, he chickened out. 

“Want to study?” he asked, smirking. Like that had been his plan all long. Fucking hell. 

The furrow dissipated as Kirishima’s face broke cleanly into a broad smile. The sun was out again. 

How the fuck was he supposed to disappoint him like this?

-

After about a week of hounding Kirishima, Kaminari, and even Mina and Sero at turns, Bakugo was at a loss. Sitting in the late afternoon celebration with a stupid birthday hat on his head- it wasn’t for his birthday, they had decided to crown him for helping them all pass their midterms- he didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t working. 

“Hey, man, don’t assume he’s gay based on stereotypes,” Kirishima chastened someone- Kaminari by the looks of it- eyebrows radiating disapproval. They were on the couch on either side of him, having an argument through him. 

“Well I’m not going to assume he’s straight either. Anyone can be gay!” Kaminari said, clearly about to go on a long rant. His shoulder nearly jostled Bakugo into Kirishima. 

“I’m gay.”

Dead. Silence. 

Fuck. 

He really said it?

Well, why else would Kirishima be frozen in the middle of throwing him arms around, Mina stuck in a comical pose as she went to drop a can in the recycling, and Kaminari’s face doing . . . whatever the hell that was. The silence stretched on. And on. 

Not even Sero was cracking a joke. 

Oh, jesus fuck. He really said it. 

Bakugo could practically feel the color drain out of him. 

“See?” Kaminari said, waving an arm at Bakugo. Yeah, okay, he flinched. Kaminari didn’t even see it. “Anyone could be gay!”

“I’m just saying-” Kirishima started up again. 

Mina let out a war cry, stabbing the recycling bin with the end of a nearby broom. Perched on the trashcan, Sero was laughing at her. Probably for being a dumbass. There was no way another can was fitting in there. 

And if he let out one or two tears he hurriedly wiped away when he realized his friends didn’t care- because he had the worst, stupidest friends in the entire universe- or maybe the best, but he would never admit it-

Who gives a fuck?

-

“What are you doing?” Kaminari said, scandalized. 

“My best?” Kirishima said. 

Bakugo picked him up and set him on the other cushion, digging around for the remote. 

“Oh, hey, Bakugo,” Kirishima said. Over on the other side of the room, Sero was fielding Mina’s assault of questions over the girl that had asked him out from class B earlier during lunch. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Kanimari said, rifling in a bowl of chips. Out of fucking nowhere. He wasn’t even looking at him, the light of the TV painting his face different shades of blue. 

Bakugo scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that. As soon as I’m not the only gay person I know.”

“You don’t know any other gay people?” Kirishima asked, as if that was so surprising. 

“Fuck no, I don’t. I probably would have come out a little bit differently if I had. They don’t exactly have coaches for people in the closet.” Why was this such a big deal anyway? He was out. That was good enough for him.

“That’s not fair. I know a lot of straight people,” Kirishima said, using his quirk to stab open a can instead of the pull tab like anyone else would. Soda dribbled all over his fingers. Bakugo rolled his eyes and changed the channel. 

“What are you suggesting we do?” Kaminari said, a thin edge of exasperation. “All of us become gay in solitary?”

Bakugo choked on nothing, head whipping around. He wasn’t serious-

Oh, but Kirishima was. And, god help them, Mina. 

“No, that’s a great idea! I always wanted to be a lesbian!”

“That actually sounds like fun,” Sero added. 

“No it doesn’t,” Bakugo said, coughing as he got his composure back. “And besides, you can’t just decide to be gay-”

“Why not?” Kirishima asked. 

Oh, god damn it. 

“Because-”

And fuck if Bakugo couldn’t think of a reason. Any reason at all. Even a bad one. Four pairs of eyes stared at him intensely. Bakugo sighed, speechless. They were really going to do this. 

“Forget it.”

It was going to be painful to watch. 

“What’s being gay like anyway?” Sero piped up. 

Heat raced up his neck. “I don’t fucking know. What’s being straight like?”

“Well, I think there’s kissing-”

Jesus

“-and probably sex, but not all people do that, so it must be something else-”

fucking 

“-well, dating, obviously is probably pretty important -”

Christ. 

“-I don’t think they’re totally comparable, I mean pride parades seem to be pretty important?”

Bakugo put his head in his hands. 

His bros were going to go gay. For him. Collectively. This would be a trainwreck to watch. He didn’t know who was more to blame- Kaminari, or himself. Was there even a chance that this didn’t go badly?

More importantly, how many ways could this go horribly wrong?

-

The answer surprised even him. 

- 

Bakugo made a mistake. 

He should have known that Mina never just asks to watch a movie at 6 p.m. on a Wednesday unless she wants to corner him for something. That’s his one day off from studying. Bakugo always says yes. Anything to cure his boredom. He had, naively, thought she hadn’t noticed. 

And when he opened the door to her room to spot multiple people wearing rainbows, he should have just turned around and left. Left U.A. entirely. Took a sick weekend. Camp out at Kirishima’s house and steal his food for a change. 

But no. He didn’t. 

And that second of hesitation cost him. Mina dragged him in by his arm, clicking the door shut behind them and practically tossing him on the bed. The bedsprings whined. 

Kaminari laughed at him, so he mimed something violently graphic while Mina crossed her legs and sat in front of the rest of them. The bastard didn’t even look intimidated, eyes crinkling at the corners. Even Sero was there, shiteating smile on his face. There was glitter on his cheeks. 

“Guys,” Mina said, pausing for dramatic effect. “I think I’m in love.”

“What, seriously?” Bakugo asked, sitting up. She looked like she had been chewed up and spat out by a lipstick factory. Not only was she skimpily dressed, but she was covered in sparkly shit and kisses. She still had some holographic tank top on and some glowsticks. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I met a girl,” she said, raccoon eyes wide and glittering with an intense feralness. Jesus, is that what love did to people? She looked almost angry about it. “She asked what hair condition I used and smelled like strawberries.”

A beat.

“Wait, that’s it?”

“Does there need to be more?” she asked, intensity vanishing and getting replaced by a more Mina-like baffled confusion. 

“Mina, I think you might be a lesbian,” Kaminari said slowly. Bakugo shoved him off the bed. 

-

And that’s how the next three weeks of his life went. 

On a Tuesday before a test, he woke up to Kirishima fervently knocking on his door, practically vibrating with nerves. 

“Remember how we were supposed to just be calling ourselves gay? I think, I uh-”

“Spit it out Kirishima.”

“I think, I might be bi?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Followed by Sero. 

“Do you have any advice on asking a, um, a boy out?” he asked, cheeks vibrantly red. 

“Are you bi, too?”

“I’m actually questioning-”

“Fine. Get in here.”

Bakugo yanked him inside and snapped the door closed. 

So, understandably, he was just tired when he spotted Kaminari. Nothing could surprise him, at this point. 

At least he had the decency to show up at a normal hour. 

“Let me guess,” he said, unlocking the door, finally comfortable with all the weirdness that had been going on lately. He’d coached not one but three people on how to come out to their parents at this point. Not that he had even told any of them that he still wasn’t out to his own, but it seemed to go okay anyway. Mina’s mom had baked a cake. “You’re not actually straight, and-”

Suddenly he was pushed against his own door, an armful of well worn band tee the first sensation he registered. Then Kaminari’s tantalizingly soft mouth ghosting against his own. 

Bakugo’s brain fizzled for a second. 

Kaminari, absolutely convinced one of the pro-heros is gay. 

Kaminari, sarcastically proposing they all call themselves gay. 

Kaminari, breaking the awkward silence after he came out. 

“Oh,” he said. 

Kaminari’s expression broke, but he covered it up quickly. He dropped back down to his heels. “For the record, I’m pan, so-”

Bakugo kissed him back, annoyed that he’d almost backed up out of reach. Like he really gave a shit. He had been in the middle of enjoying that, thanks. Kaminari made a soft noise before his hands cautiously settled into his hair. It was so distracting it took him awhile to remember the rest of what had happened. 

Kaminari, asking if he had a boyfriend. 

Bakugo grinned smugly into the kiss. 

Kaminari in the present gasped, and the sound sent a tingle up his spine as his own hand ran up under the stupid soft t-shirt to touch skin. The soft hum against Bakugo’s mouth in response made him feel warm and stupid. 

They could talk about all that boyfriend crap later though. The lock on the door clicked shut before he could even blindly grab for it. Seemed like they were on the same page about what they wanted to be doing right then. 

-

Yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. 

But it was still. Pretty fucking stupid. 

Fucking Kaminari. 

[toshiyesri]

You hadn’t meant to, really. Up through the seventeenth century you’d been doing so good … you’d been doing fairly good. You loved Crowley like an angel loves God’s creation, and if you’d passed along a few blessings here and covered a few temptations there, well, it all worked out on the balance sheet. You were slightly cutting corners in service of your heavenly duties— nothing that other angels didn’t do.

You certainly weren’t falling in love with the adversary.

Alright, well, but he was just so charming and clever. And— and wasn’t it God’s intent that Her love be shown on Earth through the deeds of people? Perhaps even demons? Because when Crowley smiles at you, all fond and indulgent, you feel more love than in any other moment since you were assigned to the Eastern Gate of Eden. Angels are beings of love, you can’t exactly be blamed for being drawn to love.

It finally bubbles over in the late 18th century. After Crowley saves you from execution and you can’t hide the joy that lights up your face at seeing him there. After crêpes, after you happen to take the same ship back to England, after you accidentally run into him in the street, accidentally accept his offer of drinks back at his house, accidentally sit too close together on the chaise longue.

Accidently meet his gaze when he stares at you with those honey eyes, until you’re drowning in them. There must be some mistake, you think, some error in what you were told about demons. Because you’re an angel, and you know love, and you know he’s looking at you with nothing but love.

“I love you too,” you whisper, and you can see him shudder.

“Aziraphale,” he begins, and his hand comes up to touch your cheek, and his eyes flick down as if he’d never told it to. His touch is soft, the barest press of finger pads against your skin, and it’s worse that way. You shouldn’t be thinking right now about how much gentleness and softness there is in him, and how much of it he gives to you, and how quietly you’ve become dependent on it.

Your hand is on his thigh where you didn’t give it permission to be.

His breath teases your face. His eyes are golden out to the edges.

Keep reading

[toshiyesri]

Aziraphale hummed. “We could find an observatory. Go look at constellations together, if we’re not going to visit.”

“Constellations,” Crowley smiled, privately delighted at how insistently Aziraphale wanted to indulge his interests. “Remember when the humans figured that one out? That the stars were really trillions of miles apart? Nowadays they’ve even gotten relativity, rather impressive of them, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale laughed, a beautiful sound, against Crowley’s collarbone. “Maybe the world can end then, after they figure out dinosaurs and particle physics and the oceans and all that. I don’t mean murdering them all, of course— just, kind of, starting it all over with different rules. See how long it takes them to figure it out.”

“If the Almighty ever talks to me again, I’ll pass along the suggestion.”

Aziraphale sat up and looked Crowley in the eyes. He took one of Crowley’s hands in his, looking shockingly serious and barely drunk at all. “She will. I know it. And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. And I will gather you from all the places whither I have driven you.”

“Yes, yes, God makes such lovely promises,” Crowley said, turning away with a roll of his eyes. “But scripture’s not why you believe that, is it?” he added softly.

Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s knuckles. “You’re right. It’s not.”

He looked back up at him, and Crowley was startled by how close he was. So close he could kiss him.

Aziraphale noticed too. His breathing stuttered just slightly, and his eyes flicked away in a moment of embarrassment. “I … I had better sober up for this, hadn’t I?”

Read more on AO3

[toshiyesri]

Crush

I actually did a thing for @iidekuweek2019​! A very short thing but here ya go!

“You have a crush on Iida.”

Midoriya gagged on the mouthful of rice he had taken, forced a swallow, then chugged his juice down before raising his head to give Uraraka a baffled look.

“I-! Crush?? What, no!” He shook his head vigorously. “That’s not-! I don’t!”

“Yes you do!” Uraraka banged both fists on the table and leaned in. “You seriously do! Just ask him out already!”

“I can’t-! I don’t-!” Midoriya waved his hands frantically. “It’s not like that! Iida’s just a friend! A good friend!”

“Hey,” Todoroki came up, holding his usual tray of soba. “What’s wrong with Midoriya?” Uraraka sighed and propped a hand on her cheek.

“He’s in denial about his crush on Iida.”

“Oh,” Todoroki sat down next to them, “Midoriya, you know it’s like, super obvious right?”

“It’s not a crush!” Midoriya insisted. “I just, admire him a lot, is all!”

“You admire a lot of people,” Todoroki pointed out, “But only with Iida do you get all stuttery and nearly faint when he touches your shoulder.

“I don’t!” Midoriya shook his head so hard his curls whipped around his face. “That’s, ridiculous!”

“Huh?” Sero paused as he passed by, then leaned back to peer at them. “What’s got Midoriya so worked up?”

“We’re trying to get him to accept his crush on Iida,” Uraraka answered over Midoriya’s protests. Sero’s eyes lit up.

“Oh dude.” Sero slammed his tray down, “Please tell him. It’s getting physically painful to watch the two of you.”

“Eug…” Midoriya shoved his food forward so he could slam his face down on the table.

“Do you want me to tell him?” Todoroki offered, “I could tell him for you.”

“No!” Midoriya jerked bolt upright with a horrified expression. “Don’t you dare! Iida’s just, really cool, ok!? I don’t…” Sero leaned in.

“You’re still in denial? Seriously?? Midoriya, buddy, you definitely do. Please stop lying to yourself. I saw you two in the library yesterday and when he returned the pencil he borrowed, you just kind of, held it to your cheek for like a minute.”

“Th-That-!” Midoriya’s eyes flickered away and his face flushed bright red. “That wasn’t what it looked like!”

“Is Midoriya ok?”

A new voice spoke up from behind them. Sero laughed and twisted around.

“Yeah we’re just trying to get Midoriya to accept his massive crush on Iida.” Then Sero’s smile froze on his face, and his orange fell out of his hand. Uraraka clapped her hands over her mouth and Midoriya made a strangled noise like a dying balloon.

Iida stared down at Sero with eyes as wide as plates and his mouth forming a perfect O. His lunch tray was clenched so tight his fingers were turning white, and his glass of orange juice trembled ever so slightly.

Todoroki slurped up his mouthful of soba, face bland as always. “So,” He said once he’d swallowed, “Should we talk about Iida’s really obvious crush on Midoriya, now?”

[toshiyesri]

They were still young.

They already had to work hard to pursue their dream of becoming heroes, of course. Being a top hero meant getting into a good hero school, which meant getting into a good middle school, which meant giving it their all, even in sixth grade. Every kid their age was trying to get into a good hero school, and Mirio worried that they’d fall behind if they didn’t work hard.

Tamaki was amazing, of course– he seemed to understand everything that went on in class without even trying, and he always scored near the top of the class on tests. But tests weren’t everything. School meant presentations and group projects. If you ever missed a day you had to talk to the teacher to find out what you missed, which Tamaki wasn’t great at. Mirio had even heard that their top choice was making prospective students do interviews.

It was enough to make any twelve year old’s stomach knot up with worry.

But right now Mirio was ignoring all that. It was a Friday evening, and it wasn’t too late yet, and they had some time to play heroes and villains in the woods behind Tamaki’s house. They’d been at this particular scenario for weeks, crafting and then solving layer after layer of mystery to hunt down a despicable villain. They were finally reaching the end of the story, which was good, because the ends of these stories were always the best part. They’d get praise and accolades from the general public (or in this case, the tall grasses on the other side of the stream), and be honored with medals and awards (a flower crown that Tamaki had made and which Mirio was excitedly looking forward to wearing). Sometimes Mirio fantasized that if they were real grown-ups, they could give each other congratulation kisses. Not gay kisses, of course, just nice congratulatory kisses for rewarding friends who’d done super-awesome things.

But they were only kids now, so Mirio only held Tamaki’s hand as they waved across the stream at their adoring audience. He liked to hold his hand for things like this, because even this fake appearance before a fake audience made Tamaki a little nervous. Mirio had expressed worry, once, and said that they could do something else to be rewarded for their heroism, but Tamaki had shook his head and insisted it was fine.

And Mirio didn’t really mind holding his hand.

After a minute or two of smiling and waving, Tamaki cleared his throat, and announced in a voice deeper than his normal one, “Thank you, pro hero Slip-Through. By defeating the terrible villain Face-Eater, you have restored peace to our city. We all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Manifester!” Mirio said in a loud, excited voice. He’d been waiting to say that line all week. “He deserves just as much of the credit as me, probably more!”

Tamaki nodded in acknowledgment and reverently placed the flower crown on Mirio’s head. Mirio didn’t have to bend down for him– Tamaki had grown taller than him in the past couple of years.

When Tamaki stepped back, he was grinning from ear to ear, brighter than the sun. “We did it!” he said, and gave Mirio a hard high-five.

“What should we do next?”

“Food,” Tamaki blurted, and Mirio couldn’t disagree. Taking down Face-Eater had been hard work.

- - -

(There’s actually supposed to be a bit more to this ficlet buuuuut I’m behind schedule and I wanted something posted! Hope you enjoyed anyway!

These ficlets form a longer story which can be found here for now, and here’s the ao3 link which is as of now a bit behind.)

[toshiyesri]

When Mirio walked into class on the first day of second grade, there was a new boy there, the prettiest boy he'd ever seen.

The boy was nervous having everyone's eyes on him. He was painfully stuttering his way through his self-introduction, his eyes on the floor, only able to get out a handful of words.

But he was ethereal. He had thick black hair that fell into his face, and pointed ears that Mirio wanted to touch, and a magical wobbly smile when the teacher finally showed him mercy and let him take his seat.

Mirio bounced over to him the moment he was allowed to. "Did you mean to say 'heroes'?" he asked, with boundless eagerness. "I like heroes too!"

And the boy looked up, and met Mirio's eyes, and stole his heart.

- - -

A friendly smile, a shared dream, and soon Mirio and Tamaki were best friends. Actually, they were super best friends! At school, the two were inseparable, eating lunch together (away from all the other kids, who made Tamaki feel nervous), playing together at recess, and doing their best to always get paired up for assignments. Mirio adored Tamaki, and everyone knew it. He'd started to lose count of the number of times he'd been dared to tell Tamaki aishiteru.

After school, too, he spent his evenings with Tamaki as often as he could. They played heroes and villains outside in Mirio's backyard, and practiced their quirks together in Tamaki's tiny room. Mirio didn't have much control of his quirk yet, so he had a long way to go if he wanted to be a pro hero! But Tamaki helped with that. (Tamaki helped with a lot of things.)

Today he sat on the bed, opposite Tamaki, trying to phase his hand through Tamaki's. It was so hard, there were so many parts that all needed to work at the same time, and most of the time he just ended up smacking his hand into Tamaki's. Tamaki smiled and laughed at him-- he was working on manifesting cherry flowers from his other hand, with somewhat more success than Mirio. Every time he made one, he stuck it in Mirio's hair, which wasn't a great plan because Mirio kept accidently phasing his head, and they would slip out.

Eventually-- well, pretty quickly, actually-- Mirio's attention span ran out. "I can't do it anymore!" he said, falling back on the bed with a thump.

"You can't give up!" Tamaki cried, shaking his shoulders. "I can't be a hero if you don't become a hero too!"

"I'm only giving up for now," Mirio clarified. "We can practice together again tomorrow!" He sat back up, and slapped his hand against Tamaki's again, only this time without making any effort to phase his hand through. When their hands met, he took Tamaki's hand in his, and Tamaki squeezed back and blushed.

"Thanks for helping me with my quirk," Mirio said, quieter than he almost always was. Right now his heart was doing backflips in his chest, and he could barely look at Tamaki.

"It's no problem, I like helping you," Tamaki said with a smile.

In turn he got a beaming, gap-toothed smile of pure joy from Mirio. "You're such a good friend, Tamaki! My best friend!"

For the rest of the evening, they sat on Tamaki's bed and watched cartoons, and they didn't let go of each other's hands once.

[toshiyesri]

Somewhere in Kirishima’s mind, he had known from the very beginning that their life paths would eventually pull them apart. Investing himself so deeply in Bakugou, an unstoppable comet of ambition, was always destined to lead to heartbreak.

Every time he sends some goofy text to Bakugou, trying to feel that closeness despite the distance, and gets no response, it stings a little.

It’s much farther than it should be, the distance from Fatgum’s agency in Osaka to Bakugou’s agency in Tokyo. But little by little, Kirishima and Bakugou draw each other into a new orbit, and together, chase their dreams.

- - - - -

Wow, I’m writing longfic! Too long for tumblr to let me post the first chapter, even. Click the link up there to enjoy ~3500 words of, let’s be real, mostly mutual pining.

Expect the next chapter some time next week!

[toshiyesri]

Bakugo woke up to the sound of pots banging. 

He was going to ignore it, roll over and go back to sleep, but then he heard the sounds of Kirishima’s laughter. And the smell of burning. 

Only my friends . . . 

The kitchen was a scene of absolute carnage. Flour was tipped over, spices and bottles of oil scattered like fallen warriors, the sunshine catching on the egg yolks dripping onto the floor and turning it a golden honey color. There was even butter smeared on the floor tile. And hell . . . was that smoke coming out of the coffee pot?

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Cooking?” Kaminari said. Eye wide with evident guilt, he hid the spatula he was using to scrape burnt egg off the pan when Bakugo had come in. 

“You call this cooking?” Bakugo asked. “Nevermind,” he added, when he saw Kirishima’s lip wobble. “Get out of here. I’ll show you how a real breakfast is done.”

“Uh, Bakugo-” Mina said, hovering with Sero by the smoking coffee maker. 

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

They scattered. 

Well, except Kaminari. But he was perched on a stool up out of the way. Good enough. 

The mop made a wet slap against the tile, and he dragged it over in the direction of the coffee pot, unplugging the appliance. It hadn’t been used in years. The dirtied pans fell into the sink unceremoniously. The tap came on too hot but he ignored it, scrubbing furiously. 

“Why are you all here anyway?” Bakugo asked, up to his elbows in soapy water. 

“Kirishima wanted to surprise you! Sorry this got so out of hand, I thought I could make toast and eggs at least, but . . .” Sero trailed off peaking around the doorway. He had flour smeared on his cheek. 

The sink full of new, sparkling clear water sat with the dirtied pans at the bottom, Bakugo’s face distorted and tiny in a thousand of the soapy bubbles. 

The floor wasn’t as bad as it looked. Most of it was spilled egg, and he made a mental note to clean with spray later. 

In less than twenty minutes, it looked like they’d never been in the kitchen. 

“We can go-” 

“Who’s gonna eat all the food I’m about to make then?” Bakugo said, cracking an egg with one hand into a bowl. Maybe he could at least try and teach them something. 

“I will!” Mina declared, pink curls popping up behind Sero. They watched from behind the cupboard door as Bakugo made his way around the kitchen. 

“Whoa, cool dude- is that an espresso machine?”

“What did you think it was? That coffee machine hasn’t been used in years. Probably why it caught on fire.”

Bakugo pressed the blinking buttons, a little coffee icon lighting up on the screen when he opens the back. Empty. “Do any of you even drink coffee? Here, catch.”

Kirishima and Sero fumble the metal tube between them while coffee beans clatter around inside.  

“What’s this?”

“Instructions are on the bottom. Don’t break it.”

That should keep them occupied. 

Bakugo goes through breaking the last of the eggs by the time Mina finally gets the courage to enter the kitchen again. 

“How do you not get any shell in it?” she asks while standing over his left shoulder. Kanimari abandoned his stool at one point and he’s leaning over his right, but of them staring with wide eyes as he adds to the pile of shells to the side of the bowl. Since he’d have to make two eggs per person anyway, he’ll just add in the extra two left in the dozen just in case someone’s still hungry. 

“It’s not that hard,” Bakugo said. “Just tap it on the edge of the bowl like this,” a hairline fracture shot up the side of the egg with a second tap, “flip it over and use your thumb to crack it open.”

“Aren’t you supposed to-” Kaminari began to ask. 

“What, get it every time on the first try? Why bother. It’s easier like this.”

“What about the toast?” Mina asked, pointing at the toaster. A sad piece of burnt bread stuck out the top still. 

“It’ll get cold if we start them now.”

“You really know what you’re doing,” Kaminari said, tilting his head to watch Bakugo finish the last two eggs and pull out the whisk, the ooze of freshly broken yolks visible through the glass bowl. 

“Like I said, it’s not hard.” It wasn’t like Bakugo was going to learn mediocre cooking skills. What kind of hero wouldn’t know how to make breakfast? 

He pulled open the cabinet again, causing Kanimari to duck to avoid his elbow. 

“Did you dump half the salt?”

“We weren’t sure how much to put in,” Mina said. 

“That’s what measuring spoons are for.”

“My mom always just puts stuff in and tastes it.”

“That’s- these are eggs,” Bakugo said, disgusted. 

“So?”

“Salmonella poisoning, Kaminari!” At least Mina knew something. The burner kicked on with minimal fuss, heating the frying pan. 

“Oh.”

“Can you get the loaf of bread out of the freezer?” Bakugo asked. The remains of salt got tossed into the measuring spoon, while Bakugo was mentally counting the number of 1/8th of a teaspoon he needed. It was just enough for the number of eggs. Usually he’d measure by weight- but, screw that, it was too early. The butter sizzled as it hit the hot pan. 

“Sure thing!” Kaminari said, shooting off to the fridge. “Uh, is this it?”

“That’s a turkey! Here, it’s this one.”

“Are you sure? It’s really long.”

“Just bring it over here, will you?” Bakugo said, carefully spooning the egg into the frying pan. He couldn’t look up to check to see if they had the right thing, but thankfully they did. Pre-sliced at least- he didn’t know what foresight had pressed him to do that. 

“Clear the crumb tray will you? There’s probably a bunch of burnt stuff in there from earlier.”

“What-”

Bakugo shoved the spatula into Kaminari’s hand, giving him quick instructions while switching over to the toaster. The toast remains got plucked out and thrown away, and the toaster was unplugged and rattled over the garbage can. Bits of blackened bread fell unceremoniously out of the slot. 

“There.”

After plugging the thing back in- really he should just have Kaminari power it- he filled the slots with bread. Good bread. Not whatever weird stuff they brought over. Turning down the timer by half, he told Mina to switch them out. 

Kirishima held up the coffee grounds. “Is this what you wanted man?”

“Perfect. Put that in the machine.”

Bakugo’s kitchen was way too small for this. 

Rescuing Kaminari from the eggs, Bakugo kept and eye on the other three. They were watching in fascination as the toast didn’t burn and the coffee machien made tiny happy burbling sounds. It lit up pink. 

“Kirishima, can you get a cup?”

“Sure thing. Is that a cat?”

“Kirishima, focus.”

Bakugo should have known better, because the cat mug landed under the espresso machine. 

“There’s heavy cream on the left door.”

“Got it!” Mini cried when she found it. 

And, somehow, breakfast was made. 

“I’m never eating again,” Kaminari said, after he had stuffed his face, saying something about the egg being the best thing he’d eaten for breakfast for the whole year. That wasn’t a very hard feat to accomplish- he ate granola bars. 

But Bakugo had to admit . . . it was pretty good, even for him. 

Must’ve been how he put less salt in the eggs. 

[toshiyesri]

to laugh in the face of danger

“A little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring: there shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, and drinking largely sobers us again.”

---

“Todoroki Shouto.”

“Bakugo.”

“I need a favor,” Bakugo says. The early summer breeze filtered in through the windows, blowing against the fabric of his uniform. The air managed to cut through the thread at the seams, cooling him and warming him at once. Bakugo, who does not want to be talking to Half and Half, had even gone out of his way to research the guy the night before with the careful dedication of someone who needed help. 

As if. 

Grabbing Todoroki’s pen, he starts to deconstruct it, and reconstruct it. If the guy takes that as a threat it’s not his problem. But he needs to think about this carefully because he still hadn’t quite worked out what he wanted to say today. The plastic cap comes off with a gentle pop. 

No response. Just a placid blink. Sitting outside and he’s even studying- and Bakugo interrupts him and . . . nothing. 

It’s impossible to get a rise out of the guy. 

Not for Midoriya. 

Bakugo grits his teeth together. 

“Well? What is it?” 

Half and half had some kind accent, a lilt to his voice that would suggest something of being refined if it wasn’t for the fact that hearing the word “fuck” out of it isn’t all that uncommon of an occurrence. The sound was, for a lack of a better term, beautiful. 

And that thought pisses him off even further. 

“Is it about Midoriya?” Half and half presses. “I heard you two got into it the other day.”

That was a huge exaggeration, but Bakugo expected as much to get around. Sitting and minding his own business, and then waking up from a doze only to find Midoriya in his lap? Yeah, Bakugo had flipped out a little bit. Not that anyone should have been able to tell- he had kept the real stress under lock, and just shouted a bunch after standing up suddenly enough Midoriya had faceplanted. Served the jerk right- who sits on a guy they hate? Midoriya’s messed up. Bakugo hadn’t stuck around for an explanation. 

Still, he felt bad. More than the bastard deserved anyway. 

“Whatever, Half and Half-” Bakugo cut himself off and slapped the pen down, holding a breath in his chest to calm himself. “What I mean is,” he continues, teeth grinding, “I need to get him something for his birthday to make up for it. I was kind of a dick, alright? Can you-”

“His birthday’s coming up?”

Jesus, could this guy hear? From the dazed, assessing look he was giving Bakugo, he doubts it. The wind picked up and Bakugo leans away from the desk, crossing his arms. Maybe getting him right after math class hadn’t been such a good idea. It usually seemed so easy to him, but maybe the lesson had driven a screw loose in Half and Half’s brain and it took a couple class periods to find it again. Just because he was a clever guy out in the field- most of the time- didn’t mean he knew what the hell he was doing with numbers. 

Then again, he could just be making fun of Bakugo for knowing Midoriya’s birthday still, even if he didn’t usually do anything about it. 

“Yes,” Bakugo says, once he decided on the latter. 

“You know Midoriya’s birthday. And you want to get him a gift,” Half and Half repeats. Definitely the latter. 

“Yes,” Bakugo says testily. 

“Okay.”

“So you’ll help me,” Bakugo says skeptically. 

“Sure. A friend of Midoriya is a friend of mine.”

What exactly had he just gotten himself into?

-

Todoroki’s room is exactly as Kirishima described- Japanese. What the hell, were those floorboards- whatever. Bakugo didn’t have time for this. It was bad enough that he’s putting in any effort at all already. The walk from school had been muggy as hell, activating the sweat glands in other people, and annoying the shit out of Bakugo specifically because his body didn’t exactly just produce sweat. So now he’s hungry and thirsty and tired and he just wants to go to bed by now. 

And Half and Half is making things extra difficult. 

“Why should I have to deliver your anonymous apology gift?” Even annoyed, Half and Half looks bored and sleepy. The weirdest thing is how relaxed he became in the comfort of his own room. Bakugo was lucky if he got to sleep through the night without startling awake at the sound of birds at four in the morning. 

Relaxed or not, he’s still dense. 

“Because he’s not going to take- listen Todoroki,” Bakugo sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose between his forefingers. “You can agree to this or not, but they guy’s hated me for years. I don’t know what his problem is. I figure an anonymous gift is better than one from me.”

“Midoriya doesn’t hate you,” Half and Half says. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bakugo says back, and turns towards the gift instead. It’s a little plushie of All Might in his original costume, way before he got popular. Definitely something he probably shouldn’t be giving up just for some- thing where Midoriya wouldn’t even know the sender. But after questioning Todoroki ruthlessly about what he had seen in Midoriya’s room- thank christ for his practical and decent enough memory- it was the only thing he had on hand. 

Plus, Bakugo knows Midoriya well enough that his eyes would get huge and misty, right before he says something ridiculous like “I’ll treasure it always” or some other over to top, saccharine declaration that was clearly mocking the person for thinking it was a good idea. But Midoriya always seemed like he was in a good mood after he got the opportunity to do so- hell, maybe he could earnestly mean that kind of thing. 

Not to me though. 

The pang that shot through his chest reminded him how reckless and stupid he had been, falling asleep. In public no less. There was no way he was cut out to be a hero if he couldn’t even keep it together enough to stay awake and alert after an exhausting day. 

“I always though it was weird that you were childhood friends when you act like-”

“What?” Bakugo snaps, tearing the tape with his teeth as his carefully adheres the corner of the wrapping paper to the edge of the small box. Because of course Todoroki was prepared with gift boxes. Bakugo had watched him put together a last minute gift for Midoriya himself, a tasteful basic first aid book about broken bones in the field. The irony wasn’t lost on Bakugo. 

“Like that. Like you’re angry you even know him.”

“So what if I am? Is that a crime?”

Because it would be so much easier if he never met the guy, and that’s the damn truth. Todoroki sits on his bed, denting the surface with his weight. He’s not even wearing his uniform anymore. Eyes clear, he looks more awake than he had all night. 

“I didn’t realize it before, but it makes sense. You like him as something other than a friend.”

Everything in Bakugo stops. Just stops. This is worse than waking up and realizing a nice dream is a dreadful reality. Worse than the time when he was younger and wrote Midoriya’s name in his notebook only to rip it out and eat the paper rather than let anyone- or hell, most especially his mom- see it. His hands freeze. He doesn’t even remember what he was doing, here, or what he was thinking. This was the worst idea he’d ever had. 

Midoriya would know exactly who the gift was from. Apparently he hadn’t even told one of his closest friends about his birthday, and who else was an All Might fan that dedicated? 

And now, worse, before he could even sleep on the decision to come to his senses in the morning and just avoid talking to Midoriya ever again for his natural born life, Todoroki had figured out the whole thing. 

But maybe he can salvage the situation? No, he doubts that the guy will be swayed that easily. If he could use his ice quirk and nearly freeze the entire stadium just because he felt like it- yeah, he’d heard that bit from Sero, the poor bastard- just to piss off his father . . . 

Bakugo is screwed. 

Time to dig myself a deeper hole.

“What exactly are you implying here?”  he asks, voice acid. 

“Do you actually want me to repeat myself?” Half and Half asks. 

Before he can think better of it, Bakugo shakes his head sharply. 

“Like I said though . . . he doesn’t hate you. Maybe he-”

“Don’t you dare say another word,” Bakugo says. And the threat in his voice. He means it. So it better sound like it, not matter how unsteady it comes out. 

Bakugo knows exactly where that trail of words goes, because he’s been down them a hundred thousand times, pacing them like a restless animal. During class when Midoriya is practically breathing down his neck. When they picked pro hero names. Even right at this moment, his chest is aching with phantom pains at the memories themselves. How many times he’d been stupid. When he’d started lashing out at Midoriya’s insults to pretend they didn’t hurt his feelings. It isn’t as if he could put a dot on the map where things changed for the worse, or when things with Midoriya changed. 

“Just don’t say anything,” he says, backing away and out the door. Clicking it shut, he tries to get the tremors under control. He’s not stupid enough to slam it. He knows Todoroki tenses up every time Present Mic bashes the door in already yelling. But he needs just a moment to take some deep, unsteady breaths, before leaving and burying the moment in the past behind him. 

Hopefully for good. 

---

Shit, Bakugo forgot the gift. 

---

Sitting in his room, Bakugo tries not to pace. The night before had been miserable, and he’d finally collapsed in Kirishima’s room, lulled by his sunny laughter and Mina’s voice that sparkled like the sound bells made. Waking up pressed into the unfamiliar wood floor, a sea of red workout equipment the first thing he sees when his eyes open, is nothing less than disorienting. With Kirishima still asleep, he sneaks out and hides in his room all day because he doesn’t want to face the consequences.

I should just be a man and- 

And what? 

His heart gives a sharp squeeze and Bakugo closes his eyes in defeat. 

So focused on- well, everything, Bakugo doesn’t even notice when his door opens, but he does notice the soft footfalls behind him. Sitting up he groans. 

“Listen Kirishima-”

Of course the guy would come in here after class. 

The arms thrown around him say otherwise. 

He’d recognize that smell anywhere. 

Going from stiff to my bones should be breaking under this tension in seconds, Bakugo goes through what seems like three heart attacks. When really, it’s just three heartbeats pounding furiously against his chest as something warm and wet drips down his neck. 

Tears?

Todoroki, his brain snarls like a chainsaw. 

It’s not a very coherent thought, other than how dead he’s going to be once Bakugo gets his hands on him. If he still refuses to make it an unfair fight in their impromptu rematch, Bakugo would just kill him even deader than before. 

“Apology accepted for- for, I don’t even know what you’re sorry for, Todoroki didn’t really say.”

What did that bastard even tell him? Midoriya’s a wreck. Bakugo can’t meet his gaze, stuck on the tear tracks all over his own shirt. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry all over you. We can go back to being rivals yeah? And friends this time.”

Friends. 

It feels like he’s shattering at the same time something slots comfortably back into place. 

Rivals?

Christ, thankfully Half and Half really isn’t as smart as he seems. 

Then again, underestimating him was how he got into this mess. 

“Why are you in my room?”

Midoriya flinches. Damnit. 

“I didn’t mean it like that. Did Todoroki-” 

Bakugo looks away and scowls, scratching the back of his neck. There’s nothing he can ask without giving himself away. The clock reads something like 4 p.m. and the light is a warm glow in the late afternoon. Even as he stares at the familiar scenery of his dorm room and the window, he doesn’t feel relaxed at all. 

“Uh, yeah he mentioned that you might not want him to say anything. He just- you know, gave me the gift and said you wanted to apologize somehow. The surprise party was your idea, too, right? So, thanks. For that.”

Midoriya’s looking at him, eyes too big for his damn head, still glossy. It’s hard to even think while he’s in the room.  

“Oh and he said you really seemed to want to be friends again so I just though-” Midoriya runs a hand awkwardly over the scars on his arm. 

Bakugo still doesn’t say anything, still staring at the way his muscle flex under the motion. This is so weird. Why can’t he be in the room with him like a regular person?

Just looking at him makes Bakugo want to explode. 

“You can take it back, too, if you want, I know they’re really rare I’m surprised you even have one it must be important and-”

Great, now Midoriya is rambling at that barely audible mutter, flush tinting his cheeks. 

“Keep it,” he says flatly. They might be . . . friends now- there was no audience, no one to see Midoriya being friendly, so as much as he hates to admit it, Half and Half might be on to something about the “not hating” Bakugo thing. 

Nothing else. 

But Bakugo could cede that much. 

Anyway, they might be friends but they need boundaries, because otherwise Midoriya might actually kill him on accident. 

“And let’s not do this,” Bakugo said, gesturing at his shirt, his room, his life in general, “again.”

“Right.”

“Rivals,” he repeats, for Midoriya’s benefit, because he’s looking too damn happy for some reason. 

“And friends.”

Christ. Bakguo’s heart gives another hard thump, too confused to say if that’s a good thing or the worst thing in the world. 

“I’m not touchy feely. Now get out,” Bakugo says, putting as much steel as he can into his words. 

Midoriya nods dutifully and there is no way he’s just agreeing. It’s like he doesn’t even believe Bakugo. Kirishima must have opened his big mouth. 

Todoroki’s already in the doorway when Midoriya opens it. 

“I just came here to return this,” Todoroki says. It’s the fucking tape dispenser. The ploy is so obvious he’s waffling again, not sure if Todoroki or Half and half or whatever is screwing with him or just that clueless. 

The significant look he gives, the one that said “you’re welcome” and “thank me later” and “you’ll pay for this” all in one says Bakugo is far from the good kind of screwed. 

“Todoroki,” he greets, thoroughly pissed off. 

Midoriya is looking at the two of them and getting this weird “I figured something out” expressed. The kind he’d come to associate with getting his careful planning obliterated in a second. Great. 

Then Bakugo’s brain decides to remind him that Midoriya will be alone in his bedroom with him if Todoroki decides to leave, and that’s- that’s- 

Midoriya has to leave. Immediately. 

Deciding to take on the lesser of two evils, he shoves Midoriya out of the room with practiced carelessness that Todoroki tracks with his eyes. The door shuts on Midoirya’s startled ones. 

“What the fuck,” Bakugo says. “Was that.”

“I was helping.”

“The fuck you were. You made him cry,” he snaps, carefully keeping his tone low enough that Midoriya won’t be able to hear it. And before he can think better of it. Todoroki just blinks at him. 

“You know, I thought you’d be-”

“What?” Bakugo grates out, rubbing his shoulder. There’s still the faint scent of pure Midoriya in the air and it’s making him itch for a fight. 

“Terrible. I guess Uraraka was off base when she told me to threaten you, because she wanted me to tell you not to hurt him or she’d practice her internship training on you.”

Bakugo doesn’t even know what that means, but he guesses he pissed her off. She isn’t someone to mess around with, he knows that much. Those rocks had been a real pain in the ass. He was lucky she hadn’t sent him airborn. 

“The party was her idea by the way. You should thank her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The you asshole is silent, but Todoroki must have heard it because the corner of his mouth quirks up. 

-

When Midoriya pulls him behind the tree in the courtyard out of sight with an excited and curious expression on his face the next day, he doesn’t know what to think. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but- well friends talk about-”

“Spit it out, Deku.”

“Do you have a crush on Todoroki?”

Bakugo is going to super extra kill him as soon as he sees him. Tape? Really? That was the best he could come up with?

“Yes,” he deadpans. 

“Really?” Midoriya asks, eyes wide as fucking saucers. 

“No,” he snaps. You’re a dead man Todoroki. If he can even make it through the next five seconds, considering he’s hyperaware of how Midoriya still hasn’t let go of his hand. A dead man. 

[toshiyesri]

enough.

Todoroki family has dinner. Sorta.

---

“Shouto, could you pass the salt?”

It was always like this.

“Sure.”

Awkward.

Three rooms over, Endeavor was radiating rage so strongly it practically changed the temperature of the whole house. The smile fixed to Fuyumi’s face wavered at the loud bangs of various pieces of furniture hitting the wall. Shouto knew they were, because they had been for days.

I want to be back in the dorms.

The thought was like a chant that was getting him through one bite after another.

Chewing, swallowing, and taking another bite. One mouthful, and then one more mouthful, until the food was gone.

Natsuo and Fuyumi still didn’t seem to know what brother role he occupied. They moved around him like Endeavor had splashed a giant rock in a fountain and they were the water displaced by it. Sometimes they tried to fill a role that was caregiving, something Shouto thought maybe most siblings had naturally just by growing up together.

But then there were other times.

A door slammed and Fuyumi straightened stiffly, her hand frozen in front of her face while noodles hung mid-air. Shouto just kept eating. One bite after another.

This was one of those times.

“Damn All Mi- what are you doing here?” Endeavor said.

“Eating.”

He was talking to Shouto.

Natsuo’s fist tightened around his cup.

I want to go back to the dorms.

“Obvi- ugh, whatever.” Endeavor stomped off into the depths of the kitchen, the distance from the table in exact proportion to the melting of Fuyumi. Natsuo took a sip, Fuyumi ate what had already been on its way to her mouth, and Shouto ate. The food was cold because Fuyumi had wanted them to wait for him. Shouto had wanted to eat. They had waited instead.

It was always like this. Awkward. Shouto was hardly surprised by anything anymore.

Even when the sound of glass breaking was heard all the way in the dining room, he was the only one that didn’t flinch. Because it wasn’t surprising.

This was, for the most part, the most normal dinner he had ever had.

At home at least.

I miss Bakugo’s cooking.

Shouto froze.

What?

That was . . . different.

“Do you have any friends at school?” Fuyumi asked, forced. Her eyes kept glancing at the reflection of the cabinet behind them, which Shouto knew gave her a perfect view of the entry way that Endeavor would have to pass through to leave.

Shouto swallowed. “Yes.”

Natsuo perked up. “Oh? Who? Someone from your class?”

“Izuku Midoriya,” he said, and he expected the second crash of the trashcan tipping over, because that was normal, too. He didn’t even pause. “And Tenya Iida. And Uraraka Ochako.”

Because those were his friends.

So why did he remember Bakugo’s cooking during the training camp?

They were classmates. Bakugo seemed to hate Midoriya- who was his friend.

Natsuo grinned at him, pleased. Even if his finger twitched when Endeavor suddenly stormed past them back into one of the rooms somewhere else. “That’s great Shouto!”

And why did he feel bad for not mentioning Tsu? They didn’t hate each other, of course not. But he didn’t think she would mind that he hadn’t called her a friend. And suddenly the memories of the rest of his classmates bounced around in his mind, and his chopsticks clattered into the bowl. Standing up suddenly, he apologized, because he forgot that it wasn’t normal for the other two. Even Natsuo looked rattled. Fuyumi had completely lost her earlier attempt at a smile.

Something in him that hadn’t broken in a long time let go.

“I have to go. Bye.”

“Shouto?” Fuyumi called, but by then he was already in the entry way.

He slipped his shoes on quickly and nearly stumbled outside, picking up at a run until he had gotten all the way to the end. Where the road was. The flashlight on his phone, which had been sitting in his pocket, was the only light left in the front yard. Besides the moon, at least.

It wasn’t until one splashed onto his phone screen, over the text message he had sent to Midoriya to “come pick me up if you don’t mind,” that he realized he had started crying.

“I hope they didn’t see that,” he said to himself, and the thousands of crickets chirping outside of his house. Rubbing the salty liquid between his fingers, he wondered when the last time he had cried was. It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be here, in this house.

I want to go to the dorms.

But until he got there, seeing one of his friends would just have to do.

“I’m on my way!”

- Midoriya

[toshiyesri]

survivor’s guilt by another name

Author’s note: This fic takes place just before the students move into the dorms and ends with the fight between Deku and Bakugo in Deku vs. Kacchan, episode 23 of the third season. Just before the last scene, the bus ride is on the trip to the hero provisional licence exam. Italics are both narration and Bakugo speaking during various points in his childhood.

---

“Kacchan!” 

---

Deku woke up with a sudden start, his muscles hard and tense against the sweat slicked sheets. The loud thudding of his pulse in his ears obscured the sound of the All Might edition clock his mom had gotten him for his twelfth birthday. Tiny blue painted eyes stared at him from across the room. Outside, there was a rush of air and the soft calls of an owl, causing him to jerk again- this time into a sitting position on his bed. 

It was a dream. 

Roll over and go back to sleep, Izuku, he told himself. Don’t think about it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Or at least, that’s what he hoped. 

This wasn’t the first time it had happened. 

The blankets that had been on his bed when he’d gone to sleep earlier were scattered on the floor. There was even a tear in the sheets. Deku fingered the mark carefully. 

Quirks activating during the middle of the night weren’t unheard of but . . . 

Deku knew it was probably particularly dangerous if he started doing that. Not just for his stuff, but his body- he still wasn’t quite as far along as he would have liked. Saving Iida- he had pushed himself a little further along. But even with all the training he was doing, his body was too weak to handle the full extent of the quirk. 

“Make that borrowed quirk your own, Deku.”

Deku winced. He knew that. He did. It wasn’t like he could convince the self-critical voice in his mind- that suspiciously resembled a voice of reason- of that though. Not if he couldn’t even manage to convince Kacchan himself. When he was at his worst, instead of sounding like his own voice it would just replay faded snatches of memory instead. 

Like turning them over and over in his mind would do any good.

Kacchan’s voice echoed around his head extra loudly lately. He didn’t want to think the two events were connected, but it was getting harder and harder to avoid what would have been the natural and obvious conclusion. 

Shaking his head roughly he stumbled out of bed, pulling on slippers and combing a hand through his unruly hair. In the soft light coming through the window, his scars almost looked sliver. The raised skin hadn’t taken any pigment yet after the redness had truly faded pink. Another good reminder that recklessly activating his quirk- even asleep- was a bad idea. Rubbing his palm briskly over his arms to fight off the chill, he edged out of the room, tiptoeing carefully. 

Soft snores came from the direction of the other bedroom. His mom had enough to deal with already. She didn’t need him waking her up on top of it. 

Of course, almost immediately after he had that thought the floor creaked. Deku bit his lip, freezing in place. A breeze whispered into the house as the only sound for a short guilty second, but then the snores continued. 

Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he leaned against the wall for a second. 

That was a close one. 

That was so close! Did you see that Deku? I knew I could get it in the hoop. Deku! Deku! Why weren’t you paying attention? 

Remembering the fracture of disappointment that Kacchan hadn’t been able to hide in his voice when they were just kids wasn’t helping his guilt at all. If he was honest with himself, which he tried to be, it made him feel even worse. Being tormented by these memories was basically torture- but he just shook his head and kept walking in the hopes that his brain would get the idea and leave him alone already. 

Deku finally made it to the kitchen without any other incidents. 

The fridge light was blinding. A gush of air whooshed into him, soothing his heated skin. 

“Chocolate, choco- there,” he whispered to himself, plucking from the emergency chocolate supply. He knew his mom noticed when there was less in there, but she never said anything. Deku sniffed, mouth wobbling as he fought back against the stinging sensation in his eyes. I’m too old to go wake up my mom because of a dream. I’m too old. Too old, damn it! 

It didn’t even sound all that convincing to himself. 

The chocolate tasted like tears but it’d have to do. 

---

Deku collapsed into his seat. He knew his exhaustion was plain on his face, but he couldn’t help it. 

It was their first day back at U.A. but he couldn’t even enjoy it, not after sleeping for just three hours. 

“Jeez, Deku, what’s gotten into you?” 

“Morning Uraraka,” Deku said, trying to be somewhat normal at least. It wouldn’t do to have her worrying about him so much. She was looking at him with deep concern, eyebrows furrowed together with tight suspicion. 

“Did Bakugo say something nasty to you again?” she asked, sitting in a random chair and leaning closer to look at him properly. 

Oh no! She figured it out-

Calm down! 

“W-why would you say that?”

Damn it. Deku winced at the sound of his own voice. He was probably bright red, too. 

That wasn’t calm at all! 

“I’m just kidding! Wow Deku, you’re really out of it. I thought Bakugo hasn’t said anything mean in-”

“What are you talking about me for? Get out of my seat.”

Kacchan!

“Kacchan!”

“Morning Bakugo!” Uraraka said cheerfully, taking her time getting up. Her and Bakugo weren’t quite enemies and they had a lot of competitive respect for each other’s skill . . . but they weren’t quite friendly either. Deku stared at them both anxiously, sweating bullets and trying his hardest not to show it. Forget me, if we just get back to U.A. and they start fighting already, I don’t know-

But in the time it took him to even consider the possibilities, Uraraka had already sat down. 

Heartbeat settling into a calmer pace, Deku let out a small sigh of relief. One he hoped that no one heard. Actually, now that he thought about it, Kacchan didn’t look so good either. What was his problem? Even though he usually was pretty rumpled looking, it was worse than usual somehow. And his hands looked ready to break the writing utensil in his hand into a thousand pieces, tendons straining against his skin. 

All through class, Deku tried to focus, but it wasn’t like he didn’t always stare at the back of Bakugo’s head anyway. It wasn’t like there was much else to do besides taking notes. 

And as much as he liked U.A.’s mission to produce well rounded students, English just wasn’t his thing- or rather, he liked it just fine. But it wasn’t as interesting as Mr. Aizawa’s lectures on pro hero work, or improving their quirks. Deku scrubbed his eyes and renewed his focus. 

I knew things would be tough! Not every part of U.A. is going to be as exciting and as challenging. I can-

“Would’ya quit the muttering, Deku?”

Whoops. 

You sure do that a lot! I don’t understand what you’re saying, it’s too fast. Speak slower will you?

Deku shook his head to clear it. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

---

“Hey.”

“Todoroki!” Deku sat up too quickly and almost tipped over his chair. The look on his face was troubled, like it was during most of the serious conversations that they had. “Is something wrong?” he asked. 

Todoroki motioned for him to walk home- er, back to the dorms with him. 

“I’m not sure. Bakugo’s acting weird.”

You were actually really weird yesterday . . . so I brought you this. Don’t take it if you’re just going to think it’s dumb!

Bakugo had been his partner earlier this afternoon for some assignments. 

“I-”

“Talking about me again, Deku? Cut it out,” Kacchan said, suddenly coming up from behind them, with the words as his only warning as the gate came up. He made a point of slamming between Todoroki and Deku where there was barely any space, throwing Todorki off kilter. But that also left his other shoulder barely brushing up against Deku’s own. It wasn’t the hard impact he was expecting, more like a cat rubbing up against him. Todoroki raised his eyebrows in question once he was gone. The sunlight dappled his cheeks through the trees. 

“Yeah, I noticed too,” Deku sighed. “He’s been like that all morning. Do you know why?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

“Not really, sorry.”

Todoroki shrugged, inspecting Deku critically. “Ochako said you weren’t doing great either.”

“I just haven’t been sleeping much.”

“Haven’t we all?” Todoroki said, shaking his head. 

That reminded Deku of the fact that they’d all gone through some pretty traumatic things lately. Todoroki had been with them through the gas attack, the rescue, and even Iida if he went that far back . . . it made him feel even worse for his private crisis. 

I should be focused on any of those things. 

But he wasn’t. 

Deku nodded anyway. 

“But if you need something from us, you can always ask. I’m going to study in my dorm, but if you wanted to talk in private . . .”

His voice trailed off in question. Deku shook his head quickly. “This is nothing some sleep can’t solve!”

---

Why did I say that? I must have jinxed myself!

The clock read 3:00 A.M. 

Deku had done all his homework . . . for the next week and a half. 

Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. 

---

Deku glared at his food. It was really good. He should be really happy he got to eat it right then. 

But all he wanted to do was sleep. 

He must look as tired as Mr. Aizawa by now. 

The chair in front of him jerked out with a startling screech. Deku was so tried he only took note of the noise, but he didn’t react to it. Instead, he kept glaring at his pudding. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Deku? Even those friends of yours that hang around you like flies are worried about you.”

Flying quirks aren’t the only cool quirks! Right, Deku?

Iida had tried to extol the virtues of a nine hour rest during adolescence to him earlier. Deku was surprised Kacchan had noticed, much less cared. Much less come to him directly to talk to Deku himself. Glaring at his pudding, he decided he didn’t want to be having this conversation. It was the most his tired brain could do. 

“What’s your problem?” he shot back.

Kacchan didn’t even pause, his face calmly focused on Deku. Analyzing. The afternoon glow from outside caught his pale eyelashes in a way that would be incredibly flattering- like All Might’s signature smile- if it weren’t for Deku’s current state of mind. 

“I asked first.”

Me first, Deku! I helped you up remember? 

“I don’t have-”

“Spit it out, Deku, I don’t have all day.”

And then we can play out here, alllll day! What do you mean, you have to go home? What kind of doctor’s appointment? 

Are you sick? 

“Maybe I don’t-”

“Deku,” Kacchan said, in an angry voice. But he didn’t seem angry. His eyes were still fixed calmly ahead, red irises never wavering. 

“Ugh!” Deku finally cracked, head falling down to the table and narrowly pissing the pudding cup. The impact made a hollow thunk that reverberated his entire skull. “I’m tired! There! Are you- what are you doing?” Deku squinted at the cold surface of the can that bonked him in the head. He took it automatically, not understanding why Kacchan was giving it to him. 

“Because, you dumb ass, people drink coffee when they’re tired.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and maybe it was. It was hard to tell with all the fuzz in his brain from the lack of sleep. 

“Now stop freaking out our classmates, they keep asking me if I know what’s going on. Oh, and, get some sleep before you do something stupid.”

“Thanks?” he said. What had just happened?

Deku stared at the can a lot longer than after Kacchan’s footsteps had faded. 

The coffee tasted as bitter as his mood had been, and it did help. The rest of the day went by without him fighting every blink, and when he finally got to his bed, he fell into a blissful sleep for a whole twelve hours. 

The next morning, he was so happy that he completely forgot that he still didn’t know what was bothering Kacchan. 

And he didn’t get the opportunity to, because Kacchan was back to his seeming usual self a few days afterwards. 

---

“Leave the guy be Mina! He’s probably tired,” Kirishima’s rough but urgent whisper was the only one speaking on the bus, which was full of sleeping students. Deku squinted in the low morning light, sitting upright and almost jostling Iida- who he’d been using as a pillow. Wincing as he rolled the kinks out of his neck, he scanned the other students for the disturbance. 

Mina was hanging over her seat, one foot in the air as she tried to balance and use her phone to capture a photo of Kacchan’s face nestled against Kirishima’s shoulder. 

The sound of the camera going off was so loud it was practically a Detroit Smash to the quiet. 

Mina froze comically. 

Even Kirishima looked horrified, irate eyebrows shooting up as if to say, “See?”

The commotion even caused Aizawa to wake up himself. “Mina-”

“Delete that or I’ll kill you,” Kacchan said, voice guttural and rough with sleep. 

It was a bare moment of perfect silence before absolute chaos erupted. 

Ducking down into his seat, Deku narrowly avoided Momo’s arm as she stretched into wakefullness. Iida snapped to attention like Kacchan had set off some mysterious class rep instinct that something was going wrong. And the bus slowly filled with sounds of first talking, then shouting, gradually building in volume until finally- 

“Class 1-A!”

Deku let out a breath. 

“There will be no exiting our seats. That includes you Mina. And there will be no throwing other students. And stop shouting.”

Those were his last words before he zipped his sleeping bag shut once more. 

Iida was practically twitching. 

“I was having a nice nap, too!” Momo said mournfully. “How am I going to pass the time now?”

“But it’s cuuuute! No, don’t! Bakugo,” Mina’s harsh whisper signaled that the photo had been deleted. “Just kidding!” she declared brightly, “I backed it up to the cloud.”

“Mina, you idiot-” Kacchan said and sighed, cutting off his own whisper. 

“Actually, I thought that was pretty clever,” Kirishima said.

Deku coughed to cover his laugh. 

“What was that Midoriya?” Iida asked. 

“N-nothing! Nothing. Just something in my throat.”

Momo eyed him suspiciously, so he made a point of clearing his throat. 

---

When they got there, Deku decided to thank him for the other day. It seemed important, somehow. 

Kacchan noticed him hanging back behind him almost immediately, and signaled at Kirishima to go ahead without him with a hard jerk of his chin. 

“What do you want Deku?”

. . . Deku wasn’t sure how much his thanks would be appreciated, though. Running a hand over the back of his neck to calm his nerves, he figured he’d just have to hope for the best. 

“I just, uh, wanted to thank you for the other day-”

“You’re welcome, now screw off. Don’t keep All Might waiting.”

Was it just him, or did Kacchan say that last part differently than usual? 

Deku was about to ask- but Kacchan was already long gone, his figure swallowed up in the crowd of students. The only thing visible was his head and his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his uniform. 

---

Awhile later, while his face was being pressed firmly into the training ground’s hyper-realistic city black top by Kacchan’s shoe-

Well, Deku wondered if he should have seen this coming a long time ago. 

And that was true, he must have been a really bad friend.