Pairing: Xiao (Potion Permit) / Chemist; Xiao (Potion Permit) / Original Female Character
Current Word Count: 432 words
Rating: T
Summary:
She would drop by Town Hall first thing every morning, often for no reason other than to lean on the counter and wish him a good day. The summer sun blazes, but she is infinitely brighter. He loves her, he loves her.
[ A collection of non-chronological drabbles documenting the little moments in Xiao’s and the Chemist’s relationship. ]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: worst-kept secret
Pairing: Kaminari Denki/Kirishima Eijirou
Word Count: 1831 words
Rating: T
Summary: Eijirou’s Pokémon, filled with Eijirou’s love by proxy and an inability to understand the need for human subtlety, keep exposing Eijirou’s crush on Denki.
Or—
Pokémon AU where a widely accepted research finding states that Pokémon inherit their trainer’s emotions. Eijirou suffers.
That’s right, an entire day just for the red and yellow duo! What better way to celebrate the pairing we adore than to create some new content for them?
When? August 7, 2019!
We invite all our fellow KiriKami shippers to create a piece dedicated to celebrating the wonderful relationship they have and post it on their special day!
Be sure to tag your beautiful content with #KiriKamiDay so we can find it and enjoy <3
Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Help us get the word out to as many KrKm shippers as possible so we can all make their day great!
It’s not like Denki is jealous or anything. Jealousy is an emotion reserved for girlfriends seething over other girls flirting with their boyfriends. This exact scenario does not work at the moment because the blond male is merely watching Eijirou chat happily with an unimpressed Bakugou, who is currently treating him as though he were invisible.
Title: Paper Cranes
Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Kaminari Denki
Word Count: 1503 words
Rating: T
Summary: Denki’s latest love is origami. (Eijirou’s is Denki.)
AO3 link here!
Denki is a natural at almost every hobby he picks up. That much is fact.
Eijirou knows this very well, as he is fortunate enough to be present whenever his best friend tries something for the first time. Sometimes the experience is fairly distressing, like when Denki nyoomed by on his new inline skates and accidentally knocked Eijirou’s ice cream cone—R.I.P. Riot Rocky Road—but for the most part Eijirou finds himself so awed.
kirikami ; 768 words ; the universe fulfills its plans for denki. ao3 link here!
Denki awakens to a glowing, red string lying limply on his floor.
Groggy from his late night nap, he belatedly realizes that that glowing, red string is tied to his pinky finger in a neat bow.
“Hanta, you dick,” Denki mutters. He braces himself for a harsh tug on his pinky, and the inevitable rope burn, and his bro’s obnoxious laughter, but the string only continues to sit there. In the darkness of his room, it looks almost neon.
Denki sighs, moving to remove it from his fing—huh? Huh?
kirikami ; 682 words ; sometimes, confessions are just that easy. ao3 link here!
“Hey, Kami,” Eijirou calls, powering his handheld console off. He collapses backwards onto his pillows, starfish spreading on top of the covers. The action jostles Denki a little bit, but the blonde remains unbothered, bouncing along with the mattress’ recoil.
Denki adjusts his cross-legged sitting position to accommodate for the sprawled arms and legs. He blinks away from his phone screen to fix a lazy, questioning look unto Eijirou. Eijirou smirks at Denki’s slight disorientation, nudging his side with his knee to ground him back to Earth.
“I’ve always wanted to ask—you flirt with everyone in class, but I’ve never heard you mention an actual crush.”
“Ah, dude, I have one,” Denki responds, so easily that Eijirou regrets not asking sooner. “But he’s so out of my league, it’s not even funny. ‘S why I don’t talk about it.”
Title: kiss me, kiss me
Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Kaminari Denki
Word Count: 1837 words
Rating: T
Summary: Denki adopts the habit of smooching his close friends platonically. Most of them think it’s really cute. Eijirou thinks it’s torture.
AO3 link here!
One thing Eijirou has known for a long time now is that his weaknesses are: the limit to how much physical damage his Hardening can take, and Denki’s laugh.
It’s no surprise then that he looks up instinctively at the sound of Denki’s giggles, the blonde obviously tickled by something Hanta had said. So cute, Eijirou thinks.
Eijirou abandons the comic book in his hands to watch the two wrap up their conversation. He really should be more discreet, but they’re standing a fair ways away from his seat on the common room couch anyway, and Denki is just so adorable.
Especially when he leans up on his tiptoes to—to move closer to Hanta?
Oh—Denki is—Denki is kissing Hanta on the cheek.
Eijirou drops his comic book. He feels faint.
He barely registers Denki’s wave goodbye to both of them. Hanta turns to Eijirou with a grin on his face and probably some sly comment or other, but—Eijirou must look so heartbroken, considering how fast Hanta’s expression morphs into one of alarm.
“Dude, it’s not what you think!” he cries.
“It’s okay!” Eijirou reassures on reflex. “I’m happy for you two, man!” he exclaims, trying desperately to smile, even though he knows he isn’t being very convincing with his face all screwed up.
“It’s just his new habit,” Hanta waves his arms, the jerky motion of the tape dispensers in his elbows indicating his agitation. “He’s been in a kissy mood lately. But, like, platonically. Ei, I swear to you, we are not dating.”
“Didn’t seem very platonic to me,” Eijirou frowns. “Dude, honestly. If you two like each other, you can say so! I don’t mind!”
The look Hanta levels him with very plainly says that he doesn’t believe Eijirou and his pale, ashen face. “I do not like him that way. He does not like me that way. I promise. Bro’s honor.”
Eijirou tenses for another moment before deciding to fully trust in the bro-oath. He sags against the back of the couch, exhaling as the knot in his stomach unravels.
Hanta crosses the room in semi-large strides to sit next to Eijirou. “Aww, come on, Ei,” he laughs. “You know I’d never do that to you.”
“You’re a real bro, Hanta,” Eijirou sniffs, and Hanta slings an arm around his shoulders with a shit-eating smirk.
According to Hanta, Denki has had this habit of kissing his close friends for a few weeks now. Now that it’s been pointed out to him, Eijirou sees it all the time.
Last night during the class’s movie night, Denki had brushed his lips against Mina’s temple when she leaned against him. In between Hero Informatics and English today, Denki had pressed an absent-minded kiss to Mashirao’s tail as he played with it. Hell, Denki had just now pecked Katsuki’s forehead in the common room, snickering and dancing away as Katsuki’s face (and fists) exploded into color.
(Eijirou knows Bakugou “still-embarrassed-by-but-not-unwelcoming-of-affection” Katsuki well enough to recognize that the flush on his cheeks is due to shyness, not anger. Of course Kacchan likes it. Who wouldn’t like Denki’s kisses?)
Eijirou had never noticed before because, more often than not, he spends time with Denki one-on-one, and. Denki. Hasn’t. Kissed. Eijirou. Ever. Not once. And now that Eijirou knows of this new habit, that fact is all the more stark.
Some days, it feels like Denki will finally kiss him.
When they huddle together on Eijirou’s bed, curling under his leopard-print blanket and watching funny Vine compilations on Denki’s phone. When Denki rests his head on Eijirou’s lap as they watch a trashy reality show on the TV in the common room. When Eijirou helps wrap bandaids around the random, shallow cuts on Denki’s fingers after the latter does who knows what.
Always, and at some point, Denki will turn to look at him—soft and muted, but with an almost frightening intensity, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. To Eijirou that expression drips with so much fondness that Eijirou always finds himself so short of breath, blown away by his gorgeous best friend’s affection.
However, every moment disappears as fast as it comes, and Denki returns to laughing about a joke Eijirou doesn’t follow anymore.
Maybe Eijirou is only imagining.
Eijirou is emotional today.
Partly because of hero training—training always prompts these mini existential sessions where he ponders extensively about where he is now and how far he’s come and how much more ground he still has left to cover.
Mostly it’s because Denki had kissed Shouto on the cheek after their sparring match—left cheek, because it’s June and always rainy, and Denki gets cold easily.
Eijirou had thought Denki only kissed people he was close to, but now it seems that Denki kisses everyone but Eijirou. If Denki kisses Minoru next, Eijirou is going to scream.
Eijirou’s been a good boy throughout his U.A. career. He’s followed (most of) the rules. How could the universe be so cruel to torture him like this?
He pinches himself immediately, ashamed at that line of thinking. He’s being selfish, unfair—Denki doesn’t owe him anything.
It’s just—Eijirou just—just likes him. So much.
“He hates me, Mina,” he warbles, facedown on the sofa cushions after class. “Hates me.”
“Babe. Ei,” Mina coaxes from where she sits next to his head, mussing his limp hair as she pets it. “There’s no way he does. You’re best friends.”
“Oh yeah? Then how come I don’t get the same treatment as everyone else, huh? Maybe we aren’t really best friends. Maybe he, y’know, hates me.”
“Eijirou. Please. The boy is half in-love with you,” Mina rolls her eyes, her light exasperation evident. “Come on, sweetheart.”
“There’s no way he is! He hasn’t even half-kissed me!” Eijirou wails. He is slightly tempted to kick against the couch like a child throwing a tantrum, even if doing so isn’t very manly.
“Now you’re just not making any sense,” Mina sighs.
Oh god, something is happening.
He and Denki are slightly tipsy after a can or two of some kind of alcohol (they look like soda cans, so I got them in easy, Eiji!), leaning against each other and the side of Denki’s bed. They’ve just finished laughing about some pun Denki made, which Eijirou had already forgotten; his mind wipes out when Denki’s laughter dies down and the blonde looks at him that way.
It feels like all those other times, but also not like all those other times. Because this time, when Eijirou returns his gaze steadily, the both of them bathed in moonlight and loosened by the alcohol—Denki doesn’t flinch away.
Instead, he draws closer. Eijirou notes, with a hitch in his breath, how Denki’s gaze trains on Eijirou’s lips. Denki slowly presses his forehead against Eijirou’s, and Eijirou can barely think.
Denki lingers for a few good seconds, staring into Eijirou’s eyes. It’s unclear whether the pause is due to his general drunk incoordination or—or the something else that Eijirou has never dared hope for.
The boy is half in-love with you.
Eijirou holds his breath. Waiting, chest close to bursting. His heartbeat is about to hammer straight out of his ribcage.
Denki pulls back.
He smiles sleepily at Eijirou, like all is right in the world, slanted eyes droopy and chapped lips crooked in the way Eijirou loves most. Any other time Eijirou’s heart would have stuttered out of joy at that cute expression, but now his heart only feels like weeping.
“Denki,” he sobs, but quietly, so that he doesn’t disturb the dozing blonde on his shoulder.
Eijirou is usually a man of patience, but this needs to end.
“Why don’t you ever kiss me like you do the others?”
Denki looks up from his mug of hot chocolate, his expression flickering in surprise. They’re in Denki’s room again, seated on the carpet once more, except they’re sober. It’s raining heavily outside, and Denki is wearing the hoodie Eijirou accidentally left in his room. Eijirou can’t take it.
Denki quickly schools his expression. “Why? Do you want a kiss that bad?” he jokes, nudging Eijirou’s shoulder with his.
Even that small point of contact causes butterflies to erupt in his belly. Eijirou is so very done with pining uselessly.
“I do,” he says.
Denki’s smile drops off.
“All—all right then,” Denki swallows. The slight frown gives his mild panic away, but his eyes shine with determination. “W-where?” he asks, meeting Eijirou’s eyes so bravely.
(Eijirou hadn’t thought it possible to like Denki even more, but he should know by now that he will always be proven wrong.)
“Hmm,” Eijirou hums, the feigned nonchalance doing little to hide his overflowing adoration for this boy. He very carefully tugs Denki’s mug from him to put away to the side. Denki lets him, watching the events unfold in borderline awe.
“How about,” Eijirou whispers. “Here?”
Eijirou finally, finally kisses Denki.
Denki’s lips are soft and taste like hot cocoa, and when he kisses back with fervor it’s everything Eijirou could ever want. When he pulls Denki closer, gripping the jacket fabric on the other’s hips, Eijirou does mental gymnastics; mainly, he expands his list of weaknesses to include Denki’s lips, Denki’s little sounds from those lips, Denki’s hands cradling his face, Denki’s fluttering eyelids. Everything Denki.
They break apart for air eventually. “I didn’t kiss you because it’s different with you,” Denki confesses, breathing heavily as he leans his forehead against Eijirou’s. The action alone reminds Eijirou of the night Denki almost kissed him, but things are the best kind of different right now. “I—I like you so much, Ei. It could have never been just platonic for me.”
“And now?” Eijirou murmurs. He dips down to press a soft kiss to Denki’s jaw, letting his tingling mouth rest on warm skin.
“Now I’m hoping you’d let me kiss you all the time,” Denki grins, lopsided, his lips pink and plump, and wow, Eijirou cannot let those lips go unkissed for another moment longer. It’d be a crime to. And after all, he’s always been a good boy.
“Denki, where’s my kiss,” Hanta teases one day when Denki drops by to return a video game.
“C’mere, bro, I’ll kiss you,” Eijirou pipes up instead, making grabby hands and pulling an exaggerated puckered face as he approaches Hanta from one side. Denki giggles at his silly boyfriend and joins in, trapping Hanta on the other side.
“Huh,” Hanta drawls before he comes to the sudden realization. “Hey, w-wait!” he exclaims, squeezing his eyes tight, just in time to receive two very wet smooches on both cheeks.
“You guys are insane,” Hanta whines, “freakin’ lovebirds.”
“Truly,” Eijirou smirks, before pulling Denki to him once more. Ignoring Hanta’s exasperated groans, Eijirou leans in to capture Denki’s breathtaking smile with his own.
Denki laughs into the kiss, giddy and so sweet against Eijirou’s lips. In the end, Eijirou can only be absolutely, hopelessly smitten.
kirikami; 978 words; kirishima is weak to kaminari borrowing his hoodies. ao3 link here!
In the beginning of June, when Japan is more often than not soaked with rain, Kaminari picks up the habit of wearing large hoodies over his blazer.
It should be a breach of uniform, but the teachers seem to be looking past it—this year’s monsoon season is especially bad, after all, and Aizawa Sensei isn’t so nitpicky as to chastise a student for wearing an extra layer.
Naturally, Midoriya’s first instinct is to take notes on this new development, muttering to himself all the while.
To emit that much electricity consistently and without threat of death, Kaminari must have a very different physical makeup. The rain could be having an abnormal effect on his body. The ions in the air may be changing behavior due to the added variable of humidity and/or precipitation. Could that phenomenon be causing an imbalance in his body’s natural electric charge and in turn cause his thermoregulation to malfunction?
“Midoriya,” Kaminari laughs when he overhears some of his rambling. “Dude, I just get cold easily.”
Midoriya immediately stops, a sheepish grin on his face.
The pause in his train of thought doesn’t last for very long when he sees Kirishima sling an arm around Kaminari’s shoulders, quite possibly in response to his boyfriend’s laughter. The fabric bunches up where Kirishima touches him and gives Kaminari’s frame an illusion of bulkiness.
Aside from the rain’s effect on Kaminari’s body temperature, there’s also the question of how Kaminari had been able to procure a sizable number of hoodies in a short amount of time. Since our class rarely goes out to shop during our free periods, it is probably safe to assume that he borrows at least some of them from someone else — most likely Kirishima. That’s what boyfriends do, right? Not that I would know, exactly, but according to my observations Kirishima and Kaminari do share most, if not everything, including saliva—
WOAH, Midoriya jerks suddenly. Bad! His brain is not supposed to go there! His classmates would think him a pervert if they catch him blushing out of nowhere!
He puts his Hero Analysis for the Future notebook away with a lot of noise, avoiding Kacchan’s angry but admittedly curious stare.
Later in the day, Midoriya calms down enough to realize that guessing whose hoodie Kaminari wears on a particular day may prove to be a fun logic exercise.
Mostly because it is quite difficult to tell who owns what. Kaminari’s room is eclectic while Kirishima’s fashion sense is eccentric, so designs like abstract hot sauce bottles and corgis wearing sushi costumes are anyone’s guess.
Today, Kaminari wears a hoodie with a leopard pattern so obnoxious that Sensei might just call it out in class today.
“Kaminari-kun,” Midoriya calls as Kaminari waddles by, a barnacle named Kirishima sticking to his backside. He appears to be cooing in Kaminari’s ear and squeezing his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. Kaminari is unfazed, turning to look at Midoriya as if Kirishima isn’t breathing into his nape.
“Is that your hoodie, Kaminari-kun?”
“Oh! No, it’s Eiji’s. I copped it this morning.”
Kirishima’s answering grin is smug.
For the next few days, Midoriya routinely asks “whose hoodie?” and Kaminari answers without fail. If Kaminari is curious at all about the sudden survey question every day, he doesn’t show it, always just smiling at Midoriya in his bemused but trusting way.
Of course, Kirishima catches on to Midoriya’s research as well. He even approaches Midoriya without prompting, yelling, “Denki is wearing my hoodie today!” any time Kirishima happens to remember. Midoriya constantly has to smother a laugh at how adorable an eager Kirishima is, especially when he stresses “my hoodie.”
Oh! Oh.
Midoriya jots his conclusion in red marker.
At lunch, Kaminari and Kirishima squeeze themselves next to Iida at Midoriya’s usual table.
“By the way, Midoriya,” Kirishima chirps, his entire right side glued to Kaminari’s left. “Denki is wearing my hoodie today!”
Kaminari is wearing a red hoodie with a Crimson Riot decal emblazoned in front. Midoriya is pretty sure anyone can guess that it’s Kirishima’s. “Yes, I know,” Midoriya giggles, suddenly reminded of an excited toddler.
“Okay, I’ve tried to be patient,” Kaminari smacks his hands against the table. “Please tell us what your research is about, Dr. Midoriya! I’ve been dying to know!”
Kirishima not-so-discreetly sneaks a hand around Kaminari’s waist as the latter leans forward to flash his best, most ridiculous puppy-eyes at Midoriya.
These two are so amusing, to say the least. “I was trying to see if I could correctly guess whose hoodie you wear on a given day, based on what I know about your styles,” Midoriya explains. “I gave the game up after a while because I figured out the pattern.
“Whenever you wear Kirishima-kun’s, he’s, uh, extra affectionate that day.”
“Hey,” Kirishima pipes up. “If you’re trying to say I’m clingy, I’m not,” he protests. He lifts an apple slice from his lunch plate and brings it close to Kaminari’s mouth, apparently unable to prove a point.
Denki bites the the offered fruit. “I don’t know, babe,” he hums, chewing and swallowing the piece. “I like it when you’re clingy though.”
Kirishima gasps. “Babe!” he exclaims, ever earnest with a genuine twinkle in his eye. “I’ll be the clingiest for you, babe!” he gushes, throwing his arms around the lithe frame and nuzzling his face in Kaminari’s neck. Kaminari almost topples to the side with Kirishima’s unknowing strength, but he holds his ground.
“Thanks, Midoriya,” Kaminari grins as a pleased flush rises on his cheeks. He lets Kirishima rub against him like a cat. “I think you just made my day—and his.”
Midoriya laughs, warmed by their easy intimacy and how they unabashedly share that affection with him, as well as the rest of the class. “Thank you, Kaminari-kun,” Midoriya beams, mentally closing the chapter on his research.
kirikami; 992 words; kirishima loves to spoon kaminari. ao3 link here!
“Kaminari-kun? Are you here?” Momo calls as she approaches the common room. It’s a slow Sunday for all of them—not much in the way of schoolwork (or villain incidents, thank god)—so she supposes that now is a good time as any to conduct one of their informal, monthly book discussions.
In the past, Momo hadn’t been the biggest fan of novels, traditionally preferring the textbooks and encyclopedias that augment her quirk use. However, she cannot deny that poring over such heavy material day in and day out is mind-numbing, even with her impressive brain—a confession that she let slip during a tea break with Kaminari. Kaminari’s enthusiasm had been infectious as he recommended his favorite fictions (they’ll stimulate your brain in a different way, Yaomomo!), and the rest was history.
(Sometimes, someone will comment on her ‘unusual’ friendship with Kaminari, wondering what Top 1 and Top 20 could possibly talk about. Momo always makes it a point to correct this false bias against her friend. Kaminari is a quick study, more so than some of their classmates; he just tends to devote a lot more time to subjects he is interested in, like English and Literature.)
“Over here, Yaomomo!” Kaminari responds. Momo sees an arm stick up from the couch, its back obscuring the rest of Kaminari’s body. She bustles towards the center of the room, stepping around the couch Kaminari is presumably sprawled on.
“Hello, Kaminari-kun, I—oh my goodness!” she squeaks, covering her eyes in reflex.
“Hm? Is something wrong?” Kaminari inquires as he sets his book down on the coffee table with his free arm. Behind him, his front to Kaminari’s back, Kirishima snoozes against Kaminari’s hair, one arm thrown over the blonde’s stomach. Momo believes the proper term is spooning.
“We’re fully clothed,” Kaminari weakly jokes, trying to ease Momo’s sudden tension. Momo removes her hands from her face as she flushes at her silly actions. There is nothing wrong—she just isn’t very accustomed to public displays of affection, since her parents aren’t very forthcoming themselves.
“I—I wanted to see if you would like to discuss Of Mice and Men,” she stutters, fanning her flaming cheeks. “But I can come back later if you’re... busy.”
“Oh, I’m not! I’m always happy to talk about books with you, Yaomomo!” Kaminari exclaims. He smiles gently afterward, patting the hand around his midsection in gesture. “If this makes you uncomfortable, the two of us can move somewhere else. It’s not a big deal.”
Momo immediately shakes her head in dismissal. That wouldn’t be fair on Kaminari when Momo was the one who sought him out. The last thing she would want to do is inconvenience Kaminari in any way, especially when he (and by extension, Kirishima) looks this comfortable.
Gingerly, she sets herself on the sturdy coffee table as she wills the last of her blush to dissipate. “Won’t he wake up if we engage in conversation?” she frets.
“Nah,” Kaminari reassures, stretching as much as he can without jabbing Kirishima in the face. “He sleeps like a log, so don’t worry,” he laughs. Kaminari’s tone is clearly appreciative of her consideration, which causes Momo to feel a little embarrassed. She shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such gratitude for making a minor concession, even if she did have to step out of her comfort zone a bit.
Kaminari turns to lie on his stomach and props an arm under his chin. “All right,” he declares. “I can’t be the only one who cried at that ending.”
Kirishima rouses of his own accord about an hour later, furrowed eyebrows suggesting his confusion at the lack of blonde hair in front of his face. He vaguely registers Momo’s presence and the rapid snippets of conversation in the background. Realizing that Kaminari has migrated to sitting upright, Kirishima drags himself upward as well.
“What are we talking about?” he asks blearily, resting his chin on Kaminari’s shoulder as he embraces him from behind.
“Good morning to you, too, Sleeping Beauty,” Kaminari teases.
“We are discussing Steinbeck’s masterful grasp of the tragedy genre and his clever approach to conveying powerful feelings of grief. His work really is quite unprecedented for its time period,” Momo gushes, unconsciously clasping her hands together.
Kirishima blinks. Clearly his brain is taking its time to catch up with his surroundings. “Smart kids,” Kirishima yawns, leaning his head against Kaminari’s cheek. Kaminari grins fondly, reaching up to run a gentle hand through Kirishima’s limp hair.
“Would you like to borrow a copy sometime, Kirishima-kun?” Momo offers.
“Denki is the bookworm between us,” Kirishima laughs, sheepish. “But I appreciate it, Momo-san.”
“I’ll read twice the amount for us, Yaomomo!” Kaminari proclaims, thumping a fist against his chest.
Momo giggles while Kirishima tries to smother a sappy simper in Kaminari’s shoulder.
“I’m sure you will,” Momo indulges. “Anyway, it is my turn to recommend a new novel for you. I’ll drop by your room later today to lend it to you,” she promises, rising to her feet. Kaminari looks on from his spot on the couch, his eyes crinkling in affection.
“Thanks, Yaomomo. I’m honestly so glad I get to do this with you! This is so fun!”
Momo is glad, too, flushing once again but for an entirely different reason now. She takes a moment to absorb Kaminari’s million-watt smile, along with Kirishima’s sleepy, content expression, and thinks about how grateful she is to have developed such wonderful friendships.
“It is entirely my pleasure, Kaminari-kun,” she says, beaming.
kirikami; 998 words; kaminari waits for kirishima to come home. ao3 link here!
Tokoyami is quite surprised to see Kaminari in the common room at this very late hour.
“Oh, Tokoyami,” Kaminari exclaims, looking up from the television. At a first glance, his body language appears relaxed—both arms resting on the back of the couch, one leg propped up on the cushions—but his shoulders are rigid, as if he is preparing to bolt at the first sign of danger.
“I apologize for the intrusion,” Tokoyami hums. “Dark Shadow is oftentimes restless at night.” On cue, Dark Shadow emerges with an “ayuh!” and dives for the remote control at Kaminari’s side.
Before Tokoyami can reprimand Dark Shadow, Kaminari grins at him, placating. He waves Tokoyami over, scooting to one end of the couch in invitation.
They sit in silence as they watch Dark Shadow flick through the channels before finally settling on a B-grade horror movie. With a small snicker, Kaminari discharges the tiniest bit, just enough to cause the screen to flicker and switch channels. Dark Shadow squawks in confusion, frantically beating buttons on the remote control. Tokoyami tries to suppress a chuckle so that he doesn’t clue Dark Shadow in—Dark Shadow is extra sensitive to him, after all.
Kaminari shares a smug grin with him, and that’s when Tokoyami notices the tense set of his mouth, slightly masked by his trademark mischievousness. That, in addition to the stiff posture, is worrying, to say the least.
“If I may ask,” Tokoyami begins, “is everything all right, Kaminari-kun?”
Kaminari blinks. “Yeah,” he says, smile smaller now but genuine. “I’m just waiting for Ei to get home.”
Tokoyami nods. “He is at his work-study, correct?”
“Yeah. Most days he gets home at a reasonable time, but sometimes his shift runs over and he doesn’t come back until later.” Kaminari gives Tokoyami a particularly weighty look at that—they all know it, of course. The unspoken rule of thumb in the hero industry: any cause for running overtime is almost always a dangerous affair.
Tokoyami winces in sympathy.
“Still,” Tokoyami says. “You are very dedicated, waiting up for him.”
Kaminari beams appreciatively. “Well, I’m glad you think so. Ei wants me to be more ‘dedicated’ to sleeping,” Kaminari laughs, before sobering. “I don’t mind at all, though. I won’t be able to sleep anyway, not knowing how he’s doing.”
Tokoyami inclines his head, and their conversation trails off. For a good while, the only sounds in the room are the cheap screams from the television and Dark Shadow’s occasional pleased noise.
After about half an hour, Kaminari suddenly rises, his eyes zeroed in on the door. “Ei,” he blurts. Tokoyami watches him, catching a glimpse of his expression. Even to the casual observer, the clenched jaw, pinched eyebrows, and harsh downturn of Kaminari’s lips easily hint at Kaminari’s anxiousness returning in full force.
Kirishima comes into view then in his rumpled uniform, appearing slightly worse for wear. Tokoyami can see blooming bruises on his face from where the face guard had presumably dug into his skin. Kaminari skitters forward, his hands automatically coming up to cradle Kirishima’s face when he gets close enough.
Kirishima looks one part appreciative and two parts apologetic as he rests a hand on Kaminari’s hip, holding still to let Kaminari inspect the marks on his face. It hadn’t been too bad—just a scuffle with a gang member—and first aid had already treated most of the marks. Still, Kaminari looks close to tears as he chews on his bottom lip. Truthfully, Tokoyami has never seen either of them quite so silent, what with Kaminari unconsciously holding his breath and Kirishima gazing very intently at Kaminari.
Kaminari pounds a soft fist against Kirishima’s chest after investigating, sighing at the same time. He wraps his arms around the other’s neck, and Kirishima returns the embrace immediately.
“You have to stop scaring me like this,” Kaminari whines quietly.
Tokoyami imagines that first-year Kirishima would have exclaimed, “Come on, Kaminari, this is what being a hero is all about!” But they’re second-year students now, and for better or worse they’ve experienced true fear—fear of getting hurt, for one, but more so fear of losing someone precious.
So Kirishima simply murmurs, “I know, Denki. I’m sorry.”
Not wanting to intrude on a vulnerable moment and noting that Dark Shadow has been lulled enough for them to return to Tokoyami’s room, Tokoyami switches the television off. He clears his throat.
“Have a good night, you two,” he calls, already shuffling towards the elevators. Dark Shadow follows him out. “I’m glad you got back safe, Kirishima-kun.”
Kirishima replies with a “thank you!” while Denki bids good night, his words muffled in Kirishima’s shoulder.
Ever since the training camp incident, when his own quirk’s rampage had almost cost the lives of his closest friends, Tokoyami had vowed to become stronger.
Tonight, after such a timely reminder of the very real danger that comes with their line of work, that resolve only grows.
And it’s not just a personal goal. Not when he sees Kaminari losing sleep, wondering when or if the man he loves will return. Not when Shoji had risked everything to bring Tokoyami to safety, even as he dripped blood from a wound Dark Shadow, and indirectly Tokoyami, caused.
It stopped being just personal ever since.
Just as he climbs into bed, Dark Shadow pops up in his line of sight.
“You turned away, Fumikage,” Dark Shadow chirps, “but those two guys put their mouths together, like this.” It motions with its claws, bumping the tips together in a loose demonstration. “Is it some kind of fighting technique?”
Tokoyami reaches out to pet Dark Shadow briefly on the head. It can be cute sometimes, too, like a child. (Of darkness.) At the end of the day, and despite everything, Tokoyami can be quite fond of Dark Shadow.
To an extent, he takes care of it, too. It gives Tokoyami all the more reason to work hard.
“Rest, Dark Shadow.”
“Aye,” Dark Shadow replies, receding for the night.
my hands are tired of only waiting to let go | after all, Denki thinks, everyone is a rebound when you never get over your first love. | a mix for my fic of the same title (ao3) | [8tracks] [spotify]
1. Snow - Jome / what if we lived in the same town? / what would have happened then? / I can see you in your winter gloves / wishing that I never left // “the right person, the wrong time”
2. Parallel Universe - Clara Benin / in a parallel universe / everything in reverse / maybe you could be mine // “the wrong person, the right time”
3. Grime - Linying / you’re not in love with me, babe / I’m choking up across a line / I’m sorry that it’s so surprising / I wanted you to see me shining // “I’m saying that I’m sorry. For not being enough. For realizing so late that I could never deserve you.”
4. For the Fickle - Reese Lansangan / all my life has been about / waiting for people to go / but all I want is steady love // “Because the alternative—convincing himself that he could be loved in equal, immense magnitude—never seemed attainable.”
5. would you - Talitha / I will be / everything you need, that you need from me / won’t you hold me closer, my love // “I’d do anything for you, Denki. I’d give you the world if I could.”
6. We’ll Be Okay - Imaginary Future, Kina Grannis / you’re amazing, and you have me / even if we somehow lose our way / we’ll be okay // “I’ll be better, Denki. I’ll show you how loved you are, how important.”
7. Crystalline - Jome / love, stay patient / baby, everything takes time / the ending will be worth the waiting / soon it will be crystalline // “Denki allows his eyes to close, halfway to sleep and partway to believing.”
8. Love Me - Yiruma // to healing, and the after.
kirikami; 1047 words; kaminari loves to brush kirishima’s hair. ao3 link here!
“Kiriii,” Mina singsongs, skipping out of the elevator and onto the fourth floor of the dorms. It’s Friday afternoon and her classmates are most definitely not asleep or studying, so she lets her voice ring in the hallway. She makes a beeline for Kirishima’s room, noting the door blown wide open.
“Kiri, have you seen Kami? I can’t find your boyfr—oh!”
Mina soon comes face-to-face with a lazy Kirishima seated on his bed, the latter beaming at her with drowsy, half-lidded eyes. His normally spiked hair is unstyled, slightly wet, and hanging around his face. Peeking out from behind him, Kaminari waves with the hand holding a hairbrush, his legs splayed and loosely caging Kirishima’s body.
“Woah, Kiri,” Mina gasps, rushing to sit in front of them as Kaminari’s hands return to his boyfriend’s hair. “You’re like a cat!”
Indeed, Kirishima is—fresh from the shower, perched in essentially Kaminari’s lap, and wearing a constant, dopey smile on his face as Kaminari combs-slash-pets his hair. It definitely looks like he is being groomed. Mina swears she can hear him purr in delight.
“A big ol’ kitty,” Kaminari agrees as he gently works through a knot.
“I can’t help it! It just feels so good,” Kirishima groans. His voice edges on a moan, a sound that Mina would have probably misconstrued if she had just been listening from the hallway.
Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Uh, wow, if you guys are up to some weird stuff in here, you should probably close the door,” she jokes. “People can see.”
Kaminari pauses to point the brush at her. “I’m disappointed, Mina,” Kaminari sighs, a stern look on his face. “You should already know that we’re into that.”
Mina shrieks, her loud peals of laughter causing Kaminari to grin and break character quickly. Even Kirishima, in his trance-like state, snickers. Mina is honestly so glad that Kaminari never backs down from any of her challenges, and even more glad that she and Kaminari are friends.
“Sorry, Mina, give me five minutes? Just going to finish sorting this guy’s hair out,” Kaminari says, reaching up to scratch the crown of Kirishima’s head lightly. Kirishima hums his approval and closes his eyes completely, his face the picture of serenity.
Mina notes the stark similarities between Kirishima and the monk statues at her neighborhood’s shrine.
Kaminari and Mina catch up on the latest gossip, effortlessly talking over the Kirishima-like cat in between them. Kirishima doesn’t seem bothered by it at all.
In fact, he is so relaxed that with every soft tug of the brush on his hair, Kirishima leans further and further backwards, as if pulled by gravity.
Inevitably, Kirishima falls back completely to settle his full weight on Kaminari, pillowing his head on Kaminari’s shoulder and rubbing against the blonde’s shirt with his cheek. Kaminari chuckles, knowing full well that the sudden affection signals the end of their hairbrushing session.
“You’re always so lethargic after,” Kaminari comments, dropping a quick kiss on his forehead. “Come on, lie down.”
“Denki, nap with me,” Kirishima whines, sliding an arm around Kaminari to hold him in place.
“No, you big baby,” Kaminari laughs, jostling Kirishima a little. “I promised I’d get ice cream with Mina.”
“You can come, too,” Mina offers.
Kirishima pouts and snuggles in further. “But I’m sleepy.”
“So sleep. I’ll bring you back your favorite milkshake, promise,” Kaminari bribes.
Kirishima opens his mouth like he wants to protest, but closes it just as quickly. Mina can envision the gears turning in his head as he comes to the decision that a milkshake at dinner time is worth the few hours without Kaminari. He still sighs for good measure though, acting as put-upon as he can as he lets Kaminari wrangle him under the covers.
He yawns once he’s settled, and Mina can’t help it—Kirishima is a big baby after all, who knew—she pinches Kirishima's cheek, cooing.
“Man, Kiri has come such a long way from middle school,” Mina muses. It’s warm and sunny out, so she and Kaminari take their time as they walk to the ice cream parlor twenty minutes away.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He barely smiled when I knew him. He always had this sad look on his face.” If Mina had met Kirishima in high school, so boisterous and cheerful and brave, she would have never guessed that at some point such a kid had been so miserable. But she had seen it for herself firsthand. “I’m really glad that’s not the case so much anymore.”
Kaminari smiles. “He talks quite a bit about you, you know?” he hums, nudging her shoulder with his.
“Oh?”
“Mhm! I know a bit about his past from what he’s told me—Eiji’s really grateful to you for inspiring him.” Kaminari’s intonation is playful, but anyone who has known Kaminari for five minutes (and Mina has known Kaminari for many five-minutes) can easily tell that his tone is kind and overwhelmingly fond.
Mina feels quite blessed at the moment to share in that fondness. “Wow, you’ll make a girl blush, Denks,” she giggles, fanning herself in mock coyness.
“That’s the intention,” Kaminari laughs. Mina catches his eyes softening in the way they usually do when he thinks about Kirishima in any capacity.
“Seriously, though. Thanks for looking out for the love of my life, Mina,” he murmurs.
It’s probably some kind of irony, that Kaminari—Kirishima’s closest confidante and soulmate, a man who glows at the mere mention of Kirishima—is thanking her for something she didn’t even consciously do for Kirishima.
She recalls the present-day redhead, sleeping in his bed after Kaminari had so carefully taken care of his hair. Childlike, loose-limbed, but most importantly, at peace.
Kami, you're so good for him. You’re the light of his life. There is no one I could trust more with Kiri's heart.
“If you wanna thank me, treat me to the All Might Banana Split Deluxe today,” she crows. She hooks his arm in his, lightly squeezing his bicep to the tune of his good-natured groans.
God, she adores them. Someday, she’ll show them both how far she would go to support them and their relationship—they make each other so happy, after all.
She can’t wait for a love like theirs in the future.
kirikami; 1172 words; eijirou meets kaminari during the entrance exam in the most interesting way possible. ao3 link here!
They placed the U.A. applicants in some kind of waiting room before the practical portion of the exam. Eijirou is very nervous—after all, U.A. is the dream, the stepping stone that he needs to develop into the person and hero he aspires to be. He wills himself to sit still on one of the provided couches, though he can’t help but fidget with his fingers.
He figures the rest of the kids are most likely similar to him, both in terms of goals and current levels of anxiety; it’s no surprise then that everyone in that waiting room is doing their best to dispel their agitation. Some are meditating a few feet away from Eijirou while some are pacing the length of the room, wearing the flooring down.
There’s one guy in the corner—blonde hair with black streaks on one side, slanted eyes, overall quite cute—who looks, in one word, frazzled. He’s seated on the floor, fiddling with a charger in his hands before seemingly making a decision and shoving the adapter into the wall socket. Just as Eijirou muses about how strange it is that he would be charging his phone right before an exam that didn’t require it, this guy licks his lips and—
Sticks the other end of the charger right into his mouth.
Eijirou is up and running before he can even think about it.
“No!” he shouts, tackling the smaller boy to the ground. If he had been paying attention, he would have been embarrassed by the number of stares he attracted from the rest of the applicants. As it is, his only concern at the moment is the blonde lying beneath him, staring at him with wide, confused eyes.
Eijirou doesn’t even register their bodily contact as he leans over him, using his arms to bracket the boy’s head. Their faces are only inches apart, close enough to kiss; a fact that completely escapes Kirishima.
“Don’t do that, man! You’ll electrocute yourself!” he scolds, panicked and concerned, especially now that the other boy’s face has begun to turn quite red.
“That’s... kind of the point?” the blonde trails off. Some measure of understanding dawns on his face now as he tries not to look at the redhead’s lips.
Eijirou whimpers at the scary admission. “Dude,” he asserts, pinning the other boy with his tender gaze. “You’re going to be just fine. I swear it! Please don’t try to die! I’m here for you!”
Eijirou doesn’t really know where that last bit came from (he doesn’t even know the guy’s name!) but damn if he doesn’t do everything in his power to rescue him.
Suddenly, Eijirou feels a small, static shock on his side, which causes him to startle. He realizes that the blonde has lifted an arm to press his hand lightly against his torso.
“Pffft,” the other giggles. “Bro, my quirk is an electric type. I was just, ah, charging up, so to speak.” The blush has receded, leaving an amused smirk in its place. He keeps his fingers on Eijirou’s side even though he has no real reason to, anymore.
Now it’s Eijirou’s turn to feel his face heat up. “Oh, um,” he stutters, quickly drawing back and sitting on his knees. As the blonde sits up, still so amused, Eijirou notices that the black streaks in the former’s hair is actually in the shape of a lightning bolt. A lightning bolt.
Truthfully, he feels really dumb right now.
“Hey,” the blonde’s grin softens into a smile, and Eijirou’s heart skips. “You’re sweet though, really. My hero.”
The words are a touch teasing, but overall sincere and gentle and it messes Eijirou’s brain up. “I’m really sorry,” Eijirou blurts through the drumming in his ears. He thanks the one lucky star he has that the instructor chooses that very moment to announce the beginning of the test.
Let it be known that the teachers commended Eijirou’s enthusiasm, not only during the exam, but also before it, when he had sprinted outside of the waiting room as fast he could.
Few things in Eijirou’s life have ever been that mortifying, but no matter; he had received his acceptance letter to the prestigious U.A., and he is well on his way now to becoming a hero. He can finally look forward to a fresh start, and—
OH GOD, THE CUTE BLONDE BOY IS IN HIS CLASS.
And—and sitting in front of him, too? Why? Why did Eijirou only have that one lucky star?
Well, he tries to rationalize as he slides into his assigned seat, idly observing the kid socializing with his new classmates. I dyed my hair as soon as I got the acceptance letter and did my hair this morning. Maybe he won’t recognize me.
Of course, Eijirou should have known he could not have such luck.
“Hi, hero,” Kaminari (which Eijirou just learned through roll call) chirps, almost coy as he turns in his seat to address Eijirou. Eijirou freezes in his chair, suddenly forgetting that he totally had plans to go for lunch.
“Wha— H—how?!” he exclaims, pounding a fist against his desk in embarrassment. “I changed my look completely!”
Kaminari leans as much as he could over the back of his chair and gets up in Eijirou’s face. Eijirou flushes a deep red but doesn’t move, lest he do something ungraceful.
“You think I’d ever forget those red eyes? Or that blush?” Kaminari teases, grinning at Eijirou. “As if I’d ever forget the one guy who calmed me down before the exam.”
Ah.
Something warm floods into Eijirou’s chest, and he forgets about his previous humiliation for a second. Kaminari’s tone is just as soft as it was back then, just as thankful. Eijirou had berated himself endlessly for jumping to conclusions so quickly and even causing bodily harm (which he’ll apologize for properly later), but maybe—
Maybe his actions weren’t so bad, if they indirectly brought Kaminari to U.A., to his class. If they got Kaminari to call him “hero,” both in jest and in gratitude. If they brought this smile to Kaminari’s face.
“Come on, hero,” Kaminari stands, the apples of his cheeks pink. He fearlessly hooks his arm with Eijirou’s as he drags him upwards from his chair. “Let’s get lunch! If you don’t come with me, I might find some way to electrocute myself, you know!”
The jab is playful but kind, a theme Eijirou is now beginning to associate with Kaminari. Eijirou finally releases a breath, letting his awkwardness and shame wash away. Just as he did in the beginning, he resolves to focus on his fresh start, which is looking that much brighter now with an electric blonde clinging to his arm.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, huh,” Eijirou grins, mock-resigned, as he lets Kaminari lead the way to the cafeteria. “You’re cruel, man.”
“You’ll learn to love me eventually,” Kaminari laughs, brilliant as lightning.
kirikami; 1462 words; denki’s deep-seated insecurities cause him to question his and eijirou’s relationship. ao3 link here!
Denki can recognize that shock of ash blonde hair anywhere.
Of course, Eijirou can, too.
“What are you doing here?” Denki asks, the anxiety turning his inquiry into an almost-demand. He hears the slight hitch in Eijirou’s breath, too loud in his ear.
Denki just barely manages to conceal a stutter. He’s scared.
Eijirou’s hand slips from his in shock, and Denki’s fingers clench around empty air. He feels the sharp, abrupt loss. Keenly.
Denki is so scared.
Bakugou doesn’t seem to notice his despair at all. “I moved here a couple of weeks ago,” Bakugou intones, distracted, his stare flickering between both Eijirou and Denki. Ultimately, his gaze lands squarely on Eijirou, eyes narrowing. It’s just as intense as Denki remembers. Eijirou used to say it made him shiver.
From the corner of his eye, Denki can see Eijirou swallow.
“I,” Denki blurts, “I need to go. I’ll—I’ll let you two—catch up.” It’s not much of an excuse, he’s aware, and his voice is shaking now, fuck, but—but, despite him being a very apparent, very nervous wreck, they don’t pay him any mind.
It’s like he isn’t even there.
Denki leaves, irrationally ashamed.
(But because he can’t help it, he looks back at Eijirou before he makes his escape. He and Bakugou are just looking into each other’s eyes at this point. Eijirou’s expression is turbulent.
He doesn’t call out to Denki. It’s all the confirmation Denki needs.)
Bakugou will be living in this town in the foreseeable future, which means that Denki’s days of dating Eijirou are over.
Denki knows. He had been there during the breakup, had cradled Eijirou in his arms while the latter was near hysterical with heartbreak. The right person, the wrong time, Eijirou kept saying. He’d pressed his face against Denki’s collarbone and cursed distance and the universe, while Denki could only hold tight.
Now, nothing can stop them from being together. Not even Denki. He will be kicked promptly and firmly out of the picture.
Denki knows. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he always has. Denki is a rebound even if Eijirou himself didn’t realize it or mean for him to be. After all, Denki thinks, everyone is a rebound when you never get over your first love.
It’s glaringly obvious, then. That any relationship he got to have with Eijirou could only be temporary. That, in the end, there could be no doubt that Eijirou will leave him. That he could never, not even in his wildest dreams, keep someone as lovely and as breathtaking as Eijirou and expect it to last.
Eijirou hadn’t chosen him then, and he sure as hell won’t choose him now.
Denki knows. All of it, from the beginning. He was the wrong person who happened to be there at the right time. But, for as long as he can remember, Denki has loved Eijirou so fiercely. He had craved for the opportunity to cherish openly, to touch and to treasure without restraint, even if it meant getting hurt in the end.
Denki knows. He didn’t listen.
Maybe Denki is as stupid as they say.
Hours after, Eijirou asks to come over. Denki drags himself out of bed, smiling wryly to himself. He can always trust Eijirou to be a man of honor—someone who would do the right thing and break up with his boyfriend first before fooling around with anyone else. Denki can be grateful for small blessings.
They sit on Denki’s worn couch, Denki scooting about half an arm’s length away. Eijirou doesn’t seem to notice, the look on his face pensive and uneasy as he hunches forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I’m really sorry I ditched you,” Eijirou begins. “I was just so surprised to see him after all this time. We talked for a while.”
Denki draws his legs up to his chest. He takes a deep breath. “Hey, no problem,” Denki beams, trying to look as cheerful as his usual, goofy self. If this is how it ends, then he would at least like to send Eijirou off with a smile. “Just, when’s a good day to get my stuff from your place?”
Eijirou furrows his eyebrows in confusion, turning to look from the floor to Denki.
“I mean, you know,” Denki fumbles. “Then—and. And now. Maybe even forever. You love Bakugou, right? I get it.” Bakugou, with his manly heart and incredible skill and tremendous courage. Everything Eijirou could want. Everything Denki did not have. “You just found out that the love of your life lives in the same city—I would dump me, too,” Denki forces a laugh, even as his lip starts to wobble.
Alarmed, Eijirou leans into Denki’s space. “Denki. Denki, what are you saying?” Eijirou asks, strangled, a look of horror etched on his face.
“I’m saying,” Denki swallows. “I’m saying that I’m sorry. For not being enough. For realizing so late that I could never deserve you.
“Ei, I’m sorry.”
Something breaks between them, but Denki isn’t sure what.
He can only focus on how Eijirou’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he quickly moves closer on the couch, how Eijirou’s hands tremble as he reaches for Denki’s own, pleading.
Denki intertwines their fingers together without a second thought, because at the end of the day, he’d grant Eijirou anything he wanted.
“Denki, stop, ” Eijirou says, and Denki is taken aback by the sheer frustration and sorrow in his tone. “Stop this. You’re my light. My everything. How could you think anything else?” He gives Denki’s hand a little shake to drive his point. “Please, Denki. Stop.”
Denki chuckles nervously. “Come on, Ei. You stop. Don’t look at me like that,” Denki reprimands as he averts his gaze. “As if I’m breaking your heart.”
What a hilarious thought. As if Denki could.
“But you are,” Eijirou insists, his voice cracking on the emphasis. “You—you say all these cruel things about yourself with a goddamn smile on your face—as if it’s all fact? As if I don’t love you?” He brings their joined hands up to his lips, dropping a kiss on the back of Denki’s. “I love you. So much. I love you more than I’ve loved anyone else. You’re it for me, Denki.”
(The sinister voice in his head says, I don’t believe you, Eiji.
Most days, Denki finds himself agreeing.)
Denki squeezes his eyes shut, willing the imminent tears not to fall.
Eijirou makes a small sound in anguish. “Denki, what can I do? How can I show you how much I need you?” He swipes his thumb over the back of Denki’s hand, rubbing in circles, his touch soothing and anxious all at once.
“I’d do anything for you, Denki. I’d give you the world if I could.”
Denki sniffs.
(Denki hates that stupid, sinister voice, but he has always believed it. Because the alternative—convincing himself that he could be loved in equal, immense magnitude—never seemed attainable.
In the face of Eijirou’s overwhelming passion, Denki wonders if it would be so bad to let himself hope.)
“Denki,” Eijirou begs.
(The truth of it all is that Denki wants to believe. He just doesn’t know how.)
“Hold me,” Denki chokes, finally opening his eyes again to meet Eijirou’s heartsick gaze. “Like you mean it. Like you want to stay.”
Eijirou wastes no time as he reaches forward to gather Denki into his arms, just as Denki lunges to straddle Eijirou’s lap. Denki collapses onto Eijirou’s shoulder in a fit of sobs, wrapping his arms around Eijirou’s neck. He can barely breathe, both from his tears and Eijirou’s arms crushing him to his chest, but he doesn’t care. He chooses to savor the heat of Eijirou’s affection, the desperation in the way Eijirou buries his face in his neck, the rough texture of Eijirou’s chapped lips as he rains kisses on his skin.
Denki cries himself out for several long minutes, all the while Eijirou murmurs I’m sorry, love in between kisses. Denki’s legs cramp; Eijirou rubs Denki’s hips, coaxing him to settle his weight fully on Eijirou, and Denki leans into the touch.
When Denki calms down enough to simply sniffle, Eijirou pulls back gently to look Denki in the eye. “I’ll be better, Denki,” he declares, with his familiar brand of earnestness that Denki adores. “I’ll show you just how loved you are, how important. Denki, I promise.”
“Okay, Ei. Okay. I trust you the most.” Denki mumbles. He rests his head against the hollow of Eijirou’s throat as Eijirou sags in relief and presses his lips to Denki’s hair in thanks.
“I’ve got you,” Eijirou murmurs, and Denki allows his eyes to close, halfway to sleep and partway to believing.
kirikami; 1025 words; kirishima and kaminari buy tea for each other under ‘false’ beliefs. ao3 link here!
Ever since moving into the dorms, Iida has considered himself the unofficial-official supervisor of the boys’ kitchen. A hero’s diet is of utmost importance, after all, and as class president, Iida retains the responsibility of ensuring his classmates’ well-beings. He meticulously catalogs inventory and is always aware of the contents of their kitchen at any point in time.
It is quite a surprise then to see Kirishima and Midoriya by the little island counter, drinking tea that is decidedly not the generic green tea Iida keeps on the top shelf.
“I was not aware that we had this kind in the pantry,” Iida comments, peeking at the golden-orange liquid in their mugs. He frowns to himself, wondering when he had committed this unforgivable oversight.
“This is from Kirishima,” Midoriya chirps. “I’ve been feeling frazzled lately, so he offered.”
Kirishima flashes a grin. “Chamomile is a pretty good relaxant, and I just happened to have some in my stash. Iida, did you want some, too?”
“It’s all right, Kirishima-kun,” Iida declines, relieved that there had been no flaw in his record-keeping. He then processes Kirishima’s use of the word “stash” and automatically imagines the redhead’s closet overflowing with a mountain of tea bags. “I had no idea you were quite the tea enthusiast,” Iida follows up in surprise.
“Oh,” Kirishima chuckles. He swirls the dregs in his mug as he rotates his wrist slowly. “I like tea, but they’re mostly for Denki.”
“For Kaminari-kun?” Iida blinks.
“Yup! I store tea in my room to help him relax when school or training become too overwhelming. He likes unique flavors, so I’m always trying to keep my stash fresh!” Kirishima beams, pumping an enthusiastic fist with his spare hand. Midoriya smiles behind the rim of his cup, obviously pleased at Kirishima’s devotion to Kaminari.
Iida is quite pleased as well at Kirishima’s concern for their fellow classmate. “You’re very kind,” he compliments.
“Nah, I just love him,” Kirishima shrugs before taking his mug to the sink. His tone is flippant, as if to say doing this for my boyfriend is the bare minimum, which only reinforces Iida’s point.
Later in the week, Iida walks into the kitchen to find Sato polishing off a hot drink while Kaminari watches from his perch.
“Wow, that really hit the spot, Kaminari!” Sato exclaims, setting the mug down. “I didn’t think peppermint tea could be so good!”
“Right, right?” Kaminari grins, rocking the stool he is sitting on. “Peppermint is really great for when you feel bloated and nauseous, you know.”
Iida clears his throat as he approaches, which catches Kaminari’s attention. “Hey, did you want some, Iida?” Kaminari offers, turning in his seat to face Iida fully.
“No, but thank you, Kaminari-kun,” Iida says. “You seem to be quite the tea enthusiast.”
“Oh,” Kaminari laughs. “I like tea, but they’re mostly for Eiji.”
Huh. Huh? “Huh,” Iida blurts, suddenly experiencing a strong sense of deja vu.
“You should see how many different types he has in his room! He‘s always trying a bunch of flavors and telling me about their health benefits, so I just keep a stock of unique ones that I think he’d like,” Kaminari explains. He scratches his cheek in mild embarrassment, a lovestruck smile on his face.
Iida is, quite truthfully, at a loss for words. He resorts to saying, “you’re very kind” for the second time that week, though he doesn’t mean the sentiment any less.
“Well, you kinda get like that when you’re in love with someone,” Kaminari shrugs, and Sato giggles.
He discovers both of them asleep in the common room one rainy Sunday afternoon. Kirishima is passed out on one end of the couch, his back and neck supported by the armrest and a few pillows. His arms wrap around Kaminari as the latter lies on top of him, his head nestled under Kirishima’s chin. On the coffee table in front of the couch, Iida spots two empty, tea-stained mugs.
The sight of these two mugs gives Iida pause as he remembers his previous conversations with Kirishima and Kaminari. Does it fall upon Iida to clarify their misunderstanding? Is it his duty to inform his two classmates that they may be mistaken about their significant other’s amount of liking towards tea?
Conflicted, he looks back at them, observing the way their chests rise and fall in sync. Kaminari nuzzles against the column of Kirishima's throat every now and then, unaware that he does so in his sleep.
Even if it is a misunderstanding, Iida ponders, does it matter? Does it matter to them?
And—it doesn’t, Iida realizes. He recalls the content expressions on both their faces; how excited Kirishima was to care for Kaminari’s health in the best way he knew how; how happy Kaminari was to show his affection by paying attention, by being thoughtful. In the wake of such awe-inspiring emotions, somehow the details seem insignificant.
What was the word they used? “Love”?
Love.
“One day!” Iida shouts, so moved by their hearts. Kaminari jerks awake, knocking his head against Kirishima’s jaw and causing Kirishima to groan. Kaminari fumbles, touching Kirishima’s face in an attempt to rub the sore spot, murmuring sorry, I’m sorry, baby. Iida is unfazed. “In the future, I will aspire to be as wonderful a lover as both of you!”
Kirishima blinks blearily at an impassioned Iida, whose cheeks are red with the exertion of his declaration. “That’s nice, Iida,” he says weakly, confused as all hell. Kaminari has already decided that this isn’t worth his time, flopping back grumpily against Kirishima’s shoulder to sleep. “Work... hard?”
Iida salutes and rushes out of the room. Kirishima stares at the dust that had been disturbed in Iida’s haste before readjusting Kaminari’s weight on his chest and dozing off again.
The following week, Iida brings Kirishima a box of tea from home, yelling something about “stoking the fires of everlasting love!” Kirishima, perplexed but touched by Iida’s sincerity, simply accepts and thanks him for his generosity. He tucks the box into a corner of the pantry for later — Denki will definitely be pleased with this new brand tonight.
