i have been debating what to do with this blog for some time and i wish tumblr had a poll function.
regardless, im not sure if ill continue posting my fanfic works on here since its now used more as storage more than anything (and ao3 is pretty good for that purpose anyways). so i might make some changes to this blog to be used for a different -- but still fandom -- purpose
but! i do have other socmed (twt/tmblr/dw) that im happy to share too that i post a bunch more regularly than i do here
(The aftermath of Megumi’s first mission or, Gojo is considerate only at awkward times. ~300w)
There’s a long whistle from behind him as steps meet the floor. Even as they sound against the ground, Megumi doesn’t pull away, even as Gojo leans over his shoulder to take a look.
“Wow,” Gojo said.
It’s gruesome, what’s at their feet. Megumi watches as the black liquid spreads slowly, staining, sinking into the concrete, as his jade hounds tear into what remains. Come morning tomorrow, the ground will be clean of it.
Right now, the hounds are close to finishing.
There’s a firm pat against his shoulder that makes Megumi scowl, looking away from the sight and to Gojo’s wide grinning face. “We should celebrate,” he says as Megumi belatedly realizes he’s wearing shades instead of the usual bandages. “First mission ever and successful. It calls for some barbecue and sake, y’think?”
“I’m 13,” Megumi states plainly.
“And?” When Megumi’s scowl deepens, Gojo laughs, patting his shoulder a few more times. He moves out of the way before Megumi could make his ankle-kicking urge a reality.
“Ice cream, then,” Gojo offers up, instead. “Kids like you can’t say no to that.”
Megumi only huffs in response.
The hounds trotted over to his side by then, tails thumping heavy against the ground as they pant waiting for him. Megumi pets each of their heads before releasing them.
Little remains of the curse, leaving only its imprint behind.
“Megumi.”
“What do you want.”
Over his shades, Gojo’s looking at him, as if he were inspecting him. As if waiting for Megumi to react. As if waiting for him to ask for something from him. He doesn’t. There’s exhaust weighing in his shoulders, instead. It doesn’t matter. He asked for this mission, after all.
Yet, Gojo pulls him by the shoulder, leading him out of the warehouse, away from the black stained floor.
“Do you think they got german chocolate?” Gojo muses aloud for the both of them.
School Days | T | In which, Bakugou is unwillingly initiated into the delinquent gang at his school. No Quirk AU
“Ha?”
He repeats, “We want you to join us.”
“I heard you the first time,” Katsuki said hotly. “But I ain’t no fucking delinquent.”
Crusty tilts his head. “We want—”
“Oi! Are your ears working? I said no.”
Scarecrow, who’s off to the side, leaning against the wall to keep watch for any teachers or students, snickers and turns to them. “Give it up, Shigaraki, he doesn’t want to join.”
Chapter 2 of Tuesday Rates! The obligatory Beach Episode ft. Bad Lifeguards and Bad Drown Victim etiquette. Read it Here or under readmore
Tomura really didn’t want to be here.
“Don’t be a party pooper,” Toga says, rubbing sunscreen along her upper arm. “It’ll be fun.”
Dabi agrees between inflating puffs of the large beach ball. “What kind of friends-” puff “-would we be-” puff “-if we just let you rot-” puff, Tomura’s eyebrow twitches “-in your room again all summer?” Happy with the size, Dabi caps the beach ball.
“You guys aren’t my—hey!” Dabi snickers, catching the ball after bouncing it off Tomura’s head.
“Sure man, whatever you say.”
They are at the beach and Tomura really really doesn’t want to be here. Or outside, in general. Especially not with people. Oh how he ached to be back in his air conditioned room with his blacked out curtains and computer. No, instead here he is with sweat prickling and sand sticking to his skin, sitting on a hot beach towel under this oppressing sun. Tomura glares at the wide-brimmed sun hat at his feet that Toga had given him like it personally dishonored him. Those heathens didn’t even let him have his console either.
A sunscreen bottle is tossed to him which he responds with tossing it right back harder.
Toga catches it and shrugs, bagging the bottle in Dabi’s tote. “It’s not our fault if you get burnt!”
“Hm!”
At least they had a beach umbrella. Tomura plans on not moving from this spot.
.
Huh. It’s hard to think but there’s someone...talking? He can’t hear what they’re saying, sounding too distant and muffled to make out the words from the garble. The voice begins getting desperate, pitch heightening as it continues babbling. Tomura feels really tired. Maybe he’ll try to understand later...when the pull of his lids don’t feel so heavy—
“—LIVE GODDAMN IT!”
Tomura shoots up because what the fuck, was he just slapped?! His cheeks are stinging, he's doubling over, mouth full of salt water and seaweed. Through his hacking, he vaguely hears a Kacchan… from a very dismayed voice, followed by a hysterical laugh from whoever this Kacchan is.
“There’s no such thing as going overboard, Deku, he’s alive, ain’t he?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But, what? I just saved his life, I’m a goddamn hero.” What the fuck. Tomura wipes his mouth. The two look at him. The blonde, Kacchan, is the one to say, “I’m your goddamn hero.”
The green haired, Deku, one jabs Kacchan in the ribs. “Please ignore him! How are you feeling? Any chest pains, tingly sensations?” He doesn’t wait for Tomura to respond, instead turning to Kacchan to say, “Go get him a towel! He must be freezing.”
Kacchan huffs and stands, leaving to presumably get a towel (Tomura could hear mild curses from under his breath as he stalks away) while Deku turns back to him. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a bit crabby, is all. He means well. I’m Midoriya and that was Bakugou, by the way, we’re the lifeguards on duty,” he says with a mild laugh. “You almost drowned on us!”
Midoriya had an arm around him, Tomura belately realizes as he rambles on some more, probably to keep him sitting steady. When he tries to lean away, Midoriya removes his arm, apologizing, “Sorry, sorry, shock can be unpredictable. Are you feeling any better?”
Now that he mentions it, Tomura thinks, wetting his lips, his throat feels like absolute sandpaper and he still feels somewhat faint. Not that he would admit it, but it's the thought that counts. Plus, even if he wanted to respond Well, yeah, I feel like shit, a towel is thrown over his head. “Oi, he probably drank half the ocean. Let the guy rest,” says Bakugou. Tomura snorts quietly, pulling the towel around his shoulders. “I couldn’t find any extra towels so I gave you mine, you better give it back.”
“I nearly drowned,” Tomura replies, voice croaky and just barely audible, as he takes the water bottle Bakugou offers him. He twists it open, dripping as much sarcasm as he can into his words, “and you care about this? Some lifeguard you are.” He takes a sip from the bottle. God does his throat hurt.
The way Bakugou’s face scrunches in irritation almost made Tomura laugh but instead, he hides his smile behind another sip. “Listen asshole, I can put you back in the ocean and laugh as your pasty ass tries to save itself. You should be fucking thankful.”
Before Tomura would retort, a couple voices call out for him. Dabi and Toga. They must’ve been playing one rigorous game of volleyball because they’re covered in sand and sweat.
“We were wondering where you went,” Toga says, putting the volleyball under her arm. “We thought you ran away!”
Tomura scoffs but Toga quickly ignores him, opting to look at the other two with him, particularly at Midoriya. She steps over Tomura’s legs, looking gleeful, to get closer. “Oh, hello! Are you guys lifeguards? What happens to our poor little Tomura-chan?”
“Toga,” the ‘poor little’ Tomura warns. Dabi laughs and helps him to his feet.
Toga continues to ignore him. Midoriya gives a nervous smile as he makes a pointed effort to look at anywhere but at Toga as she skitters closer and closer. “Uh, we-er, he saw your friend struggling to swim and pulled him to shore.” At the he, Midoriya had made a half effort wave to Bakugou’s general direction, who huffs, not paying them a dime of attention. “If it weren’t for Kacchan, he could’ve been a goner!”
Toga nods, not listening one bit. It’s Dabi who snorts at the story and upends Tomura’s head. “Nice going, idiot. Have you thanked him yet?”
Tomura scowls and huffs. While that he was a little thankful, he wouldn’t admit it to that asshole of all people. Dabi seems to get that and instead chooses to ruffle his hair with a chuckle.
Bakugou announces his leave with annoyance.
“I should get going too,” Midoriya said not far after, probably thankful for this out from Toga’s insistent chatter, as he follows after his partner in ocean surveillance.
Dabi throws his arms over Tomura’s and Toga’s shoulders, saying as simple as possible, as Tomura watches them go, “Welp, at least you didn’t scare them away.”
Tomura eyes the arm around him. “I hate you both.”
Dabi laughs as Toga sighs. “Don’t worry, you’ll see your new boytoy again.” Tomura wasn’t sure who he was referring to, Toga who was looking dreamily after Midoriya or to him.
Actually, he doesn’t want to know.
After that, Tomura sticks to their designated area for the rest of the day. Lucky for him, Dabi was lenient enough to give him back his PS Vita console because the almost drowning victim deserved at least some slack. The towel was over his head now, covering himself from the setting sun that refused to shine over the beach umbrella (and he wouldn’t be caught dead with that sun hat). He’s tapping the keys harshly, the fighting sounds rolled on the highest setting, and he’s so incredibly close to winning, and—
“Oi.”
His thumb slips on the toggle stick, breaking his ultimate combo, and watches in disbelief as Game Over title sequences flash across his screen. He stares at the syncopated message until the device just falls out of his hands as the little loser jingle rings out on loop. He puts his face in them instead.
“Uh...hey dude.” Oh yes, the reason for his failure. The words chip out from Tomura’s mouth, each stop full of as much barely controlled anger as he can possibly fit.
“What. Do. You. Want.”
Whoever it was standing behind him shifts on their feet, the sand softly crunching beneath. At some point, his console powered itself off and it’s then the person finally states, voice awfully familiar, “I said I wanted my towel back.”
Oh, it’s him. The crappy lifeguard. “Just take it,” Tomura laments into his hands. The towel resting over his head and back is swiped, but instead of the sun heat hitting his pale back, Bakugou’s shadow saves him. “While you’re at it, throw me back into the ocean too. I can’t handle this loss..."
Bakugou snorts. “Jesus, dude, it’s just a game. Just do it again.”
“It’s not just a game,” he quickly retorts, raising his face from his hands to shoot a glare over his shoulder. Bakugou has a hand on his hip, towel thrown over his shoulder, as he stands looking unimpressed as Tomura speaks. “It was a speedrun. I was so close to beating my records and then you had to come here and…” scare me is something Tomura would never admit, even if his life depended on it. Except Bakugou is laughing because fuck Tomura. “...ruin it,” he finished, instead, turning back around.
However, Bakugou doesn’t take the hint and doesn’t leave. Tomura thinks he’s never hated a person as much as he does right now. To add salt to the wound, when he tries to further his point of wanting to be left alone by picking up his console, the fucking thing had the audacity to blink the red battery light and power off once again, completely dead. Tomura groans as he drops the thing again.
“There. Now you have my attention because the world is awful and hates me. What do you want?”
Bakugou laughs at his pain. Jeez. “Deku told me to go see how you’re doing—”
“Fine,” Tomura interrupts.
“—cause he’s scared of your freaky friends.”
“They’re not my friends,” he replies out of habit, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. Good to know normal people are scared of them, maybe they’d be left alone more. “Don’t you have an ocean to watch?”
“Shifts over,” Bakugou answers. “I needed my towel back before I left.”
Tomura makes a half hearted wave to the towel in Bakugou’s possession with a ‘now leave me alone’ implied, but just for extra zing, because he feels festive, he says, “There, you have it. Now leave me alone.” and turns back around to slump over his knees to be left alone to his utter and complete misery.
Except, the cool shadow covering his back doesn’t retreat. Why isn’t it retreating—wait is he still there, he can’t be that stupid— “Actually…” the shadow that will not be named because Tomura no longer cares, “there a bonfire later. You should come.”
His ears are working right, right? Like, he heard what this guy said, right? Not having any post-almost-drowning-delusions right now, right?
Tomura turns around yet again just so he can witness his own sanity possibly failing him. Bakugou looks at him expectfully, where Tomura can only think Wow, we have the same eye color. “So?” Bakugou asks with a raised brow.
He puts it rather eloquently actually, answering, “Uh.”
A beat passes.
“Did I break you? Did I just break this nerd?”
If anyone asks, this redness in Tomura’s face is from sunburn and sunburn only. Oh he can already hear Dabi’s snickering and Toga’s gushing as he clears his throat, wetting his lips, looking somewhere decidingly not at this rude lifeguard who he begrudgingly admits saved his life. “Uh,” Tomura says, “are you—? Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes, you loser.” Tomura can already hear the amusement in his voice. He has to be fucking with him.
But…
Well...
“Yes?” He said tersely. Then quickly adds, “if it's not lame or anything, I can… I can go.”
Bakugou snorts but, when Tomura looks at him again, he’s smiling.
Okay, maybe beach day wasn’t that awful of an idea, afterall.
--
OMAKE:
“See,” Dabi said as he pats Tomura’s sweet little sunhat covered head as he pulls the brims down to hide his very ‘sunburnt’ red face. “I know my friends better than they know themselves. You totally had a thing for him.”
“Shut up,” he mutters dejectedly into the straw.
Dabi only laughs because he knows under that hat, theres a dumb smile plastered on there.
The REAL reason Bakugou got kidnapped | 1030 wc | T
Note: I love nonsense. that's my own excuse
----------------
S U C K A S S, blinks on the screen, taking up first place on the scoreboard.
Tomura blinks right back on it in utter bafflement.
T o m u S, blinks beneath it, right in second place.
The pizzeria continues to buzz with life even if Tomura’s head doesn’t as he continues to stare at the scoreboard, trying to understand how in the world his indisputable spot as first got knocked off.
Huffing, he inserts a hundred yen coin and watches as the arcade game boots up. Taking the joystick in a careful three fingered hold, he speeds past the introductions and starts playing.
Whatever, he’ll just take back first place.
.
Except he doesn’t. He’s a good two thousand points from first place still. He’s already out eight hundred yen. Tomura scowls at the Game Over title screen, watching it fade right back into the blinking top ten scoreboard. TomuS is no closer to SUCKASS than it was before.
As badly as Tomura wants to disintegrate this thing right here right now such, he knows it’ll be the same as admitting defeat. He digs into his sweater pocket and pulls out his last coin, a five hundred yen, and rolls it in.
The game boots up again.
.
The closest Tomura gets is still not good enough to knock off the first place. The scoreboard is now just full of TomuS from ten to three. The game he just finished congratulates him on making second place, asking him to plug in his letters.
Angrily, he plugs them in.
F U K U ^, blinks in second place when he leaves.
.
From ten through one, SUCKASS reigns the scoreboard the next time Tomura returns to the pizzeria. It’s when he scrolls down, he sees the eleventh place is GITGUDv and his own indignation in twelfth.
If asked, the completionist in Tomura would say this was probably the greatest humiliation he had ever gotten.
Tomura wants to grip the sides of the arcade game and watch in satisfaction as it would inevitably decay into an ash pile at his feet. Then with that ash pile, he would like to light it on fire. Then with that fire, he’d want to smother it, rise and repeat, until it was nothing but a black spot burnt on the tile floor. Then with that tile--
Instead, he takes a deep breath, like Kurogiri said he should do when he finds his temper running away from him. At his exhale, a plan behinds to form.
Tomura grins. It reflects off the black glass of the arcade game, grinning back at him.
Handsy doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he looks ecstatic as he sweeps his arms wide, leaning back in his bar stool chair. If there wasn’t that gross looking hand over his face, Katsuki would bet the fucker was grinning like it was sunshine and rainbows. “We’re the League of Villains and,” he said, then leaned forward now, with one unclipped and dry nail pointing at him, “I have business with you. Dabi, untie him.”
“I ain’t getting anywhere near him. He’ll go apeshit.”
Handsy sighs. “Twice, you do it.”
“A-okay!” “Fuck no.”
Spandex approaches him anyways. As Katsuki gets untied, Handsy jumps to his feet and moves somewhere toward the back. Katsuki tries to keep his eyes on Spandex to make sure he doesn’t try anything funny and the rest of the League who look at him and to Handsy with mild curiosity. There’s a… rectangular shape, draped in a cloth, which Handsy stands in front of. Katsuki furrows his brows as Handsy grins beneath his hand and pulls the cloth. At that moment, the last of the bondage drops to the floor, freeing him.
Except Katsuki doesn’t move.
Instead,
“What the fuck?”
Handsy pats the arcade game a couple times, mindfully, like it was some sort of impulsive mid-life crisis purchase. A very familiar name flashes on the top ten scoreboard.
Katsuki repeats, with feeling this time, “What the fuck.”
“Cool, right?”
Katsuki is, for once, at a loss of words. No, actually, he had a lot of words like Were you dropped as a child? to You think that if I tilt over my head, you (the League) can kick my shit in and wake me up from this god awful nightmare?, and the ever classic I’ll kill you. None was said, of course, because his mouth is gapped and his brain just trying to process all the mental gymnastics happening here.
Handsy boots up the game and motions him over to the player two spot.
Katsuki.exe starts running. “Stop fucking with me!”
Handsy tilts his head but motions again. “Hurry up, I want to take first place fair and square,” he said like everything coming out of his mouth wasn’t batshit insane.
Listen, Katsuki was ready for anything. He was ready to be held for ransom, ready to be tortured to snitch, ready to fight tooth and nail to escape, but he did not expect what--whatever this was!
He eyes the door to his back and then to the League who watches him carefully. His heart is still racing, he’s still trapped in a room with half a dozen cold blooded criminals. His chances of escape were slim to none.
“Fine.”
.
All-Might expected many things.
Seeing young Bakugou jeering, pointing, and snickering at a dejected looking leader of the criminal organization known as the League of Villains was nowhere on that list. Especially not in front of an arcade game he recognizes from when he was a youngin himself.
What in the world…
Except no time to dwell on that because the League are on their feet as the other heroes rush in. Everything is going to chaos very quickly.
“Detroit Smash!!”
.
Somehow the arcade game survives. The top ten scoreboard blinks for a second before revealing the second pair top ten scoreboard. There are three columns: Player 1, Player 2, and the score.
So I’ve talked about a deaged hell child Katsuki with one other person, and I’ve had him deaged on his own, but what about a deaged Katsuki with two other people?
Somehow, Izuku, Katsuki and Tomura all get deaged together in a dangerous situation. Izuku and Katsuki were fighting Tomura when someone on Tomura’s or a third party’s side ends up hitting them with a deaging quirk. Despite starting at different ages, they all end up about the same age (7 for Katsuki and Izuku, 8ish for Tomura), none of them have any memories of their older selves, and bad guys are closing in fast.
Katsuki reacts first, fighting back and clearing a path that lets the three of them run off, though they’re still in danger. Whatever group is attacking them either is against both the heroes and the LOV, or if they hit Tomura accidentally, don’t know how to convinced him that they’re on his side. By this point, Tomura has only been with All for One for 3 years. He’s not fully committed to the villain ideals yet, all he knows is there are lots of scary adults around, and these kids he’s suddenly found seem much nicer.
Once they’ve got a hiding spot, they’re all upset and confused, but Katsuki takes the lead and formulates a plan to get them out of there. Tomura is scared of getting too close to either of the other two because of his quirk. Thankfully, their hero costumes/clothing got shrunk with them. Katsuki takes Izuku’s gloves and cuts two fingers off each glove for Tomura so his quirk won’t activate by mistake. That leaves them free to work on escaping and gets Tomura to trust Katuski.
While they’re trying to escape, Izuku and Tomura keep arguing over various aspects like murder or do not murder. For some reason, the two of them just do not get along and keep getting distracted from their escape to fight. Katsuki is the tie-breaker/babysitter dragging the other two around with him, getting more and more exasperated as time goes on.
In the end, they’ve got a single slim chance to escape, and Katsuki makes the choice to stay behind and fight. This gives Izuku and Tomura enough time to escape together, though neither of them want to leave Katsuki behind. He pretty much forces them into it, telling them he’s going to fight anyways and if they don’t leave it’ll be a waste. Putting their differences aside, the two manage to escape and get help. Katsuki is rescued by the pro-heroes shortly afterwards, but he’s pretty beat up.
That’s when little Tomura and little Izuku finally find something they agree on. The same thing they agreed on as adults (or adult and teenager). They both think Katsuki is pretty damn cool and both of the are determined to be his friend.
The heroes are working on finding a way to restore the kids back to their normal age, but until then, they decide it’s best to keep all three together under Aizawa’s care. Tomura doesn’t really trust any of the adults, but he’s willing to listen to Katsuki/Izuku when they tell him someone is safe and/or not to murder peope. Also, Tomura doesn’t have great control of his emotions/quirk, and the gloves don’t work when Tomura is really upset, so Aizawa’s their best option for controlling his decay.
Aizawa, while babysitting the problem children, overhears Tomura talking about Katsuki. Tomura’s going on and on about how Katsuki’s the coolest hero ever, Tomura’s going to fight alongside him one day, and he’s going to be Katsuki’s best friend no matter what. It makes Aizawa break into a cold sweat as he tries really, really hard to not say anything. He then notices, disturbingly enough, Kid Izuku and Kid Tomura talk about Katsuki in the exact same way, and okay, maybe he’s starting to understand why Katsuki gets so annoyed with Izuku, if this is what the kid was like growing up.
While Kid Katsuki is recovering from his injuries, he’s very sleepy and compliant. As a result, Kid Izuku and Kid Tomura get into constant arguments over who gets to play with him, tugging him back and forth between them. It’s all out war between the two, their former truce from the escape forgotten.
Aizawa and All-Might are watching the three of them and both trying their best to not point out how it’s the kidnapping all over again but on a smaller (and cuter) scale. Of course, after a little while Katsuki gets sick of their shit and goes to hide in All-Might’s lap (Aizawa already has a cat on him), and then All-Might gets death glared by Tomura and Izuku for stealing their friend. It’s all the two teachers can do to not break down laughing.
Midoriya asks one thing more of him. Bakugou complies. OR Shigaraki and Bakugou have a conversation.
This is for @shigabakus !! I decided to go with the shigabaku + angst prompt. Again, thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy it <3
read it here or below
Deku was rushed to the hospital in the aftermath.
The world held a baited breath. Several hours of surgery later, that breath was released. It was announced that he would be okay. In the mists of the destruction lain across Kureto Ward and its aftershocks, hope was in the air again.
As Bakugou stares out the window, Tartarus begins to loom over the horizon. All he breathes is salt.
.
“What?” Bakugou hisses because what did he just say? Deku did not just fucking say--
“You heard me,” Deku said. Bakugou wants to spit at him that ‘No, I obviously didn’t, because I didn’t just fucking hear you say that’. “I’m serious, Kacchan.”
There’s that familiar fire in his eyes, threatening Bakugou’s very core. It reminds him of when they were younger where no matter how much he had beaten Deku down, he would always get back up with his fists raised. It’s almost second nature to sneer at him but instead Bakugou looks away.
When Deku speaks again, it’s softer, pleading. “Please,” he says. “I need you to do this for me.”
.
“I’ll be waiting out here,” said Aizawa as Bakugou opens the car door. He pauses, salt air filling his lungs, then steps out. He can feel Aizawa’s eyes on his back as he walks.
It wasn’t like a dream as he’s escorted. There’s no film over his eyes, his senses weren’t hazy, nor did he get the sensation of being anywhere other than here. That here feeling grew as he proceeded down the corridor, the white light stinging his eyes.
At the chair, he sits with his hands clenched over his knees.
On the other side of the glass, Shigaraki Tomura tilts his head.
.
“Why don’t you do it?”
“I can’t,” was all Deku said.
.
Drowned in white light, Shigaraki looks smaller.
“Oh, I didn’t expect this,” Shigaraki said. When Bakugou scowls, he quirks an empty half smile. “This is nostalgic. It’s like a trip down memory lane. Doesn’t this feel familiar?”
Bakugou presses his mouth into a hard line to keep from sneering something hot. They told him that prisoners like Shigaraki would try to get a reaction out of him and that he shouldn’t listen to him, whatever he says. At the end, mad men will say anything. But, Shigaraki’s right. It’s like some sort of fucked up parody of his kidnapping now with Shigaraki tied up and Bakugou not.
Shigaraki doesn’t appear to be put off by his lack of response. Instead, he keeps talking, musing aloud. “Y’know, I always knew we would see each other again. In… better circumstances. I never gave up on you.”
Bakugou wants him to shut up.
“Like an ultra rare item, just out of grasp…” He tilts his head again. Bakugou can see his eyes through his unruly fringe. They’re wide and swallowing. Bakugou wonders crudely if he looks close enough, if he would see himself in the reflection. “Do you think if I get a do-over, I can try again?”
“Listen here,” Bakugou hisses out slowly, enunciating. He vaguely hears the intercom speaking, warning, but he opts to ignore it and instead glare at the man across the glass. “I didn’t come here for you. Whatever you think it is, it’s not.”
“Oh? Then what is it?”
“Fulfilling a friend’s request.”
There’s a brief pause. “I see,” he finally said.
Bakugou’s hands are clenched tightly over his knees when his gaze drops. He hates that he feels like he’s there again. Weak and way over his head. He shouldn’t have come here. But,
“Deku said you were worth saving,” he said, feeling Shigaraki watch him closely. He scowls at his knees, more at himself than Shigaraki, before looking back up. They make eye contact and he holds it. “That’s what the shithead told me.”
“I see,” Shigaraki says again.
“That’s why I'm here. Not because… Not for you.”
“A friend’s request,” he echoes.
“I’m not like you, I don’t like you. You think--” Bakugou waves a hand between them. “--that we’re alike or some shit, that we’re the same. Well, we’re not.” There’s something in his throat, making his voice want to falter but too fucking bad. “I’m no item, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it.” Bakugou wonders who he’s saying this for. “I’m me.”
Shigaraki smiles for real this time.
Bakugou hates it. “We were never alike,” he spits, instead.
“But you’re real,” is what he says before time is called. “And I’m real too.”
--katsuki is a college grad and asked to housesit for his parents as they went on a long fun cruise for an anniversary.
--dream daddy esque almost except theres only 1 daddy, afo. LOL
--they meet, get coffee, katsuki is swooned by this very mature mysterious man.
--eventually meets his teen son, tomura. because truth be told, afo wants to wife him up asap and give tomura the mommy he needs.
--they get along! sort of!
--tomura has Teenage Angst.
--afo is a very busy man (busy with what? who knows, he doesn't tell katsuki that) so baby sitting
--bonding, bonding, bonding
--tomura catches feelings
--oh shit
--katsuki doesn't actually wanna be wifed up. actually hes starting a job soon in another country, as soon as his parents get back he’s gonna prepare to leave
--tomura hates his life
--this scene
--katsuki has to end it and does so.
--epilogue is a timeskip 5-7 yr where tomura emails katsuki to try to reconnect, katsuki emails back
a half written idea about adult Bakugou house sitting for his parents. gets romanced by afo. but the teen son caught feelings
So Katsuki left.
Fuck. fuuuuck. What the hell.
“Oi, kid, get in here,” Katsuki said, slowing his car to the same pace as the teen walking down the sidewalk. It was nearly pitch black outside, at the edges of the neighborhood, and this dumbass was going the opposite way of his house. “Seriously, c’mon.”
“No,” Tomura says.
“Stop being a pissbaby and get inside.”
“No--” Katsuki smashes his car horn, Tomura jumps, “--fuck! Okay, okay, fine!” He walks around the stopped car, slipping inside to the passenger seat and folds his arms across his chest. Teen angst practically seethed out of him. “Happy?” he might as well have spitted at Katsuki.
“Almost, you’re forgetting your seatbelt.”
“Ugh. Fine.” By the telltale click of safety insured (Katsuki will always and forever be a stickler for that shit. The road is a danger hole), Katsuki starts driving back. A tense silence settles between them in the meantime, only broken by the occasional ticking of a turn signal. When they reach a stop sign, does Katsuki asks.
“What were you even doing?”
Tomura doesn’t say anything for a moment or two, Katsuki manages to spare him a glance to see him biting his lip. He finally says, “I was running away.”
Damn. Katsuki doesn’t know how to deal with teenagers. Much less unhappy running away teenagers. When he was his age, sure things weren’t peaches and cream but Katsuki wasn’t some bitch about it. As far as Katsuki knows, Tomura is just a little kid throwing a tantrum.
As far as he knows…
Katsuki remains brutally honest. “That’s fucking stupid.” He can feel Tomura jerk and glare death at him. He keeps his eyes on the road, though. “You think you have problems? You literally live in a fucking mansion, go to a private school, and own new piece of tech all around. You live in the lap of luxury, kid, what is there to runaway from?”
“Don’t call me kid,” Tomura snarls.
“You’re a fucking kid. You’re wanting to run away from a damn good life, and for what? You think everything’s all peaches and rainbows? That it’s all gunna work out in the end?” Katsuki said. “Well it’s not. You’re just a kid who’s playing adult, then throws a tantrum when people don’t treat you like one. Now, tell me why you’re running away.”
“...No one pays attention to me.”
“And you think that’s a reason to runaway?”
“Yes,” Tomura hisses. “Yes it is. You try dealing with being the weird kid at school, try having no friends ever, you try having a dad who’s never home and when he is, it’s just to sigh and say Oh Tomura this and Oh Tomura that. Try having the actual one person that actually understands you, tell you that he’s leaving to live in another country for some shitty job--”
Wait, what. “Tomura-”
“--and now I love you! There! I said it! I love you and I know you see me as some kid, but my feelings are real--FUCK!” Katsuki had slammed on the break and it turns out Tomura didn’t really put on his seatbelt because he went face first into the dashboard. He clutches his head, “fuck, what the hell?!”
Katsuki is glad it’s so late at night that the streets are deserted. He puts the car in park and then just turns to watch Tomura rub his forehead while grumbling curses. “You really are a kid,” he said. “A real fucking dumb one on top.”
“Just shut up,” Tomura spits. “I’m almost 16.”
Katsuki leans back into his seat and drags his hands down his face. “It doesn’t make it any better,” he said muffled by his palms.
Tomura has nothing to respond to that, simply opting to turn his look on the dashboard. They were close to Tomura’s home.
“You know I’m 20, right? You know I can’t feel the same way, right?”
“I know,” Tomura says. “But--”
“No buts. You don’t know what you want, you’re just confused.”
Tomura bites his lips, his hands fidgeting together. “But you and my dad…”
Fuck, yeah, that. Why does he have to deal with this? Who’d he piss off to have this conversation? Katsuki sighs, brushing his hair back. “Your dad is an adult, I’m an adult. But, you’re just a kid, can’t you understand?”
Tomura says nothing and Katsuki puts the car out of park. Soon enough they’re in front of the Shigaraki house.
“Bah!” Zim said as he tried to scooch up in the driver seat. He waves his hand. “Needless details.”
Dib, who has been trying to fold himself comfortably within the small confines of the voot runner the past five minutes, lets his foot ‘accidently’ slip and kick Zim. “Oops,” he says flatly. “Sorry about that.”
Zim shoots him a glare but returns back to the control panel with just an angry huff. The voot runner’s engine hums as they zigzag throughout space.
Finally Dib finds a way to arrange himself by just saying fuck it and cramping his feet down on either side of the single seat with Zim sitting in between his knees because, you know, there’s only one seat. Sadly, Dib isn’t as small as he once was which Zim can’t seem to accept because he’s still the size of an elementary schooler and smells like it too--
“Zim does not smell!”
Dib snorts. “Could fooled me.”
Aside from the little interruption to his (totally not mumbled) monologue, which for now Dib should try to keep in his head to re-record later--no, Dib isn’t a snot-nosed preteen. No, Dib is a man--
“Stop laughing!” Dib yells, voice definitely not cracking at all, as Zim crackles. Grumbling, Dib hits stop on his voice recorder, making a mental note to go back and delete Zim’s annoying mocking laugh on it later. But back to his thought, Dib is seventeen and that’s basically manhood right?
Oh, and also they are running from the intergalactic police.
On second thought, Dib should probably start with that next time.
“Details, details,” Zim says as he narrowly misses the laser shot at them. “Zim is the best pilot in the Irkin Empire! This is kitten’s play.”
Dib really should stop monologuing out loud now.
He looks at the side mirror and sees dozens upon dozens of spaceships hot on their trail. “Uh,” Dib starts, for once feeling worried, “This time it looks ba--”
“Kitten’s play,” Zim grits out, then rolls the steering ball up. Dib falls forward as the ship nosedives. Zim hisses something unintelligible at him, which Dib realizes vaguely to have been some alien language curses as the voot runner’s gyroscope corrects gravity. God, he’ll never get used to this. “Did you hit your stupid big head? Get off of Zim!”
Except he can’t, at all, as the runner makes sharp turns, dives, and drives in every which way, nauseating Dib with each direction change and gyro-correcting that he can’t help but cling to Zim’s small frame and shut his eyes. He can feel Zim squirm, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but Dib’s arms just tightens further instead. “Trust me,” Dib manages to bite out, “I’d love too!”
“Hm!”
Then,
“Let’s see...Found it!”
The voot runner surges. The two of them are pushed back into the driver’s seat from the sheer momentum as the runner accelerates. Dib peaks open an eye and only has a moment to see the pursuing ships appear to halt (which, Dib can only vaguely think--did we just break relativity?) before the wormhole devours them.
Zim squirms as Dib continues to hold him against his chest. He wonders if Zim could hear his still racing heart beat.
“That…” Dib says, “That was so cool!”
Zim pats his arm. “Yes, yes, yes it was--”
“You just went like, zoom! And they--”
“Yes, yes--”
“--were all like pew pew! Then you--”
“Okay--”
“--were all like bye suckers! And they were like--”
“ENOUGH!”
“--‘wait, what?’,” Dib finishes then grins down at Zim who’s still shifting in his arms like some mildly disgruntled cat. His heart’s still beating fast, Zim is looking up at him, and then,
well, Zim finally stills.
Dib raises his face from Zim’s.
“I--” Dib sputters, realizing what he just did. Did he just--he just--
Dib drops him like he burnt and tries to make as much distance as he can--which is not much. His face feels hot as Zim continues to say nothing about their shared kiss--Dib’s first kiss.
Dib is already imagining all the ways he was going to be ejected out from the runner. Suffocating and dying in the vastness of space, or maybe he’ll be maimed first then dumped, or maybe--
Zim punches him across the face, if he could call it a punch. Dib rubs his cheek as he watches the little alien cross his arms with a huff then march back to his spot on the driver seat. And that’s it. Dib sits, dumbfounded, as Zim just reviews his control panel without a glance back to him.
Huh.
“If,” Zim sniffs, still not looking at him, “you’re going to do that. Don’t drop me.”
Well,
Dib is totally going to put this into his voice memoirs.
Shigaraki brandishes his short sword in an uneven grip. The green growth rustles around him. Shigaraki tightens his grip, head turning from one direction to another to keep his sight on where the movement is coming from. He swallows his anticipation, firmly keeping a stance. Any moment now his visitor would be known. It’s a hideous laugh, full coy and predatory amusement, sounding from all around him. His perception is too lacking to pinpoint where it coming from. He almost wishes that Dabi was here to burn up all the gross greenery. Sacred forest or not it, makes Shigaraki’s eyes ache.
“Come out,” he calls, “I know you’re out there. Can’t we just talk?”
The wind picks up, blowing Shigaraki’s hair wilder, rustling the leaves and rattling the branches. It’s makes everything far more ominous, especially when the sky was twilighting, dressing the clearing in darkening lights. There’s a voice but the wind blows it around, Shigaraki can’t perceive where it is. “You’ve entered my domain… no one comes out alive.”
He shivers, the deep voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, shaking the earth. Shigaraki has to crouch down, his stance swaying with. He’s at a huge disadvantage by standing on a branch.
“I wasn’t aware this place belonged to anybody other than the forest goddess,” he says casually, looking around cautiously for any pinpoint of the creature. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.
The creature laughs again, “Her? Like all those other gods, she had abandoned this place. No, this is mine and mine only and you are trespassing.” The greenery begins to shrivel and wither, black spreading like a disease and closing in. Shigaraki takes a step back and raises his swords. “And trespassers die.”
Shit shit shit shit
He has to jump but the height he’s in, it’ll take a saving chance to even make it alive. Too many what-ifs.
He hears splintering and snaps. Shit. The branch groans, swaying leaning dipping down and he really has to jump now. Taking a look down the height, he takes one breath and plunges. Only to be whiplashed when his foot catches on a stray vine, his short sword slips from his hand and he could hear it hit and embed itself into a branch below, past what Shigaraki could see. Blackness continues to close in and the creature laughs.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, what is he going to do now?!
The idea pops and he tries to reach for his pack on his waist to grab a dagger so he could cut the vine but his fingers slip on the button and his dagger slices his palm as it sails down as well. Fuck. Shigaraki clutches his bleeding hand. He’s really going to die here.
“Any last words?”
“Fuck you.”
Black trails down his vine and-
-an axe comes sailing through, slicing through the vine and embedding into the tree. Before he falls to his untimely death, someone catches his foot and tosses him over to a branch. Shigaraki is lucky enough to cling to it.
It’s a boy, probably mid-teens, blond and dressed in furs. He looks like a wolf, is Shigaraki’s first thought. He’s using his embedded axe as leverage to keep himself up on the tree. The creature hisses, “You.”
The boy is looking at Shigaraki though, and the pale moonlight makes him look even paler and wilder. His red eyes shining. “Can you fight?” He asks, voice gruff but so incredibly young sounding. How old was he?
Shigaraki manages to pull himself over the branch, standing. He pulls out his rapier. “Yes,” he replies. The boy grins.
-
“Roll for initiative,” said the Dungeon Master, Midoriya Izuku, rolling his own dice.
Shigaraki curses and Bakugou cheers. “Oh hell yeah, nineteen.”
“...3.”
“Ouch, better luck next time, Shigaraki-kun. Kacchan, you’re up first.”
Bakugou cracks his knuckles and gets his d20 ready to roll for a hit.
Color of a mirror [An extended version of this fic] Shigabaku.
It was simple. Not really simple, but something Bakugou could at least understand.
He could understand jerking awake in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat. He could understand his sheets wringing against neck from his tossing and turning, making him struggle to breath. Hell, he could even understand the heavy churning dread filling his chest, dread that drips deep down to the pits of his stomach, a nightmare he couldn’t remember.
(even if he couldn’t remember, the sensations remains. hot burning sears across his skin, a suffocating pressure across his throat, aches of chap pressing over and over- he tries not to think.)
What he couldn’t understand is Shigaraki (his enemy, his kidnapper, his) sitting over his stomach with two incomplete hands around his neck with blunt digging nails.
“Get the fuck off of me.”
Shigaraki slowly releases his neck, raising his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender, and says, low and unrushed, “I was wondering when you’d wake up.”
Raising to his elbows, Bakugou suddenly regrets his choice of dark curtains and no table side lamps. Thankfully, streetlight filters enough through the darkness, from the swaying curtain wind of an open patio door. It provides some light into this three am tryst.
He’s already ask so many times before (why are you here, how did you get here, is this fucking real) but it’s always the same answer, so he answers his own unsaid question, “There’s no reason for you to be here.” From what little light, Bakugou could see his outline shift, tense, relax. His hands had lowered to rest on his thighs, Bakugou is manticulent to know where they are at all times.
“I wanted to see you,” Shigaraki finally says, over the straining quiet.
“You really don’t understand how fucking dangerous this is, huh?” It’s hot when Bakugou speaks, irritated, fed-up. A child would understand more than what he’s working with. “You can’t just- just fucking walk in here like it’s nothing. There are heroes as teachers, for god’s sake. They’ll do much worse than just arrest you.”
“Are you worried for me?”
“Fuck no.” Half-truth. “My ass is on the line here too, you know. I need you to fucking leave.”
His weight shifts, the mattress dips. A thin arm pulls Bakugou closer and matted, messy hair tickle the side of his face. “Let me stay until morning,” Shigaraki says quietly, calmly, tiredly. They were both tired.
“Fine. You better be gone before I wake up.” He lets Shigaraki settle next to him, all awkward and hesitant, unused to such intimacy.
(It’s dark, cold, and lonely.
Bakugou tests the chains over his wrists, it’s rattles echo off the walls.
“There’s no point,” came the rasp voice of his captor, the light spilling from the open door shadows him into an outline. Bakugou squints but he knows exactly who he is. He doesn’t say anything in response.
Shigaraki clicks his tongue. “Maybe a few more days in here will persuade you.” The door shuts again engulfing Bakugou into its solitary darkness.
He works at his chains again.
He’s sitting with either leg across a back-turned chair, leaning hunching over the back support of it with his arms pillowing his chin on the metal edges. He’s humming, musing, saying what might as well be nonsensical things because Bakugou doesn’t fucking care.
It’s freezing water splashed on him and Bakugou wakes instantly. His palms burn against the metal. There’s a shallow laugh and Shigaraki stands before him with a bucket held carefully between his hands. “Good morning,” he says dreadfully cheerful, happy with the dagger look Bakugou attacks him with.
He still refuses to talk but this time around Shigaraki doesn’t mind at all.
Shigaraki turns the bucket around, mindful of his fingers, and sits himself on the base of it. The signature severed hand placed delicately over his face. “The heroes have lost our trail,” he then says. “They have no idea where you are.”
It’s much colder than the water.
“Don’t despair. It’s a good thing.” Shigaraki leans forward and he’s smiling under that hand, the way his eyes crinkle tell it. “More time we have to convince you, so take as long as you need to talk. Then we can welcome you.”
Bakugou spits in his face.
Time is blurry. How many days has it been? weeks? since he’s trapped in this small dark room?
It’s been a long time since his captor had last came, it makes Bakugou anxious.
He twists his hands for the nth time that day(?). There was a certain rawness to his wrists against the chains, wetting the metal and making him hiss, but he doesn’t stop. He hasn’t stopped since he’s been here.
And today’s there’s fruit.
It’s a sharp, cracking sound, followed by slow whining when the chains finally give from his continuous struggling. They loosen considerably that Bakugou could very much possibly slip his hands free from the restraints. But he doesn’t.
He waits for Shigaraki to come back.
He’s angry when he returns but not at Bakugou.
Seething from the brim, he slams the door open. “Damn, damn, damn, damn.” He’s pacing, muttering, and angry angry angry. Bakugou watches him carefully.
“You were a hero once,” Shigaraki says once he stops pacing, facing him now with clenched hands and hard eyes, “Why do they have to ruin everything?”
Bakugou doesn’t reply.
“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re nothing like them.” It seems to calm Shigaraki down when he came to that conclusion. He relaxes, shoulders hunching. “Not at all…”
The door is left open when Shigaraki leaves. Bakugou stares hard at the entrance and the chains sear over his wrists.
“I thought you would try to escape,” Shigaraki said like an observation. Bakugou shifts in his seat. “But you didn’t. Why?”
Bakugou pulls gently at his chains like it was a clear answer. Shigaraki hums.
It’s hard to follow what had happen. Bakugou can’t even begin to backtrack to fully process because he’s over Shigaraki with one hand over his throat and another on his chest, both palms heating warningly. Shigaraki isn’t struggling, he isn’t moving in general, just watching him with narrowed eyes and clenched teeth. Discarded chains lay at their feet, on the ground.
“You’re going to let me go,” Bakugou says quickly, hotly, raspily, “you’re going to let me go and never bother me again.” His knees pin Shigaraki’s hands to the ground, he leans more of his weight on them and Shigaraki hisses. “I’ll spill every damn thing you ever told me to the police, every secret, plan, weakness, everything.”
There’s a dusty, acidic smell from Shigaraki’s hands disintegrating the concrete ground. This time he’s the one not saying anything.
Bakugou presses his hand further down his throat. “I’m not like any of you fuckers. I’m a hero, not a traitor.”
“What you’re doing now,” he says, staining, raspy, “isn’t very hero-like.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugou wets his lips, his eyes flickering between Shigaraki’s pinned figure to the open door. There’s no one around.
Why did he feel so powerless?
If Shigaraki catches his hesitation, he doesn’t show it, only watching Bakugou carefully.
“Why don’t you…” He needs to know, before he leaves he needs to know. “Why don’t you ever leave yourself?”
It catches Shigaraki completely off guard.
Bakugou leans back, dropping his hands to his sides. He rewords his question. “I might not know a fucking thing but I know that you’re being-”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Bakugou doesn’t say anymore. He doesn’t go.
He loses track of time. Days, weeks, months, it feels like the longest day of Bakugou’s life and he has the vague feeling the sun is setting on it but warms the ground a final time before it completely ends. In the dusking, in the hidden hideout, when the sun kisses the horizon, Bakugou finds everything complicated.
It’s an awful circumstance, a truce, mutually understood but so fucking complicated.
“Fuck,” he sounds, stops, says once more, “fuck.” He finds his words, his hands tight together as he tries to think in something other than situation. So many holes, so many what-ifs, buts, maybes to even be considered a workable plan and Bakugou iterates that, “It’s a terrible plan. It’s never going to work- it can’t work.”
He knows exactly what it’s called to be caring for the enemy only because they treat you kindly. He knows every person would label this- whatever this is- as that. So he doesn’t say anything.
The policeman asks him again: Is there anything you can tell us about them? Anything they did to you, told you, planned to do?
Aizawa only sighs when he response with the same answer: I don’t remember.)
