#todorokitops drabbles

[todorokitops-writes]

/drops bakukamideku fluff and runs/ 👀💕

Hope you enjoyed > <; 👉🏼👈🏼

~

Other stuff

[teatops]

WAIT BEFORE I SLEEP I JUST HAD A BAKUDEKU THOUGHT

[Edit: this has become known as bakudeku author au! I didn’t think people would actually get invested in it O-o]

Aged up and Quirkless!au (no one has Quirks) where Izuku’s a popular book author whose face is unknown and only goes by Deku (of course). His books (which are ongoing) have amassed a large fandom, and his guilty pleasure is actually reading fanfiction of his own stories, which are set in a world where superpowers exist and the main character wants to become the greatest hero. He has secret accounts on almost every platform, but he would die before ever telling his friends what he was doing on them.

Izuku’s reading mood changes day after day. Sometimes he likes reading the angsty fics, though he always keeps a box of tissues next to him. Some of the fic authors actually kill off his favourite characters in their stories, and the comments are always about how they hope the original author (him) won’t actually kill that specific character off in the next book he writes. They’d never know how he’d never even considered it, and now that they’ve written that story, he’s definitely never going to kill that character off! He just loves them them too much. So he bookmarks the story, leaves a kudos and a comment on his secret account telling them how much he loved it, wipes away his tears, and moves on to the next one.

Izuku’s descent into hell started sometime when he was reading angst, when he saw the tag with two of his characters’ names with a slash in between. He was still new to the website and never used it for anything other than reading fics for his own fandom, so he assumed it was rivalry. The summary certainly made it seem so. So he tapped.

Three hours later, Izuku was in a whole new world. How could he not have seen the potential between these two characters? Or those two? Or the other two? Maybe even those three? The four??? He’d fallen into a dangerous rabbit hole of romance.

There was a lot of same-sex shipping as well, which actually confused him at first. He thought he’d made it obvious that the male protagonist in his stories liked one of the girls in his class, even though romance often took a backseat in his adventure stories. But here was a plethora of fics about the character falling in love with an aloof boy in class, or one of the cheerful ones, or the one who’d just joined and seemed like he needed a week of pure sleep. Or all three? Sometimes everyone in the class?

He’d particularly gotten very invested in a specific fic author whose username actually seemed rather murderous for someone who wrote such sweet fics. There was a link at the bottom of one of them, which had taken him to their blog, on which they’d given an age and pronouns. He/him. Huh.

Whoever this fic writer was, he wrote fluently and beautifully. (His author’s notes were witty too, if not a bit sweary.) Izuku found himself gripped as the author made him worry over his own characters’ relationships, their breakdowns, and their missions, and quickly enough, he’d deemed him his favourite author. The irony of having such an aggressive name for a romance writer wore off when he discovered he wrote angst fics too. Right up his alley.

Then he came across The Fic. The fic that changed everything. It was another angst, but peppered in with some romance between the protagonist and his childhood bully turned rival turned friend. (Izuku wasn’t sure how to feel about that since he hadn’t written them with any romantic subtext, to his knowledge, but the author was so good, he had to read everything he had, including this story.)

And then, he reached the ending.

At the very end of the story, the rival and the protagonist were forced to work together in a battle against villains after having had several scenarios together where they’d reconciled their differences and ended up agreeing to be civil towards one another. In an effort to stop the protagonist, he lunged in front of him in an act of self-sacrifice, and let the villain’s weapon claw through his chest instead.

Izuku started crying instantly, holding his phone in his shaking hand as he curled up against his headboard further in the darkness of his room. No, no. No no no no no! This couldn’t be happening! He didn’t exactly... ‘ship’ the two, but after everything that had just happened, why? Why? Why did this death hurt so much?

And he was indescribably angry too. As he finished the story, the rival laying in the protagonist’s arms, smiling and confessing his love at last, Izuku found himself sobbing even more and throwing his phone across the room.

He wasn’t having this.

He opened his laptop aggressively, searching the fic author’s blog again and going straight to his DMs on his secret account. Not only was the self-sacrifice so unbelievably unsatisfying, but the character he wrote, would never let himself go down that easy. He would never do that unless he knew for sure it was the very last resort. And if he were to die, he would never make a love confession his last words. He would express it through his actions, because Izuku had always, always written him like that. This story was just an entire injustice!

Send.

The reply came instantaneously. Apparently, the author was online, and... just as angry as he was. Izuku didn’t even have time to be nervous over the first time texting his ex-favourite author when he started reading the text.

“HAH? LOOK, IT’S MY FUCKING FANFIC AND MY INTERPRETATION OF THE CHARACTERS. AND DIDN’T YOU READ THE MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH TAG, DUMBASS? YOU SHOULD’VE SEEN IT COMING”

“I know exactly what you’re trying to say, but what happened is just so inaccurate to the characters! Their personalities! How they would’ve reacted!!!!!!”

“YEAH? AND HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?”

His fingers flew across the keyboard in a mad rush of irritation.

“BECAUSE I WAS THE ONE WHO MADE THEM UP!”

...

Izuku’s eyes widened.

Oh no.

Oh no oh no oh no.

Where was the ‘unsend message’ button?

“...Deku?”

Shit.

~

Index

[todorokitops-writes]

As promised, here’s the body switch + major character death angst (there’s your first warning 👀) I was talking about, in which Katsuki and Denki accidentally switch bodies... and Denki dies in a car accident while they were still switched.

Now stranded in Denki’s body and surrounded by people mourning who they thought was Katsuki, the straw blond has to continue pretending to be Denki for everyone else’s sake, including his own. Even if it means he can never face his grieving parents, friends and boyfriend the same way ever again.

~

If it wasn’t obvious enough already, the following is hurt no comfort ;-; enjoy if this is your type of read

~

Other stuff

[todorokitops-writes]

Pspspsps, would ya like a fantasy au drabble?

I had an idea some time ago where the father of the Todoroki family stripped his eldest son of his name and thus his magic, leaving him wandering in the wilderness without either. No name, no powers. No name, and the closer death creeps up on him. He doesn’t have much time left. How will he spend it? 👀👉🏼👈🏼

This is part 1, possibly of 2. Might make it 3 or more if I’m invested enough. Enjoy ^^

~

He doesn’t know how long he’s been knocking on that damn door.

Had it been an hour? Three? Seven? The man’s entire body slumps against it, his forehead pressed against the dry wood. The vibrations from his own knocking jar him over and over, but his exhaustion’s long since won out over standing without support.

It’s been getting darker too, he notices, with dull, blue eyes tiredly tilting towards the skies, and when a sudden breeze sails through his clothes, his entire body shivers like a leaf. For a moment, he pulls his knuckles away from the door to wrap his tattered robes tighter around himself, nursing the sting of rapping against wood, before returning to his efforts.

A week, he thinks as he keeps banging.

He’s gone a whole week now without a name, without his powers, and that was a whole week longer than he thought he’d ever last after being cast out.

My name is T-

He can’t even think the word. All that remained since he’d been stripped of it was a vague emptiness in his chest, like air robbed from his lungs before it was even time to take a breath. And if he tried too hard, his head just filled with storm clouds, and his breathing constricted like there was a whip around his throat.

The best thing he could do to last as long as he could, was forget he ever had one.

But the man remembers knowing it once, clear as day. Back before he’d been told he’d ruined it all, before one wave of his father’s hand was all it took for everything to go black.

A week, he thinks, eyes opening again to see the wood. He’d barely lived through the realisation on the first day he’d woken up in the forest that his flames wouldn’t come back no matter how hard he’d summoned them.

In the end, he’d given up trying to remember how to do that either. No name meant no powers. Simple as that.

Food and water were no matter. He could live on anything, but that was pointless when he’d already been condemned to die. With every day that passed, he could feel his life force slowly draining away.

Without his younger brothers and sister to remind him what his name was, to band together against their father, he couldn’t get his powers back. And without his amber flames to keep him warm, to guide him through the dark forests like will-o'-the-wisps lighting his way, he was nothing.

Just like Enji said.

What had he even told them? That he’d run away? That he was dead?

...Well, that last part would come true soon enough.

And where was he anyway? Why was he even knocking anymore? When it was clear the inhabitant of this place would never let him in, not even for a last meal before the final pieces of his soul trickled through the soles of his feet and sunk into the earth?

Just as he’s about to bang against the door again, a little harder despite what little strength remains in his bones, it opens faster than he can blink—

—and a hand reaches out, catching the back of his fist.

The nameless man startles at the sensation of skin against his own, head jerking up before he can fall forward. His eyes are wide, and though the light from inside shines into his face, its warmth calling to him almost like a siren song, its light is suddenly much too bright compared to the darkness he’s standing in right now, out on the wooden porch.

And the figure holding his fist…

He drops his gaze to his own hand, enveloped by paper-white fingers, each ending in sharp, black, shiny nails. He can feel the tips of them curving over his own, cold and unforgiving.

Then, finally, he looks up to meet wine-red eyes glinting with thinly-veiled irritation beneath a black hood; to be greeted with words almost as icy as the nails that press into his skin.

“...And who the hell do you think you are?”

The nameless man smiles brokenly, shaking once more at the words.

If only he knew.

~

So yeah. Let me know if a part 2 is wanted~

Other stuff

[todorokitops-writes]

Ttops literally a day after posting fluff: where did I put my angst? I swear I just had it— aha!

So I just remembered I have some plotless Denki angst from ages ago which I haven’t shared yet. That ends today. Enjoy ^^

Warning: hurt no comfort

Bonus:

The lyrics mentioned above are from the song Two Birds - Regina Spektor. It’s sad but beaut ;;

Anyways, I hope you liked the angst :)

~

Other stuff

[teatops]

[throws bakukami whump at you] a storm approaches...

okay but for real tho denki gets so depressed one night he goes out while it’s pouring and walks aimlessly until he gets to the park. and he knows he shouldn’t do it. he shouldn’t. his quirk is already so delicate like this, with thunder in the distance and his hair already soaked, but he pulls out his phone anyway an hour later, trying to shield it from the downpour as he dials a number.

“the fuck?” a groggy, sleep-filled voice answers. “it’s 1am, sparky.”

“can-,” denki says shakily, tears mixing with the rain falling against his cheeks, “can you come pick me up?”

a pause.

“...tell me where you are.”

and in about ten minutes, katsuki’s running into the park, just as drenched, panting as he looks around frantically, before finding the blond bent over himself on a bench, legs pulled up to his chest and quietly sobbing. his heart drops and he runs to him, freaking out.

but his mouth won’t make the words he wants to say. what happened? why did you come out here? who do i have to murder?

and as he approaches denki, the other boy finally looks up, discharging electricity left and right, little sparks that fizzle out. katsuki goes to touch him, hold him, take him home, but-

“-don’t!”

he blinks, pulling away instantly and watching denki recoil from his touch.

“...you’ll get hurt.”

katsuki stares down at him, the small boy on the park bench, so afraid to let anyone near him whenever thunder started to brew and lightning was visible in the distance.

“you’re already hurting, fucker. come here.”

and with that, the taller teen is pulling denki off the bench, into his arms.

instantly, he can feel the electricity surging through him, making every nerve bubble and pop, and it takes everything in him not to push off. denki gasps,  trying to shove him away in panic, but katsuki just holds him even tighter, dropping his chin into the junction between his neck and shoulder like a key in a lock. he fists his hands into the back of denki’s soaked-through shirt, desperately trying to ignore the pain raking across his chest and back like nails.

“baku- bakugou, you can’t,” denki says, eyes wide. “it’s painful! just let go!”

“fat chance,” katsuki replies through gritted teeth, ducking his head so even if denki turned his face, he wouldn’t see the expression of pain on it.

because this is what he needs right now. he needs someone to be with him. hold him. fucking protect him and remind him that he isn’t someone to be afraid of. and if katsuki has to be that person, then damn it all to hell, he will.

“this is supposed to be painful?” he adds lightheartedly, even though his nails are digging into denki’s back. maybe he’s drawing blood now, he can’t tell. “doesn’t even hurt a bit. l-like static.”

but soon enough, they’re both collapsing on the ground in front of the bench, the rain pounding down even louder now as they cling on to each other, though the shorter boy’s still fighting back weakly.

“stop pushing me away. just... just let me hold you, damn it,” katsuki pleads, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the rain.

and after a long moment of hesitating, denki finally crumples into him, melting as katsuki wraps his arms around him more securely again. loud sobs wrack his body and katsuki can feel every zap of electricity leaving his body and entering his, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to bear with the pain.

“thank you...”

and he just sweeps the smaller blond off the dirty ground, sweeping him into his lap, and cradles him. tightly. denki hides his face under his chin, shoulders shaking as thunder shakes the air around them, much closer now.

he knows it won’t be long before lightning hits.

but he’ll stay. he’ll stay right here, holding on to a denki who might slip away from him so fast if he so much as blinked. like sand through fingers. so he stays. he lifts a hand to wipe tears away from his cheeks, and pushes his head back against his chest again, rocking him back and forth, even as the thunder grows louder, and louder.

his entire body feels like it’s burning with every second he holds denki, and he knows the second he lets go, the pain would go away. he’d be safe again. but why would he?

so even when thunder finally splits the sky open right above them, katsuki clings tightly to the sobbing boy in his arms, making a silent promise to him.

“i’m not leaving you. not now. not ever.”

~

ahaha. take all my angst. i was deep in my feels when i wrote this.

(edit: this drabble has fanart now! ^^)

- todorokitops

[teatops]

@lovethewitchofendor

Hmm... alright. I think it’ll be angsty, though, so you might regret asking. But then again, it’s Dabi/Touya, what do we expect? :^) I’m thinking this up on the fly btw, so here I go

Touya is a little younger than Dabi. In the dimension he came from, he didn’t run away. He didn’t fake his death. He endured everything. Even when other dimension Dabi finally lost his patience, lashed out when he was younger at the pivotal moment that landed him the burns that Enji was oh so willing to give at the time, Touya stayed silent. He protected his younger siblings as best as he could, and he didn’t say anything against his father otherwise, up until that one fateful day several years later, when he finally cracked.

So did Enji.

So now the white bandages wind around his neck, all the way up to his chin. Because of the scarring/burns around the lower half of his face, he wears a black face mask, leaving it so only the top half of his face, which remains unscarred, is visible.

He’s paranoid, defensive, and since he manifested outside the League’s hideout in a parallel dimension only a few days after he’d gotten the bandages on, his voice is still sore and achy. His selective mutism doesn’t help his case either. All he wants is to feel safe, to be loved and understood.

Dabi, who’s had to fend for himself for much longer, is very much willing to give him all of that.

It’s Dabi who finds him in the first place, curled up in a ball and passed out behind the dumpster, as if he’d just been dropped out of the sky like a broken angel.

He recognises him instantly, eyes widening, and the man doesn’t show the slightest sign of waking up even as Dabi swears and bundles him into his arms, kicks the door down to the hideout and brings him in to settle him down on the couch. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he can’t leave someone who looks almost exactly how he used to a few years ago laying outside without doing anything.

He inspects him, eyes roving over his familiar features, the mouth mask, the bandaged neck. He’d had to wear those himself when he was far younger, but these looked new. Almost like the pain he’d had to experience all those years ago was far more recent to this stranger. But who was he?

His clothes are pristine, like he hadn’t even been there long, and though the stench of waste permeates the air, it’s not the heavy kind that’s been festering in fabric for days nor weeks. It had barely even settled into his skin.

After what seems like hours of Dabi pacing nervously, waiting for the other members to come back and tell him what the fuck he‘s supposed to do, what sort of messed-up nightmare prank this is, the man finally groans in his sleep.

Dabi freezes in his steps, peering at the familiar stranger slowly rousing from the sofa. His eyes are still shut in pain, and he hisses quietly through the mask as a hand lifts to rub at his temple as if he had a hangover. But it can’t be, because Dabi smelled no alcohol on him, and in any case, drunken men are the least of his worries when the man looks almost exactly like his past self.

Then at last, the hissing stops. The masked man seems to feel the surface he’s on, realising he’s not where he was before. And then, his eyes snap open, hand coming down to grab at the side of the couch, at the arm of it. Not recognising anything, he stands up and turns, defenses set high and ready for attack.

Dabi’s breath hitches.

And panicky blue eyes meet curious blue ones.

~

Dabitou au masterpost

[teatops]

shigahawks drabble - saturday morning cuddles

y’all can thank @no-one-told-you-life-was-gay for getting me into a new rarepair, as per usual. I’ve only had shigahawks for a day and a half but if anything happened to them in this au, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. also this is mostly self-indulgent bc an angsty pre-shigadabihawks rp left me craving the idiots to just get together already. chose shigahawks for this drabble tho just because i don’t see them together as much as shigadabi/dabihawks, so here’s my contribution to the tag!

anyways, i’ve wholly accepted that writing soft morning cuddle scenes will be my trademark now, especially after the todobaku morning cuddles post i wrote a while back (these’ll both be up on my ao3 later ^^)

on with the drabble! read it softly and sleepily please. i hope you like it.

~

the first thing tomura does when he wakes up is sneeze. of course he does. there’s hair tickling his nose from where someone’s tucked up against his body, legs tightly interlaced with his.

he crinkles up his nose a second later on impulse, moving away automatically from the thing that had made him sneeze, only for them to pull him back with an unhappy whine at the lost contact.

brat, the villain thinks when his thoughts become a little more coherent, and he finally registers the arm wrapped tightly around his waist, slipped up under his shirt sometime during the night. the warmth from keigo's fingers spreads to his, and he hums pleasantly, leaning into it as the other man wakes up a little more.

keigo makes a little chirping noise of surprise when he notices tomura looking down at him. instantly, the taller man tries to make his fond smile turn into a frown, but it's too late. he's seen.

"i like it when you wake up happy."

the aqua-haired man lifts a finger from under the duvet to flick it at his forehead, only a little irritated.

of course he woke up happy. how could he not wake up happy when keigo was there, all koala-like and adorable, arms slung around his waist, tracing the small of his back?

it was like a little slice of heaven in the mess that made up tomura's life. the only thing that felt right.

the only thing he doesn't regret.

but, "it's too early in the morning to be sappy, you shitty bird," he mumbles instead, shoving his gloved hand into the blond's face.

the other man just takes it by the wrist gently, his other hand still tracing circles into tomura's back, drifting up his shirt to his shoulder blades.

gently, he keeps eye contact with the villain as he turns it and presses a kiss to the inside of his wrist, before placing his cheek into the palm of his hand, as if tomura were holding it himself.

"you like it."

those eyes look at him calmly, his smile practically disappearing into tomura's hand as he presses more kisses there.

tomura doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to. he does like it. he likes the way keigo treats him on saturday mornings, and every morning they wake up together, like he's a dream keigo can't believe he's having, someone who might disappear if he just shut his eyes for a little too long.

and so he always wakes up to the other man watching him lazily, blond hair tousled into a windswept mess when he runs his fingers through it and props his chin up onto it just to watch tomura rub his eyes and put a hand over his mouth to cover up a tired yawn.

now though, keigo finishes off his kisses on his lover's hand, giving him a small smirk, before moving up his arm. he stretches out the limb and watches tomura's expression shift from sleepy to delightfully embarrassed with every kiss he carefully plasters onto the pale skin.

he carefully works up the arm, blond hair falling into one eye, and tomura feels his chest blaze up with warmth with every gentle kiss that's pressed to his skin, from his forearm, to his upper arm. his fingers are still intertwined with the other's, perfectly slotted like they belong together.

then keigo's finally leaning over, so close, and tomura turns from his side to falling back against the pillows so he faces the ceiling and the other man hovers over him, still grasping his fingers gingerly.

the blond bends over him, pressing a final kiss to his exposed shoulder, before gazing down at him like he's everything he's ever wanted.

that can't be true, tomura always tells himself as he turns his head to the side in embarrassment, his messy hair following the motion. because he's just... him. and he never seems to see what keigo sees in him when he does things like this, like holding his hand without fear of what might happen if the glove were to slip right off.

he doesn't understand.

but every morning, keigo tries to teach him to let himself be loved a little more. 

so he lets him.

the blond's leaning over his body now, wings spreading out from their folded form to span over the length of the bed, in their own version of stretching.

tomura looks at them in awe for a moment, before gathering himself to turn his head back to keigo and smile a little mischievously.

"oh, you are such a fucking showoff."

the hero cocks an eyebrow, and the wings flutter twice, another happy chirp escaping his lips.

"maybe so."

the sound snatches at tomura's heartstrings, plucking them like a harp, and he can't help himself when his other hand reaches up to circle around the back of keigo's neck, directly overhead.

"but you're my fucking showoff," he breathes, eyes dropping to his lover's lips, before a final tug downwards of his hand makes keigo brace himself before his lips meet tomura's.

soft.

the taller man can feel a cool breeze in the room from where the hero's wings are fluttering above the sheets, and he smiles through the gentle kiss, shut eyes not wanting to take in the rest of the world yet.

this is enough.

this, right here, is enough for him.

their laced fingers squeeze one another on the bedspread, and tomura tilts his head so he can kiss keigo deeper.

he tastes sweet for some reason the villain can't quite put his finger on, and it feels like heaven just to feel him feather kisses down his jawline to the base of his pale neck, before returning to claim his lips again in another kiss.

the wings around them shudder and flap, and tomura feels more than hears the cooing sound his lover makes without thinking when he pulls back to look at the man beneath him.

tomura breathes a little heavily, watching as the blond lifts his free hand now to tuck his aqua hair behind his ear. his lips feel tingly, and he allows himself a little smile as he looks at the winged hero above him.

"you're beautiful."

and tomura burns.

he burns brighter than a flame from the inside out, a frenzy of unexplained emotions nudging at one another inside his mind, pushing to get out, to explain themselves. but in the end, he can say nothing to the man who's tracing a finger down his cheek, looking at him in wonder.

so he just takes the finger, opens up the hand, and presses his cheek into the palm of it like keigo had done to him earlier. he smiles in wonder back at him.

and he knows it's told his lover everything he needs to know.

yes. i'm yours too.

~

hope you enjoyed! till next time :)

- todorokitops

Edit: I finally posted it on AO3 under the title ‘more than words’! Enjoy :D