#school has been kicking my ass pls have mercy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gallickingun · 4 years

Note

YOUR BAKU IS PERFECT!!! may I pls have more??? 🥺👉👈

a/n: AW THANK YOU! i had to start easy bc he scares me lol. well not him so much as writing him correctly!

warnings: swearing, blood, lil tension; everyone 18+ even if there’s nothing going on.

ps, wow, this took a turn. 18+ for a reason now lol aka spicy but tolerable

“Outta my way, Deku!”

“Eat shit, IcyHot!”

“Fuck off, Weird Hair!”

“You know you can talk to your friends without insulting them, right?”

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles, dusting the ash off of his uniform.

“Yo!” Kirishima shouts as he trots over to where the two of you are, loitering over what remains of the training bots. He tilts his head, his face guard outlining his features, “Anyone ever notice that Bakugo never calls her anything mean?”

You scoff, “Oh take it as a compliment. Just means that he cares so little about me that he hasn’t thought of a crappy one-liner for me yet.”

“Hey!” Bakugo’s eyes widen, brows raising to form creases on his forehead. He’s growling now and you wonder how far you can push him, “You’re mean to people you like, I’ve figured you out, Baku’.”

He’s gritting his teeth and his jaw is quivering but you can’t help the giggle that parts your lips. The sound only seems to spur him on in his bout of fury, “You take that back, you raging little bitch!”

“There he is,” Kirishima groans, slapping his palm to his face. He sighs and shakes his head, reaching forward to grab Bakugo around the arms, dragging him towards the locker room.

Pissing Bakugo off had to be the best part of training.

You made it your point to say the last thing to frustrate him; it’s entertaining. And you know he’ll never hurt you, not for real. No matter how far he pushes his limits, he hasn’t ever actually harmed his friends beyond repair.

“Same time tomorrow?” you salute the hothead as he’s roughly yanked to the lockers.

“What did you say?!” He’s screaming from across the yard, his hands ferociously animating in midair. He raises a fist to you before flipping you off with both hands, “You’re lucky Weird Hair is here, or else I’d totally come beat your ass!”

You chuckle as you turn to go to your own set of locker rooms, a hot shower calling your name. There isn’t enough energy remaining in your body to send him another taunt or insult. You also know when is enough with Bakugo - you don’t want to have to have a full fledged one-on-one with him unless you have to. You’d never admit it, but he might overpower your quirk if he were angry enough.

It seems to become a thing then, because now you can’t stop paying attention to the way that Bakugo says your name instead of calling you some rejected insult. Even though he’s moved into an apartment with Kirishima, and he and Midoriya spar on the regular, he still keeps the same nicknames he gave them in high school.

You allow the tiniest of thoughts to wonder if maybe Bakugo just thinks highly enough of you to allow you to have your given name instead of giving you one himself.

The next time you bring it up, you’re pinning him down with your forearm on his throat, hips pressing harshly to him. You’re enlisted in the same agency, have been for about three years now, and you’re both working your way up the charts and the pay rates.

“Why don’t I get a cute nickname, Katsuki?” you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

He’s growling and before you know it, you feel a stinging explosion set off against your thigh and you’re rolling over. He takes advantage of the moment and pins you right back. Your head bobs against the training mat but the rest of your body is rendered immobile. His shins are on yours, successfully pinning your legs down as his hands make quick work of your upper body.

“Why does it fuckin’ matter?” Bakugo grits his teeth and narrows his eyes down at you, unsure as to what you’re getting at. His forearm is cutting off your breathing and he knows it, pushing into your esophagus as he repeats the question, only harsher this time.

You try to move your hand, signaling your surrender before you pass out.

Once he realizes, he’s leaning off of you, watching as you sputter and cough. You even thing you hear him mutter some sort of an apology as you work through your fit.

“I guess it doesn’t,” you manage, voice hoarse. “I’m just curious, since Kirishima said something.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, resting his palms on the top of his thighs, “He’s talking out of his ass, is all.”

You find your hands are on his knees, casual as if this were normal. You chew on your lip and he gets impatient, brows knitted together as he snaps, “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

“You don’t see us as equals, do you?”

He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.”

Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

Bakugo is clambering off of you then, his ears burning beneath the tails of his bandana. He offers you a hand, helping you stand to your feet. Your fingers linger a bit too long and you feel the sweat gather in his palms. You wonder if he’ll light you on fire for looking at him like that.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone as an equal.” Bakugo’s voice is rough, hidden behind his arm as he wipes the blood from his face. He smirks and you wonder why you’ve never seen him as he is, “But maybe I could start. Get better, and then we’ll see.”

As he walks away, you make it your personal mission in life to be seen as an equal on the battle field and in real life.

You train harder, longer, putting every part of your being into becoming better. You research strategies, researching the other heroes, playing your strengths off of theirs. You stay up late and wake up early, your body begging for rest but you are unyielding as you climb the sidekick ranks.

It’s another seven months before you’re face-to-face with him again.

You’re paired up as sparring partners, the two of you going head-to-head for a full thirty minutes without even using your quirks. You’re both sweating, his quirk daring to go off if he really willed it to. You know the strength to withstand using his abilities must take a lot of concentration.

“Wow, you’re not half-bad,” he chuckles, swinging a right hook at you. You dodge it easily, reacting by kicking him in the side. He chokes on his own saliva and you smirk at him, “What, you scared, baby?”

You’re not sure why or how that slipped from your lips, but it takes him by surprise. Either way, it leaves you with an opening to jump in the air and swirl your knees around his neck to pin him to the ground. Your legs are around his waist and you’ve got his arms barred upward.

The sight of his sweating palms so close to your eyes makes you a little nervous, but you have enough faith in him to hold back his anger and his explosive fists.

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter. He squeezes his eyes closed and wraps his palm around your face, fingers pinching your cheeks, “You asked for it.”

He swings you by your neck, your legs releasing him as your body falls to the ground with a loud thud, a small wave of energy tousling the ground next to you. Bakugo has you by the throat now, eyes wandering over your face as he inspects you.

“Been training, huh loser?” Bakugo juts his knee into your stomach and you force yourself to withhold from choking on your own spit. Your eyes bug out of your head at the pain but all you do is scrape and claw against his arms and torso, silently begging him to release you.

You glare up at him before reaching out to lick at his palm, thankful for once that neither of you are in your full hero get up. You’re somewhat surprised to taste ashen sweetness on your tongue, but it takes him off guard long enough for you to slap his arm away and stand to your feet.

“You fucking licked me?!”

You shrug, running towards him while he’s still on his knees. Your knee cap pushes into his chest, toppling him to the ground. You’ve knocked the breath out of him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he settles in the ground.

“Yield,” you ask of him, holding him by the throat. “C’mon, Baku, call it.”

The scent of smoke drifts to your nostrils and you barely have time to shake your head before a non-lethal explosion takes your attention away from him. Before he can get the jump on you, you propel yourself backward, flipping twice until you’re far enough away that you feel safe.

“Shows you, fuckin’ lickin’ me,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and his palms are like lighters, sparking as he stalks towards you.

You won’t be bested by him, not after all of the hard work you’ve been putting in for the past few months. You’re thankful that your own quirk is something opposing to his - water manipulation. In the same way that he can pool his sweat and light it on fire, you can turn yours into a weapon.

You call forward the water from your body and the water in the air into your palm, molding it into shards of ice on your fingertips. You start to sling the projectiles towards Katsuki as he walks closer. He dodges them with ease, but the final one slides across his cheek, drawing blood.

Everything inside of you churns at the sight of his eyes hardening, jaw quivering under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together. He chuckles and it’s dark, but it stirs something in you - now you know he’s giving it his all, so when you win, it’ll be a justified win.

“I’m about to kill your ass,” Bakugo swipes the collected blood off of his face with his thumb, staring you down. “You’re damn lucky that I’m not wearing my gauntlets. I’d light your ass on fire before you even had time to use that shitty quirk of yours.”

You start working on pulling more water from the air, thankful that it’s a rather humid day. Now, if only it could rain. Then Bakugo would be completely out of his element and you would be more than comfortable.

“My shitty quirk just marked up your pretty face, ‘Suki.”

He charges at you and the two of you trade blows for what feels like hours. You have to stay at least a little ways away from him at all times if possible, his quirk only short range without his gauntlets. You’re glad that your quirk is able to become a ranged weapon if necessary.

Bakugo is much faster without his heavy suit, though, and you’re not ready for him to chase you, right on your heels as you try to put distance between the two of you. You lean down and swipe your feet around his ankles, but it seems he was ready for it because he jumps over the top of you and lands just in front of you.

“Not gonna get that one over on me again,” he snarls but it’s just on this side of a smile, his eyes lifting upward as he tangles with you again.

You tilt your head as you block one of his punches, “Am I turning you on, ‘Suki?”

“Shut the hell up,” he grunts.

“Your face is bleeding again,” you comment, twisting his hands in your grasp, hearing his wrist pop under the action. You wince but he shows little reaction to the pain, “Why don’t you clean it up, huh?”

The comment stops you in your tracks and allows him the opening to slam into you, pushing you across the greenway until you’re stumbling over your own body. You suck the water out of the surrounding plants, balling it up in your fists to create your own version of his gauntlets.

“Get over here, and maybe I will!” You call, raising your fists. He’s already sprinting toward you, but you use the remaining water on the ground to propel yourself upward, the spray of it blinding him long enough for you to encase his body in ice.

You’re gritting your teeth, keeping this part of your quirk is especially difficult given that you haven’t had time to hone it, unlike the other ways you know how to manipulate water. You can barely get the words out of your mouth, “Yield, Katsuki!”

You know that he’ll die from asphyxiation or hypothermia before he can blast his way out of your trap. His eyes widen from within the crystalline cage and your lower lip shakes - you were really hoping not to have to use this move, but he’s proven himself to you time and time again that he’s continuously climbing the ladder to get better.

“Yield!” you shout, your blood vessels straining against your skin.

His eyes close and it’s the closest thing to a yield that you’re going to get. As soon as you can, you drop the ice, the surrounding area flooding, the ground turning soggy beneath his feet.

Despite the absolutely enraged look on his face, you approach him and brush your thumb over his cheek, using the water from his face to heal his scratch.

“There,” you let out a breath at the exertion, “now you’re pretty again.”

Bakugo snatches your wrist harshly, glowering down at you, “Enjoy that, because you’re not going to beat me with that stupid quirk of yours again.”

Your jaw quivers but you ask the question anyway, “C-Could you ever see me as your equal, now that I’ve beaten you?”

“If I had my gauntlets, your stupid ice cage would have been toast!” Katsuki is shouting, his grip on your wrist tightening. You try your hardest not to wince but it does not go unnoticed by him as he makes the connection.

He shakes his head, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you that hard.”

“No, it’s fine, I,” your breath catches in your throat, “I shouldn’t have made you angry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you get it?” he growls, yanking you closer, only softer this time. “You always make me angry.”

If you weren’t confused before, you sure are now. You know that Bakugo has a naturally hot-headed temperament, but you never expected him to attribute some of it to you.

“Gah, you’re such an idiot!” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair before blowing a breath out of his mouth, attempting to calm himself down. He really doesn’t want to screw this up. “Every time I see you, I get this, this stupid knot in my stomach. And it just pisses me off! Why are you different?”

You want to laugh because it appears he’s experiencing feelings for the first time, but you don’t want to make him feel humiliated. Instead, you reach your palm upward and wrap your fingers around his wrist, “You make me feel different too, Katsuki.”

He rolls his eyes, “Great. So we’re both fucked.”

This time you do laugh, but only because he’s so blunt. You know better than to touch him excessively, especially in public, “I guess so. Maybe we can fuck together?”

You’ve never seen Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes go so wide.

a/n: well, that was a bit different but still the same lol. not tagging anyone this time bc i don’t want to be a bother :) i hope you guys liked that. feel free to request more/others!

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #bakugo x you #bnha x you #my writing #morgan writes bnha

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years

Text

Yoga with Bakugou Katsuki

Your weekly competition with archrival and secret crush, Bakugou Katsuki, takes a turn when you invite him to yoga class. Maybe your hope to become something more is not so one-sided after all?

Title: Winning in Downward Dog

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader

Warnings: Bakugou trying to be a flexible pretzel and failing 😂😂

Word Count: 2,696

a/n: This is basically a crack fic pls forgive me lol If you enjoy, pls like and reblog! 💖 You can request more here. Side note: For anyone wondering, this was originally posted on my first bnha blog, but that has since been deleted.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re currently pinned beneath Bakugou in the middle of a training exercise where you’re supposed to be on the SAME TEAM.

“Yield,” Bakugou says.

“Never,” you say.

It’s known in Class 1-A that you and Bakugou have a weekly competition where each of you pick a different activity to see who wins. This competition sometimes gets in the way of school. Most of the time you understood the concept of forgoing pride for the sake of education, but when it came to Bakugou fucking Katsuki you became equally hot-headed and stubborn.

Class 1-A groans in unison.

Midoriya raises his hand.

“Sensei, you’re going to erase their quirks, right?” He looks genuinely concerned.

“Ugh, I hope so! I don’t wanna be here all day. Again.” Mina complains.

You knee Bakugou, but he won’t budge. He smirks at your struggle.

“Tch. You have to do better than that, dumbass.”

He places more of his body weight so there’s no escape. You can’t help the flutter in your chest at the sudden closeness. He’s radiating pure heat and the faint aroma of caramel emanating off him does little to clear your head.

Yes. It’s true. You have a crush on the one person who’s more concerned with pinning you to the ground during a training exercise than pinning you down on his bed where you belong dammit!

“Can ya’ll wrap this up? Some of us have plans tonight!”

Of course Kaminari would interrupt your fantasy just when it gets to the good part.

“Chill, bro, the movie doesn’t start ‘til 7,” Kirishima says.

“Can I come?” Mineta asks.

“No.” The Bakusquad reply in unison.

You buck up against Bakugou. Your leg slips from his hold and you manage to wrap it around his waist, flipping him over. He grunts as his back hits the ground. You hear crackling, but before he can set off his quirk, you counterattack, leaving him with no opening.

Class 1-A collectively gasps as you pull an UNO reverse card. Cheers erupt from the girls at the same time the boys groan.

The class has an ongoing bet on who would win your competition at the end of the semester. Bakugou is ahead by one, but you might even the score today.

“You get ‘em girl!” Mina shouts.

“Awww dude way to let the boys down!” Kaminari shakes his head.

“Shut up, shitty hair!” Bakugou shouts.

He glares at the rest of the class, daring them to utter another word. They don’t. A couple minutes pass of Bakugou trying every which way to get out of your hold and you countering every one of his moves with ease.

“I could do this all day,” you say.

“Me too,” Bakugou spits, sparks erupt from his palm.

“I can’t,” Aizawa says, erasing both of your quirks.

Class 1-A groans in unison once again.

“Ugh! But Sensei it was finally getting interesting!” Kaminari says.

Yeah, just like my fantasy was getting interesting until you interrupted it! Hmph!

“Guess nobody wins this time,” Kirishima shrugs.

“Technically I won,” you say.

You gasp as you feel the wind get knocked out of you and suddenly you’re looking up at vermilion eyes.

“No, I win.” Bakugou smirks.

You can’t bring yourself to be upset as his hands grip your wrists. You’d lose a million times over if it meant Bakugou touching you.

“Say it.”

You cock your head, “Say what?”

“Say ‘I win’.”

“I win.”

Bakugou’s nose scrunches in frustration.

“That’s not what I- you know what I mean!”

Aizawa clears his throat.

Both of you turn to see Class 1-A hanging onto your every word like they’re watching the final battle in Avengers: Infinity War. Kaminari is munching on some popcorn, passing the bowl around to the rest of the class.

How did that boy even…? Nevermind.

It’s best for you not to think about the weirdness that is Class 1-A. It would only give you a headache.

“Nobody wins. You both failed the exercise,” Aizawa says, “And get up. You’re both making me uncomfortable.”

You and Bakugou make awkward eye contact before he gets off of you. You swear a tinge of red flushes his cheeks as he offers his hand for you to take, but you know he’s only offering it as a sign of respect. That doesn’t stop your hand from shaking as you reach out to take it. You mumble a quick ‘thanks’ and he responds with a soft ‘whatever’ as he helps you to your feet.

“Class dismissed,” Aizawa says. Mina and Kaminari whoop before racing to the dorms. Everyone else follows, leaving you and Bakugou trailing behind. You’re racking your brain trying to come up with something to say. You don’t want to let this opportunity of getting Bakugou alone go to waste.

C’mon, Y/N think of something… Oh! I can ask about the movie they’re watching tonight? No… he’ll think I wanna come along or something, which I do, but I don’t want him thinking I do!

Oh lord have mercy on me.

You’re about to fuck it and pull a ridiculous comment about the weather out of your ass when Bakugou speaks up.

“I won.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s still on that?

“I did.”

“Why do you have such an obsession with winning?” There’s no malice in your tone. You just genuinely want to know.

“You wanna die!?” Bakugou puffs his chest, tiny sparks fizzling in his palms, ready to blast at any second.

You throw your hands up in surrender.

Please don’t kill me.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to strive to be the best. That’s why we’re all here. But we were on the same team today, Bakugou, and you still couldn’t handle the fact that I would be the one to lead our team to victory. Why?”

You’re just as competitive as the next U-A student trying to go pro, but even you knew when to quit, especially if it jeopardizes the team or the mission. Your quirk was just a better fit for this particular exercise and Bakugou knew that.

“I don’t need to listen to this bullshit, especially from a fucking extra.” Bakugou stomps off.

“Wait! Bakugou!”

You stop him by touching his arm; he jerks at the contact as if he’s been burned.

“Don’t touch me!”

You try to hide the hurt as you take your hand off his arm.

Of course he’d hate the idea of touching me in any way besides holding my hand to arm wrestle. Ugh! Why can’t I have a crush on literally anyone else!?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Whatever. What’s the challenge this week?” he grumbles, looking away from you.

You didn’t want to push any further and make Bakugou hate you even more. It’s sad to know you don’t have a chance with him which is why you look forward to these competitions. If this was the only way to spend time with him, then you’re gonna take it.

“Yoga tomorrow at 8.”

“Tch. Yoga? My grandma does yoga on her deathbed.”

“If you don’t show up, guess it means you forfeit and I win.”

You walk away knowing full well Bakugou won’t back down from a challenge. You hear him shout from across the way.

“Like hell I’d forfeit, loser!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re warming up before class when the doors swing open and in walks Bakugou with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The class regulars (who are all girls) huddle together whispering about the “hot new guy.”

Bakugou unfolds his mat next to yours.

“Oi, Y/L/N.”

You turn to him, “Morning to you too, Bakugou.”

“Get ready to die,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics.

“Please, I’m sure I can beat someone who yells ‘DIE GERMS’ every time he brushes his teeth.”

Bakugou’s teeth clench at the dig against his personal hygiene habits. You could see the vein on his forehead threatening to pop. Teasing Bakugou always brought a smile to your face. He was just so cute when he got riled up.

“You wanna go, shitty woman!?”

It’s too easy.

“Save that for the field,” you say before returning to your stretches, but you’re interrupted once again.

“Psst.”

You turn to the girl next to you.

“You know him?” She nods at Bakugou stretching with his earphones in. The scowl on his face reads “fuck off”.

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s hot.” The girl sighs in a daze.

I know, girl. Trust me, I know.

Every aspect of Bakugou’s body screams power. He trains harder than most and it shows. The long grueling hours spent going to the gym and honing his quirk have really paid off. From defined shoulders, to the lines of his six pack visible even underneath his shirt, all the way down to the powerful thighs that could crush you in an instant and you would happily thank them for it.

“I can hear you,” Bakugou snaps.

Shit.

Your heart skips a beat, afraid you pulled an Izuku with thinking out loud. Thankfully, he’s referring to the girl next to you who squeaks and returns to her stretches.

Phew… That was a close one.

You clear your throat.

“You better not get us kicked out of this class, too. I actually like yoga.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirks.

Bakugou got you both kicked out of the chess club when he went all ‘sparky sparky boom boom man’ on the chess board after you won. The president of the chess club cried. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Now, you both have to play chess in the dorms.

The class begins with simple stretches. You sneak a peek at Bakugou who looks oddly calm for once. You’re used to him either being angry or… being angry. There really was no in between for the boy. But right now, with his eyes closed, he looked almost at peace.

“I can do this in my sleep.”

And of course the moment is ruined the moment he opens his mouth.

“This is only the beginning, my friend,” you say.

Bakugou loses some of his vigor halfway through. He’s huffing and puffing as you go into an intense hip flexor stretch.

“You okay there, buddy?”

You’re sweating a bit by this point, but not as much as Bakugou who’s struggling to keep up.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

The class goes into the splits. Your split is perfect, but Bakugou is still a little ways off the floor. He tries to subtly wipe the sweat beading down his forehead.

“You know yoga has a ton of amazing benefits. If you keep at it, you could knock someone out going into a downward dog.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. His knees buckle under the pressure of the new position.

“Y/N, can you assist our new student?” Your instructor asks.

The rest of the class turns to you and Bakugou.

“Oi! I don’t need any help, old hag!”

You grimace at his loud tone, a harsh opposition to the otherwise calming atmosphere.

“He doesn’t really mean that,” you try to cover for him.

“Yes, I do! Oi! Stop looking at me dumbass, yes, you over there-”

You muffle his screaming with your hand against his mouth. You place your other hand on his waist and guide him into the correct position. You can tell he’s holding his breath.

“Breathe. That’s it. Now tighten your core like this,” you whisper in his ear. Your hands glide down his stomach. His ears are beet red and he’s looking anywhere, but at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Tch. I’m fine. Now, get your hands off me, shitty woman.”

You sigh. Of course. Should I expect anything else at this point?

All the women bounce up to you at the end of class. They’re giggling and sneaking glances at Bakugou who’s rolling up his mat.

“Who is that?”

“Do you know him, Y/N?”

You’re taken aback. Since when were you on a first name basis with any of these girls? For the past three years you preferred to stay in the back of the class and leave once it ended. The women are a bit… much and they don’t pay much attention to you anyway, just the way you like it, so it’s startling when eager eyes are on you awaiting a response.

“Is he single?” Another girl asks.

I certainly hope so.

The group shushes each other as Bakugou walks up to you.

“Same time next week, loser?”

Next week is his turn to choose the competition. Does he really think he has a chance of getting his splits down in a week?

“You want to do yoga again?”

“Not for our competition, idiot.” The excitement radiating from the group of girls behind you only feeds your heart fluttering in your chest. You don’t want to get your hopes up, but Bakugou has never been interested in meeting up with you outside of class if it’s not for your competition.

You want to be sure of what he’s asking. You couldn’t bear the thought of believing this is leading to something more only for Bakugou to say it’s not.

“If not for our competition, then what for?”

Bakugou looks at you, his cheeks are flushed red and you know it’s not from the yoga anymore.

Holy shit, is this it? Is Bakugou fucking Katsuki actually asking me out? After we just spent the last hour in downward dog? Note to self: I’d like to give a shoutout to the yoga gods that made this possible. You the real ones.

You lean against the wall in an attempt to be casual, but it’s only because your legs are literally shaking from the excitement that Bakugou is asking you out.

Bakugou glances at the girls behind you murmuring between themselves.

“Tch. Forget it.” He grabs his bag and walks out.

Wait. What? No! Come back!

You hear the girls gossiping with each other, all of them excited that Bakugou’s becoming a yoga regular.

“He’s coming back next week!?”

“Ugh! He’s so freaking hot! I can’t even!”

“What should I wear!?”

You don’t pay them any attention as you run out the door in an attempt to salvage... whatever you have with Bakugou. It’s complicated, okay!?

“Bakugou!”

He doesn’t look back, but you know he heard you.

“Bakugou! Wait!”

“What!?” He snaps, but the blush on his cheeks give him away.

“I’m down for the same time next week.”

He crosses his arms and scowls.

“Are you deaf? I said forget it.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou sighs; his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture you’ve only seen a couple times from him.

Wait is Bakugou… nervous?

“I know I’m gonna pop off on one of those girls and I don’t want to get you kicked out. I know you like yoga for whatever goddamn reason…”

“What if we had a private yoga class?”

You’re fully prepared to be rejected. Your relationship was one of rivalry and competition, what you’re suggesting would be breaking into new territory, but you were tired of pining. It was better to know he doesn’t like you than to spend your time at U.A. wondering.

Bakugou doesn’t expect that question and you certainly don’t expect his response.

“I do need to practice my splits more.” He looks down at the ground, ashamed for admitting he needs practice. You can tell he doesn’t admit this to just anybody. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Bakugou viewing you as more than just the extra he claims you are.

“I can help with that,” you say.

“Tch. I don’t need your help.”

You shrug, “Fine, don’t come crying to me when you break your hip. You’ll never be able to take someone down in downward dog.”

“I CAN TAKE ANYONE IN DOWNWARD DOG! JUST YOU WATCH, SHITTY WOMAN!”

You laugh as he childishly stomps off, gripping his palms tight to keep from exploding.

Way too easy.

Bakugou ended up taking Midoriya down in downward dog. Nobody saw it coming, but you. He thanked you with a movie date and a kiss at the end of the night. 😊

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha x reader #mha #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #fanfic-me-up #mha x reader

296 notes · View notes

kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Kamino Arc, Kidnapping & Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Gets A Hug

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Content warning for kidnapping, aftermath of violence. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

i’m gonna die (sent 19:08)

no seriously i’m this 👌🏻 close to losing it bro (sent 19:08)

aizawa’s voice is so zzzz and it’s like sir,, i’m begging,,,, (sent 19:09)

a little bit of energy. just a little bit (sent 19:09)

A nudge to his side, somewhat urgent.

shit brb (sent 19:10)

“Dude.”

Kirishima keeps his voice down to a hiss, shooting a glance at Aizawa’s turned back just in case. Hidden behind his pencil case, his phone shows Bakugou has read his messages – near-immediately, as always – before Kirishima locks the screen. His own face is reflected on sleek, innocent black.

Next to him, Kaminari is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t dude me, dude”, he whispers back. “Texting in Aizawa’s class? D’you have a death wish?”

Next to Kaminari, Mina leans over her desk, clearly curious and uncaring of her notes crinkling quietly under her elbows. “You? Kiri, paragon of wholesomeness and sunshine, breaking the rules? Lemme guess, it’s because of Bakugou.”

Next to Mina, Sero joins the fray with a muted headshake. “So brave yet so reckless. Truly inspiring.”

“You can say that again. That guy’s scary, man.” That’s Kaminari again. He leans in conspiratorially, nodding at Kirishima’s phone. “You got Blasty’s number? How? He almost bit my head off when I invited him to the 1-A chat.”

“Uh, yeah? We’re besties. But guys…”

If they were anywhere else, Kirishima would let out a whine. All he wanted to do was keep himself awake by texting his bro, is that such a crime? Especially since Bakugou’s the only one of ‘em who is actually allowed out there, where the fun stuff is happening. It’s downright cruel to have a new challenge dangled in front of their eyes like the juiciest steak only to be dragged away to the equivalent of plain steamed broccoli. Or something.

Point is: Kirishima’s bored enough he could cry and Aizawa, bless his insomnia-plagued soul, is making it about a thousand times worse with his monotone mumbling while he continues to write whatever-the-fuck in chalk to illustrate his point.

Three mouths open simultaneously in what Kirishima knows will be a too-loud bout of teasing – a frantic gesture of his hand to shut up, shut up, shut up has identical grins bursting on his friends’ faces.

Grins that disappear the instant the familiar sense of Aizawa’s quirk washes over them. Uh oh.

Aizawa doesn’t even have to say anything. Not even a brief pause registers in his lecture yet Kirishima snaps to attention so hard his buttcheeks clench as he furiously scribbles down what’s on the board. Some sort of… diagram? (It’ll make sense later, Kirishima hopes. And if it doesn’t, there’s always his equally draconic tutor-slash-best-friend he can poke into helping him eventually.)

After a semester at U.A., everyone in 1-A is whipped enough that not a single word is breathed between them for a good fifteen minutes. Aizawa talks, they take notes.

Then the adrenaline wears off and Kirishima finds himself drifting once more, fingers automatically flicking the home button. There, over Crimson Riot’s confident grin, three new messages.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

pay attention (received 19:14)

ffs (received 19:14)

hope aizawa murdered your ass (received 19:16)

No surprises there. Well, the fact that Bakugou has deigned to reply just before a training exercise kind of is, and he even triple-texted which makes a sappy part of Kirishima’s brain think he must’ve rubbed off on him over the past months. The day Bakugou Katsuki discovers emojis can’t be far off now and it will be Kirishima’s greatest achievement to date.

He bites his lip to suppress an amused noise at that. Ignoring the incredulous stare from Kaminari to his right, Kirishima types.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

haha! i lived bitch (sent 19:32)

minus the bitch askdjfhsk sry (sent 19:32)

i’m just tired af lol (sent 19:32)

how’s things on ur end tho? (sent 19:34)

no asses left unkicked i’m sure (sent 19:34)

👊🏻💥💥 (sent 19:35)

Kirishima gets about a solid second to feel good about furthering his pro-emoji agenda before his phone is snatched away by rigid, white cloth. Wide-eyed, his gaze is met by a flat expression that exudes more exhaustion than any human should rightfully have to feel.

“Kirishima”, Aizawa says, as calm as ever. “How kind of you to lend me your attention.”

Lord have mercy. Whichever hell Aizawa is about to unleash on him, Kirishima will be in it for a while. And when that’s over, it’ll be Bakugou’s turn to have a field day with it.

Somehow, Kirishima is actually looking forward to that last part.

Then, a voice rings out in their heads. Aizawa jumps into motion. The villains strike.

Afterwards, all Kirishima can do is stand there and watch the forest burn. His phone is silent, held between fingers that won’t stop trembling no matter what he does. He unlocks, checks, locks, only to do it all over again a few minutes or seconds later.

Around him, everything is spinning out of control. Reality is too loud, too bright, already overwhelming where it waits to be acknowledged beyond the soothing green interface of his chat with Bakugou.

The messages are still there. Marked read until they aren’t, and Kirishima stares at that subtle difference like it’s the last thing tethering him to the ground. Blue tick, his best friend is fine. Grey tick–

Bakugou let Kirishima take a photo of him, once. Kirishima had complained about his profile picture being that creepy default silhouette, especially once they started texting on a daily basis. So Bakugou sighed and leaned over the tiny table of the café, his chin propped on one hand and his coffee in the other. He’d kept still just long enough for the shutter to go off and called him a clingy bastard right after.

In the soft morning light, there’d been something warm in his typical glare. It’s still there, tucked away in the top left corner of the screen. Fond, red eyes, looking straight at Kirishima ever since.

Higher and higher, the flames reach for the sky with greedy, cobalt fingers, bright enough to take the stars with them. And Bakugou?

Bakugou is gone.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

hey (sent 23:01)

it’s a long shot but (sent 23:03)

are u there? (sent 23:03)

these are going thru so ur phone is on and i thought (sent 23:08)

idk (sent 23:08)

please respond man (sent 23:37)

please (sent 23:58)

katsuki? (sent 00:40)

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

fuck (sent 3:24)

Bakugou Katsuki

um (sent 6:13)

the pros asked for ur number to track it and stuff so i gave it to them (sent 6:13)

turns out almost nobody has it?? so like (sent 6:20)

if u want a new one after all this it’s on me (sent 6:21)

pls don’t be mad haha (sent 6:21)

fuck that actually (sent 7:05)

be as mad as u want baku (sent 7:06)

u can do whatever ok? when u come back (sent 7:09)

free pass. i won’t guard this time (sent 7:09)

just come back (sent 8:00)

they’re looking for u so u gotta come back (sent 8:02)

Baku 💣💥

sry i just (sent 19:55)

ok still going thru (sent 19:55)

that’s good right? (sent 19:57)

i need it to be good (sent 20:05)

yeah (sent 20:06)

Baku 💣💥

it’s saturday (sent 2:33)

please be ok (sent 4:46)

i miss u (sent 5:00)

Baku 💣💥

we’re on our way katsuki (sent 12:45)

just hold on we’re coming for u (sending…)

wait (sending…)

oh (sending…)

Bakugou is quiet.

When all is said and done, injuries patched up and police statements given, Kirishima waits and Bakugou looks… tired. Small. Glancing back at the precinct with eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant to truly belong to him.

Whatever he’s searching, if he finds it or not – Kirishima can only guess as Bakugou’s shoulders slump further and he mutters, “Let’s just go.”

In retrospect, he was probably talking to his parents. The Bakugous came for their son in a car as expensive as they come, white with chrome highlights and an interior clad entirely in tasteful, beige leather; it’s an aesthetic that’s the antithesis to Katsuki’s. Their expressions are full of love, though, brows drawn in concern carefully left unspoken. His father opens the back door for him first, going for his own in the front, while his mother ruffles Bakugou’s hair within the one-second-window he allows for the touch before shrugging it off.

“Welcome back, brat. We missed ya.��

Familiar phrases laden with far too much weight. From the outside in, it’s just that: Mildly exasperated parents picking up their kid after some school thing that dragged on into the night, or perhaps a late hangout with a friend. No one acknowledges the nightmare-ish three days they’ve left behind by the merit of time passing and the world spinning on and nothing else – the countless people injured or dead, an entire district torn asunder in a conflict much bigger than any of them, especially Bakugou.

Bakugou, who shuffles onto the backseat without saying much of anything. It’s only after Kirishima trails after him and Bakugou’s eyes meet his own over his shoulder that Kirishima realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Then Bakugou’s gaze softens and he kicks the door of the car open wider. “Um”, Kirishima pipes up, the noise of keys clinking together drawing his attention to one Bakugou Mitsuki. “Is it okay if I…?”

She snorts and ruffles his hair, too. “Kid, after what you did tonight, a ride home is the least I can do for ya. C’mon.”

Kirishima bows politely, a mumble of “Thanks, ma’am” waved away immediately. A moment later, Kirishima’s hand is being grabbed and he’s dragged inside. “Get a move on”, Bakugou mumbles, staring pointedly until Kirishima rights himself and digs for the seatbelt with his free hand. The click of the clasp snapping in is oddly loud in the ensuing silence.

It doesn’t last. The moment the engine purrs to life and the lights go off, a heavy guitar riff screeches from cleverly hidden speakers in perfect surround sound and Kirishima jumps. He’s the only one in the car to do so.

“Whoops, my bad”, says Bakugou’s mom as she turns the music down the slightest amount, her smirk – so familiar and yet not – clearly visible in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Bakugou’s dad chuckles and shakes his head.

Bakugou himself is turned towards the window, the hand against his chin barely hiding the tiny smirk there. Kirishima lets him have it. Anything that’ll replace that lost expression from earlier is good in his books.

“So. Eijirou, right? Nice to finally meet ya.” Mrs. Bakugou checks in with him via the mirror. Her hand rests on the gear selector. “Where to? We’ll bring you home first. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

And oh fuck, Kirishima hasn’t even thought that far ahead yet. When he snuck out of the house a lifetime ago, all his mind was able to process was getting to Bakugou, saving Bakugou, bringing Bakugou back. As much as both his mothers are angels in their own right, they’re also easily worried and twice as buff as him. There haven’t been many occasions which called for them to throw down for their son but they totally would if given half the chance.

If they catch wind of even a fraction of what Kirishima got up to tonight, someone will have to pay. Kirishima’s willing to bet his most prized, limited-edition Crimson Riot figurine that that someone will end up being all of U.A., nationally famous pro heroes or not.

Before any of that can make it out of his mouth, Kirishima’s hand is squeezed and… Oh. Bakugou’s still holding it. Their skin isn’t touching; Kirishima’s sleeve has been pulled down to prevent that.

(It’s one of those things Bakugou does, tracking who and what gets in direct contact with his sweat and how to neutralize it in time. It makes Kirishima’s chest ache that, despite everything that happened, he is still aware of small things like that.)

“He’s crashing at ours tonight”, Bakugou tells his parents rather gruffly. Still looking out the window like there’s nothing unusual about that at all, and Kirishima gapes at him in complete and utter surprise. Bakugou’s grip only tightens.

“Got a problem with that?”

Just like that, Kirishima finds himself able to process speech. “Nope! Not at all. Uh, that is– Mrs. Bakugou, Mr. Bakugou, can I?”

Bakugou’s parents look similarly caught off-guard. To their credit, they merely blink and look at each other, shrugging. Again, it’s the mother who speaks. “That’s Mitsuki and Masaru to you, kid. Let’s go home, then.”

And that’s that. They set off, the car’s movement a quiet thrum that’s drowned out by complicated drum solos and vocals barely scraping past outright growling. Any other day, Kirishima would’ve been ecstatic to finally get to meet the Bakugous. He’d hoard bits and pieces of knowledge about them – such as the fact that Katsuki’s taste in music runs in the family, what the hell – like a dragon does gold coins. The notion that Bakugou invited him to their first sleep-over ever would be the biggest treasure on that pile, for sure.

Because Bakugou Katsuki is anything if not cautious: with his quirk, with his time, with his trust. Because, after days of pacing his room and worrying himself sick and crying until exhaustion took him out, their plan worked.

They pulled it off, Bakugou is back and alive, and Kirishima’s allowed to stay by his side a little bit longer.

He’s here because Bakugou wants him to be and that… feels better than Kirishima can properly put into words. So, no, he doesn’t boast about it, he doesn’t have the energy to – but Kirishima notes and appreciates it nonetheless, relief forming a ball of warmth and light that radiates within him like a tiny sun got stuck between his lungs and his heart. Bit by bit, it melts the tension off Kirishima’s bones until all he can grasp is the steady presence of Bakugou’s hand in his and how heavy his eyelids feel.

Kirishima could sleep for a week straight and still crave a nap afterwards. Probably.

There’s something he has to do before he crashes, though. With a gentle squeeze, he frees his hand to grab his phone and winces at the dozens of unread messages and missed calls that greet him. Both the group he has with his family as well as the one for 1-A have been running hot most of the night, reducing his battery to a pitiful 12%.

Opening up the chat with his moms, Kirishima scrolls to the bottom of the increasingly worried barrage of texts and hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad. Once he starts typing, he’ll have about a minute before shit really hits the fan.

💪🏻Kirishima Power 💪🏻

guys i’m so sorry!!! (sent 21:58)

i know ur worried and stuff and i swear i’ll explain later ok?? (sent 21:58)

just wanna let u know i’m safe!! staying over at baku’s tonight (sent 21:58)

he’s here and safe too (sent 21:58)

🙏🏻🙏🏻 (sent 21:59)

He pauses then, reading that last part over and over again. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. A smile cracks Kirishima’s lips apart and it remains there, steadfast through the flood of new messages rolling in.

Bakugou’s room is both everything Kirishima expected it to be and at the same time… not.

It’s huge, for one, the typical bed-wardrobe-desk setup expanded by a couch and a beanbag, a TV with a variety of game systems hooked up to it, a handful of shelves filled to the brim with books and manga and oh, a whole freaking drum set taking up a corner by itself. The walls are plastered with band posters and signed set lists and – less blatant but still there – the odd All Might merch Kirishima knows Bakugou would strangle him for mentioning, so he doesn’t.

What comes out of his mouth is: “Dude! I didn’t know you played drums. That’s so cool!”

Everything is kept in the triad of black-orange-green Kirishima recognizes from a certain hero costume. A few discarded shirts aside, it’s really tidy. So much so that Kirishima feels ashamed of the state of his own room just by seeing this.

The feeling is compounded by Bakugou picking up those shirts and throwing them in the hamper first thing, a quiet tch indicating he’s annoyed by it. Kirishima isn’t up to outing himself as an unrepentant walking mess in comparison – instead, he makes a beeline for the bookshelf with the manga, eyes drawn to a row of covers he’d recognize in a heartbeat.

“Wha– I’ve been looking for these for ages! They’re sold out every time I try to catch up on ‘em.”

A short glance at Bakugou is answered with a shrug and an eye-roll: It’s Bakugou-speak for do whatever the hell you want. Kirishima pulls out the volume he stopped at and leafs through it.

It’s meant as a distraction for Bakugou, a space for him to drop the put-together façade and breathe without people constantly fussing over him. It’s honestly what Kirishima would rather be doing right now (exploring his best bro’s room be damned) but it’s not what Bakugou needs. Well, what Kirishima thinks he needs.

It’s hard to get a read on him without the constant snark and pointed glares. With some dinner in their bellies and Bakugou’s parents now safely downstairs, the expression that fits nowhere on the Angry Bakugou Face catalogue is back. Kind of uncomfortable and so… absent.

Kirishima is really starting to hate that expression.

It’s entirely accidental that Kirishima actually gets into reading. One chapter turns to three, turns to five, and the troubles and worries whirling ever-tighter in his chest ease for a bit until–

Woosh. A soft, balled-up something knocks against the back of his head. Kirishima startles and almost drops the manga, a vaguely alarmed noise stopped short by the sight of Bakugou in sweats and a well-worn, black shirt. His hair is wet. Wild as ever. At Kirishima’s feet: A similar outfit including a towel.

“Bathroom’s that way. Leave your clothes out by the door, I got special detergent for the nitro. Shampoo and shit’s in the shower, there’s a toothbrush for you by the sink. Use it.”

Kirishima opens his mouth.

Bakugou sighs. “It’s just a fucking toothbrush, Kiri. Wreck it for all I care.”

Kirishima closes his mouth. He nods. His phone is quickly dug out of his pocket and set aside, then he slips out to shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, he opens the door to let out a gust of steam and sees his clothes are gone. The hallway is empty, half-lit by the light coming from downstairs. The Bakugous have been as nonchalant about their spontaneous guest as Bakugou himself; even so, Kirishima tries not to linger or make too much noise as he sneaks back to Bakugou’s room.

“Baku. I’m back.”

Bakugou gives him a grunt of acknowledgement from where he’s fitting some sheets over the couch, folded out to provide a decently sized bed. There’s a pillow and a pile of blankets next to him, wrapped in fresh linen as well. It’s unlikely he’s stopped doing stuff since Kirishima left and if he is about ready to crash in five to ten minutes, he can’t imagine how Bakugou is doing right now.

Y’know, the guy who just survived being kidnapped by Japan’s newest and most notorious villain menace. No amount of pretense can make that simple fact undone.

Kirishima pads over to help, the offer to take over already on his lips but– Too late. The last corner is already being tucked in and laid flat with grim-faced efficiency. Left with nothing else to do, Kirishima sits down on the very edge, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the hem of his borrowed shirt. There’s some sort of band logo on it, an English word written in that typical death-metal-font that looks like someone dumped a bunch of white sticks in a pile and called it a day.

It’s soft. A little loose and frayed around the edges.

“Hey, Baku?”

Taking the blankets, Bakugou dumps them in Kirishima’s lap. “Mh?” He makes to step away and Kirishima doesn’t think, just reaches out and catches the back of his shirt.

“Dude, seriously. Just… sit down for a minute. Please?”

And Bakugou… listens. He stops, he frowns at Kirishima for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what his deal is, he sighs like he’s been presented with the world’s most aggravating puzzle – and then he tells Kirishima to scooch. “What? I’m not gonna sit on the fucking floor”, he says.

Kirishima can’t keep the relief off his face as he gladly makes room on the couch, leaning against its arm and tucking his legs in. Once Bakugou has settled, cross-legged with an elbow propped on the backrest, Kirishima throws the blanket over both of ‘em. Might as well get comfortable while they still can.

“Okay.” He steels himself with a long, slow breath. “I know you hate this kinda thing and we’re both tired and… stuff. Still, though: Are you okay?”

Bakugou gives him a look, which– Okay, fair. It’s a dumb question with an obvious answer. Kirishima doesn’t back down, though, humming to buy himself some time to rephrase.

“Like… It’s fine if you’re not. Okay, I mean. And if you’d rather go the fuck to bed and not think about this for a while that’s fine, too. But that was pretty rough and you’ve been, um, quiet. And stuff. So, I’m kinda worried. Y’know?”

Kirishima pauses. A bit lower, he mumbles: “And I missed you. So yeah.”

At some point, he dropped his gaze to his hands, limp and useless in his lap. Kirishima swore not to be a coward anymore but it’s hard, to speak and ask about things in full awareness he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

All he wants is for Bakugou to be okay. That’s all that matters, at the end of a day like this.

“I’m not”, Bakugou says, tentatively. Like he’s making up his mind as he goes. “I’m not gonna waste your time with ‘I’m fine’. I’m not. This shit’s fucked up.” And again he sighs, sounding so fucking tired Kirishima’s heart squeezes in sympathy.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days; my shoulders are killing me from using my quirk and sitting chained to that stupid chair and whatever the fuck else. The League scouted me specifically because they thought I’d make a good villain and fuck them for that. Fuck them. But it’s just… It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever Kirishima expected, it’s not that. He looks up and into Bakugou’s eyes and–

He can’t mean that, can he? Kirishima searches his face for evidence to the contrary, traces the tension around Bakugou’s mouth and the exhaustion smudged under his eyes and the line between his brows, growing deeper under Kirishima’s scrutiny. It all reads defeat. It hurts.

They won, right? A childish voice within Kirishima can’t help but cling to that even as he looks back down. They won, and things are supposed to get better when you win.

“People got hurt. People died, Kiri. Heroes, too.” Bakugou takes a shaky breath, a hand going to his hair and rubbing it roughly. “Fucking… Best Jeanist was there and nobody at the precinct wanted to tell me if he’s alive or dead or what. All of Kamino Ward is fucking gone and All Might–”

Bakugou’s voice cracks right down the middle and it hurts. Like there’s a beast tearing through Kirishima’s chest to rip out his heart and throw it to the floor, stubbornly beating as it bleeds out.

Kirishima wants to say something. Anything. All he can hear is Bakugou’s breathing but it’s all wrong, off-rhythm and thread-bare and upset, and any doubt what that means is erased as Bakugou’s hand clenches on the sheets and he sniffs, wet on the exhale.

“Baku–”

“Don’t. Kiri, don’t–”

He’s always been like that, ordering him around and demanding things when politeness dictates to ask for them instead. His tone is as close to pleading as Kirishima’s ever heard from Bakugou, though, and it twists him up inside to the point he feels distantly nauseous.

“Don’t look.” Bakugou isn’t supposed to sound like that. Not now, not ever. “Okay? Don’t f-fucking– Don’t look at me right now.”

“Okay”, Kirishima says. “I won’t.” His own voice is a mess as well, trembling all over the place. “I won’t, Nitro. I won’t.”

You’re safe, is what he wants to tell him. It’s okay, you’re safe now. That’s not what Bakugou is asking of him. Kirishima can’t stop himself from crying because it’s always been hard not to when the people he loves are doing it, but… He tries. For Bakugou, he’ll always try.

Through eyes heavily clouded by tears, he sees Bakugou’s hand tighten, knuckles going white and bloodless. Painfully tense, and Kirishima can’t stand the sight of that, either.

He shuffles a little closer to place his hand over that fist, careful to only touch the back of Bakugou’s hand. Kirishima whispers, “I’m here”, and Bakugou audibly swallows. He lets him slip his fingers in-between his own.

Holding on, just as he did in the car and when they met in mid-air, that desperate instance that decided whether he would make it out alive or not.

Bakugou holds on even as he breaks for good and his shoulders shake with his sobs. As he continues to breathe in gulps of air that sound strangled and desperate, through tears that leave a pattern of uneven dots on the blanket. By morning they will be gone without a trace: The sun will come up, the world will continue to travel around it, and time will reveal the road they walk on as they walk it, step by step by step.

Just because it’s meant to pass doesn’t make this moment any less real. Any less important. Kirishima sits there and listens to his best friend cry. He remembers days spent without him and the mad dash to save him. He thinks of dumb questions and obvious answers.

It’s hard to tell if this is one of them, so he gathers all his courage and asks: “Katsuki. Can I hug you?”

Just like last time, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He laughs, a watery, humorless thing – and he pulls at Kirishima’s shirt to crush him to his chest. His arms wind around Kirishima’s neck, Bakugou’s face pressing against his hair where Kirishima won’t be able to see him.

It’s fine. Kirishima’s great at hugs; he can totally work with that. Clenching his eyes shut, he adjusts his grip around Bakugou’s waist so he can rub his back, following the bumps of his spine. Up and down, over and over. Bakugou goes boneless in their embrace, not about to let go anytime soon and neither will Kirishima.

Eventually, Kirishima tucks his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, blinking sleep from his eyes. Safe. He doesn’t fight the sharp-toothed smile on his lips. Bakugou mumbles, “Fucking sap”, nearly drowned out by their collective sniffling.

It sounds a whole lot like thank you. Kirishima’s smile only grows.

>>Chapter 5

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #hi kamino still makes me emo: the manifesto #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated c:#my stuff

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teikokusuffering · 6 years

Text

Inazuma Rewatch Episodes 1-11

This begins my adventure in canon reviewing for Genda to roleplay him on dreamwidth. The thoughts are shotgunned and mostly written as they came to me with no coherent fashion. Also most of these are live reactions that I did in plurk hence the format of them. Also fair warning I do curse so that’s in there too.

Canon reviewing just makes me look up at the sky within the first seven seconds because how did I forget how Try Hard they were in making Teikoku out to be the villain of the show

I will also never be over this fucking tank

ah Kidou you had dignity for like half an episode After this begins your slow descent into never being dignified ever again oh no I forgot how cute the bitty soccer team Endou plays/practices/coaches is why didn't we get like an arc with them growing up and joining Raimon or such that would have been adorable jesus christ I forgot Gouenji has a sick ass guitar solo bgm when he shows up also I like how none of the teachers in this school are at all phased by endou like how long did it take them to get used to this child being who he is there it is the exact moment Kageyama fucked up he challenged Raimon to a game that was like poking the sleeping dragon you know better then to do that Kageyama you have a history with this school dramatic shadow effect over Teikoku up to like three now where the fuck do all of these tires come from? Endou do you have a dimension to pull those from? I still am in love with the fact the only reason Endou's grandfather's techniques have remained a secret is because of horrible handwritting not due to super fancy code or hidden messages nah bruh he just sucked at writing and explaining himself is all and Someoka with the first "Soccer isn't a game" one liner what weather wizard did Teikoku pay to cause that storm cloud effect as they roll on in with their fucking tank bus part of me is not even shocked anymore over the honor guard, only with soccer balls and not rifles, and red carpet dramatic moment of Teikoku arriving but a part of me is still just Fucks sake Teikoku chill kids you are fooling no one with your "practice" that is straight up showing off on the highest tier there it is the moment Kidou's fate was sealed Endou being Endou despite the fact that shot was a deliberate attempt to hurt Genda's first line in the entire show and it's basically code for "Here Kidou kick their asses I'll hold your earrings" I'm pretty certain there is a mercy rule in soccer like there is in baseball so I know this score is just ridic really oh wait that's right this game will not end until Gouenji shows himself my mistake Oh Max I have missed your blunt destroying of self confidence that you accidentally do trying to be helpful also this entire scene is so disconcerting because it shows that Endou really is knowledgeable about this sport and how to be a captain which flies out the window when he does a Stupid in the name of soccer and I'm just like Endou please god Someoka and his anger issues over Gouenji all this anger in this episode and then the awkward that is Endou and Gouenji before Gouenji just gave in and joined this soccer team meanwhile back on the ranch: Kidou gossips plots and shares intel with Hemni regarding Raimon and what this is causing regarding schools taking notice and basically rents a fifty foot neon covered billboard to tell us that Domon is going to arrive soon how did I ever take these kids seriously they try so hard to be edgy it's ridic

I have finally reached the episode in this slow as hell canon review to meet the character that deserved so much more then he got

Domon deserved a better soccer husband then what he settled for he put up with so much both as a double agent and as someone having to suffer constant exposure to a Raimon still learning how to stand on its own ah yes the moment we first really learn just how much of a douche the teacher/coach for Raimon really is Endou's father is still the purest of the adults in this series ...the fucking secret fort is still horrible no matter how I look at it children please that is not how we share secret information /wheezes at how everyone but Gouenji and Domon are shocked at Endou reading the secret notes those two just look so proud I also forgot how up in the personal bubble Kazemaru is regarding Endou in the early season like Kazemaru pls fuck Kidou and his hiding behind lampposts I keep forgetting he does this so much child child please ah the start of the Gouenji Endou friendship is so awkward as Gouenji is still realizing what he has signed himself up to follow Kabeyama tries so hard for this team technique with Gouenji I also keep forgetting Gouenji and his socks that are such a different color from anyone else like who let you do that? Are you one of those types of sports people that have lucky items they have to wear while playing a sport? Kabeyama's fear of heights is so real excuse me as I sit here and laugh brokenly as I remember how naive I was thinking that these episodes right here was the gist of the show despite all of the giant hints they keep doing with Kageyama I want to know how many of those kids collecting data on Raimon were being paid by a different school then they one they actually attended for that data like you can't tell me with how sophisticated that equipment was that they weren't being paid by several schools for that data meanwhile Kidou and Sakuma are just like 'amateurs' considering they legit stalk and have an inside man on the team instead of just filming and observing the practices good christ I forgotten how much Kidou just dunks on the cyborg team over them thinking a computer simulation is good enough to figure out Raimon like bitch please he can't figure them out what makes you think you can? I keep forgetting episode 8 is the start of Endou's leaving the fucking goal open

episode ten is just full on, no stops at all drama

when they decided to start the pain train for Kidou they just shot it out like a bullet also goddamn Kageyama just spell it out in fine detail you see these kids as mindless puppets for you to control why don't you god how many horrible backstories can we cram into one episode Inazuma Eleven: Teikoku kids must suffer Don't be related to a Teikoku kid and def don't be a friend of one that way leads to being part of a painful backstory also I repeat Domon deserves so much more look an episode with the one I'm actually canon reviewing for! I best savor this as I won't see him for like ten more episodes after this

Genda: /standing next to Kidou and has no idea wtf to say that isn't soccer related, praises the rest of the team instead of actually saying anything else. Kidou: /stands silent while intensely gazing into the distance this is it this like forty second conversation is 90% of this social link how they have achieved the "Will die for you" level on the s-link rank is a mystery well okay Genda pretty much had that as level one/two for Kidou because it's Kidou all of Teikoku would die for Kidou because this disaster apparently has a +50 modifier when it comes to Teikoku wait no NOPE NOPENOPENOPE this is the episode where Kageyama basically destroys an already emotionally compromised Kidou even more no #ProtectKidou2018 Kageyama even calls Kidou a "perfect being" not a perfect human being just a being also who the fuck picked this particular piece of music for this scene this is not a nostalgic happy moment anime this is a man brutally destroying a kid's sense of self and self worth in order to keep him in line fuck god the magazine scene is still horrifying to watch as you see that dawning realization that Kidou Made A Mistake when he reacted to Kageyama going for that magazine jesus christ it just hit me how fucking insanely watched and scrutinized Teikoku is just it only now hit me that during the entire talk between Kageyama and that minion Kageyama has multiple screens from various angles all watching the practice fields in real time as the team practices and we know that the team knows this is a thing considering in episode 11 when Kidou decides to create his rebellion with the team he makes sure to plan it in a random hallway and not on the field where someone could watch and listen in on this whole thing

#inazuma eleven #inazuma 11 #canon review

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