More Surfer Izuku And Lifeguard Katsuki

my other wips have been fighting me so i decided to return to this gem and it did not disappoint. i love being able to laugh while i write, lol

its also looking like this is gonna be a small series? (to be updated who knows when, but i'll create a taglist for it so lmk if you want to be added/dropped from that!)

part 1 is here

Taglist: @antsday :)

Katsuki contemplated the torn off receipt in his hand, slowly wrinkling the paper between his fingers and re-straightening it in even turns.

The ink was slightly faded- courtesy of an accidental encounter with his washing machine that nearly resulted in the machine’s death at Katsuki’s hands- but he could still clearly make out the string of numbers and the name Deku. The smiley face, however, had not survived. 

After twenty minutes of staring, setting it down, picking it back up again, and glancing consideringly towards his phone, Katsuki decided it was time to stop being such a fucking loser and call already.  

“I’m Katsuki fucking Bakugou,” he muttered to himself. “King of the jungle.”

“What jungle?” Kirishima asked with a snort. 

With a jolt, Katsuki spun on his heel, finding Kirishima sitting casually at his kitchen table, nursing a half-eaten bowl of cereal. 

“When the fuck did you get here?” Katsuki exclaimed. “I thought I fucking confiscated your key!”

Kirishima waved his- Katsuki’s- spoon around in a yes-and-no manner, crunching around another mouthful of cereal. 

Katsuki’s cereal, goddammit. And that shit was expensive. 

“You really think me and Denks didn’t make copies?” Kirishima finally replied.

Katsuki crossed his arms, scowling.

“Answer the other question,” he commanded darkly. 

Kirishima grinned without an ounce of shame. 

“Long enough to know that someone’s got a crush,” he replied, drawing out the last word like a fucking twelve-year old. 

Katsuki reached for the closest object- an apple, sitting nicely atop Katsuki’s fruit bowl- and lobbed it at Kirishima’s head. 

“Mercy!” Kirishima cried, laughing and ducking away from the projectile. 

“Fuck you!” Katsuki reached for a can of air freshener next, catching Kirishima in the shoulder with it. “Trespassers don’t fucking get mercy!”

“Bro,” Kirishima cried, crawling awkwardly under the table while Katsuki continued to throw things at him, bowl of cereal balanced in one hand while he dragged Katsuki’s chair legs around to create a half-hearted wall. “Can’t we just talk about our feelings like men?”

Katsuki practically growled in response, but the roll of paper towels in his grip lowered. 

“I feel like I need to change my locks,” he spat. 

“No!” Kirishima despaired. “But then how would I know my bro is having an emotional crisis?”

“I’m not!” Katsuki shot back, sticking out a foot to kick the chair in front of Kirishima, making sure that one of the legs rammed into his knee. 

Kirishima made a wounded noise at the attack, shuffling further under the table. Then he sniffed dramatically. 

“Bakubro, do you smell something burning?”

Katsuki turned suspiciously toward the oven, abandoning the paper towel roll on the countertop. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asked, striding over to investigate. “You can’t leave a fucking hot oven unattended, dipshit.”

Katsuki pulled down the handle but found its contents cold and empty. 

“Oh wait,” Kirishima said in his most annoying voice, “it’s just your pants. ‘Cause you’re a lying liar. No emotional crisis, my ass.”

Katsuki slowly closed the oven but remained crouched in front of it, forehead falling against the door with an audible thunk of resignation.

This was just his life now. Trespassers and stolen food and schoolyard taunts he hadn't heard in over a decade.  

Fucking Kirishima.

“I don’t think your brain aged past thirteen,” Katsuki muttered scathingly. 

Kirishima loudly slurped at his cereal, unbothered. 

“So’re you gonna call this guy or not?”

Katsuki let his forehead begin to slide unpleasantly down the oven. 

“How the fuck do you even know about him?” Katsuki complained dismally. 

Katsuki could hear chairs being pushed away from the kitchen table and what was probably Kirishima’s empty bowl being tossed in the sink, but he didn’t bother to acknowledge the man until he had pried Katsuki’s head away from the oven door. 

“Denki glanced at the security tape,” he explained. “And then showed it to me and Jirou.”

Katsuki took a deep breath through his nose as he mulled over the new information, then collapsed unhappily onto his back in the middle of his kitchen. 

Kirishima dropped into a cross-legged seat beside him. “General consensus was that you had a flirty encounter,” he continued. “Oh, but Todoroki wasn’t convinced.”

Katsuki stared unblinkingly at his ceiling. 

“Fuck my life.”

“So’re you gonna call him?” Kirishima asked again, excited. 

“And say fucking what?” Katsuki bit out skeptically. “I’m cool, go out with me?”

Kirishima raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well…he did give you his number, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, for the fucking bird.”

“Uh, what?”

Katsuki suddenly shot up, eyes wide. “The bird!”

Kirishima watched on in a mixture of confusion and concern as Katsuki quickly clambered to his feet and retrieved his phone and the scrap of paper he’d been obsessing over from the countertop. 

“I’m so lost,” Kirishima whispered. 

“Fucker’s a pet therapist,” Katsuki explained, somewhat manically, jabbing at his phone. 

“He’s a what?” Kirishima spluttered. 

“That’s my in,” Katsuki said, determined. 

“Wait. What happened to ‘I’m cool, go out with me’?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue and angrily flicked his hand at Kirishima. 

“Shut the fuck up, it’s ringing!”

literally 😭💚

born to slay forced to go through whatever is happening in jjk

bakusquad all dressing up as gemg dynamight for halloween but it's split into deku, todoroki, and kirishima, who did it because they love bakugou, and kaminari, sero, mina, and jirou who did it to make fun of him

Momo, swooning: Yuki's charm is like magic!! <3 <3 Mitsuki: oh no we dont say that word around- Nagi, materializing from the ether: DID SOMEONE SAY ✨MAGICAL COCONA✨??

Prompt: Aang didn't know Zuko was raising a baby dragon

Aang tilts his head. He doesn’t lower his staff, because—because Zuko, but he doesn’t try hitting him again, either. At least, not anywhere near his chestplate, which the other boy is very suddenly defending like there’s a second Avatar inside.

“Do you… have something in there?” Aang asks.

“NO!” shouts Zuko, who definitely has something inside his armor. It makes a kind of scrabbly-paws-on-metal sound and then—

“Do you have a dragon in there?” Aang squeals. 

And maybe in retrospect he should have thought more before bouncing towards the fiery teenager, but in Aang’s defense there is the cutest, tiniest, fluffiest little maned dragon head he’s ever seen trying to peek out of Zuko’s neckline. And anyway, the other boy is way too busy backpedaling and trying to push the dragon’s snout back inside to Capture the Avatar, so. So Aang absolutely shoves a hand at the dragon’s nose for it to smell him, because that’s how you greet them—

—Or is that praying mantis-dogs?—

And then there is a Fire Prince squawking and shoving him away, which is definitely not a bending move, but not before a little lizard tongue tickles Aang’s hand which is so cute.

“Uh,” says Sokka, lowering his club. “I. I am not actually sure how I’m supposed to be reacting, here.”

“We’re fighting,” snarls Zuko, who is cupping protective hands over the dragon, and definitely not fighting. The dragon has wormed one stubby little leg and an adorably oversized wing out, and seems enthusiastically set on more. 

Which is the point where Zuko’s uncle finally catches up to them, at his usual leisurely pace. If he wasn’t with Zuko, Aang would maybe think that the older man wasn’t all that invested in catching him.

“Nephew, do you…” And then he catches sight of the dragon.

Zuko pales.

“Hello, Uncle Backup,” says Sokka, grabbing Aang and Katara’s arms. “And that’s our cue to go go go.”

Zuko chases them. Because he’s Zuko.

Zuko… gets ahead of them. Which is not very chase-y?

Zuko vaults into Appa’s saddle ahead of them and holds his hands up as Katara threatens him with a hovering stream of water. He… doesn’t seem to be leaving, or attacking, and his uncle is running after them way faster than Aang is used to, so. Yip-yip?

Katara and Sokka sit down, once Zuko’s uncle looks very small under them. Zuko keeps his hands up. The baby dragon is flapping its free wing appreciatively in the rushing air. And chirruping really cutely.

“So,” says Sokka, slowly. “You… needed a ride?”

“I don’t—” Zuko starts to shout, before lowering his volume, even if his tone is exactly the same. “I don’t need a ride.”

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka, even more slowly. 

Zuko continues to keep his hands up. His dragon is trying to squirm the rest of the way free, and has decided that gnawing at his chest plate is the way to do this. It’s making pretty good progress against the black and red paint. The metal, not so much.

Aang keeps glancing back from Appa’s head. “You, um,” he says, suddenly realizing that You seemed scared will probably just lead to more shouting. And fire. Which there has been a really noticeable lack of, and Aang kind of wants to encourage that. 

“Did your uncle not know about the dragon?” he asks, instead.

“Uncle is the Dragon of the West,” Zuko says, more quietly than Aang has ever heard him say anything. And also like it’s a full explanation. But judging by the equally confused looks on Katara and Sokka’s faces, this isn’t just another thing he’s missed during the past hundred years. 

The baby dragon huffs at its lack of progress. And flops, like an over-cooked and very dejected noodle, against Zuko’s chest. 

Zuko swallows. And stops glaring at any of them, because he’s no longer meeting their eyes. He lowers his hands, slowly, and works a shoulder strap free. It’s enough for the dragon to puddle limply down into his lap, where it curls into a very alert spring. 

“Do you know how someone gets the title dragon?” Zuko says. “By killing a dragon. Uncle thought he killed the last two. And father was—he was so mad, not that uncle killed the last, but that he killed two. That he didn’t leave some glory for the rest of our family.”

Sokka clears his throat, after the obligatory awkward silence. “Your family is… kind of messed up, huh?” 

“What was your first clue,” says the Fire Prince, his scarred face deadpan.

His very prominently scarred face.

Oh. 

Katara crosses her arms. Which makes her look grumpier, but she’s not able to bend as quickly like that, so Aang knows she’s feeling less going-to-waterwhip-you grumpy and more prove-me-wrong grumpy. 

“If killing it would be so glorious,” she asks, “why haven’t you?”

“It— She— She’s just a child. It wouldn’t be honorable,” Zuko says, straightening his back.

“Uh-huh,” says Sokka.

But Aang. Aang grins. “Hey! I’m a child, too!”

The Fire Prince groans, and drops his face into his knees. His dragon climbs up onto his head and, using his ponytail approximately like a tree branch, stretches both her wings out, and lifts her little nose to the wind.

(You can also read this and other prompts on AO3.)

MHA tweets pt.26

ALSO could I potentially ask how you make the fake twitter posts? :0

Do you just have the accounts and make twitter threads or?

Yes ofc! I make them using an app called TwiNote, that way I can make accts and switch between them pretty easily w/o any outside interaction or ppl viewing them before I’m ready to post :)

It looks like this:

MHA tweets pt.25

Naruto and sensei ( ´ ω ` )