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shove your way through (the cracks in my walls)

Summary:

Kirishima doesn’t even have time to register half of what Bakugou’s words implied, and blurts out, “I love your hands though.” he says with an offended frown plastered across his face.

“The fuck??” Bakugou replies with a squint, clearly not expecting that answer as he lifts his head from where it rested on Kirishima’s shoulder.

 

 

In which Bakugou Katsuki thinks that his hands are only meant for destruction, and Kirishima Eijirou proves him otherwise.

Notes:

warning that this is likely ooc due to the fact that I only watched the first 3 seasons of mha in 2020 🥶

I had the urge to write a kiribaku fic even though I haven’t been in the fandom for 3 years, my kiribaku obsession comes back annually lmao. all the stuff I know about current mha events in canon is from random tiktok vids, so just view this story happening sometime during first year before most of the traumatic stuff happens. this is my first fic so it’s kinda meh but I enjoyed writing it so :D

anyways, happy (early) new year’s !!!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Bakugou Katsuki is an enigma. That much is clear.

 

Kirishima takes to him like a moth to a flame, and it’s clear that he pays attention to Bakugou’s actions. So, it’s no surprise to anyone that he’s the first to notice.

 

It starts when Bakugou and Kirishima are sparring together. Or, more accurately, after the spar.

 

“Good spar, man. Jeez, I’m gonna be sore for a while,” Kirishima grins as he clasps Bakugou’s hand in a friendly gesture, the two walking towards the locker room after an intense sparring session.

 

Kirishima expects Bakugou to roll his eyes and call him weak, but definitely not the subtle flinch from Bakugou from where their hands meet. If it were anyone else, Kirishima doubts they would notice, but he does.

 

(Should he be questioning that thought? He doesn’t.)

 

It’s gone as quickly as it came, and Bakugou withdraws his hand with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, yeah Shitty Hair.” he drawls, pushing open the locker room door to take a well needed shower. Kirishima tries not to think much of it, but files it away for later anyways.

 



The second time it happens, Kirishima is more concerned. Bakugou, Kirishima, and Kaminari are sitting in the common room, conversing about their apprenticeships. It comes from a slightly self-deprecating comment from Kirishima on his quirk, a habit he’s been trying to get rid of, and Bakugou scowls with a click of his tongue.

 

“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair.” he snaps harshly, to the point where even Kirishima is a bit taken aback. Kaminari frowns, about to interject, when Bakugou continues.

 

“You have one of the strongest quirks I know. Your quirk is sturdy and reliable and…” Bakugou falters slightly before continuing, “It feels… safe. You’re strong enough to protect others.” he says in a hint of a softer tone.

 

Kirishima, however comforted (loved?) he feels from Bakugou’s comment, can’t help but notice how Bakugou doesn’t say anything about his quirk like he normally would. He notes how Bakugou tucks his hands out of sight and his eyebrows furrow slightly with a look he can’t quite place.

 

The moment passes and the trio continues on after Kaminari moves onto talking excitedly about his date with Shinsou, but Kirishima resolves to ask Bakugou about it later.

 



It’s a godawful time in the night when Kirishima awakes, startled, to a muffled explosion followed by a curse from a voice he’d recognize anywhere. Kirishima debates going back to sleep for a second as he hears shuffled feet from Bakugou’s dorm, then gets up with a yawn.

 

He rubs his eyes blearily, half stumbling in the dark to Bakugou’s dorm room, and knocks on the door he recognizes as Bakugou’s. Kirishima faintly registers a thudding sound, a curse, then a red eye peeking at him through the crack in the door as Bakugou glares at him.

 

“What?” Bakugou snarks, voice raspy from sleep, though his tone is not as harsh as it would be for anyone else.

 

Kirishima pauses for a second to gather his thoughts, Bakugou staring at him in a manner that screams for him to hurry up, then says, “I heard an explosion. Are you okay?” he says, no fuss, getting straight to the point how Bakugou likes it.

 

Bakugou curses under his breath then shakes his head as he opens the door slightly wider. “It’s nothing, go back to sleep Shitty Hair.” If it were anyone else, or if it was even Kirishima from earlier that school year, they would have let it go. Instead, Kirishima nudges the door further open with his foot and invites himself into Bakugou’s room.

 

It smells like him. Kirishima belatedly realizes, catching the cinnamon and burnt sugar scent that always seems to fill the room once Bakugou uses his quirk.

 

Bakugou scowls half-heartedly, small explosions emitting from his palms. Kirishima unconsciously puts his hardened hands over Bakugou’s, calming said explosion. Bakugou abruptly rips his hands away from Kirishima’s, clenching them tightly.

 

Kirishima, undeterred, just grabs Bakugou’s hands, unclenching his fists, and frowns at the sight of bright red indents. “Hey, don’t do that. You’re going to hurt yourself.” he scolds lightly.

 

Kirishima looks up from Bakugou’s hands to see an indiscernible expression painted across his face, lips parted slightly.

 

(Is it strange that it makes Kirishima want to kiss him?)

 

“You’re so…” Bakugou says, voice strained, eyes filled with an emotion similar to confusion.

 

Kirishima cups Bakugou’s face with such a caring manner that he should probably question it. He doesn’t. (He does?). “What’s wrong Katsuki?” Kirishima says softly, the name rolling off his tongue as if he’d said it so many times before, even though it was the first.

 

Bakugou lets out a small, uncharacteristic whine, burying his face in Kirishima’s shoulder as he slumped against him, all the fight left in him gone. After a moment of disbelief, Kirishima hesitantly wraps his arms around Bakugou’s waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

 

“I hate my hands.” Bakugou mumbles into Kirishima’s shirt, and Kirishima frowns, taking a second to wonder if Bakugou got hit by a quirk because was this really the person who bragged about being the strongest?

 

“The only thing I can use them for is destruction. It’s the only thing I know how to do. I don’t know how to… use my quirk like you do. Your quirk makes other people feel safe and loved but I just fucking—” Bakugou cuts off abruptly, voice smaller than he has ever heard. 

 

Kirishima doesn’t even have time to register half of what Bakugou’s words implied, and blurts out, “I love your hands though.” he says with an offended frown plastered across his face.

 

“The fuck??” Bakugou replies with a squint, clearly not expecting that answer as he lifts his head from where it rested on Kirishima’s shoulder.

 

Kirishima dislikes how Bakugou expected him to agree with him, and unwraps his arms from where they sit on Bakugou’s waist, instead threading them through Bakugou’s hands.

 

“I love them,” Kirishima repeats as Bakugou stares at him wide eyed. “They’re a part of you, and you’re the strongest person I know.” he says earnestly. “You’re more than strong enough to protect others and make them feel cared for.”

 

“And your quirk feels… warm. Like a shield of protection.” Kirishima continues with zero brain to mouth filter. He feels as though he’ll likely regret spewing all these cringey thoughts in front of his best friend (crush), but he’d gladly do it again if it meant he could keep seeing the current look struck across Bakugou’s face.

 

Kirishima isn’t given the time to process when Bakugou suddenly surges up to his face, pressing an awkward kiss to his lips. It’s less of a kiss and more of a crashing of his mouth against his, but it still doesn’t fail to give Kirishima butterflies. It’s gone as quickly as it came, Bakugou’s ears bright red as he quickly pushes Kirishima away.

 

“Fuck, sorry I—” Kirishima cuts him off with another kiss, this time gentler and a lot more coordinated. It’s nowhere near perfect and it’s still foreign, but Kirishima tastes cinnamon sugar on his tongue and it makes him melt. When he pulls away, he’s greeted with the sight of a wide eyed, rosy Bakugou.

 

“I like you,” Kirishima blurts out, then immediately curses himself inwardly.

 

Before Kirishima can delve deeper into panic, Bakugou manages to reply with, “I like you too, Shi— Kirishima.” Bakugou rarely ever calls Kirishima by anything other than nicknames, and his intense, deep red eyes staring into Kirishima’s makes him feel… something warm and all-consuming.

 

“Only the surname Katsuki?” Kirishima jokes lightheartedly, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest that’s crawling up his throat. It’s the second time Kirishima has called Bakugou by his first name, in the span of a few minutes, but if the way Bakugou squeezes his hand is any indication, it’s not a bad thing.

 

Bakugou’s breath hitches, blinking hard at Kirishima. Kirishima’s grin falters slightly under his silence, until Bakugou mumbles, “…get out of my room, Eijirou.” Bakugou looks at him with an expression that speaks of fondness, and Kirishima can’t help but feel a little bit in love.

 

Kirishima laughs breathlessly as he’s pushed out by a flustered Bakugou, still grinning as the door is shut in his face, feeling lighter than he has in a long time.




(It’s only later the next day when Kirishima pulls Bakugou aside during lunch and properly asks him to be his boyfriend, with a feeling of rightness that has always been present within their friendship. Of course, Bakugou says yes, much to the enthusiasm of their friends.)

Notes:

hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did !!

I probably won’t make any more mha fics, maybe some small kiribaku fics here and there but that’s it since I’m not really in the fandom anymore :((

also krbk is so dumb sometimes ( /pos ) but i love them sm

tysm for reading and have a great new year’s ! <33

edit:
i just fucking noticed that in the second section i wrote quotes instead of apprenticeships :skull: anyways gonna go kms (keep myself safe) now ! /j /lh