WHAT'S UP, DANGER?

 DANGER !  ♡  ( he / they. )  ♡  25+.   ♡  UTC -5.  || MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE. please read the carrd listed below before following or interacting, thank you!! ♡

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         BOOPS HIS nose !  “  why so grumpy ,  hmm ?  ”

Since lips first bumped together, the nomu has thought about this moment and if it could ever actually happen. Kichōna had been straight-forward, without a fucking doubt. The key has been in his possession for long enough. Someone normal would have made a move, by now. The interest is there in both parties and yet something keeps the bird from outright having what he wants, from acting on desire. It occurs to him, with Kichōna in his space, that his life is meant to be very short. The nomu are simply pawns. They are fodder. Simply meant to obey and die for their masters. He’s been okay with that since waking in the labs. He’s been okay with so much of it   ---   with being loyal to whatever cause he’s meant to fight for. The means of creating a nomu are no secret to him; he knows he was someone, before. A person. Different, than he is now. The memories are gone. The emotions, the morals   ---   everything is simply missing and it leaves too much room for other things to slip in. Things like Kichōna.  Kichōna, who touches him like he’s important. Kichōna, who teases him with little nicknames and smiles. Kichōna, who hasn’t wanted him to be any different than he is   ---   who carries his own scars and his own darkness that the ghost doubts others are willing to try and understand. So many of the people here are wrapped up in themselves. Their goals. Their pasts. They don’t make room for others to enter their lives   ---   they don’t trust   ---   and the nomu aren’t thought of as much more than unruly pets meant to be crammed in one building until they are needed. Being needed usually entails causing a lot of damage to the city and its people but this is different, this is entirely personal, this is   ... Everything he’s wanted. Mouths are together again   ---   but this time it’s a proper kiss. This time, he’s a little more eager. Less shy. The urge to disappear isn’t anywhere in his mind; there’s only Kichōna. The way he feels. The way he tastes. His own tongue is careful as it explores, as he follows the other’s lead and example. Had he kissed anyone, before his death? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t matter, anymore. That person is gone, and with it   ---   all those experiences and people. He’s a pet of the League, now, and he knows who he wants to hold his leash.  A pause comes so they can breathe but Gōst lingers close and even bumps his nose against a cheek just slightly as a hand comes up to press open against Kichōna’s chest where stitches are hidden. A proper introduction. One that comes after the key, after the kiss. Names aren’t important   ---   not when there is a bond. Not when there is a pull, like this. It’s dangerous, waking with nothing and then suddenly locating the one thing that makes everything else bearable. Wings wrap around him, slightly   ---   the motion almost possessive but there is more than enough room to back out of the space, if need be.

The bird has never been this orange before; cheeks and ears practically glowing due to heat that he has absolutely no control over. They are close, again. Gōst has thought about their last encounter too many times   ---   but it’s nothing in comparison to the little scenarios he’s daydreamed about concerning their next possibly intimate interaction.  One key.  And yet so many doors have been opened.  Kichōna has taken up his thoughts a lot, lately. The key has become a focal point for a lot of his mental wanderings   ---   with the object itself being something he doubts the stitched one fully understands. It glimmers. It glints when he holds it just right under the sun. Something about that makes him terribly happy, but it’s nothing compared to the other things that he’s started to collect. No. This came from a person. The key is a gift. A gift from someone who has expressed interest in him and that’s where things become complicated. There are so many questions bouncing around in his head and yet he hasn’t been able to actually show up in the other’s room, he hasn’t yet fully accepted he invitation.  But is it because he’s shy? Is this a human personality flaw? Or is it because he’s a monster? Because he doesn’t know how to interact? He’s worried about it being either. But worrying does him very little   ---   and while he seems fine with stewing in his own confusion and emotions, Kichōna does not. He returns, teasing with his little nickname against his ear in a way that makes his heart absolutely slam in his chest. Kichōna makes him feel light, like his wings aren’t even necessary to take to the sky and he doesn’t get it   ---   doesn’t see how he could possibly have the same effect on the puppeteer. Maybe he doesn’t. And that thought is also confusing.

nothing happens   in the hideout without   shigaraki   knowing.   he likes it that way,   gives him some   semblance   of control.   when   someone   enters his room,   the watch on his wrist   pings,   &   he already knows who,   or better yet   what   managed to creep inside.   feed is pulled up on the   tiny screen,   the faint   glow   of his special edition switch the only thing   illuminating   his room.   a   sigh,   &   he’s cutting his meeting   short,    waving off the other’s as he   excuses himself.  

          clearly he had more pressing issues.

as he makes his way down the hall,   he takes a   deep breath,   the air   stuffy.   by the time he opens the door   &   switches on the light,   he’s already   shrugging off his coat,    discarding it   absentmindedly   as he turns on his computer.   he pays   little   attention to   him,   connecting to the speakers in his room as he   types away   at his keyboard.

BEACH   ASMR   NO TALKING  OCEAN WAVES ON SEASIDE BEACH SOUNDS FOR   RELAXATION   AND   SLEEPING

he clicks   play,   dimming his monitor   all the way down   as he turns the   volume up.   the sounds of waves   crashing   against the sand is   heard,   receding back until they   tumble again.   leaning in his chair,   he   turns on his projector,   displaying the beach against the ceiling just above his bed.   the   s - rank villain   gets up,   kicking his shoes off before he   flicks the lights back off,   making his way towards the other   &   snatching his switch   back,   placing it back on the charger.

“   move.   “   he orders,   gloved hands   motioning   for the time traveler to pick a side of the bed to lay on before he   settles down   besides him.   he takes a   moment,   watching the moving images before he sighs,   feigns disinterest.   “   annoying,   “   he mutters,   turning on his side so his back is turned to him.

at first, he doesn’t expect to be   acknowledged   at all. rane is fine with that, practically soothed by the notion of shigaraki being the one person who won’t  seek  something from him immediately. why would he? his day was loaded with important things. meetings. interactions with those who will help him turn the world into something   very different   if rane doesn’t find a way to change things somehow. he has his interests   ---  and there is something soothing about the typing of a keyboard. the labs, he thinks. people were always   typing away   in the labs. the sound of louder, clearer waves have him blinking suddenly and a moment later he’s looking   up    at the images being projected. the lights end up off again. there’s immense comfort in the dark, even with the ocean above them. he moves when he’s told   ---   scoots over as far as he can without toppling off the side of the bed. it’s strange, sharing this space. it’s strange, having someone so close when he feels so close to a limit and yet shigaraki has been a focus for most of his life; having him near is medicinal in its own way. for a moment, he lays on his back and simply stares at the waves as they come and go. the days of standing in the sand in bare feet and looking out beyond the waves in wonder are long gone. that little dream, that wish to be somewhere else, has come true   ---   yet the stipulations made it all bittersweet. complicated. painful.  his head turns slightly to stare at the lines of shigaraki’s shoulder. here, but still very distant. there are so many questions in his head. so many things that he’s wanted to ask for as long as he’s known about him. he watches and thinks as waves move   ...   and eventually he realizes that he doesn’t   have   the right words. not yet. he rolls, too   ---   backs facing each other. ocean rolling above their heads.