BOMBSHELL BLONDE.

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“Huh,” Shoto hums, his gaze jumping from his classmate, to the display, then back to Katsuki. Surprisingly, that reasoning sounds innocent enough; his first thought, which he of course isn’t planning on sharing, was that sharing his credit card would somehow get him in trouble.

Not that he’d refuse that immediately, but the other boy doesn’t need to know that either. Katsuki isn’t that much of a delinquent, after all (or so Shoto hopes), and while the card itself does belong to Shoto, it’s just access to his father’s account. And whatever can sour Endeavor’s mood…

“You know that they’ve probably inflated the before-the-sale price and this,” he points at the price tag that screams about a discount, “Is actually the regular one, right? They do that often.” After a short pause, he pulls out the so desired piece of plastic and extends his hand towards his friend, holding the card between two fingers. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

The way the blonde’s jaw tenses, it becomes apparent that Katsuki- in fact- had not thought about that. He had dropped into other stores that sold similar equipment, but the price ranges had been even worse than this ‘limited time’ offer. Looking online was a good option, but even local shipping would cost an arm and a leg due to the sheer weight of the damn thing.

“Hn. You sure seem to know a lot about it,” he comments a bit critically, it wasn’t like it was exactly a secret that his family was well off due to who his father was. It wasn’t like Bakugou was left wanting, either- His father made a decent amount with his writing and his mother had her connections in the fashion and cosmetics industries. 

He just didn’t feel exactly great for relying on their help every time he needed something personal that wasn’t health related. The bombastic hero-in-training would rather earn his own cash and get unnecessary purchases such as this one on his own dime. 

“Ehn. Changed my mind... ‘Preciate it, though.”

He raises his right hand and eases Todoroki’s outstretched arm away with the back of his knuckles, striding past the other boy with his usual slouchy gait that seemed almost physically impossible due to how low his uniform slacks rode.

@etglacies​:

It takes Todoroki a moment to realize he's the target of this contrived nickname. Another one to frame the words into a picture. Joy-Con...

"You do know my name," he responds dryly, hands still in the pockets of his sweatshirt. He knows he isn't the only one who Bakugo refers to with a nickname (or a label, or a slur, depends who you ask for definition) rather than their actual name, but the tempo he changes them in... If Shoto remembers correctly, he was still Icy-Hot two days ago.

"And it has a limit." In the next part, he clearly means the credit card. "What do you even need it for?"

He stares at Icy-Hot Joy-Con Tiger Balm Colgate for a beat, then emits a loud ‘tch’. The blonde gestures to the sign in the window of a nearby sports equipment store.

“What do you think?! The SALE, dumbass!” he barks, jabbing his finger against the glass so hard it’s a wonder that cracks haven’t started forming.

The item in question is a home gym appliance boasting an ab crunch bench, wing attachments, and ten levels of resistance for strength training. 

“Give up your searching, I don’t want to be found.”

He could just imagine it, so easily. Somewhere, someone must have recorded it. Honestly, he was shocked that it HADN’T been dug up sooner, back when he first became ‘famous’ for the Sludge Villain incident.

It’s like the memory got branded into his skin, a clammy and freckled wrist bruising under the strength of his fingers and the breeze from the open window. How easy it had been, like he weighed little more than the contents of his school bag. 

“I can see those wheels turning, stupid Deku,” The tone is equal parts vitriolic and some measure of joyous, truly reveling in the moment, his peers cheering him on.

“I hate that look. Like you’re so much smarter than the rest of us. Like you know something I don’t.”

There’s this residual wave of utter disgust- Even after all these years. At the way Deku just stood there, like a rabbit freezing in the gaze of a viper. The anger that came with it is more self-directed. For taking things THAT far. For enjoying every second of misery he’d inflicted because he thought it was somehow deserved. 

So he slams the laptop closed, damn near missing Kirishima’s fingers in the process. He doesn’t know Shitty Hair’s past in detail, but he’s heard and noticed enough about his weird obsession with moving on from ‘back then’. 

Is this fear because of the damage it could do to his hero career, for the damage it could do for hero society at large now that it had been shot in the foot? Or is this a wholly different spike of dread turning his veins to ice because of how people close to him would react.

“Even if you look at me lightly, you might get burned and I’m ready, so don’t be lazy!”

That was the message (or was it a challenge?) left on Kyouka’s phone, as Bakugou had agreed to ‘destroy the stupid drum set’ for her again. Unfortunately, he barely showed up for practice at all, preferring to ‘play when the mood’s actually good’... Whatever THAT meant.

They were playing in front of a live audience that weren’t made up of fellow classmates and the mood was definitely... not interested. It honestly pissed him off- They’d bothered to set up all their shit and now they were being ignored?

Backstage, he finally locates Jirou and does a bit of a double take.

The tag doesn’t say who it’s from, which makes the blonde reticent to accept the gift. Katsuki doesn’t want to end up indebted someone he’s not familiar with, he’d rather swallow knives than allow a stranger to feel entitled to his time or attention over an anonymously dumped birthday present. 

Curiosity gets the better of him, however. 

Tearing the corner of the wrapping open reveals a box, inside it the rumored ‘hottest chip’ known to mankind. 

“One Chip Challenge? At least make it sound cool- Like, ‘Paqui’s Death Tortilla Test of Power’, or something...” he grouses, turning the aptly labeled package between his hands.

Suddenly overcome by annoyance, Bakugou rubs a hand through his hair vigorously, growling unintelligible curses in his frustration.

“Yeah, well... Challenge accepted, dumbass!” 

He rips the box open and tosses the infernal triangular snack between his teeth, making sure that the spices get nice and evenly distributed against his tongue. Then he waits, breaking up the crispness of the tortilla chip between his front teeth.

Huh. Not bad.

A mere handful of seconds later, he can feel the heat building low in his stomach and the strong spiciness hitting every centimeter of the inside of his mouth, which is beginning to feel numb. His back, neck, and armpits are already perspiring- making his black muscle shirt feel tacky against his damp skin. 

“Oh... Ugh,” he grimaces, tears welling in the corners of his stinging eyes as he quickly goes to wash his hands clean of the residual chip dust. 

“Holy shit, holy- Mrmphh!” 

He starts jogging in place, clenching his weeping eyes shut and pressing his swollen lips together in an effort to block out the feeling of his body erupting into a violent, chaotic hellscape.

“The thought keeps running through your mind: ‘But fearing life Is easier than fighting’, right?” he mutters in a disgusted, but somewhat softened edge of anger to his voice. The blonde narrows his eyes as he tries to read through that dopey, confused expression on Two-Tone’s dumb face, then lets out a harsh and mocking bark of a laugh.

Typical.

@thermobarbaric from here

He withstands Bakugou’s rant with a look of bemusement; as if Bakugou was doing exactly what he had wanted. (Which he was.)

“Same insults as always, Bakugou. If anything, you’re the boring one. I should start keeping tally of how many jabs at my quirk you make– just to show you how absolutely uninspired you are. You really peaked in middle school, huh?”

“You’re the scrub who waltzed up and started talking shit- You must be really desperate for an ass-kicking,” Katsuki spat out dismissively, the murderous glint in his eye speaking volumes. 

The jab certainly hit it’s mark, as no sooner than he’d been pitted against other students at U.A., he’d been forced to confront his own shortcomings. Back at Aldera, he’d been the undisputed king- It was unthinkable that he’d actually be humiliated by the kid who used to tremble in fear at the very sound of his voice. The outcome of the sports festival only felt like salt in the wound.

“If you wanna be kicked around that badly, then let’s have a rematch.”