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Chapter Text

The witch Uraraka-- Round-Face-- stared at him, a serious look on her face. “You want power.” 


“Did I fucking stutter?” He glared at her. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers twisting around each other in anxious knots. 


“Are you sure about this, Bakugou?” Her eyes rose up again, strongly meeting his. “You know power like this always comes at a massive price. It literally says that in the spellbook. Look, ‘Great power always comes at an even greater price’. ” 


He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Hell yeah I’m sure, why wouldn’t I be?”


Round-Face didn’t reply.


He turned to her, a snarl on his lips. “Well, Round-Face? Are you going to give me what I asked for, or did I come to you for nothing?”


She sighed, that stupid worried look on her face. It made him want to punch something. Probably her. “Fine, if you’re so sure. Give me your left hand, palm down.”


He did as he was asked, and a burning pain flared out across his arm. “Ouch! What the fuck?” He jerked his arm back, then paused. An explosion-like mandala had been tattooed across the back of his hand. Not bad, he thought.


Uraraka glanced up at him. “We can stop now,” she said. “You wouldn’t get the power, but you wouldn’t pay the price, either. This is your last chance to turn back.”


“Are you saying I’m a quitter, Round-Face?” He shoved his other arm at her, palm down. She paused. “Well?” he barked. 


“Are you sure,” she asked, and the words held a more… Urgent air to them. 


But he was not a quitter. “Yes,” he answered. She took his hand, quickly tracing a symbol on the back of it. So that’s what she’d done. He hissed as another tattoo formed, and waited. 


“Isn’t something supposed to happen?” He barked.


Uraraka shook her head. “Not necessarily. It should manifest itself anywhere within a week of the spell. Most likely, it’ll be an enhanced version of whatever is already in your blood.” 


He nodded, a manic grin slowly spreading across his face. He felt a bit more alive, as if before he’d been living life half-asleep. He tossed the witch a purse of gold coins, and made to head out of the cluttered cottage. 


“Bakugou!” Uraraka called out. “Wait--you know the price, right?”


He flicked his eyes back to the coin purse. “What, that not enough?” 


Her face paled, and it looked as if her heart had stopped dead in her chest. “You didn’t listen to a word I said beforehand, did you?”


“Of course not. Why should I?” 


“Why should--because everything comes with a cost, Bakugou!” Her voice had become frantic. “You have no idea what you’ve done, do you?” 


“Shut up!” He roared. “Stop just babbling senselessly and explain yourself, before I kill you for talking too much! You’re acting like fucking Deku!” 


She slammed her fist on the table, startling him into silence. “Bakugou, the price for that power-” She paused, breathing in deep, then continued on. “The price for that power is the thing you need most. You will lose the thing you need most in life.” 


He looked at her, confused. “But didn’t you just give me power? Power was what I needed most, so are you saying that this was pointless?” 


“No. The tattoos are on your hands, you have the power. You can’t just get rid of something like that, that’s not how that works-” 


“Good.” He cut her off. “As long as it’s not my power, I’ll be fine.” 


Uraraka turned away, running a hand through her bobbed hair, and he used that moment to escape. He didn’t want to spend another moment with her if he didn’t have to. 


He had some shit he’d been wanting to get done, and this new unmatched power seemed like just the thing to help him. 

Chapter Text

Bakugou sat in front of his cave, where he’d been living for the past four years now. When the witch had told him of the powers simply enhancing whatever already flowed in your blood, he’d expected simply some more firepower. The tribesmen had always held an affinity with fire, so it wouldn’t have come as a real shock. 


But he’d gotten so much more than that. So much more. He’d quickly learned how to control the explosions, this newfound power making him one of the strongest in the land. But he wasn’t satisfied--no, he had to be the best. Not just ‘one of them’. 


He’d already given up his title as next-in-line for the title of Chieftain, so he went off dragon hunting. He’d always found politics and such to be boring, anyways. To him, there could be nothing better than the thrill of the hunt, the chaos of fighting a massive beast that held the power to kill him with one swipe of their claw, if he grew careless. 


But the land had quieted down quite a bit this last year. He’d just arrived back home from fighting what had been rumored to be the last dragon tribe left, after he’d started slaying them all. It had taken six months for him to hear about this tribe, a small, nomadic group of beasts, when it used to take at most three weeks for a panicked farmer with a bag of gold to run up his mountain, begging him to take on a new fearsome monster that had been tormenting their lands. 


The sun had long since gone down when Bakugou started making his way down the mountainside. He had no plans on where to go, he just needed to move. Stop standing still. He hated stillness. And quiet. He wanted to fight. Reaching the first of the trees, he slipped into the shadowed forest. The air held silence--the silence of a hunter stalking their prey. 


But this time, Bakugou was not the hunter.


He whirled around, his palms sparking as a man leaped out of the brush, a feral snarl on his face. Bakugou quickly jumped out of the way, firing off an explosion at the intruder. His assailant flew backwards, and an audible thunk was heard as the body hit a tree and slid down to the forest floor. Bakugou winced. He may have never been on the receiving end of one of his explosions, but he’d been tossed around plenty while dragon fighting, and the results often were not pretty. 


He didn’t regret it, though. 


Carefully, he crept closer to his attacker’s body, wondering who the fuck it could be. Everyone around these parts knew the woods and mountain were Bakugou’s, and if they didn’t, they were quickly warned by the villagers. He knelt down, getting a good look at the stranger’s face. Shaggy black hair fell down around broad shoulders, though the dark lighting made it difficult to make out facial details.


“Idiot,” Bakugou scoffed. 


The man’s eyes flew open, glowing a bit strangely in the dark, like a deer's. “What? Sorry, my head got a bit shaken up there.” 


“What are you doing in my territory?” 


The glowing deerlike eyes grew confused. “Your territory? The forest doesn't belong to anyone!” 


Bakugou snarled. He did not like this person, whoever he was. “That is irrelevant. Why did you attack me, and why the fuck aren’t you dead?” 


“So you were trying to kill me, then,” the black-haired man sarcastically drawled. 


“You are not going to avoid the question.”


The man shrugged. “I have tough skin sometimes, some people say it’s hard as diamond. So I don’t really do that whole ‘die easy’ thing. Sorry.” He smirked. 


Bakugou was going to kill this man, diamond skin or not. “The fuck do you mean sometimes?” 


“Oh, like this!” The stranger held up a fist, a jagged, rocklike substance seemingly creeping up his arm. He twisted fast, aiming for Bakugou’s stomach, and the blond could feel the fist just scrape his side as he dove out of the way. Shit. He stood, about to really kill the man with explosions, but the black-haired stranger had doubled over on himself. Scarlet eyes looked up to meet crimson, and sharp teeth-- did he file them?-- were bared in a shit-eating grin. “Well, sorry about this, but I’m gonna have to leave now. Ya know, because this is ‘your forest’ and all, so… Bye.” He quickly stood, but promptly sat back down again, his back scraping against the tree’s bark as he slid down it. “You know what? I’m fine here. You can go back to whatever you were doing before now, I promise I’ll leave.” 


“...The fuck, Shit-Hair?” 


“You can go now.”


Bakugou paused. “You know what, no. I don’t trust you. Get up, you’re coming with me.” 


The newly dubbed Shit-Hair stood up, quickly leaning against a tree for support. Bakugou huffed. “Can you walk?” 




“I swear to-” The black-haired man collapsed before he could finish his sentence. Bakugou poked at him. He was out cold. “Fuck!” Bakugou spat. What right did this bastard have to come into his forest out of who knows where, and fucking collapse? Quietly hissing curses left and right, Bakugou hefted the motherfucker over his shoulder.


What is he, a goddamn walking mountain? Bakugou could feel the rock-hard muscle through his furs, and the bastard was fucking heavy. 


He’s kinda pretty, though.


SHUT UP, Bakugou yelled at himself. Just because you haven’t had a partner since that fucking green-haired bitch broke up with you for a goddamn peppermint does not mean you can think shit about a goddamn TRESPASSER, and besides, he’s an ass. 


He started making his way back up the mountain. Around halfway there, Shit-Hair woke up, and started wincing--Bakugou supposed he could be gentler, but it wasn’t until he felt blood trickling down his bare chest that he realized the fucker was actually hurt. “Fucking idiot, why didn’t you say anything?” He grumbled.


Shit-Hair remained unresponsive, he appeared to have passed out again. 


Bakugou huffed and trudged on. They had almost arrived at his cave, and then he could get answers out of Shit-Hair. Answers to questions like, What the fuck are you doing out at night, there are goddamn dire wolves in this forest, you’re fucking bleeding!


And then maybe they’d fight to the death. Because Bakugou did not want to deal with emotions, and Shit-Hair looked like he’d put up a good fight. Besides, if that last dragon fight really had been--well, the last dragon fight , then he’d need all the excitement he could get to keep from going insane. 




Bakugou laid the fucker down on the pile of furs he used as a bed, and cut off the blood-soaked clothes around Shit-Hair’s chest. The blood seemed to be seeping from a badly-wrapped bandage around the idiot’s torso. Bakugou sighed, the sound hissing through his clenched teeth, and cut that away too. 


...And he’d been right. That was where all the blood had been coming from. 


Or more specifically, it had been leaking out of a deep wound hidden beneath the poor wrapping. It looked as if someone had taken an oversized talon, and slashed it across Shit-Hair’s chest. To top it all off, there seemed to be the beginnings of infection in the wound. 


“Damn,” Bakugou hissed. Just one more thing to interrogate Shit-Hair about when he woke up. 


He set to work cleaning to wound, then applied a healing salve and bound it properly in new wrappings. Did Shit-Hair even clean this shit before he wrapped it? He wondered. Fucker didn't really seem the type to know basic survival skills like that. And then there was the question of how the fuck Shit-Hair had been able to jump at him with a wound like that. 


But that could all wait for now. Right now, he was hungry, and tired from lugging a who-the-fuck-knows-how-heavy idiot up a damned mountain. He had some venison stashed somewhere in the back of the cave, so he chewed on that while pulling a few furs off the occupied ‘bed’ and piling them on the opposite side of the cave, turning them into a nest-like sleeping place. He’d deal with Shit-Hair in the morning. Or something. Settling down in his furs, Bakugou glanced over at the idiot. He was definitely fucking strong, and massive. So what the fuck could do that to him?


“...Dragon,” Bakugou muttered, cursing softly. “It’d have to be, with that wound size. Only problem is, where the fuck did he find one of those? And why the fuck would he be near enough for it to get him that bad?” He hissed through his teeth, slightly peeved that the trespassing bastard was not awake to answer. Fuck, I’ll have to wait until morning. And I do want to fight him, so I might have to keep him around for as long as his wound heals. He’ll owe me a fight by then. Maybe to the death, for this territory? 


He’d win, of course. One doesn't go around fighting dragons for six years without developing insanely good fighting skills. Not to mention his power. But it would make for good entertainment, and the heavily muscled man on the other side of the cave should make for an interesting opponent, at least. 




Bakugou woke up with a heavy weight pressed against his chest. That wasn’t particularly alarming, he’d fallen asleep with his broadsword between his arms too many times to count. 


The only problem was, broadswords were generally not very warm things. Much less soft. 


He cracked his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. Why am I on the other side of the cave again? And what about that man--Shit-Hair?


Shit-Hair. That’s why I’m on the other side of the cave. His eyes drifted towards the other pile of furs, but there was no tell-tale mess of shitty black hair in sight. Well, if the fucker decides to just up and leave, I’m not going to fucking stop him. It’d give him less shit to deal with, but still. He’d kind of been looking forward to that fight. Huffing out a vaguely angered breath, he shook the furs off himself, and stood.


Or tried to. Hm. Generally, the sword would just… Fall off with the rest of the  blankets, it was in a sheath. It would be fine. Which meant--he glanced down, and was met with a headful of shaggy black hair. 


Fucking hell-- He closed his eyes, muttering, “I swear to all the gods, if this is not a dream, someone is going to die. And that someone will not be me.” And opened his eyes again. Just in time to be met with Shit-Hair’s own eyes, slowly cracking open for the first time that morning.


Huh. They’re red, too. A very pretty shade of scarlet, in fact, and the pupils were delicate slits. Maybe some fairy blood, then? Though not much, if his physique was that...Bakugou never thought he’d describe a beast of a man as beautiful, but you know what? The world sees new miracles every day. Shit-Hair was officially the most beautiful walking muscle mountain he’d ever seen. 


“...Good morning?” The fucking-- bastard hedged.

Bakugou lunged out of the fur-pile, forcefully pushing the absolute fucker off his chest, and turned, pinning the shit-haired bastard to the ground. “I am this close, ” he ground out, “To killing you right now. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” 


“Uh, your fingers are touching-” Shit-Hair cut himself off when he saw the look Bakugou was giving him. “...I was cold?”


“It is late spring, you have a literal pile of furs lying right over there, and you are telling me you got cold?” 


Shit-Hair had the gall to shrug at him. “I just get cold really easily, I guess.” 


Bakugou really was going to kill the bitch, wasn’t he. 


...Not right now, though. Shit-Hair had just woken up, he was still hurt. And Bakugou wanted a victory to be proud of. Not one of those I-took-out-my-opponent-at-his-weakest-because-I’m-a-coward wins.


And that definitely was not an excuse for anything. Shit hair may have been a pretty fucker, but he was still a fucker. 

Chapter Text

Eventually, Shit-Hair dragged his lazy ass out of the furs and to the small fire pit that Bakugou had started near the entrance of the cave. The sun had crept a bit above the skyline already, leaving the remaining clouds a deep gray tinged with pink. Not early morning, not anymore, more like… Morning. Just morning. 


Bakugou turned towards Shit-Hair. “The fuck are you doing walking around? The wound looked infected last I checked, so you shouldn’t have even been able to crawl over to my side of the cave.” 


Shit-Hair grinned, exposing a mouth full of fuking shark teeth, what the fuck? “I heal fast.”


“...What the fuck is up with your teeth.” 


Shit-Hair looked at him funny. “...I was born like this?” 




“Nope!” Shit-Hair grinned again. Those goddamn teeth, I swear to fuck-- “So do I get the priveledge of what you’re making, your highness, or-”


“Don’t fucking call me that, ” Bakugou snarled. 


“Then what should I call you? You haven’t exactly given me a name, so I am fully justified in my name-choice. Which I personally think is extremely accurate-”


“Bakugou! Just call me Bakugou, I swear--”


“First name?”


“You don’t get one.”


Shit-Hair huffed. “Fine.” He moved closer to the fire. “So I do get to eat some of it?”


Bakugou hissed, the air whistling softly through his teeth. “Only because you can’t fend for yourself, and if you can’t, then I don’t get my fight.”


Shit-Hair blinked, confused. “What fight?”


Bakugou glanced away from the meat he’d been frying, back at scarlet eyes. “What, you thought I’ve been helping you out of the kindness of my heart?”


“...Yes, because people do things like that?” 


“Not in this cave, they don’t. Everything comes for a price. And yours is that you have to fight me.”


Surprisingly, Shit-Hair agreed easily.




Shit-Hair healed fully within a week, for some fucking reason. The bastard claimed he’d been born with the ability, but Bakugou wasn’t quite sure he believed him in that--but then again, some fairies did have some sort of abnormal healing magics. Fucker. The goddamn scar wasn’t even that bad. 


And for some reason, even after threatening the bastard multiple times, Bakugou still woke up with a head of shaggy black hair using his chest as a pillow. 


Bakugou’s mouth may have complained about the arrangement, but his mind stayed silent on the matter--even leaning towards enjoying it.  Which, of course, had Bakugou wanting to kill the fucker even more. Bastard wouldn’t get away with fucking up his mental state, hell no. 


...He supposed Shit-Hair was tolerable, though. More so than the goddamn villagers at the bottom of the mountain, at the very least. So, even after a fucking week of being unable to get up due to a literal mountain of muscle piled on top of his admittedly smaller (but more agile) form, Bakugou didn’t blow the man up. 


It was nice to have another person around sometimes.


Even if Bakugou would never admit it aloud. 


And why was he thinking about shit like this right now? It didn't matter whether Shit-Hair happened to be okay to be around, because either way, Bakugou would defeat him, then go on to kill whatever monsters he could find that would be worthy of fighting- 


“Hey, Bakugou!”


Well, it looked like Shit-Hair had finally gotten up. Bakugou had already made breakfast, and pushed Shit-Hair’s share towards him. Watching the bastard scarf down his food, Bakugou said, “We fight today.”


The fucker glanced up from his meal, looking a bit surprised, but eager. “Okay! Do I get to stay if I win?” 


“It’s a fight to the death, idiot.” 


Shit-Hair looked over at Bakugou with raised eyebrows, staring at Bakugou as if he were the idiot. “No, it’s not, not if I pin you first.”


“Like that’s going to happen.”


“How about this,” Shit-Hair continued, oblivious to Bakugou’s ever-shortening fuse. “We will not be fighting to the death, but whoever pins the other so that they either can’t move or give up first wins. And if I win, I get to stay here longer. Now that I’m not hurt, I can actually do things to help out! Deal?” The bastard grinned up at him with puppy-dog eyes and a shark-toothed smile. 






“The--the thing. With your fucking eyes. When you make them all big like that.”


The black-haired fucker proceeded to make his eyes even bigger, cocking his head to the side. “Only if you agree to no killing.” 


Bakugou hissed through his teeth, about to strangle Shit-Hair then and there. Goddamn pretty bastards and their fucking pretty eyes FUCK-- Fine. But I want something if I win; I want information.” 


Shit-Hair appeared a bit nervous at that, but agreed nonetheless. Bakugou grinned, a monstrous thing filled with the promise of pain, and cleared an area for them to spar outside. He’d win, for sure. Bakugou would know what had given Shit-Hair his wound, if it were actually a dragon--and where he had found the beast. And what the fuck he’d been doing out there in Bakugou’s forest with a wound like that at night. He’d tried to grill the dark-haired man on it before, but the fucker had just avoided his questions. 


Shit-Hair walked outside, running his fingers through the tangled mane of black hair that fell at least halfway down his back. I wanna touch it, I bet it smells nice or something--shut UP mind, fucking CONCENTRATE-- “So, is there an official ‘beginning’ to the battle, or whatever you wanna call it? Or-”


“How about now?” Bakugou turned and launched himself at Shit-Hair, explosions dancing on his fingertips. Shit-Hair dodged, a strange rock-like texture crawling up his arms- Oh, fuck, right. And it really was hard as diamond--no matter what Bakugou threw at the bastard, he stood steadfast, slowly advancing all the while--until Bakugou was pinned against the mountain’s rocky surface, Shit-Hair’s body pressed against his own, a hardened arm against his throat. Fuck. 


“So this means I win, right?” Shit-Hair asked, after catching his breath. Bakugou could feel the purr of the bastard’s voice deep in his chest, and found that he couldn’t actually reply. 


He blamed it on being too tired to speak. 


Speaking about being tired, Shit-Hair looked fucking spent, too--it had been a hard fight. Maybe it’d be nice to have a sparring partner like that. I mean, he won- Yeah, no, shut up, he told his mind, and blinked, Shit-Hair’s face coming back into focus. Bastard had a tiny scar on one of his eyelids. Cute. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming at himself. 


“...I did win, right?” Shit-Hair’s voice dragged Bakugou out of the back of his mind. He frowned, glaring up at the fucker. “Fucking fine. You won. You happy?”


Shit-Hair swayed slightly, then promptly collapsed, massive hand catching the back of Bakugou’s neck and yanking him forward. “What the fuck, Shit-Hair!” He snarled, a hardened arm keeping him from actually getting up. “You that goddamn tired already? Let me up, or I’ll take back my no-killing promise!”


“M’ name’s not Shit-Hair, s’ Eijirou,” The fucking bastard mumbled.


“Well, no fucking shit!” Bakugou spat. “Do I look like I care?” 


Shit-Hair-- Eijirou? Fuck. Fuck this. Fuck life. Cracked an eye open. “...Fine, I’ll let you up. Woulda thought you liked this though, you always somehow pull me on top of you in the middle of the night.”


“Wha-- you do that!” Bakugou pounded against the fucker’s chest, hardened against small explosions crackling at Bakugou’s fingertips. “You’re the one that uses me as a fucking pillow!” 


Shit-Hair shook his head. “Nope. I go to get your body heat, ‘cause it’s cold out, ‘n you just drag me in. Your fault.” 


At that, Bakugou finally pushed the fucker’s arm off his back, sitting up on his beautifully sculpted, nicely muscled shut the FUCK UP BRAIN-- chest. “No. Fuck you. I would know if I did that kind of shit. And why would you let me do that, anyway?”


Shit-Hair shrugged, his muscles moving smoothly under Bakugou’s legs. “I just told ya, you’re a--a living fire pit or something, I’m not gonna complain.” 


Bakugou hissed through his teeth, striding back toward the entrance to the cave. He’d kill the bastard, but… Shit-Hair had won. Someone had beat the Dragonslayer, the great Bakugou Katskui. Someone had more power than him, could pin him down, could force him to stay down for as long as they wished. 


Strangely, Bakugou didn’t care about all that as much as he’d thought he would. 




The next morning, when Bakugou woke up with a certain shitty-haired bastard sleeping peacefully on his chest, he simply ‘Tch’ed and let the fucker sleep. When the bastard woke up to Bakugou watching his every move, he just laughed and asked if they’d be sparring after breakfast again. 


It became routine--Bakugou would wake up to Shit-Hair sleeping on him--like some sort of weird cat, almost--and when the bastard woke up, Bakugou would make breakfast. Then they’d spar until Bakugou’s inevitable defeat. True to his word, he helped out when he could--going out with Bakugou into the woods to set snares for rabbits and such, maybe helping with making food if Bakugou allowed it. What had initially been a week eventually turned into a month, and Bakugou needed to go down into the village to get a few things. 


Shit-Hair, of course, wanted to come.


“Absolutely not .” Bakugou did not want any distractions, he wanted to get in and out of there as fast as possible. 


“C’mon, please?” 



“I’ve been staying here with you the whole time, I wanna go down! Please?”  


“I said no.”


“I-I’ll clean up after dinner tonight, wash all the pans really well! I promise!”  Shit-Hair widened his eyes pleadingly. 


Well, fuck. Bakugou absolutely hated washing up, it fucked with his explosions. “Fine,” He spat. I did it because it messes with my magic, it’s logic. Not because of the puppy eyes. I am not that weak. “But,” He continued, “Don’t talk to anyone, don’t touch anything, and stay next to me the entire time. I don’t want this to take forever.” 


“Okay!” Shit-Hair automatically agreed. “When do we go?” 


“Now.” Bakugou turned his back, walking out of the cave to the start of the small mountain trail. 


Shit-Hair immediately ran up beside him. “So this goes to the village?”


Bakugou sighed. “Obviously, Shit-Hair. It’s not like there’s another fucking trail out here, is there?” His eyes flicked over to the bastard, whose shark-toothed grin remained as present as ever. Fucker. Some people have no right fucking over Bakugou’s mind every goddamn second. His mouth pulling into a snarl, Bakugou dragged his eyes back to the trail. “Pay fucking attention to where you’re going, I’m not goint to save you when you fall.”


“I’ll be fine!” Shit-Hair chirped. Right, his goddamn diamond skin or someshit.  


“Whatever,” He ground out, deciding to just ignore the bastard for now.




Luckily, Shit-Hair had listened to some of what he’d said, so the fucker actually stayed close to Bakugou, surprisingly not running off to talk to a random stranger. Hm. The blond had pinned him as the type to pull that sort of shit, but maybe this trip would turn out better than expected. 


“Hey, Bakugou?”


So, the bastard speaks again, he thought. At least he’d been quiet for pretty much the whole trip.


“Bakugou, what’s that?”


Bakugou glanced over at where Shit-Hair was pointing. “Hair dye,” he answered. 


“What’s it do?”


Bakugou sighed. “It dyes your hair,” he said. 


Shit-Hair still looked confused. 


“It can change your hair color?” He offered up. 


The bastard’s face lit up as if it were the Fire Festival. “Can we please get some? Pretty please? I’ll do the dishes three nights in a row!”


Bakugou sighed. “Fine,” he snapped, “But four nights, not three. What fucking color.”



Chapter Text

Bakugou pulled out the bricks of dye and bleach, tossing them to Shit-Hair. “Go back to the river, and take your shirt off. Unless you want it dyed along with your hair. I don’t really give a fuck either way.”


“There’s water in this cave?” 


“Yeah, where the fuck else would I be getting it from? I’m not gonna hike to the other side of the mountain for fresh water every morning.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Shit-Hair paused. “So… Are you gonna help me, or do I have to do it on my own?” 


“Am I--” Bakugou pinched the bridge of his nose. I should have expected this, honestly. “You need help.”




The blond sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Fine.” 


Bakugou did not expect to spend his afternoon dyeing someone’s hair, but here they were--Shit-Hair was right now temporarily a blond, and Bakugou wasn’t sure as to whether he wanted to stab his own eyes out or laugh. The look just

made Shit-Hair’s hair look--well, even shittier. Bakugou bit his tongue and reached for the dye. 


…I guess he looks halfway decent as a redhead, Bakugou decided when he finished. To be honest, he looked more than that,  but there was only so much that Bakugou’s conscious brain would readily admit at a time. To be fair, the violently bright shade worked to bring the fucker’s slightly darker eyes out. 


Well. At least he wouldn’t be stuck with a blond Shit-Hair. 


Red? Yeah, he could get used to red. 




The next morning, Shit-Hair won again. Bakugou supposed he should stop being surprised about it, but--he’d been so fucking close to winning this time, too-


“Hey, Bakugou,” the now redhead spoke, interrupting Bakugou’s thoughts. “Do you ever… Interact with anyone other than me?”


“The fuck, Shit-Hair? No, why the hell would I? They’re all useless extras.” 


Shit-Hair laughed at that, something that he did much more often than necessary--though the sound wasn’t unwelcome. Not really. “Seriously? Extras?” The fucker grinned. “Man, I knew you were pissy, but people aren’t that bad.” 


“Yeah? And what would you know about that?” 


“Well,” Shit-Hair began, “I actually know a few of the traders from the market, from before I met you. They’re nice.” 


“Which ones?” 


“Three of them. Shinsou, Sero, and Kaminari. I met them while I was travelling across the country.” 


Bakugou snarled. “You mean Motherfucker, Dunce Face, and Soy Sauce.” 


Shit-Hair exaggerated a sigh. “See, this is why you think people are bad! You just aren’t nice to them. You don’t give them a chance.”



“...Don’t think you’re bad,” Bakugou muttered.




“Nothing!” He snapped. “And I do give them a chance, how the fuck do you think they earned their names?” 


Shit-Hair shrugged, his mouth quirked in a half-smile that exposed just the tips of his shark teeth. Fuck. “I mean,” The redhead said, “I didn’t really do anything to ‘earn’ myself the title of Shit-Hair, that was all you.” 


“No, you did,” Bakugou argued. “You have shit hair. Boom, you earned it!” A small explosion danced across his palm for a second, punctuating the sentence. 


“That’s--that doesn’t make any sense --” Shit-Hair shook his head and laughed again. “I guess it doesn’t matter. How did the traders earn their nicknames?” 


“Dunce face is pretty much self-explanatory, Motherfucker thinks he knows everything and is an all-around bitch, and Soy Sauce looks like soy sauce.” 

Shit-Hair turned to look at Bakugou with that sarcastic raised-eyebrows-half-grin stare. “Not sure what I expected, but somehow, I’m not surprised.”


“Fuck off, Shit-Hair! What do you know about names?”


Shit-Hair seemed to pause for a moment, thinking. “Blasty!”


“...What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”


“Blasty, for your explosions! Both physical and personality-wise!”


Fuck no!”


Shit-Hair smirked. “No going back now, Blasty. You asked what I knew about names, and I have delivered!” 


“Piss off, Shit-Hair. My names are still better.” Even if his was fucking spot-on, the fucker.


Shit-Hair just laughed, and asked if they should head into the forest to check the rabbit snares they’d set the night before. 




They were sparring in the river this time; Shit-Hair had suggested it after he found out about it. Fighting in the water was… Weird, and Bakugou couldn’t use his explosions as well, but he considered that a good thing. It was a way to make himself stronger--if he could beat Shit-Hair in the water, then he definitely could on the land. 


And gods damn him if he wasn’t going to beat that bastard as soon as he could. So around each other they circled, two beasts in the ring--lighting fast they moved, the water barely hindering them. 


Until bam! Shit-Hair stood triumphantly for the umpteenth time above a felled Bakugou. The grinning bastard collapsed into the water next to him, water transforming his violently red hair from its usual tangled mane into something smooth and soft, the strands fanning out in the river’s slow current. 


“It’s fucking weird, ” Bakugou mumbled. 


Shit-Hair glanced over at him. “Hm?” 


Fuck it. “Your hair,” He said. “Why’s it go all… Soft when it’s wet? It did it when we had to rinse out the dye, too, and then it got all--” he threw up his hands, a spray of water trailing after his fingertips “--tangled again,” he trailed off. 


The fucker ran his fingers through his shitty hair. “I dunno, it just does, I guess. Why? Does it look bad or something?”


Bakugou sat up in the water and pointedly looked at the bastard, raising an eyebrow. 




“I call you Shit-Hair for a reason, and the reason is because you have shit hair. It always looks bad.” Lie. It never did--shut UP brain!


Shit-Hair laughed. “Fair enough. But then why did you want to know? If it wasn’t because it looked bad.” 


Bakugou shrugged, moving into the deeper part of the river and sinking down until only his head remained above the water. “It’s always kinda… Spiky. Like a lion’s mane, sort of. And now it’s just fucking flat.”


“Fair enough,” the redhead responded absently.


“Okay, now fucking what?” 


Shit-Hair looked over, deep scarlet eyes meeting a flaring crimson. “...Yeah?”


“You were getting distracted by something.” And it wasn’t me. The thought, like many others before it, popped unbidden into his mind. I said, shut up! 


“Wasn’t really anything,” Shit-Hair answered. “Just--well, our hair really isn’t that different, you know.”


Bakugou stopped mentally berating himself long enough to bark, “Well, I’m still not the one being called Shit-Hair!”


“Yeah, yeah, Blasty,” Shit-hair responded, splashing the blond. 


Oh, it’s on.


Though, in the end, Shit-Hair won yet again, leaving Bakugou to sulk while cooking dinner.




“Hey, Blasty?” 


“Fuck off.” They had just finished re-dyeing Shit-Hair’s shitty hair, the monthly trip down the mountain had been made the day before.


“So,” Shit-Hair continued anyway, “We’ve been living together for, like, three months, yeah?” 


“...So? If you wanna leave, I’m not gonna stop you or anything.” ...Though that thought really didn’t sit well with him. Strange to realize that he would actually… miss the bastard. He shook his head, trying to clear it. 


Shit-Hair glanced up at him and smiled, the teeth-- the teeth, fuck the teeth-- exposed again. “Nah, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” 


Hm. It sounded as if there was a story behind that, a sad one. But all he said back was, “Fine.” 


“Anyway, we always end up in the same bed in the morning-”


“Because you apparently get ‘cold’ or someshit, it’s the middle of summer! Who gets cold then?”


“Summer nights are cold, man.” 


The irritating thing was, Shit-Hair happened to be fucking correct. 


“Fine,” Bakugou sighed. “You get cold in summer. So?” 


“So why don’t we just--ya know, combine the fur piles? It would make the place look more organized, at least.” 




“Would make the place look nicer.” 


“We live in a fucking cave, Shit-Hair.” 


“Yeah, so I’m gonna take that as a yes.”


“What-- no!” 


Shit-Hair looked over at him, smirk in place. “That’s just being unreasonable. We both know there’s no real reason not to.”


Fucker-- ”There are plenty of reasons not to!” None of which Bakugou could remember right now. 


“Yeah? Like what?” Shit-hair challenged, still smirking. 


Shit, Bakugou’s mind supplied. You’re screwed. 


The silence stretched on for a good ten seconds, ending with Shit-Hair chirping an “I thought so!”  And the blond banging his head against the cave wall. The worst part was, he honestly didn’t give a shit about sleeping in the same bed. He enjoyed it. And he knew that he really was fucked.  “Gods damn it,” he hissed, “Why the hell am I like this? Pull yourself together, Katsuki, you’ve been living with the bastard for three months, just because you’re officially sharing a bed doesn't mean shit.” He glared defiantly at the wall. 


The wall wisely remained silent on the matter. 


Fuck it. Bakugou would not give up now. He wasn’t weak, he was not a coward, and he may or may not have just stated himself that he and the fucker were officially sharing a bed. Or what could (maybe) pass as one. 


This is fine. 


He sighed, finally following Shit-Hair out of the cave’s depths to the surface. He tossed his cape to the side, nestling himself deep into the pile of furs next to the bastard, and once again he was forced to realize the sheer size of the man. “Oi, Shit-Hair. Scoot over.” 


“...Nah. Here, let me just--” The living muscle mountain instead opted to pin the blond down by half-curling up on his chest.


Fuck. Bakugou had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to get Shit-Hair to move, then the gears turned and he realized that this was probably the whole fucking purpose to combining both beds. “Fucking bastard,” he growled. Shit-Hair laughed in response, the sound vibrating against Bakugou’s ribcage. Shit. “Fuck off,” he mumbled. I am going to kill him for this in the morning. 


Though--he knew he was lying to himself at this point, and he couldn’t even be bothered to try to keep his mind quiet this late at night. He’d deal with everything in the morning.




“Hey, Blasty? Is it true that you know a faerie?”


“...Where the fuck did you hear that from?” 


“Sero and Kaminari! Though Shinsou wouldn’t say anything about it.”


Bakugou sighed. Of fucking course he did. He’d kill them on the way out--they still needed to pick up Shit-Hair’s dye, and maybe a few other things, and the three’s setup wasn’t too far from their trailhead. “And why the fuck do you trust them, again?”


Shit-Hair exaggeratedly glanced around, then leaned in close as if sharing a secret. “I don’t. That’s why I’m asking you for confirmation.”


“...Yeah, I knew a faerie.” Why are you telling him, you fucking idiot, don’t let your guards down, you’ve done that too much around him already! Of course, per usual, his mouth didn’t obey his mind and continued on. “Haven’t seen the bitch in a while, though, thank shit.”


“Was she pink?”


“Soy Sauce and Dunce face tell you that, too, huh?”


“Nah, Sero just said someone new was in town? And I asked who it was, and he said just look for a pink-skinned faerie. And then Kaminari said she was bitching to him once about an ‘explosive dick who wrecked her girlfriend’s emotional state’, and he said that he’d bet 100 gold pieces that the explosive dick was you.”


“What, so you just settling their bet or someshit?” That… Kind of pissed him off, actually.


“Well, that, and I was curious. You know, I used to know a pink faerie, a really long time ago.”


“Didn’t ask,” Bakugou muttered.


“Let’s see if we can find her!” 


“Gods-- fuck no,” he spat. “When I said I hadn’t seen her for a while, I meant six fucking years and then some, Shit-Hair! And that last time was probably when I wrecked her girlfriend’s emotional state, bitch probably over-exaggerated.”


“Well, then find her! And apologise!”


“I will not apologise to a raccoon-eyed acid spitter,” the blond growled. 


Shit-Hair’s eyes grew wide, the scarlet irises catching like gemstones in the light. Bakugou tore his gaze away. “The faerie I knew had acid powers! Now we have to find her!”


“If that’s all you want to find her for, I’m not helping you look.”


“Fine. Maybe she’ll be able to tell me more about you, and why you’re being an ass.”


Oh, the fucker-- Bakugou glared up at him. “I am not being an ass, and if you wanna know shit about me, toughen up and just fucking ask like a normal person! ‘Sides, you can’t trust anything she says.” 


“Really?” The bastard asked, lighting up like--like the fucking sun itself, what the fuck-- “I can really just ask you? I thought you wouldn’t answer.”


Well, how was Bakugou supposed to tell the bastard that he was spot on, and also the only exception? “Fuck off,” he went for instead. 


Shit-Hair shrugged. “Alright then, why are you living in a cave halfway up a mountain?” 


“‘Cause it’s nice,” he answered. “People say a dragon used to live there, so it had to be good. And I didn’t want to go back to my parents.” He didn’t know why he added that last bit, Shit-Hair didn’t need to know that.


But Shit-Hair cocked his head, and asked “Why didn’t you want to go back?” And Bakugou couldn’t deny him, goddammit. 


So he shrugged. “Expectations n’ shit. All I wanted to do was fight, so my dam got pissed all the time. If I hadn’t left myself, they woulda kicked me out before too long.” 


“Oh.” Shit-Hair looked a bit sad about that. ...Is he sad for me? Or is he like the damned nerd, crying about anything and everything? But he’d been living for the red-haired fuck for a while now, and he was certainly better than the green-haired motherfucker. And as Bakugou watched, Shit-hair blinked, and it was gone. “Why don’t you want to see her?”


“Who?” Bakugou snapped back to attention. Wasn’t staring, I was NOT staring at the fucker! 


“The faerie.” 


He blinked. “Oh.” Right. “I already answered that one, dumbass.”


“Nope! Not properly, anyway.”


“Fine, I’ll fucking answer, if it means you’ll shut up.” Shit-Hair whined something about you SAID I could ask questions, Blasty! Bakugou ignored him in favor of saying, “Don’t want to see her because she’s annoying as fuck. So’s her girlfriend. And no, we aren’t going to look for her, ‘cause it’s getting late. You’ve heard the wolves at night, they’re vicious bastards and I’m not fighting them while carrying shit.” 


“Don’t we still have to get some stuff, though?” Shit-hair asked, and Bakugou realized that yes, they did. 


“Exactly,” he decided on saying. “And it’d just get later if we went searching for her, she’s an elusive bitch. C’mon, let’s go get the rest of our shit.” 


“Okay!” Shit-hair chirped, and followed him over to the next vendor’s stall. 


Chapter Text

It wasn’t until they had arrived back at the cave that Bakugou realized he still knew jack shit about Shit-Hair (this was definitely not because he won literally none of their sparring sessions), and he snapped, “I still want questions answered, too, you know.”


“You never asked,” the bastard answered, grinning his shark-toothed grin. 


Bakugou huffed, and bit out, “Fine. What were you doing the night I found you?” 


Shit-Hair paused, and Bakugou could hear the hesitation in his tone when he finally spoke. “...I’d--I’d rather not talk about it, to be honest. It’s… painful.” 


Bakugou blinked. Fair, but still-- “I told you all of my crap.”


“No, you told me a very simplistic and summarized version of all your crap. I still want to find that faerie, at some point, also. I have some things I want to ask her.” 


“What, about me? You already know me! We’ve been living together for at least four months, how could you not know me?” 


Shit-Hair raised an eyebrow, grinning slightly. “Prove to me that I know you, and then maybe I’ll drop it.” 


Bakugou sighed, unsure of why, exactly, he put up with all of this (that was a lie, he knew exactly why he put up with it). “When do I get up in the morning,” he tiredly asked the fucker. 


Shit-Hair looked confused. “How’s that gonna-”


“Just answer the goddamn question, Shit-Hair.” 


“Well-” The redheaded fuck began, “Early. You get up really early, and you always push me off you, which I hate because I get cold. Then you make breakfast, ‘cause you say you hate when I do it, because I burn the food, even though you like spicy foods, and technically they’re both hot, so I don’t know what your reasoning for that is. To each their own, I guess. Oh! You know what else you like? You like fighting. Like, really like it, and you’re really really good at it. Still haven’t beaten me, though…” Shit-Hair drifted off, scrunching up his eyebrows. Which, for Bakugou, was really fucking distracting. 


So he shook his head, collecting himself enough to say, “See? You know me, so stop asking stupid fucking questions!” 


Shit-Hair blinked, eyes coming back into focus. “...Fine, but if I know you, you know me, and I don’t have to answer questions either.” 




The fucker grinned, baring those goddamn shark teeth of his. “Wanna spar?” 


Damn, Bakugou thought. This fucker really does know me. And for some reason, that made Bakugou… Happy? Less pissed?


...Fuck it. The shithead made him happy. Though, to be honest, he really wasn’t sure if that happened to be a good thing or not.




Today, when Bakugou woke up, the familiar weight of Shit-Hair was not on his chest. Blearily ,his morning brain immediately decided that it did not like this new development. Hissing profanities against life in general, he got up and immediately grabbed his cloak because it was cold as fuck outside, fuck you too, universe, and quietly began padding towards the front of the cave. 


“Hi, Blasty!” Someone chirped, and Bakugou’s head whipped up to see Shit-Hair sitting just outside the cave next to a small fire. 


“Oh, that’s where you went,” He half-mumbled.


Shit-Hair perked up. “You came out here to find me, Blasty?”  


Bakugou didn’t have the heart in him to correct the bastard. “What’re you doin out here?” He asked instead, trying to convey as much distaste for the cold as possible in his words.


Shit-hair, unsurprisingly, ignored the tonality completely, and happily answered the question--”Watching the sunrise!”


Bakugou sighed. He should have expected this. “‘S too damn early for this shit. Besides, you watch the damn thing set literally every night.” 


“But it’s different,” The fucker protested. “Watch it with me?”


“Fuck no, I’m going back to bed.”



Don’t you dare fucking turn around, Katsuki. Don’t you fucking DARE- 


He turned around, giving Shit-Hair his best glare. “No.”


But the big puppy-dog eyes were already out, and Bakugou knew he’d lost. “Please? I’ll do-”


“Fine! Fucking--you don’t have to do anything, just--shut the fuck up.” He sat down next to the bastard with his back to the fire, and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. An arm reached out, pulling him into the fucker’s side. “Hey! The fuck, Shit-Hair?” 


“It’s--it’s cold out here. And I forgot, because you’re always warm, but I didn’t want to miss the sun.” 


Bakugou squinted up at him. “I’m literally fucking freezing-”


“Yeah, but are you this cold?” Shit-Hair challenged, pressing his fingers to Bakugou’s cheek. They felt like ice. Bakugou yelped, shoving at his arm.


“The fuck--what the fuck, Shit-Hair, so you really are that cold all the time?”


Shit-Hair laughed. “No, not all the time, mostly just at night. And winter.” Bakugou nodded in response, still tucked into the fucker’s side. And so they sat, quietly watching the sun rise. 


And surprisingly, Bakugou enjoyed it. 




Back at the market again, Bakugou watched Shit-Hair animatedly talk to the resident witch. A water-witch, she ran a small apothecary, and was one of the only ones who didn’t give a flying fuck about Bakugou’s attitude. 


Bakugou’s eyes flicked back to Shit-Hair. He just couldn’t fucking understand it. The way the fucker still had miles of energy left, even after talking to people for so damn long. Bakugou generally retained about half an inch and no patience on a good day. But then again, he could talk to the bastard without feeling like he would murder him every ten seconds. Maybe that had something to do with it. 


“Hey, Blasty?” Shit-Hair called, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Do you know someone called Uraraka?” 


Fuck. “What does the bitch want?” He snapped. 


Shit-Hair just grinned. “Froppy says she’s in town, and she wants to see you.” 


“Fuck.” He answered eloquently. “And who the hell’s Froppy?” 


“Do you ever call anyone by their name?” Shit-Hair tutted. “And Froppy’s the water-witch, please tell me you actually knew that.” 


Bakugou turned away, scuffing his heel on the ground. He hadn’t known it, and for some reason he felt bad about it.  Probably because of Shit-Hair and his fucking puppy-dog eyes that always made him cave in at the last fucking second. 


“Where is she,” he growled, “Let’s fucking get this over with.”  


“Froppy said she was at the tavern, you would have known this if you had been listening.” 


“Great,” he said, ignoring the last bit. He hated the tavern, and that bitch Round-Face knew it. Too many fucking people, too much noise. He grabbed Shit-Hair’s wrist, yanking him along despite the bastard’s yelp of Hey! I can walk!


Of course, Bakugou ignored him. 




The tavern was, as expected, loud as fuck and filled with too many people. The round-faced bitch of a spellcaster had her back turned to him, perched on a barstool next to--her pink faerie girlfriend. Fuck. “The hell do you want,” he hissed, sliding up right behind her, and grinning when she startled. 


“Oh! Bakugou! I didn’t hear you walk over!” 


He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course not, it’s too fucking loud, idiot. “I asked what the fuck you wanted.” 


“Yeah…” She began. She’s stalling, what the fuck? “Did Froppy tell you I was here? I mean, of course she did, you’re here now, but she could’ve told someone else, who then told you? Or-”


“Cut the bullshit, Round-Face, I don’t want this shit to take all fucking day.” 


She laughed, light and airy. He hated it. “Yeah, yeah. Well. To be honest… I heard you found someone. So, I came down to see if the rumors were true.”


“I-- what?” He exploded. “You came out here because of a fucking rumor? And I didn’t find someone, he fucking tried to kill me!” 


Raccoon eyes turned in her chair. “So you do have someone.”


“Fuck off, acid bitch! No! I fucking don’t!” 


Of course, the damned faerie did exactly the opposite. Turning to her girlfriend, she whispered just loud enough for him to hear-- “Bet it’s that sweet-looking redhead waiting in the corner, he seems Bakugou’s type. All muscles and shit, probably too good for him, what do you think?” 


Bakugou gave the couple his best killing glare. Fucking Raccoon Eyes grinned. “Well. If he’s not yours, no one would care if I just called him over?” She turned, but his hand whipped out before she could do anything, catching her by the collar of her tunic. 


“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare,” he growled. She had the decency to look sorry and a little scared, but--Round-Face was simply openly staring at him in what seemed almost like horror. 


“What?” He bit out, dropping the acid bitch and turning towards her, palms smoking. Her eyes widened, and then her expression neutralized. 


“Nothing. It’s--it’s nothing-”


And then someone touched his shoulder-- fucking acid bitch-- and he unthinkingly flipped them over, twisting his body and pinning them to the ground.


Only to be met with crimson, and slit eyes widened up at him in surprise--and was that fucking--


The fucker was smiling, the absolute jackass!


“Guess you finally beat me, Blasty!” Shit-Hair grinned. 


“Bullshit,” he hissed, leaning in to angrily press his forehead to the bastard’s. “We’re not on an even starting point. Wasn’t a fair fucking win.” 


“You good?” The redhead asked, completely ignoring him. “I saw your palms smoking earlier, and they only do that when you get upset. So I came over.” 


Right. Round-Face and acid bitch are still here. Fuck. “I’m fucking fine. C’mon, let’s go.” He pulled the fucking mountain of muscle to his feet-- why is he so goddamn heavy?-- and started towards the door, not sparing a second glance back at the pair of girls. 


“Bakugou! Wait a second--” Someone tugged on the end of his cape, yanking him around-


“What the fuck do you want, Round-Cheeks.” Honestly, the only reason she wasn’t dead was because he knew Shit-Hair would hate him for it. She walked up to him regardless, despite the fact he knew she’d read the threat in his eyes. 


“You really care about him, don’t you.” 


Bakugou froze. Is that what this is? Caring? He’d known he was attracted to the redhead to an extent, but going so far as to actually care-- No. He shook his head violently, desperately. “Fuck the hell off! This goes for your raccoon-eyed bitch, too!” he grabbed Shit-Hair’s wrist-- wit, no, that’s his hand fuck it’s too fucking late now fuck it-- and dragged him out of the tavern. “Please, please tell me that we have all we need?”    


Shit-Hair grinned, shark teeth and all. “Yep! We’re good! I grabbed it when you got my hand.” 


“Thank fuck, ” Bakugou spat. “Now let’s get the hell out of here, before Round-Face and her acid bitch decide they want to talk more.”




It was still dark out when Bakugou cracked his eyes open. He could see the moonlight creeping into the cave, spilling across the red mane of hair that belonged to the fucker curled like a cat on his chest. The bastard seemed almost… Ethereal, not quite human, but not fully feral either. Like a half-tamed lion.


You really care about him, don’t you. 


What the fuck was that even supposed to mean, anyway? He didn’t care about Shit-Hair, he just thought the bastard was pretty. And ripped as fuck. And he kinda liked it when he smiled with those goddamn shark teeth of his, or when he told Bakugou about whatever bullshit crossed his mind. He snorted, remembering the time Shit-Hair had discovered a small cave filled with tiny blue glowworms. The cave had been a bit cramped, but Bakugou hadn’t minded. And Shit-Hair had been so damn excited about it. 


Even Bakugou had to admit that the glowworms were worth it, though. 


The bastard shifted on top of him, twisting his massive body so he was lying face-down. Half-opened scarlet eyes met Bakugou’s own crimson ones, blinking drowsily once and then snapping open again. “‘S late,” Bakugou muttered, not daring to break eye contact. 


“You have very pretty eyes,” Shit-Hair said in a half-purr, the words rasping pleasantly against Bakugou’s ears. How the fuck does he do that to his voice? 


“Go back to sleep,” he said, pushing the bastard’s head back down. Shit-Hair yawned--holy fuck, even his goddamn molars were sharp--and curled up again. His muscles moved smoothly under his skin--a powerful man that could easily kill Bakugou, if fighting without powers. Who could have turned and stabbed him in the back multiple times, done countless other things-


But he hadn’t. 


You really care about him, don’t you. 


And Bakugou realized, yeah. Yeah, he did. 


Though, of course, he was going to completely ignore this midnight revelation in the morning. Emotions were stupid and untrustworthy. Besides, him and Shit-Hair were just friends.  


It didn't matter to Bakugou what Shit-Hair thought they were.                                                  

Chapter Text

Shit-Hair had taken to watching the sun rise every morning, getting up early and leaving Bakugou freezing in the blanket-nest of a bed. Of fucking course, this meant that he had to get up to start the fire, which always somehow ended up with him next to Shit-Hair, watching the sun rise. 


Or, more accurately, watching Shit-Hair. 


It was as if what fucking Round-Face had said had opened the floodates in his mind--the floodgates which contained all the random… Thoughts he’d have about the bastard. Innocent things like his fucking smile with its goddamn shark teeth and how it was one of the most fucking beautiful things he’d ever seen, and… Some more disgusting ones. One of which happened to be exactly what he wanted those shark teeth to do to him. 


“Hey, Blasty, are you okay?” Shit-Hair’s voice snapped him back to reality, and he realized he’d been staring. Shit. Not good. 


“‘M fine,” he snapped quietly. “Just watch your fuckin’ sunrise or whatever.” 


Shit-Hair laughed, low and hushed, and Bakugou could almost feel it. It was pretty--and Bakugou realized he fucking loved that laugh. 




You care about him a lot, Round-Face had said. He loved the laugh, but did he love the man? He immediately ignored the thought, in true Bakugou fashion, because quite obviously the fact that someone you’ve been living with for around half a year sleeps on top of you like some weird cat and you enjoy it means absolutely nothing. 




Bakugou still hadn’t beaten Shit-Hair, a fact that the ass loved to remind him of. Specifically when they were sparring. The redhead had discovered Bakugou’s tendency to throw caution to the wind when his failures were thrown in his face, and used it as much as he could. 


Of course, this just gave Shit-Hair the advantage and made it easier for the red-haired fuck to win. Which meant that Bakugou was currently pinned underneath the living muscle mountain--he could feel Shit-Hair’s breath dancing over his face, those goddamn shark teeth inches away from his throat as the fucker grinned triumphantly above him. “Looks like I get to stay another night!” 


“Do you fucking have to say that every damn time?” Bakugou hissed out. 


“But it’s fun!” The redhead protested. “It declares victory!” 


“Victory my ass,” Bakugou muttered. “Besides we both know it’s not like I’m gonna fucking kick you out or anything…” He trailed off, quietly clamping his mouth shut after realizing he’s spoken aloud, and hoped to every god out there that Shit-Hair hadn’t heard him. 


But they were so close that their goddamn chests were pressed right against each other, so Bakugou didn't really know what else he’d expected when Shit-Hair chirped, “You wouldn’t kick me out?” 


Bakugou opted to remain silent, though he could feel the furious blush rising on his cheeks. Fuck. 


“Wait, you really wouldn’t?” Shit-Hair sounded surprised, as if they hadn’t been living together for a long-ass time. Bakugou wasn’t an idiot; it would be boring without the fucker around, as much as he hated to admit it.


Shit-Hair laughed, half-collapsing on Bakugou, and wrapping his massive arms around Bakugou’s small waist. “You really wouldn’t wanna kill me? Or kick me out?” 


“I fucking might, after this! Let me go!” 


The fucker rolled onto his back, the hardened skin rolling up his arms and locking Bakugou in place. “No, you already said you wouldn’t! It’s too late to go back, I officially live here now! And it’s too nice here to leave, anyway.”


Bakugou’s mind crashed. Wait, what? “Here?” He asked. “You think it’s nice here?” 


“Yeah!” Shit-Hair chirped. 


“Why?” Bakugou demanded. 


“Should I not like it here?” The fucker grinned, already knowing the answer.


“...No,” Bakugou said sullenly. 


The bastard laughed again, and goddammit why is it so fucking pretty why is he so fucking pretty--


“Alright, then!” Shit-Hair said, interrupting his thoughts. “If you say so. Maybe I will stay then, if your generous offer to not kick me out still stands.” 


“...Fuck you,” Bakugou said. 


SHit-Hair sighed, laughing. “You’re a good guy, Bakugou. An angry boy.” He reached one hand up and ruffled Bakugou’s hair. And obviously if Shit-Hair’s other arm wasn’t pinning him down, he would’ve slapped the bastard’s hand away. 




...Okay, maybe not. But that was irrelevant. “Let me go,” he whined, straining against Shit-Hair’s still-hardened arms. The bastard’s arms softened, barely-contained muscle settling against his skin in place of rocklike skin. 


And for some fucking reson, this was the moment Bakugou decided, Fuck this. This is actually enjoyable. 


So, of course, being completely incompetent with emotions, he froze, causing Shit-Hair to sit up and look at him quizzically. “Are you okay?” 


“The fuck, Shit-Hair?” No. I am not fucking okay. I kinda want to keep you. ‘N kiss you. Wanted to kiss you for a long fucking time, Shit-Hair, and now thanks to your pretty ass I have feelings. Fuck Round-Face, and her goddamn ‘you care about him.’ Fuck you. Fuck me, actually. 


“You’re really tense,” Shit-Hair said. 


“I’m always fucking tense!” ‘You care about him, don’t you?’ Yeah, Round-Face, apparently I fucking do, hope you’re happy, bitch. “Fuck.”


Shit-Hair’s palms started kneading into his shoulder muscles, something Bakugou had not realized he’d desperately needed.  “Fuck,” he hissed again, his muscles finally beginning to loosen. 


“Does it hurt?” Shit-Hair asked. 


“No. I’m not fucking weak.” Emotionally. It fucking hurts emotionally. I am going to kill Round-Face. 


“Never said you were,” the redhead calmly replied. “Feeling pain, it’s not being weak. It’s being alive.”


“And who the fuck told you that bullcrap?” 


Shit-Hair missed a beat. “My--my mother.” 


Bakugou may have been shit with emotions, but he wasn’t a fucking idiot. That pause meant something. “What happened to her?” 


“She was killed,” Shit-Hair said sharply.


Oh. Oh, shit. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Sorry ‘bout that.”


“Thanks, man.” The bastard sighed. “What about your parents?” 


“Left ‘em when I was younger.” He remembered the night pretty clearly. There had been a lot of yelling. “They wanted me to rule ‘n shit, but I fucking hate politics, and that was their thing, anyway. I always had to be the best, for them and me, or I’d be disappointing someone I didn’t know. So I left.” 


“Wait, so you’re like a prince or something?” Shit-Hair asked, scarlet eyes wide.


“Yeah, or something. Not anymore, though. Gave that title up willingly, and they can all go fuck themselves.” 


Shit-hair hummed, his hands sliding off Bakugou’s shoulders and onto his back, wrapping his arms around Bakugou again. “Prince Bakugou,” he muttered. “That doesn't sound like you at all, though. Bet you were the heir to some warrior tribe or something.” 


“I was, actually,” Bakugou mumbled, before his spine locked up straight. “What the fuck are you doing, Shit-Hair?” 


“Sounds like you only ever got intense attention from your parents. So I’m giving you soft attention.” Shit-Hair rested his chin on Bakugou’s head, something resembling a purr rumbling up from deep in his chest. 


“Disgusting,” Bakugou muttered, but he didn’t mean it. Fuck. Just… Fuck. 




Bakugou may have realized he actually fucking liked Shit-Hair, as in Okay - so - maybe - I - do - wanna - kiss - him - when - he’s - pinning - me - down - or - watching - the - sunrise - or… FUCK --like, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna do jack shit about it. 


Though--Round-Face had been in town, last time him and Shit-Hair had needed to head down there from their mountain cave. It was kind of pointless pretending it was still just his now--Shit-Hair had been living with him for who fucking knew how long, and he’d already admitted he wouldn’t kick the bastard out. Either way, it was a damn good thing Round-Face didn’t know he (mentally) called it that. Because the last time they’d gone into town, him and Shit-Hair had somehow ended up running into her, and she’d immediately pulled him aside. 


“Okay,” she’d said. “Before, you just cared about him, or that was all that was really visible. Now, you want to kiss him.” 


“What the fuck, Round-Face?” He turned, explosions dancing on the palms of his hands. 


She’d sighed, and then looked him dead in the eye, the most serious he’d ever seen her. “Just--think about it, Bakugou.” She paused, seeming to think for a moment before saying, “And--well, if you really want to kiss him, just--go for it.” 


She’d then disappeared back into the crowd just as swiftly as she’d appeared, somehow pushing him straight into Shit-Hair at the same time. He’d half-tripped, falling into the fucker’s chest, completely confused at what she’d meant. Why the fuck are females so damn confusing? See, this is why I prefer Shit-Hair. 


That and a few other reasons, a thought screamed from the back of his mind. He paused. Ah. Fuck. Is this what she meant?


“Hey, Bakugou, are you alright there?” He felt Shit-Hair’s hand rubbing his shoulder, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. 


“I’m fucking fine, Shit-Hair.” 


Shit-Hair laughed. “Alright, okay. What did she want?” 


If you really want to kiss him, just go for it! His mind sang, and his face burned. “ Nothing. Just--just the usual bullshit. Fuckin’ bitch,” he muttered. Why was it always her words that seemed to spark some sort of-- revelation? Couldn’t someone else--


Shit-Hair’s fucking massive arm drew Bakugou’s msaller body against his side, the way he did in the mornings while they watched the sun rise. If possible, Bakugou’s face burned even brighter. Oh, okay, I see how it is--Uraraka goes and fucks up my mental state with her goddamn words, meanwhile this fucker just subconsciously pulls bullshit like this? I swear--


“C’mon, we’re almost done here!” Shit-hair’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Just Froppy, and I wanna pick up some more hair dye. Oh, and let’s stop by Kamiseroshinsou’s place on the way out and see if they have any good meats.” 


Oh, I fucking swear. Is he indirectly trying to kill me? “The fuck is kamiseroshinsou? And why do we need to go to the Water-Witch’s place?” 


“It’s easier to say kamiseroshinsou than it is to say all their names separate,” Shit-Hair responded. “And you keep all your seasonings in little leather pouches, and I swear I saw a bug crawling out of one the other day, and I’m not risking it.” 


“Fuck you,” Bakugou said. He knew the bastard was right, but it’s not like he had anything better to store them in, anyway. 


Kiri laughed, then continued on. “And I know everyone here stores things like that, but where I came from, we’d use glass. Thought I’d see if she had any to spare. You know, because of all her potions and such?” 


Glass, huh. Bakugou did have to admit, jars would be easier to store and label than pouches. “Fine,” he decided. “Let’s just go and get this over with.” Has Shit-Hair always been this… Nice? 


Or does he just act this way with everyone?


Probably with everyone. And--well, did it fucking matter if he felt a bit disappointed at that? 


Either way, he still let the bastard drag him here and there, trying not to focus on the feeling of his heartbeat, which decided it was okay to fucking act up. Trying not to focus on those goddamn feelings that just confused him. 




It was getting harder to fight the bastard. Not because of the fight itself, that was actually getting--well, not easier, but better. Bakugou had almost won on multiple occasions. 


No, what made sparring Shit-Hair difficult was the fact that the fucker liked to pin down his opponents. Bakugou was honestly surprised he wasn’t dead yet from that alone, from looking up at a sweaty, grinning motherfucker and being incapable of thinking anything other than Shit. 


Until, inevitably, one time his brain lost it’s hold on his mouth and he blurted out, “I love you.”  


He froze. Fuck--did I say that? That’s not good, right? Fuck this, fuck relationships, fuck emotions. Slowly, he opened his eyes, expecting to see Shit-Hair laughing at his stupidity, but instead? The fucker was frozen too, his face inches away from Bakugou’s own and seeming incapable of movement. His scarlet eyes were blown wide, his tangled lion’s mane of artificially red hair falling down over his shoulders, Shit-Hair made quite a pretty picture. 


Fuck, Bakugou thought. I really do love him. 


But Shit-Hair remained frozen. Bakugou blinked, vaguely wondering why, then remembered exactly what he’d said. “Ah, fuck. Uh. Why am I fucking like this. Um. SHit-Hair? You don’t have to respond--look, it’s fine, I don’t-”


“Did you mean it?” Shit-Hair whispered, and Bakugou could feel his breath dancing softly across his face. “Did you-- did you?”


Oh, gods. “What would happen if I said yes?” He asked sarcastically. He could do this. He was a fucking functional adult, goddammit!


Shit-Hair’s scarlet eyes met Bakugou’s own. “I--I might kiss you?” With the way his voice wavered, it sounded more like a question. “If you--if you want it, though, I mean-”


Fuck, Bakugou’s mind hissed. “Shut up,” he mumbled at the bastard. “And you won’t kiss me. I’ll--I’ll fuckin’ kiss you.” 


“What--” Shit-Hair’s confused look was replaced with one of shock and surprise--Bakugou had lunged upwards, claiming the fucker’s lips as his own. Hah. Take that, bitch. Fucker tasted a bit like campfire smoke. Bakugou hadn’t known that could be a goddamn flavor, but shit did it taste good. He slipped his tongue between the bastard’s lips, the taste of smoke just getting stronger, running his tongue over the sharklike teeth and nearly whining like a fucking dog. He could feel Shit-Hair’s tongue in his mouth, smoke and obsidian weaving its way into his veins. 


And then he paused. Shit-Hair sat up slightly, confused when Bakugou looked away. “What’s your name, fucker?” He mumbled. 


Shit-Hair blinked. 


And then he snorted, dissolving into a mess of small giggles that didn't match him at all but were still somehow the best thing Bakugou had ever heard. “Blasty--Bakugou. I told you my name. First time we sparred, remember?”


Bakugou huffed, choosing to remain silent. 


Shit-Hair grinned, seeming to find this the best thing since--since goddamn who knew what, fucking hell! ...Though. Bakugou wasn’t complaining yet, he had a pretty bastard laughing hysterically into his chest. He huffed again, a breathy sort of laughter in its own right. Fine, so maybe it was an idiot move to be so distracted by the cute fucker you’d been fighting that you forgot his name, and maybe even more so to not bother to ask for it in all this time, but--fuck it. Life was life--something that Bakugou had slowly been learning, thanks to Shit-Hair and his random shenanigans. 


Shit-Hair glanced up at him,  sharklike teeth still out for the whole damn world to see. “‘S Eijirou,” he said. 


“Hm?” Bakugou asked, reaching down to run a hand through the bastard’s hair. 


“My name,” Shit-Hair said. 


“Oh,” Bakugou replied. Eijirou, he thought. “Eijirou.” 


Shit-Hair-- Eijirou-- glanced up at him. “Yeah?” 


“...Fuckin’ love you or whatever, I guess.” 


Eijirou laughed again, burying his head back in Bakugou’s chest. “I love you too, Blasty.” Then he sat up again--”Do I get a first name now?”


“‘S Katsuki,” he mumbled, distracted by Eijirou’s hair--he’d begun a small braid on the side of the fucker’s head, just behind his slightly-pointed ear. Eijirou purred. 


“Katsuki,” he said. 




Eijirou moved in closer, his lips right next to Bakugou’s ear. “I love you.” 


“You messed up your braid, ya fuckin’ bastard,” Bakugou replied, but he was smiling all the same. 

Chapter Text

The first time Bakugou and Eijirou walked into the village holding hands, Round-Face and her bitch ended up stumbling upon them. Round-Face took one look at the pair and paled. “You two are together now,” she stated. 


Eijirou’s face turned the same color as his fucking mane of shitty hair, while Bakugou answered with a nearly growled, “Yeah, you got a fucking problem with it?” 


Round-Face’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, not at all,” she hurriedly said. “Actually, I’m happy for you two! You’re really good for him, Red. You’re the only person I’ve actually seen him care about.”


Bakugou really did growl at that. “Fuck off.” 


Eijirou placed a hand on his shoulder in response, squeezing once as if to say, Calm. Everything’s fine. He watched Round Face and Fairy Bitch’s eyes trace the movement, the motherfucking meddling pixie-type opening her mouth to quip, “Oh, so he is yours? Just--ya know. Making sure. You weren’t very clear in that tavern, you know!” 


The hand on his shoulder squeezed again, then crept down his arm to completely encase his shaking hand. I can do this, he told himself. I can remain calm. Fairy Bitch was still watching, dark eyes taking in every goddamn detail, until she smirked and turned away, Round-Face in tow. “Guess that settles that, then!” 


Bakugou’s sweaty palm went off with a bang , the sound strangely muted because of-- Eijirou’s hand! Fuck, did I hurt him? He glanced down at their intertwined fingers, Eijirou’s still-intact hand with rivers of hardened skin running along it. 


Oh, Bakugou thought. Right. He can fucking do that. 


Round-Face turned back towards Bakugou, her eyes holding so much weight in that moment that if Bakugou didn’t know from personal experience how strong she was, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see her crumble then and there. “Be careful,” she said. “Just--be careful.” Then she grabbed the fairy bitch’s hand and left. 


Bakugou glanced up at Eijirou, who was watching him with a confused expression on his face. Bakugou just shrugged “I don’t fucking know what the hell what the hell she’s on abut. C’mon, let’s go grab whatever shit we need n’ go, I don’t want to fucking deal with life right now.”

Surprisingly, Eijirou agreed. 



The fourth time they walked down to the village as an official couple, Bakugou shattered a dozen eggs due to being startled by the purple-haired Motherfucker-- Shinsou, was it?-- somehow creeping up on him. “Oh, fuck me,” he muttered. 


Without missing a beat, Eijirou responded, “Maybe later. Probably shouldn’t do it in front of the market.” 


Bakugou glared at him. “Fuck you!” he whined. 


Eijirou grinned. “‘S too late! You can’t take it back!” He wrapped an arm around Bakugou from behind. “We done yet?” 


“Bitch,” Bakugou muttered, but quickly paid for the broken eggs. 




He couldn't walk straight for a week after. 




Two months later, they were back down at the village--honestly, it seemed to be the place where everything happened, so Bakugou had been tempted to call off the damn trip--when Eijirou’s head whipped around, as if he were a hound that had caught a scent. Bakugou cocked an eyebrow. “The fuck’s up with you, Ei--”


“Hey! Kiri!” an obnoxiously loud voice shouted. 


Kiri? What the fuck-- but Eijirou visibly relaxed, all the tension bleeding out of his body and a massive smile spreading across his face. “Tetsu? What-- how? How are you here, man? I thought--”


A silver haired man-- Tetsu?-- ran across the market towards them, crushing Eijirou in a giant hug. “I know, man! I thought you were--well. You know what I mean. But hey! We’re both still here!” 


Eijirou laughed. “Yeah! This is better than I’d ever hoped actually!” He paused, catching sight of Bakugou’s confused glare. “Oh--Tetsu? This is my--my mate, Baku--”


“Katsuki Bakugou.” Bakugou snapped out, not missing the surprised and pleased look on Eijirou’s face. 


The silver-haired fucker laughed. “Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu. Never thought someone like you would be his type, but here we are!”


Bakugou growled. Eijirou winced. 


Tetsutetsu grinned nervously. “Well! Anyway, how did you end up here?” 


Eijirou winced. “Someone accidentally clawed me across the chest while in this form, and I collapsed in the middle of the forest here. Baku-- Katsuki found me, actually.” 


“Oh…” Tetsutetsu trailed off. “That’s--that’s not good. I--I was trying to fight back, you know, but there was so much chaos, and really, I did more harm than good, so--”


“You left,” Eijirou answered. 


Tetsutetsu nodded. “Yeah… I left, and joined an adventuring party. They’re an interesting group, but I love ‘em, you know? They’re actually the reason as to why I should be going right now, heh.” 


Eijirou sighed. “I figured as much. One of us can’t really go too long without someone.” He laughed, a bit of sadness woven into the sound. “Well. I shouldn’t keep you from your pack, should I?”


“Not like you can say much, Mr. I-have-a-mate-now, can you?” 


“I suppose I can’t, can I?” The redhead grinned. 


“Anyway!” Tetsutetsu continued. “I--I promise I’ll stop by here soon, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid!” 


“You’re telling me?” Eijirou asked incredulously, fistbumping the silver-haired fuck before parting ways. 


Bakugou blinked, a bit dazed. It was interesting--they’d certainly been speaking the common tongue, and yet--he hadn’t really understood a word of what they’d said. 




“Who the fuck is Kiri?” Bakugou asked, running his fingers through Eijirou’s hair. 


Eijirou stiffened. “Uh. Well--I don’t suppose there’s any harm in telling you.”


Bakugou paused. “What do you mean, any harm in telling me? Ya don’t fucking trust me or someshit?” 


“No, it’s definitely not that,” Eijirou immediately corrected. “Here, let me explain: Kiri is me. My full name is Kirishima Eijirou.” 


Bakugou laughed. “What, like the dragon tribe?” 




Bakugou paused again. “Wait--wait. Hold on. What the fuck. You’re telling me that--well, they’re dragons, right? And you are a…”


“Dragon?” Eijirou helpfully supplied.


Bakugou blinked. Well, to be fair, he had the eyes. And the teeth. Not to mention the hair, which stood up mimicking horns, and that would explain how he’d gotten that fucking wound Bakugou’d first found him with-- "So you’re telling me dragons can shapeshift.” 


“I’ll show you after we finish my hair,” Eijirou promised. 


And that is how Bakugou ended up outside the cave, looking up at a massive red dragon. 


Who also happened to be his mate. 


And he may have single-handedly destroyed his mate’s whole entire people. 


I killed fucking people, oh god--


The massive red dragon looked down at him, worry written across his great face plain as day. Bakugou wanted to tell him he was fine, that he shouldn’t worry, but… 


Fuck, he’d killed an entire race simply because he’d been bored, and he’d wanted a fucking fight. And either way he never should’ve done it, he never should’ve--


Eijirou immediately shifted down to a more human form, running over to Bakugou and wrapping him in his arms. “Sorry--sorry. I know it’s a lot to process… A lot of people think we’re just--we’re just animals, and they won’t accept the truth, so I don’t really like telling people, you know? But I should’ve told you before, I’m sorry.” 


Bakugou shook his head. “You’re fucking fine, jackass. You have a really fucking good point.” Eijirou laughed at that, the good kind of laugh where Bakugou could feel it start deep inside the redhead’s chest. 


But all he could think was, I killed his people. I killed them for sport. 


Should I tell him? Or just let it go? 




Early the next morning, Bakugou glanced over at Eijirou. “Why did the silver-haired dick know you were a dragon?” 


“The silver-haired--” Eijirou mumbled. “Oh! You mean Tetsutetsu?” 


“Yeah, that’s the bitch. Why did he know?” 


Eijirou grinned. “Are you jealous?” 


Bakugou hissed. “No! Fuck off!!” 


“You sure about that?” 


“Fuck you,” Bakugou answered. 


Laughing, Eijirou turned back to the sunrise. “He’s a wyvern. That’s how he knows, we grew up together.” 


“He’s a what now?” 


“Wyvern. You know? His wings also act as his front legs, so he has four limbs instead of my six. If the tail doesn’t count, that is.” 


“I thought they were all just called dragons,” Bakugou mumbled. 


“A lotta people do, but nah,” Eijirou said. “It’s more like… All lizards are lizards, you know? But they aren’t all called ‘lizard.’ Same sort of thing.” 


Bakugou nodded, quietly leaning against Eijirou. “What kind of dragon are you? If you’re kinda like lizards, then there’s sub-categories n’ all that shit, right?” 


“Yeah! There are,” Eijirou grinned. “I’m a rock dragon. My scales are more rock-like than most other dragons, and a lot harder.” 


“What about silver-hair?” 


“He’s metal type. Steel, specifically.” 


“Are you a specific rock type, or just a generic rock dragon?” 


Eijirou huffed a laugh. “Black diamond.” 


“‘S fuckin cool as hell, Shit-Hair,” 


“Ooh, haven’t heard that one in a while, Katsuki, ” 


“Shut up, bastard,” Bakugou replied, grinning easily. “Anyway, if you’re black diamond, why the fuck are your scales red?” 


“Well, they were,” Eijioru answered. “And then we dyed my hair. So now they aren’t? I dunno, no one I knew ever really dyed their hair. We didn’t even know it existed.” 


“What, so we fuckin… Accidentally dyed your scales?” 


“Apparently,” Eijirou grinned. “It’s kinda nice, though, I always thought just plain old black was kinda boring.” 


Bakugou shrugged. “Black’s fine. Red suits you better, though.” 


Eijirou grinned. “You really think so?” 


Bakugou glared up at him. “No shit, dumbass, since when have I said something I didn’t mean?” 


“You called me Shit-Hair for a very long time, Blasty.” 


“Fuck off, Eijirou,” Bakugou replied. “Your hair looks fucking fine, is that what you wanted?” 


Eijirou didn’t respond, but his smile seemed brighter the whole damn day.




“I kind of want to fly again.” 


Bakugou’s eyes flicked up to Eijirou. “Then do it, we live on a fuckin’ mountain n’ shit. Isn’t that good for flying?” 


Eijirou grinned sheepishly. “Well, yeah, but… I haven’t done it in a really long time. And when I say long, I mean it.”


“Since before you showed up in my forest long? Or shorter,” Bakugou asked. 


“Uhh,” the redhead answered intelligently. “...Longer, actually?”


Bakugou frowned at the bastard, looking up with pretty scarlet eyes from where he lay on Bakugou’s chest. “Eijirou, what the fuck.”


Eijirou shrugged helplessly. “How was I supposed to know I’d end up like that?”


Bakugou sighed, and then spoke. “You’re a goddamn dragon, Eijirou. Just--fucking fly, I don’t know.” 


Eijirou muttered something too quiet for Bakugou to hear. “Speak up, idiot. My ears aren’t that good. Fuckin’ explosions n’ shit, you know?” 


“Oh, that makes sense,” Eijirou said. 


“Yeah, yeah. What did you say before?”


“Uh. Um…” 


Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “Really?”


“I-- whatifIforgot?”


“What if you forgot. How to fly. Isn’t that shit muscle memory? You’ll be fine, fucker.” Bakugou looked out the cave, at the sun setting over the hills. “But do it tomorrow. It’s too fucking late now.” 


Eijirou huffed a laugh. “I suppose you’re right. I swear, you have the soul of an Elder--you have a good brain, for one, and you too go to bed just as the sun touches the hills!”


 Bakugou ran his fingers through the bastard’s hair. “The fuck’s an Elder? And you go to bed practically the same time that I do, you can’t say shit.”


The redhead grinned. “Yeah, but you always go first. I forgot that humans don’t call their old Elders, though.” 


Bakugou felt like he probably should’ve caught that from the name, but-- “Are you calling me an old man?” 


Eijirou was laughing again, trying to keep his composure. “No! I said you have the soul of one, that’s different.” 


“It’s not, and you know it, you-”


The fucker buried his head in Bakugou’s chest, dissolving into a fit of quiet giggles. “...Ass,” Bakugou muttered, but he didn’t mean it, combing softly through vibrant red hair. Softly, a light purring sound crept in, and Eijirou smiled happily up at him. “You purr when you’re happy.” Bakugou observed rather eloquently. Eijirou froze, wide scarlet eyes looking up at him. Bakugou met his gaze. “The fuck did you stop for?” 




“Why’d you fuckin’ stop?” 


“...You liked it?” 


“No fucking shit,” Bakugou supplied. “I knew you could do that, anyway, so it wouldn’t matter. Did you… Forget you purred or someshit?” 


Eijirou shrugged and mumbled something, his shark teeth catching a bit on his lower lip. Cute. “Well, I mean… Maybe? And… You know--it’s a dragon trait and all that, so.” 


“What’s that got to do with shit?” Bakugou mumbled. 


“I--I thought you wouldn’t like it,” Eijirou rushed out. 


Bakugou furrowed his brow. “Why the fuck not?”


“It’s--” Eijirou paused, eyes flicking down. “It’s… Such an animalistic trait. Just--just another reminder that I’m less than human. So I figured you wouldn’t like it.” 


“‘Course I fuckin’ like it, idiot. Means you’re happy, yeah? Then it fuckin’ means I’ve done something right.” He turned his head away as Eijirou looked up at him again, mumbling under his breath, “And it’s fucking cute as shit.” 


Eijirou burrowed closer to Bakugou (somehow. Bakugou had no idea how he managed to get closer) , and the purring began again-- deeper this time, Bakugou could feel it in his chest. “Did I ever tell you that I love you?” The redhead mumbled. 


Bakugou sighed, working his fingers through a knot in the bastard’s hair. “Love you too, Shit-Hair.” 


Eijirou just purred harder.

Chapter Text

A triumphant shout could be heard echoing ‘round the mountain, a few birds rising hastily from their treetop perches and flapping away into the wind. On a cave somewhere around halfway up this peak, a redheaded dragon stared up in shock at the human proudly sitting on top of his chest. “You are… Very excited about this, aren’t you?” 

Bakugou grinned. “I fucking beat you, Ei! Fucking finally!” 

Eijirou laughed. “What I meant to say was, that was a rather loud roar that you did just there.”

“It’s the barbarian war cry, blame my tribe,” Bakugou easily answered. “Now, I think we had a deal!” 

The redhead froze, something like hurt creeping over his face. “Oh. O--okay. Uh. I can go, then. If--if that’s what you want.” 

Bakugou cocked his head. “What the fuck, Eijirou? I already said I’d never kick you out, and besides our deal was about information n’ all that shit, you know?” 

“Oh.” Eijirou laughed. “Right. I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” 

“Nah,” Bakugou said. “You’re my idiot.” 

Eijirou blinked. “How is that any different?” He asked, grinning. 

“Well,” Bakugou began, then paused. “You’re mine, which is obviously better, because of obvious reasons. And-” He paused again, then continued. “It also means I like you, which is a shitload better.” 

“And why is that?” 

“...’Cause I like fuckin’ nobody.” 

“Except me?” 

Bakugou huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Except you.” 

Instead of one of his usual loud, toothy grins, Eijirou smiled soft and small at that. Fuck. He’s cute. “Alright,” Bakugou said, shaking his head to focus his thoughts back on questions and not on pretty dragon boys. 

“Alright,” Eijirou echoed. “What do you want to know?” 

“The fuck were you doing in my forest? And where the hell were those claw-marks from?” 

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, I can only do one at a time,” Eijirou laughed. “And it’s still not your forest, Blasty. We’ve been over this. It belongs to itself.”

“And I rule over it,” Bakugou said.

“Well,” the redhead drawled, “I suppose it doesn’t hurt anything if you’re king of the forest… But I want to be your consort.”

“No.” Bakugou’s answer was fast and harsh, but he quickly charged on before Ei could say jack shit. “You’re the second king. Not consort.” 

“Ooh, you’re giving us equal power, are you, King Blasty?” 

“Fuck off, ‘s what I fucking said, isn’t it?” He half-mumbled. “Now just answer the questions.”

Eijirou paused. “Wait, sorry, what were they again?” 

Bakugou sighed, grinning a bit. “What were you doing in my-- our, our forest. And where’d you get the wounds from.” 

“Okay, uh,” the redhead began. “I was in the forest ‘cause I was running, and I got the wounds accidentally.” 

“Well, nobody purposely gets a wound of that size,” Bakugou retorted. “Why were you running?” 

“The--the tribe. They’d been… They’d been killed. And I was running from the killer, and because I had nowhere else to go.”

Bakugou ran his fingers through tangled red hair in an attempt to  comfort his lover. “I--fuck, I’m sorry, Ei, we don’t have to talk about it.”

Eijirou shook his head. “I--I think it’s good for me to actually talk about it, after all this time. I spent too long not thinking about it, you know?” He paused, breathing in deep before continuing. “I got clawed by a dragon. During… While they were being killed. There was so much fire, and blood, and no one really knew what they were doing, and I was in the way when someone kicked back, and… That happened. And--and I ran, like the fucking coward I am, and they all died.” 

Bakugou slid down from straddling Eijirou’s chest until he lay fully against the dragon, the way the bastard often did to him. His hands continued to work at the mess of red hair as he asked, “Did you--did you ever find out who did it?” 

“Well,” Eijirou murmured, “I arrived here about a week later. Dragon’s stamina and all that, you know? But I met a few people on the road, and when I did, I’d ask them about dragonslayers. And a few would respond that they’d heard of someone, but the details were always different. Until… I met a green-haired boy. He never told me his name, but when I asked, he said something about a kacchan and then went into a sea of mutterings, and… Well, that was how I left him.”

Bakugou froze. He’d known, logically, that he’d been the one to kill them. Hell, he was the only one stupid enough. But it was… Different, somehow, when it was confirmed by Eijirou. 

“That’s another reason I came out here,” Eijirou continued softly. “To escape that kacchan guy. And why I didn’t tell you. About the… Dragon thing, I mean. Had to be sure you wouldn’t sell me out.”

Bakugou nodded numbly, then shook his head quickly to clear it. Eijirou glanced at him quizzically. Bakugou simply curled deeper into the fucker’s chest--something he wouldn’t normally do, but right now they both needed it. 

The redhead slowly, cautiously, wrapped his arms around Bakugou, and they stayed like that for a good part of the day, finally moving when Eijirou revealed that the rocks were starting to dig into his back. 

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me?” Bakugou mumbled, slowly making his way over to where he kept the spices. 

“Because I love you,” the redhead answered. “And you were comfortable, you know? And they didn’t hurt that bad, I used my hardening to keep them from digging in too much, so I’m fine.” 

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “Because you love me? What’s that got to do with it?” 

“Because,” the dragon dragged it out a bit, “You’d do anything for the one you love, yeah? So a little bit of pain doesn’t mean a thing.” 

Bakugou huffed a laugh. “Must really fuckin’ love you, then, lettin’ you sleep on me like a goddamn… Cat, or someshit.” 

Eijirou blinked. “Oh, is that uncomfortable for you? Shit, Blasty, you should’ve said something-”

Bakugou levelled a half-assed glare at him, and Ei laughed. “Oh. Right.” 

“Just fuckin’... Sleep next to me tonight, yeah?” Bakugou grumbled, but the small smile Eijirou’d somehow dragged out never left his face. 

(And when Bakugou woke up the next morning, he was still trapped by a mountain of muscle--but this time, it was because the bastard had curled around him from behind, and held him against his chest).


Bakugou could not remember what actual warmth felt like. And yes, he knew that he was exaggerating, but he didn’t give a fuck. His hands were numb--something he did not often experience, due to both the nature of his power, and his intense hatred of the cold. But Eijirou wanted to fly, so up to the freezing, tall peak of their mountain they went. 

Their mountain. Bakugou liked the sound of that. If the mountain had ever had a name, or a previous owner, he didn’t care. It had been simply his mountain for years, and now their mountain for who-even- knew how long. A long ass time, at the very least, Bakugou decided. But maybe they should name it? Eijirou would like that. The dragon enjoyed those simple, useless things in life that held ‘symbolism’ or some bullshit. Bakugou  never was one for that sort of thing. He wasn't against it either, but he’d make an effort for Eijioru. It was worth it to see the fucker get so damn excited over a pretty rock, or even just a loose feather from a wild turkey. 

“So… What do I do now?” 

Bakugou turned, his thoughts disrupted by an awkwardly standing Eijirou. “I don’t fuckin’ know,” he responded. “You’re the dragon here, not me.” 

Eijirou bit his lip and shrugged, a gesture of Well. Screw it. And shifted, his body quickly becoming covered in bright red scales. 

The dragon stretched his wings wide, the sun shining dully through the leathery webbing and casting the day in a crimson light. 

“Well?” Bakugou asked him. “You gonna go, or what?” 

Just--calm down, I’m trying! Eijirou shook his head a bit, moving his wings around. 

“Yeah, yeah, fine--did you just fucking talk to me in that form?” 

Eijirou froze, massive scarlet eyes widening a bit and glancing back down towards Bakugou. Holy--well. I was… Not expecting that! The dragon bared his teeth in what vaguely resembled a smile, his tail wagging back and forth. Maybe I should have, though! We’re very compatible! 

Bakugou frowned. “Wait--wait, what? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The loud boom! Of wings snapping out against air drowned him out, and he felt the earth shake a bit as the massive dragon quickly pushed himself into the sky. “Eijirou! Come back here, you fucking bastard!” 

Eijirou roared, diving down towards the forest, then quickly rising up, further and further, back to where Bakugou stood. The dragon circled around him, the drafts from those massive red wings ruffling Bakugou’s hair, and then landed again next to him. 

“The fuck do you want? I thought we came out here to fly!” 

Eijirou knelt down, glancing over expectantly at Bakugou. Bakugou froze. “No. Nope. Not a chance in Hell, fucker.” 

I promise it’s worth it, please? 


You’ve flown with your explosions before, though!

“‘S fuckin’ different .” 

No, it’s not!

“Yes, it fucking is.”

Eijirou paused. Then, Are you scared? 

“What the fuck? No!” 

You won’t get on. Too scared to get in the sky, Blasty? 

“You fucker-” Bakugou snarled, charging up to Eijirou and climbing up his foreleg. “You absolute fucking fuck--I’m not scared, who the hell is scared of-”

Eijirou pushed off the mountain in one massive leap, and Bakugou screamed. The dragon snorted, a puff of smoke and flame appearing for a moment in his mouth, and Bakugou realized the fucker was laughing. At him. 

“Fucking bastard,” he muttered, holding tight to the red dragon. But he didn’t mean it. 

Then, finally, he looked up. 

His breath caught in his throat The mountain, the forest… He could even see the village from up here! And they all looked so small… As if he were a titan, a king of this earth, standing above even the tallest snow-ridden peaks. 

“Fuckin’... Beautiful,” he whispered, barely noticing the words that left his mouth. Eijirou slowed, his wings catching a draft, and soared high--even higher, so that the village looked like nothing. A speck of dust on the land.

He laughed, feeling the wind blow through his hair, and Eijirou laughed with him--dancing through the sky with the elegance of a feather in the wind, twisting and turning until Bakugou could touch the mountain, then up so hard and fast that Bakugou nearly screamed again--a feat he was not proud of. 

But damn, was flying fucking amazing. “We should fly to the village like this sometime,”  Bakugou shouted over the wind. “No one there would betray you. I’m sure of it--I’ve known most of them since I’ve been living on the mountain.” 

Eijirou tucked his wings in, plummeting towards the ground, then he snapped them out again at the last minute, skidding to a halt on the side of the mountain, just outside their cave. Kneeling down, he let Bakkugou clamber off his back before shifting into something that resembled a… Half-dragon, half-human form, Bakugou decided. 

“I didn't know you could do that,” he accused. 

“Well-” Eijirou began, “You know. The whole I-can’t-tell-people-I’m-a-dragon thing. And then I kinda… Forgot.”

“You fucking forgot. ” 

“Yeah! But that’s not why I landed. I actually wanted to know, what did you do before you lived on this mountain?” 

“Couldn't you just use the telepathy thing?” 

Eijirou shrugged. “Yeah, I could, but it was kinda hard to hear you over the wind.” 

Bakugou shrugged. “Okay.” 

“So?” Ei prompted. “What did you do?” 

Bakugou shrugged. “Well, you know I pretty much just ran away from home to come here, so. I don’t know. There’s not much else.” 

“Oh.” Eijirou sat down on the grass, pulling Bakugou down with him. “Does that cloud look kinda like a vulture to you?” 

Bakugou leaned in closer. “Which one?” 

Chapter Text

Bakugou had thought that today would be a good day. Decent, at least. But then, fucking Round-Face bounced up to the pair, her acid bitch in tow, and he knew he’d been wrong. Fuck.  “Bakugou! Deku’s in the village today!”


Bakugou froze. “... What?” Shit. Shitshitshit this is fucking bad fuck-- 


Eijirou worriedly watched him out of the corner of his eye. “You okay, Katsuki?”


Bakugou apologetically glanced back at him, and then full-on snapped at Round-Face. “Are you fucking sure? He’s really here. Right fucking now.”


“Yeah! She chirped. “They’re revisiting over the week, and staying at our place. Bakugou, you have to say hello. You know you do.” 


“No, I fucking don’t,” Bakugou retorted. 


Eijirou interrupted, “I’m sorry, but who is-- Deku?” 


“Midoriya Izuku!” Round-Face grinned, at the same time that Bakugou bit out, “A little bitch.” 


Eijirou frowned. “...What?” 


“He’s really sweet. You’ll love him!” Round-Face assured the dragon-boy. 


Bakugou ground his teeth. “No he fucking won’t,” he barked. “He won’t even get to meet him; we’re going home.” 


“I know your schedule,” the witch grinned. “He’s gonna be here the whole week. Bakugou, you’re gonna have to get supplies sometime . Besides, Red is starting to look a little more like Black--his roots are growing in.” 


Eijirou ran a hand through his mane of hair self-consciously. 


Fine!” Bakugou snarled. “Fucking fine. Eijirou, I hope you know I fucking love you, and am only doing this because of you. Round-Face, fuck you, and if anything bad happens it’s your fault.” He turned, heading further into the village, Eijirou trailing behind him. With any luck, they wouldn’t run into the green-haired bitch. 




Of course, they ran into the motherfucker. Bakugou didn’t know what the fuck he’d expected. Ei came across him first, while running off to get his hair dye. Bakugou had followed behind, walking at a slower pace. And then he’d frozen altogether. Because standing next to Eijirou was Deku, the one person that Bakugou would willingly murder again and again. 


Though the half-and-half prince trailing him was a quick second. Todoroki, Bakugou remembered. He’d visited the tribelands back when they were much younger. Bakugou hadn’t liked him then, and now? He still didn’t like him. “Eijirou?” he called out, a bit of panic in his voice. He did not want to deal with Deku. Not now, not ever. 


Eijirou turned, his face lighting up. “Katsuki! Katsuki, guess who I just found!” 


Bakugou shook his head frantically. Eijirou practically sprinted over, brows creasing with worry. “You okay?” 


“I can’t fucking talk to Deku,” Bakugou muttered. “Might kill the fucker. Not even kidding. He’s that much of a bitch.” 


Eijirou obviously heard the emotion in his tone, because he responded with, “We can leave now, if you want. I mean, I already grabbed my hair dye, and Kamiseroshinsou’s place is closer to the mountain trail, so we can stop by there if we’re quick about it.” 


Bakugou nodded, wondering for the millionth time about how the fuck Eijirou was so damn perfect? It was as if he could read Bakugou like a fucking book, and while sometimes it could get annoying, right now he was so fucking grateful for it. For Eijirou. “Great, let’s fucking go.” 


They turned, only to be hit straight-on by a mop of green hair, Peppermint-Head not too far behind. Massive puppy eyes looked up at him, but not cute ones like Eijirou’s. Nope, these were irritating puppy eyes. “Deku,” he growled. “The fuck are you doing here.” 


Deku’s eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between him and Eijirou. “I didn’t know you liked boys, Kacchan?” 


Bakugou snarled. “Congratulations, bitch, I didn’t fucking know either! Now move!” He strode forward--the faster he got away from this, the better. He flicked his eyes towards Eijirou-- Eijirou? “Where’d he wander off to now?” He muttered. Turning back, he saw the redhead completely frozen, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. 


“K--Kacchan?” Eijirou asked, the unreadable mask being replaced with a look of complete pain and betrayal. Bakugou felt a chill run down his spine. He wanted to walk, to run to the dragon boy, but his legs refused to move. 


“I--I can explain, I-- fuck. Fuck,” he cursed, as Deku’s eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth. 


“Kacchan?” The green-haired fuck asked, turning confused eyes towards Bakugou. Eijirou’s eyes widened, and then clamped together. Bakugou could see the shark teeth digging into his lower lip until they drew blood, and there was nothing he could do as the dragon’s shoulders sank. And when Eijirou’s eyes opened again, they were as unreadable as his face had been in those first moments Bakugou'd seen him-- emotionless. 


And the dragon turned, and walked slow steps out of the town, slow steps filled with disappointment, disbelief, sadness, pain--


And Bakugou remained frozen, unable to do anything but watch as the one person he really cared about turned his back on him, because of something he himself had done. 



A feather-light hand rested on his shoulder. “Kacchan?” An intolerable voice asked. “What was that about?” 


Bakugou didn’t have the heart to speak. He simply looked at the slender green-haired boy, and he knew that all that remained in his eyes was desperation. 


“...Kacchan?” Deku tried again. 


Bakugou pushed his hand off, his feet freely able to move again. But not in the direction he wanted-- After Eijirou! His mind screamed, his heart screamed. 


But his legs carried him away, back to a too-empty cave on a tall mountain, and left him to silently think over everything he’d ever done wrong. 



Did you know that sunrises are so very gray when the Sun itself is missing from your side?



Bakugou finally knew what Eijirou had meant, when he’d said that even the summer nights felt cold. No matter how many furs he piled on top of himself, he still shivered. 


It’s ridiculous, he hissed at himself. Stupid. It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. Why the fuck do you act like you care? 


Why the fuck didn’t you tell him the truth?




He sat outside watching the day pass by, still shivering despite the hot summer sun bearing down on the world. Three goddamn days had passed, and Bakugou felt like he was dying. He knew he’d been an idiot, but--there… There was still a chance, right? There was still a chance. 


He could go down to the village tomorrow. Eijirou would be there, he’d be waiting at the water-witch’s place. And Bakugou would walk in , and he would look Eijirou straight in his beautiful scarlet eyes. And he’d tell him the truth. Every last fucking bit of it. He’d tell the dragon about his childhood, about hating everyone and everything, about meeting Round-Face and learning that she practiced magic. He’d talk about learning that there was a spell for ultimate power, when he was nine. And then his family dragged him away, to meet fucking Deku who seemed to think that he was the best, always favored by their teacher. Until the old man passed his legacy on. To Deku. And in his fury, Bakugou had run away, away to Round-Face, slamming a bag of coins on the table and demanding the power, the one thing that would ensure that he always came out on top. 


And she’d asked him, Are you sure? And unthinkingly, he’d replied Yes. 


He would tell Eijirou  about the tattoos on the backs of his hands, and how they were what had first held his power… And there was something else. 


Something he’d forgotten, he knew. 


But that was fine. Eijirou would come back. Eijirou would help him remember. And Bakugou would continue on, telling about how he journeyed off, looking for monsters to kill. How he found a home, and became the resident barbarian, known to most simply as--well, that. 


And he would tell Eijirou, I’m sorry. I really thought they were only beasts. 


But now I know, and I am sorry. And I know that apologising cannot undo what I’ve done. But I’d like to try, to start over with you , and everyone. 


That was the way it would happen. 


It had to. 




The stars were cold, the night air froze everything it touched, and Bakugou still shivered in his furs, dreaming of a useless hope. 


A month had passed, and he hardly noticed. 


The days dragged on, long and boring, yet still so full of pain and memories. 


He couldn't watch sunrises. He barely ate. Bht that didn’t matter. Tomorrow, he’d go into the village. Round-Face would point him towards the massive figure by the entrance to the bar, with a red mane of hair tumbling down around the shoulders and back. He’d walk up, and ask if they could talk--


No. Who am I kidding? He’s long gone. Why did I ever think I ever think I had a chance? His thoughts became a whirlwind, dancing chaotically across his mind. Why would I matter to him--why would he ever come back for me? Why did I fuck this up? Why did I have to pick him up in the forest, why did I heal him? 


He could barely feel the freezing bite of the night air against his face. 




There were many knives hidden around the cave. Big, beautiful silver blades that cut through flesh cleanly, so sharp that you couldn't feel where you’d sliced the skin until seconds later, Bakugou found. 


His arms looked very interesting now--covered in red tiger's stripes, most of them were thin little things. Though there were some larger ones on his forearms. 


Mostly, though, he preferred to carve the big ones into his thighs. 


The blood entranced him as it slithered down his body, he was covered in it. New blood, old blood, dry and crusty blood, blood that even now trickled from fresh wounds--but it was a very different red from Eijirou’s red. 


A blade cut deep into his thigh at the name. He couldn't think of that, refused to think of that, the name had never existed. 


As if hypnotized, he watched the knife carve patterns in his flesh. Did I do that? He wondered. Why? 


He blinked, and a new trail of blood trickled down his body to join the others. 

Chapter Text

All that you can smell is blood and death. The mountain has fallen silent, there are no more heavy beats of dragon’s wings, no half-meant curses echo among the trees. A wolf creeps up the rocky mountainside, pausing at the stench. 


It’s disgusting to look at--the corpse, which has been sitting for at least a month, has already been picked apart by the scavenging predators, and now the carrion birds can have their turn. 


Furs caked with dried blood have been spread haphazardly around the place, a few crows scattered here and there among them. 


Faint footsteps can be heard in the distance, slowly drawing near. They’re steady, deliberate--but you can tell when they spot the corpse, because they fall faster. Then they begin to run. 


And suddenly, they skid to a halt, and you can hear someone choke, their breath catching harshly in their throat. 


“K-Katsuki?” They whisper, and they move towards the disgusting, maggot-ridden corpse. A massive red-haired male staggers next to the corpe’s--Katsuki’s--face, and they don’t seem to care about the bugs. They--or rather, he-- holds Katsuki’s head in his hands, seemingly in shock. 


And then tears run down his cheeks, and he is silently crying, crying for this Katsuki. He stays like this for quite a while--it seems to be at least three days before he can properly stand again?--and with a face filled with grim determination, his body transforms, the face and limbs elongating, becoming a red-scaled snout and legs. The dragon turns, choosing a spot just inside the cave’s entrance, and begins to dig. 


He’s at it for around half a day--and once he’s done, he pushes everything that was once in the cave down into the hole, sparing only one pelt. He spreads it out gently, and tenderly picks up the near-unrecognizable carcass. He wraps it in the fur, and just as tenderly places the body on top of the pile of things. 


Then, slowly, he starts go fill the hole back up, pausing halfway to toss in some acorns. 


Once the hole is fully filled in, the dragon shifts back into a man’s form, disappearing back into the cave. When he comes out, it is with two buckets of water, one of which he dumps on the newly made grave. The other he pours on the still-bloodied rocks, and he rubs at them with diamond-hard skin until the bloodstains come off. 


By then, the sun has set. The redheaded man stands, sighing heavily. 


He looks down at both of his wrists, where twin diamonds are tattooed, twisting out into a strange mandala. He knows the price for power--he had to pay it himself. 


Though when he slowly walked away from that village, and the one he loved--the dragon-slayer--he’d had no idea that he was paying. Or that the cost would be this steep. 


But he had been warned--


With great power comes an even greater cost.