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seiwas · 2 months
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bakugo can’t sleep until you’re home.
it’s weird and wholly unexpected of himself, staying up past the bedtime he’s spent his entire youth following. but then, he guesses, that’s just one of the things you’ve managed to affect in him.
there’s no reason he should feel this uneasy; you share your location and reply regularly. your last message to him was 5 minutes ago and you’d even sent a selfie.
he knows the people you’re out with, knows the place your friends have chosen to party in. there are plenty of reasons for him to believe that you’ll make it back home safely.
but there’s always that one probability, that one off-chance that something happens—that something goes wrong.
he shuts his eyes, turning to face the ceiling after an unsuccessful 30 minutes of attempting to sleep on his side. his breathing speeds up ever so slightly, chest rising and falling in tandem with the thumps growing louder in his ears.
bakugo fidgets every time he blinks underneath his closed eyes—little zaps beneath his skin telling him to stay awake, stay alert; stay on his toes.
it must be the hero in him.
a large exhale, before bright red burns through the ceiling—he stares so intently at the space above him it’s a wonder a gaping hole hasn’t formed from it.
the pillow to his right is still empty, but it smells so much like your shampoo, his senses are playing tricks on him. comfort accompanied by worry.
he huffs out, finally getting up to slip his feet into his house slippers—a pair of fluffy orange he wouldn’t dare be caught in.
(but it’s from you, and it matches your black ones too.)
he paces around the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of cold water. the time on the wall reads 1:34 in the morning—he has to be up in 3 hours for an early start at the gym before patrol.
you’d told him he should go ahead and sleep but he can’t—he never can when he’s thinking about you.
a yawn escapes him, eyes watering. he might as well be productive and look over some of yesterday’s—
then you enter the door.
you’re a little bit of a stumbling mess as you turn the lock behind you, toeing off your heels on the genkan while holding onto the walls for support. you barely notice him until you spot those familiar orange fuzzy slippers in front of you.
“g’na fall over like this,” he mumbles, voice rough as he follows it with a tut, “stay still.”
before you fully realize it, he’s already knelt to the floor, cradling your ankle on his thigh with a gentleness reserved just for you.
“katsuki,” you whisper in surprise, “you’re still up.”
he hums, pressing his thumbs all over the sole of your foot before picking up the other.
“couldn’t sleep.”
he’ll spare you the details, the thrum of his heartbeat steadying, slowing now that you’re here with him. he yawns again, eyes starting to feel just a bit heavy. comfort and relief.
it must be because he loves you, he thinks.
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seiwas · 2 months
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thinking about katsuki finding out about that little crush you had on shouto since seeing close-ups of him during the televised sports festival—you were in high school then, too.
he shouldn’t care about it because it doesn’t matter, it was so long ago and shouto’s always been marketed as the pro-hero pretty boy—consistently top 3 most handsome, the front cover of magazines, all that.
this is to be expected, it’s what everyone’s been tempted to react like.
but since finding out, he’s been stewing in… in whatever this bubbling, throbbing feeling in his head means. he’s snappier than normal, face scrunched up more than usual.
and every time he sees shouto he wants to strangle the hell out of him.
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seiwas · 9 days
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you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.
among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.
they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.
(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)
“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.
you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.
he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.
“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”
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seiwas · 19 days
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everytime i think about ex!bakugo, i get so emotional thinking about how he carries on with his day-to-day like the breakup didn’t happen.
he doesn’t even give himself time to mourn the relationship, to process the loss of you. he throws himself into work, practically drowning in it because he can’t bear staying idle.
you’re everywhere, still—
in the picture frames scattered around his home, in the decorative pieces that each hold their own memory. some of the clothes you returned to him smell like you.
when kirishima asks him how he is, he never answers, always redirecting the subject back to work. deku notices longer bouts of silence during joint patrols, and when he pries, bakugo’s only reply is, “s’not a concern.”
it’s unusual, because bakugo is loud and rough, he barks and barks and barks, but with this, he stays quiet.
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seiwas · 1 month
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when people ask why you and kirishima broke up, they never believe you.
they like to make a scoop out of it, prying and probing to find out who’s wrong, who fucked up, who the ‘crazy one’ was.
but there’s no answer to any of that.
you tell them the truth—that it just didn’t work out. things didn’t align; that’s just life.
“don’t be a stranger,” he tells you, the corners of his eyes puffed up red just like yours.
tears well up again.
you could feel it then, the last few minutes before the end of the call; the end of it all.
the decision was mutual, an amicable split that you both can see returning to the friendship you once had. kirishima is a great guy and you know he’ll still smile at you whenever he bumps into you. you know he’ll still be one of the first people to greet you on your birthday. you know he’ll still have a part of you that no one ever will.
nothing was wrong, everything was just okay.
you aren’t mad at him, can’t ever hate him. you still love each other, just not enough to stay.
and maybe, that’s what makes it hurt more.
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seiwas · 2 months
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yuuji’s all golden retriever boyfriend, cute and sweet—the ultimate boy-next-door. he brings home little things that made him think of you: flowers, a couple of pastries, maybe with one of those cheesy punny cards that go ‘you’re all i knead’.
it’s wholesome until he catches you off guard with a response spoken so casually to your chuckle of ‘good on her’ when your neighbour’s moans can be heard from your living room—
he says, bright eyes and arm still wrapped to cuddle you, “Don’t worry, I’ll make you scream too.”
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seiwas · 3 months
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hajime isn’t the most handsome nor is he the cutest or the prettiest. he might be close to being the hottest, but still isn’t quite there; he isn't the sexiest either, but his attractiveness is just insane.
he doesn’t announce himself when he walks into a room, but his presence seeps into your periphery, flooding your senses. he’s that guy who gives you a small smile and nods his head hello, disappearing with his friends or ducking into some corner of the room.
when you bump into him, his hand settles itself respectfully onto your mid-back, your arm, anything to steady to you. his cheeks turn a deep peach and he mumbles out an ‘oops’ with a small apology, letting go of you quickly. you have a feeling he only touched you because the situation called for it (respectfully).
he doesn’t smell of heavy musk or dark wood like all the other men you’ve met do, but he smells good. crisp. clean. an understated confidence. his outfit matches the same principle—a simple polo, fitted perfectly, with loose pants. put-together but never a try-hard.
hajime is balance and stability, harmony all in one. and he isn’t the most anything, but he reels you in like no one else can. a lingering memory.
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seiwas · 23 days
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i think kirishima comes home from the barber’s one day with the ugliest haircut you’ve ever seen on him ☹️ and he’s bouncing around sooooo happy with it, you just don’t have the heart to tell him it’s terrible ☹️🥲
he refused to show you any of his pegs, 100% positive you would love it. bless him because all he really wanted was to surprise you 🥺, hyping it up the weeks leading to the day, too—
“it’s gonna look so good, baby, can’t wait for you to see it,” he kisses you, right as he’s about to head off for his appointment.
you didn’t know it then, eyes sparkling and absolutely smitten as you reply, “looking forward to it.”
so now, as he turns around in front of you, arms open wide as if showing off the pièce de résistance; the absolute cherry on top, he asks, “what do you think? d’you like it?”
and you give it a good look, raising your eyebrows in an effort to look pleasantly surprised (but truthfully just shocked). you can feel the corners of your lips twitching, muscles turning nervous at giving away how you really feel about it.
you take a deep breath and blink, stepping closer to him as you reach up to run your fingers up the nape of his neck and through the strands of his freshly styled hair.
he waits, anticipatory.
two truths sink in at this very moment:
1) it’s just hair. it’ll grow back.
2) you must love him. a whole lot actually, because—
“i love it, it brings out your smile,” you look into his eyes, catching how he beams at you. a sparkling red.
you’ll find a way to let him know about it eventually.
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seiwas · 2 months
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bakugo scoffs, a slight ‘tsk’ as he rolls his eyes at the guy trying to hit on you at the bar. his gaze is dead-set on you across the room, watching in case the guy attempts anything funny. kirishima knows what’s going on, eyeing him from the side.
it’s that weird in-between of trying to find what you are to each other again—stuck in the middle of being friends and ex-lovers.
acting on it would be wrong.
he doesn’t have that right anymore.
he stews in his feelings, swallowing them with each sip of his drink. then he gets another glass, grumbling when kirishima elbows him to join in their conversation.
bakugo frowns all the way through.
he watches you smile at the guy (only politely, he hopes), the side of your cheek barely lifting and the corner of your eye untouched. it’s not the way you used to smile at him.
the conversation at his table goes on simultaneously with yours across the room, and he’s neither here nor there—part of both conversations, but not. it’s only when you shake your head, moving your hand in a gesture of ‘no, thanks’ that he abruptly looks away.
he focuses elsewhere: mina’s animated storytelling, the ice melting in his drink, your perfume the moment you’re slipping in the booth next to him. it’s unintentional, he knows—your thigh brushing against his, fingertips slightly touching as you set down your drink.
then you smile at him, a bit shy and apologetic, but friendly still. the corners of your eyes crease.
he downs his drink.
you’re better at this than he is—compartmentalizing feelings and seeing past his faults. always have been.
if he had only been more—
if he was only open to—
if he could only take it—
no. it wouldn’t be fair; he chose this for the both of you.
so why, why does he still look for the parts of you only he’d been privy to?
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seiwas · 2 months
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you know iwaizumi wants to get you home asap from the gym when he loads the plates onto the barbell for you.
he pushes you hard most of the time, making sure you’re fully independent in the gym—that you know what to do on your own. he makes sure you push yourself hard in your workouts too.
but, there’s something about how you look right now: strands of hair falling to frame your face, the baby hairs by your hairline slightly wet, sticking to the edges of your forehead. you’re huffing out, hands on your waist with your elbows bent. he can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks.
it’s a look he’s seen before, many times actually—in the gym, yes, sometimes on a morning run. when you’ve stood by the stove for far too long, helping him cook the bulk of your meals for the rest of the week. after a whole day of spring cleaning.
you look like this underneath him too, hair a bit more everywhere on the bed you share, after a night of—
yeah. he needs to get you home. now.
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seiwas · 3 months
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atsumu’s pr team the type to put him into every possible thing—sports ads, energy drink endorsements, hair care commercials, tiktok trends, the whole thing.
at some point the miya twins try to start a podcast but it’s 30 minutes of them bickering, so it ends after 5 episodes. a youtube channel doesn’t do any better.
but it’s in his mid-late twenties that a movie is pitched to him and his pr team is all over it, marketing him as the up-and-coming romcom heartthrob of the next decade.
atsumu has never acted a day in his life, and sure, he’s hot, has a charmer of a smile and the physique of a god. but the moment he speaks, all of that gets thrown out the window immediately.
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seiwas · 5 months
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do you think aizawa feels conscious about his prosthetic leg sometimes? 🥺
(that, he thinks about the metal—primarily titanium, alloyed with aluminum and copper—and worries that it’s too cold when it touches your skin; that it’s too hard when his knee fits itself into the back of yours)
does he keep his distance because of it? leaves a space between the two of you whenever he can?
will he listen when you tell him that it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care?
(that you like the cold as long as it’s him; that you don’t mind the feel of metal, smooth on the surface and tough against your calf, because it reminds you that he survived)
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seiwas · 6 months
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iwaizumi hajime the type to run to the store for you at some outrageous time like 2am—
—in nothing but his sweatpants, sleep shirt hastily thrown on. it’s thinned out from each wash and is way too faded to be worn out; there’s a hole or two somewhere on the sides. and his hair’s all messed up, sticking out every which way with a bit of sleep still in his eyes.
he’s yawning through the aisles, slides smacking against the store floor as he looks for what you need. self check-out is mechanical at this point, movements memorised.
when he comes back home—to bed, you’re sat up against the headrest, waiting. he drops the paper bag beside you and climbs under the covers, slinging an arm around you as he whispers in your ear, lazy and sleep-laden while his eyes fall shut, “need anything else?”
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seiwas · 2 months
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gojo teases the hell out of you when he senses that you’re maybe kinda a little teensy weensy bit jealous about someone taking an interest in him.
you say you aren’t jealous, just a little bit bothered.
and he only grins.
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seiwas · 9 months
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can’t get ex-‘thing’ kiri out of my mind 🤧
you have this ‘thing’ with kiri where feelings are confessed but it stays that way, doesn’t become anything official even though you talk everyday. it's good until it isn't—he gets busier, and life happens so the talking stops, and you drift.
you meet here and there because your friend groups overlap and it’s awkward at first but you get the chance to sit down and talk for a kind-of-closure. it's long pauses and stumbling over your words, speaking up at the same time with heat radiating off your cheeks and shy laughs of 'sorry' and 'you go first'.
the conversation goes well because kiri’s always been a great guy, and you—you’re the best person he knows, so you shake on it—no hard feelings 🥹 how can you resist him, after all, with his bright eyes and wide smile—his voice so genuine when he asks if you want to be friends (again)?
the thing is, you get along so well; you laugh at the same jokes and catch yourselves saying the same things at the exact same time too. your eyes meet across group lunches and dinners even though you're on opposite ends of the table—and when he hugs you goodbye, last after everyone else, you think he squeezes a little tighter, holds you close for a little while longer, tucks his nose just a little bit within the strands of your hair.
and he won’t tell you, but he’s always brought back to that day when he first confessed—your shampoo is still the same and it smells like comfort, and flutter feelings, and maybe a good thing he can never forget.
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seiwas · 8 months
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megumi the type to text you in the middle of a trip “come here i can’t stand these people”
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