hi y’all I’m Sofia! I have not had an original thought since 2008 so this will mainly be reblogs. Please have your age in your bio! If you want to hear me spew more nonsense follow me on twitter!
it's not that he doesn't try—it just doesn't quite come naturally to him. he wants to comfort you. wants to be helpful. but his tenderness is ungraceful; awkward, like wobbling steps on unpracticed legs.
"what would make you feel better?" he asks you with absolute sincerity. it's not a demand. it's not frustrated or churlish. it's earnest and gentle and guileless. that alone is enough.
you're tired. and still upset. but meeting tobio's gaze when he's looking at you so attentively already makes you feel a bit better than you had only moments before. you hum like you're mulling over his question (though he's already answered it himself.)
"i think i need..." you purse your lips in thought and tobio perks up, listening intently. "to kiss you a lot."
tobio blushes a little in the wake of your statement but nods, dipping in and pressing a kiss to your mouth. a peck. sweet and soft and brief. he pulls back, his eyes scanning your face, and his voice is quiet when he asks, "like that?"
you nod, craning into his space again like a tide is pulled to shore. you press another kiss to his cheek. "and like that—" you say, and then move to the other cheek "—and that—" each eyelid, his forehead, his nose, his jaw, his temples. on and on you go, pressing your lips to any bit of him that you can reach—stopping every so often to press another kiss to his lips for good measure.
somewhere in the fray, you're pulled up into tobio's lap and your hands cradle his cheeks between them to keep you steady. by the time you come up for air, both of you are breathless and a little dizzy, and though tobio's gaze is a little more heavy-lidded, the heartfelt concern is still warm behind his stare.
"do you feel better now?" he asks, his words a little rougher than before but still sweetened with his sincerity. still just as tender.
you laugh a little, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. "yeah, tobio. all thanks to you."
"been getting really into this car parking game lately."
you hum, applying another coat of cuticle oil to the pointer finger of your left hand. "what do you do?"
"park cars," rintarou replies, with unadulterated sincerity.
"you don't even know how to drive," you point out, looking up at where he's sprawled out on the sofa on the other side of the room, his cellphone held up over his face while he (presumably) parks cars.
"well if i'm as good at it in real life as i am in this game, i should book my test asap."
you snort. "rin you got car sick watching the last fast and the furious movie."
"that's because they go so fast," he whines, finally tearing his eyes away from the little screen in front of him to shoot you a wounded look. he scans over the nailcare products on the coffee table in front of you. "what are you doing?"
"just tidying up my nails," you answer.
"let me see," rintarou beckons you over and you crawl towards the sofa—while being mindful of your freshly oiled cuticles—to show him your hand. "you didn't paint them?" he asks, eyes flickering from your polish to your face.
"no, I don't have an appointment for another week. I was just cleaning them up so that the manicure lasts longer."
rintarou threads his fingers between yours. "want me to paint your toenails?"
"we both know you're the only one who gets any enjoyment out of that," you remark flatly, squeezing his hand to punctuate the sentiment. using his grip on your hand, he tugs you towards him, encouraging you up onto the sofa with him and shifting his body to accommodate you in his little corner of the couch.
"wanna watch me park cars, then?" he asks as you settle against his chest.
"alright vin diesel, show me what you've got—you better not get car sick though."
"...and then i was like 'hey IDIOT, as per my last email—"
"did'ja really call him an idiot?"
"well, no," you concede. "but I did point out that if he'd bothered to read the damn email I sent him a week ago, which i forwarded him again for emphasis, he wouldn't have missed the deadline he agreed to or asked me any of those stupid questions in the first place."
"you tell him, baby," osamu encourages you with a breathy laugh. you can hear the familiar clanking and clacking of the onigiri miya kitchen on his end of the phone call.
"i cc'd his boss too, for good measure," you go on to add, glancing at the clock in the corner of your desktop screen. it's late, meaning samu's probably doing prep for tomorrow at the restaurant now that it's all closed up for the night. you've still got your own work cut out for you too, before you'll be able to head home from the office—though the rest of your coworkers have long left for the day.
"serves him right," osamu remarks in agreement. "you home for the night, yet?"
"no," you pout, clicking on another tab on your desktop to pull up one of the spreadsheets currently holding you hostage in the office. "i've gotta go in and fix all the mistakes he made and finish up the reports so that we can still get this project submitted before noon tomorrow."
"don't see why's he not the one workin' his ass off to get it in on time," osamu mutters, his tone affronted.
"because he's an idiot, remember?" you point out. osamu huffs, but there's mirth in the sound. "better to do it myself and know it's at least done right, rather than having my boss hand it back to me tomorrow like it was my fault and make me fix it over the weekend, anyway."
"poor little thing," osamu clicks his tongue. "did'ja eat yet?"
"oh! i was thinking—when we go up to nagoya for tsumie's game this weekend, do you wanna see if kosaku wants to meet up? he's there for work, y'know."
"hey—"
"him and his girlfriend split up just before he transferred there too, poor yuuto-kun," you babble on, idly filling in a couple more fields in the spreadsheet as you chat and trying to ignore the fact that all the background noise on osamu's side of the call has suddenly disappeared. "he could probably use a drink."
"baby—"
"it's so sad. i met his girlfriend once at a class reunion, she was really nice. i thought for sure they were gonna get m—"
osamu says your name firmly, cutting you off—and you know he means business because he drops his usual terms of endearment and invokes your government name instead. you cringe a little, knowing the jig is up. "what the hell did you eat today?"
"well—" you grimace when samu groans on the other end of the call. "it's not my fault! it's not!" you immediately rush to defend yourself.
"'s that so?" osamu asks flatly.
"i was supposed to have an 11 o'clock meeting off-site, and i was gonna get lunch on my way back to the office so I didn't bring anything. but then it got cancelled! with no warning! and then by the time lunch rolled around, this whole idiot email thing started kicking off and i just lost track of time because i was too busy being mad."
"grown ass woman can't even feed herself," osamu mutters under his breath. "what am i gonna do with you?"
you guffaw. "uh, excuse me? maybe i would've been able to eat breakfast if someone hadn't monopolized my time this morning by insisting i sit on his—"
on the other side of the office, a sudden noise makes you jump to your feet. you stand just in time to see the night cleaner wheeling in their cart of supplies. the two of you exchange polite bows of recognition before you go skittering off towards the staff kitchen with mortified heat flooding your face.
"... uh, hello?" you realize osamu has been talking to you this whole time, but you've been too flustered to hear him.
"sorry, sorry," you say, a little breathless. "the cleaner just came in and almost heard me describe in excruciating detail what you subjected me to this morning."
"subjected ya to?" osamu scoffs. "yer poor body must be breaking down the memory storin' part of yer brain fer fuel, 'cause from what i remember you were all too happy to climb on up there."
"maybe you're remembering it wrong," you sniff, pressing the button on the office coffee machine to brew another pot. it's not the meal you ought to be eating, but it will certainly help you get through the rest of the night.
"nah, my memory's top notch. i ate a very healthy breakfast, y'know."
"you're a pervert," you say quietly, stifling a laugh at his obviously lascivious remark under your palm—all too conscious of the cleaner only a few rooms away.
"yeah, yeah," osamu says dismissively, unbothered by your accusation. "anyway, i'll text ya when 'm out front of the office."
"huh?" you pause, the coffee machine gurgling away before you as the hot liquid begins to pool in the waiting pot. "you're coming here?"
"droppin' off somethin' to eat. can't let my baby starve, after all," osamu says, almost a little offended at your surprise. "even if she does call me a pervert."
you laugh a little to yourself, resting your forehead against the cabinet in the office kitchen. "thanks, samu."
you can hear the grin in your boyfriends voice. "yer welcome. i'll be there soon as i can."
"i owe you," you say breathily, your eyes fluttering closed. with the prospect of food on the way, you're suddenly all too conscious of how hungry you are. you wonder idly what he's bringing you from the shop—but know that no matter what it is, you're certain you'll love it.
"oh, yeah?" samu laughs. "well, you can always make it up to me over breakfast."
Noticing a pattern that in most smutfic of Kita I've read is involving breeeding kink and it got me like "Huh guess rice seed isn't the only thing he'd plan to plant properly" (not that I'm complaining LOLOLOL also I easily got baby fever and just saw a baby kita fanart it's soooo)
18+, MDNI - minors and ageless blogs do not interact!
kita has definitely heard the old inarizaki crew talking about this kind of stuff when they all get together and have a few drinks. they're all adults. they're men. it's somewhat to be expected. though, for the most part, the boys leave him out it—even in their inebriated state recognizing that the crude conversation was below their beloved former captain—he still occasionally overhears the things they'd say.
but he honestly never really got it.
one night, gathered in an izakaya in the town they went to school in, atsumu is the one who finally asks the question—thanks, in no small part, to the half-dozen drinks he's already downed.
"kita-saaaan," atsumu slurs, leaning forward across the table with raised eyebrow. "what'er yers?"
"my what?" kita asks, having only been half-listening to the former second years' conversation while aran and omimi had been speaking at his side.
atsumu gets a little shifty-eyed, leaning in with a hand covering his mouth like he's telling a secret and doesn't want to be overheard (though the gesture is largely useless considering he conceals his mouth on the opposite side to where everyone else is seated.)
"y'know... yer kinks."
kita pauses.
"my kinks?" the elder of the two repeats it back, a lilt of confusion in his tone.
it's not lost on him that suddenly the group of men has gone strangely quiet.
"yeah!" atsumu nods his voice still a laughably unsubtle whisper. "like what yer into, 'n stuff. the kinda... sexy things ya like."
kita's fairly certain he spots a that a trickle of beer slip out from ginjima's gaping jaw from his peripheral vision.
shinsuke takes a moment to contemplate what his former junior has just said, and then nods.
"i like my wife."
theres a chorus of sounds from around the table—though the resulting sound is largely reverent.
"kita-san," atsumu bows his head. "i'm not gonna lie to ya, that's the sweetest thing i've ever heard—"
kita tilts his head in confusion.
"—but!" atsumu slams his hands down on the table. "s'not what i meant!"
atsumu points down the table, his target ginjima who stares at his two former teammates like a deer in the headlights.
"gin's into older women. that's his thing."
ignoring gin's resulting sound of protest and furiously blushing cheeks, atsumu directs his attention towards suna next.
"this guy's into feet," he says with a clearly judgemental tone.
suna shrugs, taking a sip of his beer.
"we've all got one 'er two, see," the blonde goes onto explain, his lips pursing pensively. "some of 'em are a bit weird though. omimi told me once that he really got off on his wife bein' pregnant."
"atsumu!" omimi snaps from kita's side, and shinsuke genuinely starts to worry for the fate of the man in front of him if he keeps talking.
"and," tsumu leans in again, his voice dropping low, "don't tell 'im I told ya, but one time I found a bunny costume under samu's bed..."
kita blinks.
"... in his size."
"tsumu, shut yer fat mouth!" osamu squawks indignantly from the other end of the table. "'n i told ya to stop snoopin' around my place!"
atsumu dodges an empty beer can hurled his way, but soon his twin is on top of him. the rest of the inarizaki boys watch on as the brothers roughhouse with each other, largely refraining from intervening because atsumu deserves it.
kita sits quietly on his side of the table, considering everything he's just learned.
he thinks about it for longer than he cares to admit.
on the drive home.
as he crawls into bed beside your sleeping form.
as he stares up at the ceiling of your shared bedroom while he tries to fall asleep.
as he makes his way out to the fields the next morning just before dawn.
shinsuke decides, after all that consideration, that he can say with a fair degree of certainty that there are lots of things he isn't particularly into: feet and osamu-sized bunny costumes included.
but that night, when you meet shinsuke on the back porch once he makes his way back from a hard day's work, greeting him with a kiss, he thinks about the dress you're wearing and what it would look like with a little bump beneath it.
after a bath and a quiet dinner, he kneads his calloused fingertips into the soft soft skin of your thighs—which part to welcome him eagerly.
as he presses kisses down your neck, his hands travelling to all the places he knows you like, he can't help but think about it again. about starting a family with you. putting a baby inside of you.
the thought makes heat sear through his cheeks. makes him almost dizzy with want. makes him unable to resist the urge to fuck you—slow, and deep, and close just how you like it—until the early hours of the morning, even though he knows he'll need to be up at dawn again.
and next time, when the boys get together for a couple of drinks, he won't just have something to contribute to their conversation...
the thing that is so appealing (/appalling) abt yan miyas is there's this big, completely pathologically insane guy who's obsessed with you and you're like 'this is the worst thing that could ever happen to me' and then you turn around and THERE'S ANOTHER ONE EXACTLY LIKE HIM AND MAYBE EVEN WORSE
the itoshiverse thought from earlier was alpha rin fucking you within an inch of your life and then pacing around your room while you sleep it off because he doesn't know what to do with himself btw
gojo is so SO sad because his baby cries whenever he gets too close, immediately hiding behind you or burying his little face against you whenever his papa appears, all while you stifle your giggles under your palm. satoru is predictably distraught by this, and loudly laments the fact that he's hated by his own precious son. and you only make him suffer for a little while longer before you tell him that his baby is actually kind of obsessed with him—that you keep a picture of his obnoxiously handsome face on hand at all times just for baby, who falls asleep clinging to it on a regular basis—but is just shy because he likes him so much.
actually .. i think sakura goes kind of crazy the first night you spend together. he just gets completely and totally lost in the heat of the moment, in the sounds your making, in the way you feel. he wants to be careful with you, and he is, but after a certain point—somewhere between the third and fourth round, he thinks—he just... lost it.
you wake up the morning after and find him sitting in the chair in the corner of your bedroom with his head in his hands, clearly beside himself with remorse. you can almost hear his vituperating internal dialogue from across the room.
"woah, you look like someone died."
sakura's head snaps up, his eyes wide as they find you peering at him from your place propped up on one elbow in your bed, but still tucked snugly underneath your soft sheets.
his lips part, like he's trying to say something, but nothing comes out. you watch as he repeats this motion two more times.
"s-sorry."
when he finally does manage to speak, the mumbled word is the last you're hoping to hear. he struggles to hold your stare, glancing off into the corner of your bedroom nervously. you sigh, flopping back against your pillows. you purse your lips as you stare up at your ceiling.
"that's a terrible thing to say to the girl you like after you sleep with her for the first time, y'know."
sakura makes an indignant, shocked sort of noise. he sputters unintelligibly for a moment. "i-i—!"
you push yourself up again, properly upright now—your sheet falling from your body and baring the skin you'd never covered up the night before to him. he looks nearly hysterical, every human emotion in conflict for dominant rule on his flushing face: frustration, remorse, mortification, shock, and characteristically earnest (though palpably awkward) affection.
you hold a warning finger up and he stops stammering. "i don't know what you think you're apologizing for, but i don't want or need to hear one."
he stays quiet after that, though pouts a little.
"ah, geez,"—you brush some hair back from your face, letting out a long breath—"you're so..."
sakura waits on the edge of his seat for you to finish your sentence.
you throw a hand over your face. "cute."
"cute?"
"yes, sakura," you laugh, peeking at him through the gaps between your fingers. "i think you're cute."
"h- why do yo- what about me is—?"
"sakura?" you cut him off, and he doesn't protest your interruption. his eyes are fixed on yours as he waits for you to continue. "i had a nice time last night."
that blush in his cheeks intensifies again, and you can practically see steam coming out of his ears. "w-w-what?"
"did you?"
sakura's lips part wordlessly again, and it's quiet for a long time—just the sound of the bustling morning street outside your bedroom window slipping in through the open pane. finally, his lips press together in a line.
he nods, making a meek little 'nn' sound. agreement.
you smile, but he's still not looking at you so he doesn't catch it, still furiously blushing in that little chair in the corner. you giggle, and then the giggle gives way to a full-on laugh—giddy and a bit incredulous.
you flop back in your bed, still laughing, but eventually you manage to calm yourself.
"hey, sakura?"
"what?" he asks, his tone still sheepish—and notably perplexed by your outburst.
"let's have a do-over."
"a... do-over?"
you hum. "i'm gonna wake up again, and we're gonna try to do it right this time. okay?"
"what?"
you wait a moment, and then rub your eyes as you prop yourself up slowly in your bed—clutching your sheet to your bare chest to preserve your modesty.
"oh," you feign the heaviness of sleep in your voice and in the flutter of your lashes, blinking at him slowly across the room. "good morning, sakura."
you watch the confusion play out on sakura's stunned face until it gives way into something a bit softer. he lets his head hang, and you swear you hear him laugh under his breath. he peeks up at you again a moment later. still sheepish, still blushing, but not nearly so dismayed.
the wind ruffles the curtains hanging over your window, letting a bit more sun splash in across your bedroom floor.
this time there's no stutter when sakura speaks, a gentle, breathy "g'mornin'."
In spite of your incredulous tone, it's not actually that hard for you to believe that Sakura has never seen the movie currently advertised on the screen of your television—the promotional still splashed across the surface, waiting for you to either hit play or navigate onward to the next option in the seemingly endless (though often lacklustre) selection of media available for your ready consumption.
Sakura Haruka has not seen most movies, you've found out since the two of you started dating. Nor the shows you've asked about, but that's sort of par for the course. And forget about music or—heaven forbid—a podcast.
Sakura shakes his head a little, tipping his beer back towards his lips. He's not much of a drinker (that's another thing you've learned about him) and he's been nursing that one drink since you finished eating dinner and curled up in your living room to watch a movie a few hours ago. "I've heard the guys mention it."
"It's a classic," you remark, reaching for the remote. "We've gotta watch it."
Your eyes flicker to the screen of your cellphone, left largely abandoned on the coffee table, as it lights up with a notification. You don't care much about the text message, but the time does draw your attention.
"Aw," you say sadly, more to yourself than anything. "It's getting kinda late."
Sakura glances at the time too. "Oh, shit. Yeah. I should probably go."
"I really wanna watch that movie."
You trail along behind Sakura as he rises to his feet from his seat on the living room floor and makes his way to your kitchen.
"The trains are gonna stop running soon." He carefully pours the last few mouthfuls of beer into your sink and then rinses out the can.
"You could stay over?"
You watch as pink diffuses along the back of your boyfriend's neck, staining even the tips of his ears in the pretty hue as his shoulders go a bit rigid.
"I gotta work early. So do you," he grunts out, a bit gruffly, shaking off the momentary stiffness in his frame. "'S not a good idea."
Sakura had been adamant when he came over for dinner that he couldn't spend the night, because the two of you are notorious for getting very little rest on the nights he sleeps over, and you both have important workdays ahead of you. He'd been firm, but not unkind, when he made this condition clear to you at the outset of the evening.
You pout a bit as he tucks his beer bottle into the recycling and then dutifully ties up the bag. "I'll toss this on my way out," he says, glancing over at where you're watching him from the doorway. He sees the pout on your lips and groans. "... That's not fair."
"What's not fair?" you ask, looking away as you feign ignorance.
"You—we—t-the plan was that..." Sakura ruffles the hair at the back of his neck as he stumbles through his argument. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a little breath. "We can just watch it next time, right?"
You catch the inside of your cheek between your teeth, holding it there to stifle the smile you feel threatening to overtake you at how cute Sakura looks like this: blushy and a little awkward, his hair sticking up at the back, holding a bag of trash he's offering to take out for you in your kitchen.
"Okay," you concede, but not without an exaggerated sigh. He opens his eyes, and looks a bit relieved at your relent. "When's your next day off?"
"Day after tomorrow," Sakura answers, heading towards your door. You follow along behind him again, standing within arm's reach as he pulls on his shoes in the genkan.
"You should come over tomorrow night, then," you reply.
"Thought you were working late?" Sakura asks, casting a fleeting glance up at you while he ties the laces of his sneaker.
You hum, you'd forgotten about that. You light up a moment later, reaching past Sakura towards the key rack just inside your front door. "Here!"
Sakura watches with wide eyes as you pluck the spare key you keep in case of emergencies and hand it to him.
"You should probably have this anyway," you tell him as you pry the little silver key off the novelty keychain it's affixed to. It only makes sense, Sakura's a regular fixture at your place these days—he ought to be able to come and go as he pleases. "You don't have to stick it through the mail slot when you leave either. Just keep it."
Sakura is frozen, bent at the waist, with his shoelaces in his hands.
"K-kee-k-kee-ke-keep it?"
Oh, his face is the most adorable shade of red you've ever seen.
"You want me to,"—Sakura stands almost unnaturally upright, his shoe still left untied, his eyes wide—"keep this?"
You laugh lightly, hiding it in the sleeve of your oversized sweatshirt. "Well, yeah. You can just come and let yourself in when you get off work tomorrow, and I'll see you when I get home."
He hasn't moved a muscle.
"Maybe I could grab us dinner on my way?" You remark, pointedly ignoring your boyfriend's petrified state. "What do you think about—"
Sakura is suddenly rifling though his various pockets with an urgency unbefitting of the stillness of your entryway. His pants, his hoodie, finally his jacket—still hanging on the coat rack at your side. Eventually he finds what he's looking for and he turns to face you, holding his keys in his hand.
"You take this one," he says, strangely ardent, but he barely meets your gaze as he says it. He puts his entire key ring into your hands with his head bowing down, and it takes everything in you not to burst out laughing.
"Haru," you barely manage to get the words out, "this is your key. How will you let yourself in once you get home?"
Sakura looks up, slightly shocked, as though this is the first time it's occurred to him. The blush on his face only intensifies.
"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess you're right..." he mutters, obviously sheepish.
You step towards him, pressing the keys back into his own hand and letting your touch linger there.
"Why don't you make me a copy after work tomorrow, and give it to me when I get home, hm?" you ask him, close enough now to press your body into his and lean into his warmth. You watch as he swallows, and then dutifully nods, his eyes trained on your face all the while.
Exchanging keys is a big step in any relationship, but a huge one for you and Haruka. Everything with him feels like a milestone, because you know that these sorts of things don't come naturally to him—aren't familiar to him. You celebrate these moments whenever you can, because you know how much they mean.
Sakura seems to hesitate for a moment, then he dips down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You can feel the heat of his cheeks when he's this close to you. Can almost hear how quickly his pulse is pounding.
You smile against his lips, reaching up to cup his burning cheek in your hand.
The touch seems to finally break him, and before you can even gain your bearings Haruka has you pressed against the wall of your entryway, kissing you breathless.
You can taste the beer he'd barely finished on his lips. Can feel the way his hands shake when he touches you.
"Haruka," you murmur against his eager mouth, pulling away slightly and brushing your nose against his. "What about the train?"
He pants against your lips, the breath hot as it breaks against the sheen of saliva that coats them. He makes a broken little sound, and his grip on your hips tightens.
He inches forward again, and you almost miss it when he whispers—"can I stay over?"
reader is an astrophysicist working at the planetarium (mainly doing research in the lab but also supporting the preparation of some of the programming for visitors) she's a bit of a mess. just very.... not type-a. type z, if you will.
shouto, tenko and bug regularly go on little adventures together (zoos, amusement parks, aquariums, museums, toy stores, playgrounds, etc.) because they are besties
on this particular day, reader is extremely sleep deprived and preparing for a big meeting where the planetarium is trying to secure more funding for the upcoming year, but just as she goes to print the last few documents she needs, the printer in the lab totally kicks the bucket. as a result, she has to go out to the "public" part of the planetarium and use the printer at guest services.
when she's out on the planetarium floor, a kid with an adhesive quirk SOMEHOW manages to crawl all the way up to the tippy top of the giant model jupiter they have in the to-scale solar system exhibit at the planetarium. the kid gets so scared, they lose control of their quirk and end up basically gluing themselves to the planet (lmfao)
reader is so sleep deprived/stunned she's just sorta watching all of this unfold in a sort of disappointed but not surprised sort of way but LUCKILY pro hero shouto is there to save the day and jumps into action. he spots her (and her planetarium badge, which he assumes means she's a staff member) asks reader to watch tenko and bug for a moment, and then goes to save the day.
reader has ZERO skills when it comes to talking to children (hence why she works in the lab and not with the public) but thankfully those two are pretty easygoing.
shouto returns from being a brave hero and realizes for the first time that the lady he asked to watch over his two pint-sized best friends is actually very pretty—and SHE realizes that she's now officially late to her meeting.
and the rest.... well..... i couldn't possibly say....
WAIT NO, LETS TALK ABOUT SINGLE DAD IZUKU PLSSSSSSS
tenko's mother and izuku dated off and on for a while, but it wasn't a very healthy relationship. she had some issues that izuku tried his best to fix. izuku has a bad habit of seeking out partners who need him—who he can play saviour for. that's one of his issues. the couple was on one of their "breaks"—their longest ever, possibly permanent—when she found out she was pregnant.
tenko was born and things were good for a while, better than they'd ever been. but then they weren't. and eventually they separated, but still worked together to take care of baby tenko. it was working even if it wasn't perfect.
izuku had no idea what was coming that fateful wednesday afternoon when katsuki unexpectedly showed up at his door. izuku was still dressed in the suit he'd worn to work, and katsuki was in his hero costume with soot and grime streaked on his solemn face.
he didn't understand what his childhood friend was saying as he talked about an accident in the neighbourhood his ex was working in. couldn't figure out why katsuki was looking at him like that as he explained that the first responders did everything they could.
nothing was making sense. everything was an incoherent blur.
all he knew was that he needed to see his son.
"tenko," izuku heard himself say. "where's tenko?"
thirteen-month-old tenko always went to his mom's place on wednesdays after daycare, so izuku had time to mark papers after work before picking him up. he knew that, but he still found himself asking it, over and over and over again. luckily, bakugou knew that too.
"your mom's got him. she's got him, izuku." katsuki reassured him, his voice tight. "so get your coat. we'll go and get him."
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