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kiyoobi · 29 days

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we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe • pt 1

Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams?

ao3 link

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him.

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control.

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is.

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes.

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue.

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin.

You okay? The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,

you tell the truth.

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed.

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny.

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work. ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you.

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer.

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise.

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes.

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking agency for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé.

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day.

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge?

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today.

Did you even use your quirk today?

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch.

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away.

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency.

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning).

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume.

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away. You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever.

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race. “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly.

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building.

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now.

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along.

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi, you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again.

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel.

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones.

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind.

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that…

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again.

It meant nothing. Just a random dream.

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him.

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms.

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet.

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off.

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings.

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more.

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it.

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur.

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same.

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you.

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them. You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did.

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful.

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him.

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first.

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate.

None of it matters. You’re happy.

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy.

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again.

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy.

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you.

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call.

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat.

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days.

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist.

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break.

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable.

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you.

You both never fought, you were both so compliant.

But he loves you.

“I love you,” you say.

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning.

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center.

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,”

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up?

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be.

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma.

Almost.

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him. You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole.

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life. Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead.

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride.

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller.

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red.

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?”

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free.

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him.

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction.

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core.

Yes. “No.”

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.”

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner.

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look.

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed.

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter.

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?”

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious.

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea.

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea.

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still.

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too.

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring.

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep.

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast. You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you.

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.”

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love.

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time. The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore.

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what?

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench.

You were fine. You were happy.

Until you made yourself small.

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small.

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow.

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else.

You don’t know where you fall anymore.

-(-)-

#death’s scrolls #mybigbangacademia #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha fanfic #soulmate au #uhhhh what else lmao #i’m so bad at tagging #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you

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kiyoobi · 1 year

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kiyoomi sakusa takes care of you when you have a migraine

-(-)-

Having migraines for YEARS, ever since you were a kid, you’ve had the pain of being shut inside a dark room hoping you’d pass out soon. So you’ve gotten used to them by now. it starts out with your vision blurring, the lights around you slowly being more and more annoying. Then the familiar dull ache behind your eyes, followed by the nausea, and so on. You’re used to it. Sometimes you wake up with a headache, ready to form into a raging migraine if you don’t reach for those pills to ease the pain.

Sakusa knows this, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling that ache in his chest when you slip on your sunglasses with a weak smile. He can’t stop the twinge of annoyance when he sees someone give you a strange look for wearing those glasses inside, he stops himself from glaring at the baby screaming not too far away. When you both are finally home, finally away from overstimulation the world brutally gave to you, he quickly flicks all of the lights off.

“‘M sorry Omi, I know you wanted to go to that new restaurant tonight-” You start to apologize, your hand massaging your temple even though it doesn’t ease the pain.

“-It’s okay. It isn’t your fault,” he softly interrupts your apology, his heart aching when he sees you slump onto the couch. He watches the way your body curls into itself, how your hands gently caress your head. Seeing you this way, he doesn’t hesitate to put down his things and make his way into the medicine cabinet.

Sakusa remembers, though, how you refused lunch early. The migraine had, by that point, been in full swing and you couldn’t even stand the smell of food. You can’t take this medicine without eating, and he knows you will because you’ve done it before much to his disdain. As quietly as he can, he takes out the emergency crackers and ginger ale. Sakusa winces at the crack of the can opening, but a quick glance at your figure reassures him. He pours the can into a glass and sets it on top of the coaster within your reach, and gently taps your hand so he can feed you a cracker. Your amused chuckle warms his chest, even in your worst pain you manage to smile. In fact, you’ve been making jokes all day despite being in this unbearable pain.

What do you want to eat?” He asks, rubbing your forehead as you nibble on the cracker.

“Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about eating.” You close your eyes and groan, but the sound of your stomach loudly rumbling says otherwise.

“Right,” Sakusa rolls his eyes playfully, “Are dumplings and rice okay?”

“Since when do you know how to make dumplings?” You tease. You risk opening an eye, and despite the room not being as dark as you’d like, you can’t help it when your heart swells at the sight of your boyfriend. His eyebrows are furrowed, his dark curls frizzing from the amount of times he’s run his hands through them (most likely because he’s worried about you). It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that it’s okay, you’re used to this, you’ll be fine, he still doesn’t stop fretting over you. With his cheeks tinged pink from being called out, he throws your a playful glare and kisses your forehead.

“Don’t be a smartass,” His lips are warm against your hot skin, and he frowns. “Do you want some ice while I cook?”

“Yes please,” you say. For the first time your voice finally gives in, and you can’t help it with a painful moan slips through you. He nods and makes a quick dive into your freezer, hoping there’s even ice to offer you.

Every so often, Sakusa glances at your figure. You look beautiful, even though you would immediately reject this thought, you do. His eyes soften when he sees the curve of your wrist, your fingers gingerly holding the ice to your forehead. It requires effort to pull his gaze away from you and back onto his cooking, but a small smile plays on his lips when he thinks of you. Kiyoomi silently prays that the smells aren’t too much for you, knowing that even if they were you wouldn’t say so.

It breaks his heart having to pull you upright, but you reject his apologizes. You lean into his body, grateful that he brought you a fork instead of chopsticks because you just don’t have the energy for it. He notices the TV is on, which at first used to surprise him, but once you explained you need a distraction or else all you can focus on is the pain, he doesn’t question you. Unfortunately, you’re not in the mood to continue the series you both have been entranced by lately. Instead, he watches you watch the bakers onscreen explain their pastries to Paul Hollywood. The light gently dances across your face, and he watches amused at how despite you barely able to keep your eyes open you still can’t stop watching.

Sakusa knows he’s staring, he just doesn’t care. You don’t eat everything on the plate, which he knew would happen, so he accepts the plate from your hand and takes the fork from you. If someone would’ve told him a year ago that he would eat from the same plate and eating utensil that another person had used, he would’ve looked at them stupidly and ask if they even knew him. It’s funny, it truly is, because yeah sometimes he gets grossed out if he thinks too much about it, but when it comes to you.. he knows you’re clean. Not just in a physical sense (although he admits you’re incredibly messy at times), but in your soul too. Everything about you is pure (even the dirty jokes and the shameless flirting you throw at him) It’s cheesy, he knows. On those early morning jogs, all he thinks of is you. He thinks of your bed head, the stretch of your body, the way you pay careful attention to ridiculous little habits and repeat them yourself (he can do without the incessant teasing though sometimes). Sakusa, is completely enamored with you.

It’s the only reason why he can eat from the same fork you just had in your mouth just now. Gently he puts the empty plate down, and pulls your head into his lap. From there, he can see you better now. Your eyes flutter shut when you feel him place the ice back onto your forehead, while the other gently strokes your cheek. Ever so often he moves the ice pack to the back of your neck, because he knows that you feel pain from there too. He knows it all, he has to, because how else will he show the same careful attention and love that you show for him?

“I’m gonna close my eyes, okay?”

“I know,” Sakusa smiles.

“I’m telling you this because I’m not gonna take a nap, Omi.” You say, still stubborn as ever. “Just tell me what’s going on, I don’t remember who gets Star Baker.”

“Are you sure? Last week you called my voice annoying-“ His body shakes from laughing, as quietly as he can, feeling the way you jab his side. “Anything for you, love.”

You did fall asleep though. Sakusa tries to engrave this moment into his heart, because even with the TV on the lowest setting and the ice pack melting on the table, he feels the intimacy and romance in this setting. His fingers still gently trace your features, the curve of your jaw and cheekbones, your soft lips. His eyes flicker to your shared bedroom, knowing that his jacket is carefully put away in the closet. Knowing that inside, is the very ring he found on your pinterest that you saved many many times. Your hands grip onto him, pulling his eyes back onto you. Whatever you’re dreaming about, you’re holding onto him tightly.

He debates on whether or not of asking you the question when you wake up. Knowing you, you’d feel bad that you had him cancel the reservations because of your cursed migraine. Sakusa smirks, imagining the way you’d scold him for canceling his romantic gesture. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to be there for you. Through sickness and in health.

-(-)-

a/n: i wrote this almost two years ago, and it started my journey. i wanted to repost and share again :) im not going to edit since i want to keep it as original as possible. this is dedicated to the moots i met through my writings

#haikyuu sakusa #kiyoomi x you #sakusa fluff #sakusa x you #migraine tw #sakusa hq #haikyuu kiyoomi #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #sakusa x y/n #death’s scrolls #i had a migraine when i wrote this and i had one again today lmao #my love my darling my angel #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa

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