#ja1writes

The call rang twice before he answered, the sound of sheets rustling before his voice finally came through. “Something happen?” It was low and raspy like he’d just woken up, or maybe he was about to sleep.

“No, nothing happened.”

“So what are you calling for?”

“Just wanted to say goodnight, I’m going to bed.”

He let out a puff of air, somewhat akin to a laugh. “Why are you telling me that?” His voice was a bit farther now, the sheets rustled again, and the phone clattered like he was picking it back up. “Baby, we broke up a while ago.” The name came out quick, casual, like he never got used to calling you anything but that.

“Yeah, I know.” You paused, taking in a breath of air before adding. “Just wanted to say goodnight.” You bit down on your lip, trying to suppress the giggle fighting to break through. “Well, goodnight then!” You pressed the button to hang up before he could even attempt to get any words out.

The phone lit up with a message before you could even put it down. “Missed your voice.” Your laughter caught in your throat, eyes tracing the message before another one followed. “Call me back.” Your fingers hovered over the call button, mulling it over in your head.

After a moment, and a few deep breaths, you called him back. The call barely having time to ring before connecting. “You could’ve let it ring, Rintarou.” You huffed out a laugh, shifting in your spot the couch. Legs thrown over the armrest, hair splayed out underneath you.

“And leave you waiting?”

You puffed out a breath of air, eyes trained up at the ceiling. The cold phone pressed flat against your cheek. His voice rang through again. “I meant it,” You hummed, urging him on though he would have continued without it. “I missed you, I miss you. Every fucking day, [name].” His voice was heavy and low like it hurt him to speak.

If you closed your eyes you could almost see him in your home again. His shoes by the door, wallet on the coffee table, hoodie thrown over the back of the couch. You could almost feel his hand running up your legs, finger skimming underneath the hem of your shorts. His eyes glued to the tv, making comments on whatever show he had landed on this time.

“Fuck,” You brought a hand up to your face. Trying to wipe the thought away with a heavy palm. “Yeah, I missed you, too.” The words were quiet, barely carried through the phone.

“[Name],” Followed by a deep breath, more rustling. This time like he was getting out of bed. “Baby, let me come see you.” The words were almost whinny, about as close to it as you’ll get with Rintarou. Breath caught in your throat, all you could mumble was a quiet “I'd like that,” before the call disconnected.

He’s possessive in the quiet way. Lingering behind you in the store. Sharp eyes catching the eyes of anyone who dares to look for longer than a second. His voice raising, just a fraction, with every pet name that leaves his lips.

His hands always managed to find you. Your hips, your hands, your face. His hand even rests comfortably in your back pocket while the two of you walk down the street. Dipping down to mumble in your ear every now and then. "Baby, watch out, you're going to run into them."

His hands were always gently guiding you, contrasting the way his eyes narrowed at every man who stared at you. His palms linger on your body, as if tracing the paths of the eyes lingering on your curves. Fingers gently pulling down the short skirt you wore, even though it rode up with each step you took.

Eyes catching each time your top rose up your stomach, or your neckline plunged too low. He never made you change, wouldn’t even dare to ask. He just quietly watched, fingers pulling gently at the fabric each time it moved a bit too far along your body. A gentle pat landing on your backside each time he stood up after fixing your skirt.

He was never overbearing. Always giving you space, letting you wander as far as you wanted. Though he never lost sight of you. And you never seemed without him, faint marks lingering on your neck. Lipstick smudged, just barely, at the corner of your mouth. The various pieces of jewelry catching the light just enough to bring attention.

Kenma always drags his feet, old sneakers dragging against the floor with each step he takes. Most days, you can hear his slow steps down the hall before he even rounds the corner to enter the room.

Mornings with Kenma are painfully slow, hands lazily rubbing his eyes before he slowly peels the blankets off himself. He trudges over to the bathroom, slippers scraping the ground with each step, not even bothering to close the door.

There are a few things Kenma is not lazy about, though. He’s always one of the-if not the-first to buy the new version of the game he likes, sometimes waking up early to wait for the release. He always takes his time to carefully set up for his streams.

And Kenma always, always makes sure to properly care for you. He’ll spend hours with you in the mall, not complaining a single time, while you pick out clothes. When you send him to the store, he stays off his phone and carefully reads each label to ensure he gets the right things.

On nights that he has late streams scheduled, Kenma makes sure to stay with you in bed before he starts. Refusing to get out of bed until you were snoring. Some nights, he would have to send out a tweet, KODZUKEN: Pushing the stream back a bit, she’s still awake. Linking a picture of you, eyes low with a sleepy smile painted on your face.

Growing up Bakugou was used to the weekly routine of Mistuki clipping his nails. Gently cleaning away the dirt and grime accumulated underneath from playing outside. Clipping and filing the jagged edges while he sat restlessly beside her.

Later on this routine morphed into doing each other’s nails. The two of them squeezed together on the small couch in their living room. Careful hands clipping away dead skin and swiping thin coats of what ever new nail polish his mom had wanted to try that week.

Bakugou prided himself in how well kept he was, pearly white teeth paired with minty fresh breath. Hair seemingly un-growing with how well he kept up his regular trims. The soft locks of ash blond always well groomed, and never oily.

This also applied to his nails. Every Saturday, just as he always had when growing up, Bakugou found himself gently tending to his nails. Steady hands clipping away his cuticles and rounding off the edges of his nails.

Eventually you are included in this. The two of you sat criss-cross on the floor of his dorm-because Bakugou refused to sit in the common room- while he painted your nails a soft pink. Even going as far to dot a small flower on one of your nails.

Slowly this becomes a routine between the two of you, Bakugou patiently waiting for you each Saturday. A small bag open and waiting on his floor while he carefully removed the polish from last week.

It’s not that he won’t comfort you, he just can’t handle seeing tears staining your pretty face. Especially when he didn’t mean to make you cry. He thought it was a funny joke!

He regretted it the moment he said it. Saw the way your eye welled up with tears, that just wouldn't disappear no matter how many times you blinked. Now the two of you are curled up on the couch, both in tears, with Atsumu mumbling apologies in your ear.

"Didn't mean to make ya cry swee'heart,"

He’s pulling you into his lap, big fingers wiping away your tears while his own still trail down his face. “Yer too pretty to be cryin’” His voice is soft now, a small pout on his face while he dries your tears.

Weekends with Suna usually start off cuddled in bed. Limbs tangled underneath the mess of sheets. The morning light barely peeking through the heavy curtains.

Suna would grumble each time you stirred, sleepy words slurring together. “Stay still, baby, s’too early.” His head tucked into your shoulder, hand splayed out against your stomach beneath your shirt.

Eventually, the two of you end up in the kitchen, Suna’s body leaned against the counter with an arm draped lazily around you. The steam from his mug curled up between the two of you, the scent of coffee mingling with his.

Suna pressed soft kisses to the crown of your head, mumbling questions of what the two of you would do for the day. Though you both knew you would just end up back in bed, cuddled together again.