#bkdk #bakudeku #ktdk it was after the war, and katsuki was...
‧˚⋅𓆩 fischer 𓆪‧˚ ⋅@kingfischerr
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Aug 14, 2026
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#bkdk #bakudeku #ktdk
it was after the war, and katsuki was standing on a train platform, about to send izuku off on a one week mission out of town.
and it would’ve been fine, if there wasn’t so much unresolved tension between them. it would’ve been even more fine if —
it was after the war, and katsuki was standing on a train platform, about to send izuku off on a one week mission out of town.
and it would’ve been fine, if there wasn’t so much unresolved tension between them. it would’ve been even more fine if —
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heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.
things were never really the same between them after they’ve finally won. how could they be, when they’ve seen each other at what seemed like the end of their lives, after being side by side on the battlefield, after risking their lives —
things were never really the same between them after they’ve finally won. how could they be, when they’ve seen each other at what seemed like the end of their lives, after being side by side on the battlefield, after risking their lives —
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for one another?
there were staggered silences between them now where they used to be filled with katsuki’s snide retorts. oddly fond gazes where there used to be meek ones, or furious glares, or even plain ignorance.
there were staggered silences between them now where they used to be filled with katsuki’s snide retorts. oddly fond gazes where there used to be meek ones, or furious glares, or even plain ignorance.
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katsuki didn’t know what to make of it.
it was he that changed the most, after all. it took a few years, but now whenever he looked at izuku, he was overcome with the want of keeping him near instead of pushing him away. of aching for his presence,
it was he that changed the most, after all. it took a few years, but now whenever he looked at izuku, he was overcome with the want of keeping him near instead of pushing him away. of aching for his presence,
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instead of attempting to avoid him.
after the war, izuku was the only person who could make him feel normal.
after the war, izuku was the only person who could make him feel normal.
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and after everything they’ve been through together, everything left unsaid, put aside, sacrificed for the greater good, you would think that the universe owed them a good talk. but the time for that had never come around, giving away instead to quiet moments spent together,
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growing comfortable in each other’s presence.
and the days came and went. and they’ve spent most of them together. playing video games, talking each other’s ears off, watching movies. trying to come to terms with normalcy. trying to convince themselves that normalcy existed.
and the days came and went. and they’ve spent most of them together. playing video games, talking each other’s ears off, watching movies. trying to come to terms with normalcy. trying to convince themselves that normalcy existed.
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his therapist had said something about how this was good for him. to have a constant. to have someone he could relate to, to go through the motions of this unprecedented aftermath together. and he had scoffed at her at first, but he couldn’t deny its truth now.
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izuku had become his anchor.
and now his anchor was leaving him, going on his first mission after the war, four hours away with nothing to tide him over.
and now his anchor was leaving him, going on his first mission after the war, four hours away with nothing to tide him over.
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and they still haven’t fucking talked about whatever this shit was between them.
katsuki was the only person seeing izuku off. izuku had even held his mom back, saying that her presence at the station would make it all the more difficult for him to leave.
katsuki was the only person seeing izuku off. izuku had even held his mom back, saying that her presence at the station would make it all the more difficult for him to leave.
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and he would be right. after all that had happened to izuku, aunt inko had every right to tell him to stay. to tell him to stop being a hero, forever and ever. that he had done more than enough. more than any hero should for countless lifetimes.
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but izuku wasn’t like any other hero, or son.
he had told katsuki to come see him off. all meek and shy, like it was simply a suggestion. katsuki had flushed, his face warm, and simply agreed. it was almost like izuku knew that he needed this. needed to say goodbye.
he had told katsuki to come see him off. all meek and shy, like it was simply a suggestion. katsuki had flushed, his face warm, and simply agreed. it was almost like izuku knew that he needed this. needed to say goodbye.
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and in the grand scheme of things, what was one week apart?
the train on the opposite platform chugged away. katsuki kept his hands in his pockets as he watched izuku fiddle with the handle of his luggage.
the train on the opposite platform chugged away. katsuki kept his hands in his pockets as he watched izuku fiddle with the handle of his luggage.
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“it’s an easy mission.” he said, freckled face pinched.
katsuki didn’t know who he was trying to convince. himself, or katsuki.
“you’re gonna do fine.” he said.
katsuki didn’t know who he was trying to convince. himself, or katsuki.
“you’re gonna do fine.” he said.
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an unwelcome voice in his head told him that he couldn’t be sure. could never be sure anymore, now, after everything that happened. but fuck if he went to therapy for nothing, and he told himself that he had to trust izuku.
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trust him to come back, like he had always trusted him before.
huh. maybe that therapist was on to something after all.
huh. maybe that therapist was on to something after all.
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“i bet they’re not even gonna make me do much work.” izuku laughed unconvincingly. “everyone still treats us like we’re so fragile.”
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𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦, katsuki wanted to interject. but that was neither here nor there.
“you show ‘em otherwise.” he said, instead. “they know we’re made of stronger stuff.”
“you show ‘em otherwise.” he said, instead. “they know we’re made of stronger stuff.”
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izuku looked up at him, and smiled shyly. like he still wasn’t all too convinced.
“hey,” katsuki hummed. “maybe if you do a good job, freckles, they’ll clear me for duty, too.”
“hey,” katsuki hummed. “maybe if you do a good job, freckles, they’ll clear me for duty, too.”
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there was a flash of fear in izuku’s eyes. like he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing katsuki in action anymore. he had told him as much, on sleepless nights where izuku would climb through katsuki’s window,
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shivering with tremors that had nothing to do with the cold. nightmares. about the war. how he couldn’t think about losing katsuki again. not now. not ever.
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and katsuki would be lying if he said he didn’t have those thoughts, too. but they’ve worked through that. and katsuki could see it in the way izuku’s fearstruck gaze softened into something with a little less edge.
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acceptance. the act of trying to move on.
they’ve come so far.
they’ve come so fucking far.
they’ve come so far.
they’ve come so fucking far.
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a long whistle blew, and izuku’s train finally pulled into the platform. they both jumped at the sound, hackles immediately raised, but it only took one gentle touch of izuku’s fingers against his elbow to bring them both to the ground.
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god, what the fuck was katsuki going to do without him?
the doors to the train opened. a crackling, over-friendly voice told them that all passengers had five minutes to board before the train would depart. katsuki walked him closer to the waiting entrance.
the doors to the train opened. a crackling, over-friendly voice told them that all passengers had five minutes to board before the train would depart. katsuki walked him closer to the waiting entrance.
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but izuku made no move to get in.
he shuffled a little where he stood, twiddling with his thumbs again, picking at his nail beds. katsuki reached out reflexively, prying his hands apart, holding them gently between his own.
he shuffled a little where he stood, twiddling with his thumbs again, picking at his nail beds. katsuki reached out reflexively, prying his hands apart, holding them gently between his own.
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and izuku, surprisingly, only took a deep breath before holding on tighter.
he looked up hesitantly.
he looked up hesitantly.
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“kacchan, i—“ his breath shuddered. “i know our… healing period, or whatever it is they named it, was never meant to last forever, but—“
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izuku shook his head, and katsuki gripped him like he was going to float away at any moment.
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“you’ve helped me through a lot. you got me back on my feet.” izuku smiled, soft and wanting. “i wouldn’t be cleared for duty today if it weren’t for you.”
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katsuki’s breath stuttered in his throat. izuku tugged him a little closer, and katsuki could only stumble along.
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“and… i guess. even if a part of me can’t wait to get back in on the action—“ izuku sighed. “i still wish we had more time.”
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katsuki forced himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. around them, the last passengers were boarding. a pair of giggling teens ran past them to clamber onto the train.
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izuku was still holding his gaze. wholly earnest. wholly patient. like he wasn’t expecting katsuki to have anything to say about his proclamation. like simply listening had been enough.
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and he realized, in one striking moment, that there wasn’t anyone on this planet that he would go through all this with but izuku.
that he would go through it all again, just for him.
“i…”
that he would go through it all again, just for him.
“i…”
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katsuki let out a shaky breath.
“i don’t believe in soulmates.” he started, “but i think we’re pretty damn close.”
“i don’t believe in soulmates.” he started, “but i think we’re pretty damn close.”
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and the last thing katsuki heard before the train whistled again was the soft shudder of izuku’s breath, before katsuki was leaning in and crashing their lips together.
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it was slow. and unsure. their lips moved against each other like they didn’t know what they were doing. but it was awkward and blissful all the same. like the amalgamation of all those moments spent together, of shy touches and heavy gazes and unsaid words, all put into one.
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they withdrew with an exhale.
izuku parted his lips, shell-shocked and red-cheeked. but before he could say anything, katsuki pushed him through the train doors, mussed hair and all—
izuku parted his lips, shell-shocked and red-cheeked. but before he could say anything, katsuki pushed him through the train doors, mussed hair and all—
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and it snapped close on his flushed, freckled face.
the train was still for a moment. katsuki could still see izuku through the little window on the doors.
the train was still for a moment. katsuki could still see izuku through the little window on the doors.
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his green eyes were still wide, a little glassy as his mouth was still parted in shock. when he found it in himself to press closer to the window, scarred palms laminating themselves on the glass, like he was trying to get closer to katsuki in any way he can—
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the train started to move.
and katsuki did the only thing he could think of.
he started running.
and katsuki did the only thing he could think of.
he started running.
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he ran. not once breaking the almost helpless clasp of their gazes. he felt his calves burn, not used to such abrupt physical exertion after all the months being benched,
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his heart deemed unready. but as the train chugged along, he forced himself to quicken his pace. he saw izuku press closer to the window, saw his still-red mouth form his name.
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and how he wished he could hear him
now.
now.
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katsuki didn’t stop running until the platform gave away. until the train picked up in horrific speeds and izuku’s carriage flew past him in a blur. he felt the wind sluice around his body, whipping hair into his face, fluttering the hem of his shirt.
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but he could see nothing but the ghost of izuku’s green eyes on him. could look at nothing but the train’s retreating silhouette as it pulled around the bend, off farther, into a distance he couldn’t follow.
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for a moment, the air was unbearably silent.
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but before he could even think about convincing himself to back off of the platform’s edge, his phone started to ring in his pocket. he was about to ignore it, still nerve-struck, until he realized he could recognize the stupid ringtone.
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katsuki scrambled for his phone with shaking hands.
“𝘬𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯?”
“𝘬𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯?”
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“fuck.” katsuki’s voice was trembling. the air suddenly felt too cold. “fuck. sorry. that was fucking stupid of me.”
there was a beat of silence. he could almost feel the disappointment in it.
there was a beat of silence. he could almost feel the disappointment in it.
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there was a trace of hesitance in izuku’s words. “in what way?”
fuck. 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬. there was no more time for miscommunication now.
fuck. 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬. there was no more time for miscommunication now.
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“in a way that all i can think about right now is kissing you again.” katsuki said, voice all too tight. “but you’re quite literally getting farther and farther away from me.”
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another swell of silence. but this time, it was followed by izuku’s fond, relieved laugh. katsuki could almost hear him shake his head.
“you’ll see me in a week.”
“you’ll see me in a week.”
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katsuki gripped his phone tighter. that wasn’t nearly quick enough.
“izuku.” he gritted out. “tell me something that won’t make me do something fucking stupid. like hopping on the next train to kiseko.”
“izuku.” he gritted out. “tell me something that won’t make me do something fucking stupid. like hopping on the next train to kiseko.”
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it came out it a crackled rush. “𝘪 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
katsuki felt his heart stop in his chest.
and felt it kick right back up, with increased vigor, two beats later.
katsuki felt his heart stop in his chest.
and felt it kick right back up, with increased vigor, two beats later.
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he let out a shaky breath. “that’s not fucking helping.”
izuku laughed again. a sound made of bells and all the hope katsuki had left in the world.
izuku laughed again. a sound made of bells and all the hope katsuki had left in the world.
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“i’ll make sure our next kiss is gonna be worth the week-long wait.”
“fuck.” katsuki murmured. “i’ll hold you to that.”
“fuck.” katsuki murmured. “i’ll hold you to that.”
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and izuku’s ensuing giggle was the loveliest thing he’s ever heard.
“and for what it’s worth, freckles—“ he breathed, “i love you too.”
“and for what it’s worth, freckles—“ he breathed, “i love you too.”
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FIN.
yes its another postwar ficthread. yes there will be more. im on a postwar brainrot rn to cope with canon. i hope u all enjoy!!! SMOOCHES!!
yes its another postwar ficthread. yes there will be more. im on a postwar brainrot rn to cope with canon. i hope u all enjoy!!! SMOOCHES!!
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if you want to support me, i have a kofi!!! im starting grad school soon and i need all the help i can get. LOVE YOU!!
ko-fi.com/kingfischer
ko-fi.com/kingfischer
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TO THE TOP!!
‧˚⋅𓆩 fischer 𓆪‧˚ ⋅@kingfischerr
#bkdk #bakudeku #ktdk
it was after the war, and katsuki was standing on a train platform, about to send izuku off on a one week mission out of town.
and it would’ve been fine, if there wasn’t so much unresolved tension between them. it would’ve been even more fine if —
it was after the war, and katsuki was standing on a train platform, about to send izuku off on a one week mission out of town.
and it would’ve been fine, if there wasn’t so much unresolved tension between them. it would’ve been even more fine if —