#'&. ᴇxᴘʟᴏsɪᴠᴇ ( starters ! )
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IT’S ABOUT YOUR MARK, FUCKWIPE !!! | @nerdboyhero
Training had been harsher than usual, but the soreness of his muscles meant progress, and that was nothing to complain about. Katsuki had shuffled away from his class right afterwards to his room, dead set on getting a shower in before anybody else. After tossing a towel over his shoulder and stuffing his shampoo and soap haphazardly into a bucket, he headed over--
--only to discover that Deku had beat him to it.
His mood plummeted at the sight of the nerd. Deku and his over-prepared ass probably had his shower stuff prepared before training even happened. There was something about just seeing Deku that set him off--something in how he carried himself so differently from when they were little. Where once he trained his sights on Katsuki’s back, he now looked at something beyond. Where once his eyes were green with admiration for Katsuki, it was now bright with something unidentifiable--something that made Katsuki want to slug Deku in the face.
And the Deku standing before him? The one that just beat him to the showers? This Deku was now staring intently at something that wasn’t Katsuki.
Ticked, he deliberately pushed the other aside with his shoulder, “Out of the fucking way, Deku.”
Seeing Deku stumble lightened his mood a bit, but then he caught sight of a flash of color under Deku’s towel that froze him in place. There was something on his arm on a patch of skin usually obscured by the short sleeves of bland T-shirts. Katsuki’s mood went to shit faster than he could suck in a breath.
“The fuck is that?” Katsuki remarked, jutting a rude finger towards the obscured mark. He knew, of course, that Deku was too tame to get a tatoo. It had to be a soulmate mark. A question burned on his mind, fueling him to take a menacing step forward and reach unthinkingly towards Deku. Who? Who the fuck could Deku have fallen in love with? The girl with the round face? The half-hot, half-ice asshat? He needed to know.
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@herocut
Impatience radiated from his posture, out from the slouch of his back and the tilt of his eyebrows. He thought Kirishima had invited him for a study session, so Katsuki had readied himself for another frustrating evening of having to repeat and re-beat the same concept a dozen times until it got through Kirishima’s tough skin and into his brain.
But it became obvious after they left the train that this--whatever the fuck this is--was not studying. Sure, Kirishima might have enough enthusiasm to make up for Katsuki’s lack thereof, but that did little for his confusion.
“Oi, Kirishima. Where the fuck are we goin’?”
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