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how to (properly) make tomato soup | gojo satoru

.. it’s three pm, you’re sick, and satoru takes it upon himself to take care of you (except there’s one problem: he does not possess any shred of culinary ability whatsoever).

content: 1.7k words, no explicit gender mention but pet names like angel and baby are used, gojo being silly while geto is absolutely done w his bullshit, reader has a migraine, mainly a self indulgent comfort/crack fic

when you feel the pounding in your ears again, tears start to form in your eyes. fuck, you just can’t help it.

you’re tired. so tired of the constant headaches–the migraines that plague your days and make staying awake completely unbearable.

the familiar ache settles in, but you can tell that this time, it’s much worse than usual. the nauseating pressure that can be described as thousands of needles pricking the back of your eyes, the blinding light in the room that’s assaulting your vision, the overwhelming sounds around you that are so intense to the point where you want to do nothing but cry.

so… that’s exactly what you do.

you succumb to the pain, letting out a choked sob that arguably just makes everything worse. tears slowly make their way down your cheeks, and you put your head in your hands to simultaneously muffle your cries and shield yourself from the light around you. you want to turn off the light. your head screams at you to turn off the light, but you’re so dizzy that you can barely even move.

“y/n?”

-

the first call of your name barely registers amidst the ringing in your ears. you hear it when your name is said a second time, though, and you feel yourself coming back to your surroundings.

he’s… here.

your boyfriend, satoru. yeah, he’s here.

head still buried in your hands, you carefully move one of your fingers to peek at him. he’s crouched down in front of you, a look of concern on his face. he’s saying something…

“where does it hurt, baby?” you’re still so stunned that you can’t find the strength in you to speak. so you close your eyes and point to the area where it hurts the most, sniffling. “is it okay if i massage that area, angel?”

throughout the midst of all your pain and tears, your heart manages to swell. it swells for satoru, because he’s here–he’s present, and he cares about you.

you manage out a small nod, eyes still shut. you let out a shaky breath—a breath that you just found out you were holding, since everything hurt so much that you forgot to breathe.

satoru massages your temples gently, even making an effort to softly wipe the tears off of your face. he feels your forehead with the back of his hand and frowns at your temperature. you’re starting to burn up. “s more than a headache, baby. i’m gonna take you to the bed, okay?”

this was going to be a long afternoon.

he carries you bridal style to your bedroom and gently places you on the mattress. he turns off the lights and draws the blinds shut, providing a welcome respite from the sensory assault just moments ago. you exhale a sigh of relief, slowly opening your eyes as you wipe the dried tears off your face. he climbs into the bed with you, and you instinctively cling to him for support as you wrap your arms around his neck. it hurts. everything hurts, but satoru’s presence makes it slightly more bearable. “my poor angel. have you been overworking yourself lately?”

you bury your face in his neck, finding comfort in being close to your boyfriend. he presses a feather-light kiss on your forehead, and it makes you want to cry again. “maybe. the headaches are getting worse.”

“you should take it easier on yourself. i can’t have you cryin’ like this. not on my watch,” he remarks, making sure to keep his voice low as not to overwhelm you. “y’know, if your migraines were a person, i’d make sure to hollow purple ‘em. no hesitation.”

a soft laugh escapes you, but you regret it almost immediately as it just intensifies the pain. he lets out an apology, but you just huff.

you close your eyes again, exhaustion taking over as your eyelids grow heavier. satoru slowly releases himself from your vice grip, much to your chagrin. you try and weakly protest, but he just shushes you gently. “just go to sleep, baby. i’ll be right back, okay? when was the last time you ate?”

“hm… i remember having a little bit of breakfast when i woke up-”

“alright.” he says, making a mental note that he should make food. “i’m going to go make you something, okay? i promise i’ll be back soon.”

“...don’t burn down the kitchen, please.”

“i can’t promise that, though.”

-

“you found the soup packet? okay, finally. now you just turn on the stove…”

satoru’s a little embarrassed to say that he doesn’t know how to cook.

growing up, he’s had practically everything served to him on a silver platter, so he never had to worry about making his own food. and frankly, despite your statement earlier being a joke, he is genuinely afraid to burn the house down. so, he has his best friend suguru on a video call right now, teaching him–gojo satoru, a twenty-eight-year-old man–how to make instant soup.

“the stove?”

“yeah…? don’t tell me you don’t know-”

“-no, no. i know how to turn the stove on. of course i do.” it feels like he’s trying to convince himself more than suguru. the camera shows satoru in his kitchen, sweating profusely and glaring at the stove like it’s his biggest enemy. satoru has fought countless curses in his life, has had near-death experiences multiple times, and even faced the king of curses himself, but he thinks that everything pales in comparison to this task. he tries to turn the knob, but it won’t budge. “what the hell?-“

“satoru-” it seems like the azure-eyed man doesn’t hear him as he keeps trying to turn on the stove (suguru swears he hears him muttering the phrase “with this treasure i summon”, but that’s not even his technique). he can’t help but facepalm for the hundredth time during the duration of this call. “satoru!”

he finally gets his attention, and satoru looks at his phone and sees geto with a look that screams “are you fucking kidding me?”—or really, just a look of utter disappointment. “you’re turning the stove the wrong way.”

“...”

he turns the knob the opposite way, and the burner sets ablaze instantly.

“oh, yeah… um, i definitely knew that.”

“satoru, how do you survive whenever you’re not on a mission?”

“sometimes i think about that too, really. i think it’s because y/n is the one who always cooks.”

“you think i can’t tell already?”

-

much to both of their surprise, satoru managed to make a pot of tomato soup. it only took him approximately forty-five minutes. satoru seems so proud of himself, meanwhile suguru looks so ready to block his number and never talk to him again.

he pours some of the soup into a bowl, and places it on a tray. he also takes a few painkillers from the medicine cabinet–along with a bottle of water. he thanks suguru for helping him, and is about to hang up but stops short when his best friend freezes. “wait, hold on. did you turn off the stove?”

and after making suguru swear on his life to never speak of this event to you and airing out the house to get rid of the smell of smoke, gojo satoru, “the strongest”, thinks he’s the first ever man to somehow burn a pot full of soup.

“it’s an impressive feat, really.” he claims.

suguru just says that he should never be allowed near a kitchen ever again, and satoru actually finds it in himself to silently agree.

-

an hour has passed, and he sets the tray on the nightstand, relieved that the past hour of his life is finally over, never wanting to do that ever again. you’re sleeping soundly on the bed, and he almost doesn’t have the heart to wake you up, but he knows that you have to eat something. he turns the nightlight on and gently taps you on the shoulder as you wake up with a stir. “toru? s’that you?”

“it’s me. can you wake up for me, baby? i promise you can sleep again after, but you need to eat.” when you slowly sit up from your sleeping position, he places the tray on your lap and softly coaxes you to eat. you take a spoonful of soup into your mouth, relishing in the flavor as you’re just now realizing how hungry you are.

“this is good,” you say, letting out a smile. the nap helped you come back to your senses a little, and you can finally breathe a little easy now that the pounding in your head has eased. “didn’t know you could make this.”

“yeah, well, you better savor it.” cause i’m never making that again.

when you finish the soup, you swallow a few painkillers while taking a greedy gulp of water from the bottle on the tray.

just in case the pain comes back, you think. though you really, really wish that it wouldn’t.

satoru sets the tray on the nightstand, and you settle back into the covers, wanting to just sleep the rest of the day away. satoru follows not long after, turning off the nightlight and letting out a yawn.

you bury your face in his neck once more, kissing him on the cheek. “thank you, for um—for all of this.”

“s nothing. just promise that you won’t overwork yourself again, okay?” he says, carefully caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“i’ll try not to.”

“hey, you can’t say just that. you have to say, ‘i promise not to overwork myself again, toru. i love you, and thank you for the tomato soup.’” he says while poorly imitating your voice, and you can’t help but laugh.

“okay, okay. i promise not to overwork myself again, love. i love you so, so much.” you say while peppering kisses all over his face, and he’s so glad that the lights are off so that you’re unable to see how his cheeks are beet red. “thank you for taking care of me… and for the soup. it was good.”

and as your eyelids begin to grow heavy once more, satoru thinks that his efforts aren’t in vain after all. because the sight of you, finding comfort in his presence, stirs a little bit of determination from within him. and maybe, just maybe, he’d take it upon himself to learn how to properly cook, not just (partially burnt) instant soup, but a real meal for the next time that you’re feeling like this.

and as he watches your chest rise up and down as you sleep, he can’t help but whisper, “yeah. next time, i’ll make you more than just soup. i’ll cook something special, just for you. ‘nd i won’t burn the pot again, either.”

because for you, satoru would do anything as long as he gets to see you happy. and part of that includes learning how to (properly) make tomato soup… and more.

STRIKE A POSE | @LADYTH @CHERIIYAYA @SAELESTIA @SCRYARCHIVES

M!LIST

ABOUT !

in a world where curses collide with couture, vogue selects their new and upcoming stars to take part in their 24' summer collection.

this is a collab, co-hosted amongst four parties, @ladyth, @scryarchives, @cheriiyaya and @saelestia

FEATURING . . . ryomen. s, satoru g. higuruma. h, suguru. g, kento. n, fushiguro. t

rules

all characters written with smut, must be 18 +, the list of characters is continued on the masterlist page. other writers can join in the collab, and write for whoever they choose. there is no set deadline, and is all meant in good fun. to join, send an ask to one of the four collaborators ( @scryarchives, @ladyth, @cheriiyaya, @saelestia )

dark content is allowed, NO non con, dub con, and limits might change as this post continues. be respectful to all writers, and to be added to the taglist, send an ask. all genders, troupes, and au's allowed, if you're unsure, ask us !

if missed, tba later !

@scryarchives @saelestia @ladyth @cheriiyaya

Hello (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠) Can I request Itadori, Geto, and Gojo getting "cuteness aggression" over their girlfriends? Like they want to bite her cheeks, pet her hair, suffocate her with cuddles, shower her with kisses, etc.! Thank you so so much, have a wonderful day/night! (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

JJK MEN + CUTENESS AGGRESSION ˚✿˖

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji x fem!reader

warnings. none, just them being lovesick for you tbh :>

note. hi anon, i'm so sorry for the super late update for your request :( i hope you like it! <33 i'm gonna be continuing the 1k milestone in a bit, just a few more requests 😸

GOJO SATORU. gojo has this habit of nipping on your flesh, then sucking on them gently every time he looks at you — once, he made a bruise (a hickey) on your cheek. the male will not hide the fact that he's so in love with you, he just wants to put you in his pocket and takes care of you.

"baby, you're so cute, i can't help it," he gushes out, fondling your cheeks with his big hands before peppering your face with wet kisses.

with every kiss he plants, he sounds out a loud, "mwah!"

"'toru, stop that," you always try to tell him despite the big smile on your face — along with the soft giggle that escaped your throat every once in a while.

gojo just couldn't help it. something in him, just tells him that he should touch you. the giddy feeling he gets when he sees you just sitting, doing nothing. he always makes his way to you in a flash, just to either hug you tightly, squish your cheeks, even take a nip or two on your flesh.

"'toru, give me one reason why you're chomping my shoulder right now?" the male unhinged his teeth from your clothed shoulder and blinked innocently.

"'cause you're cute. give me a kiss," he then puckered out his lips slightly, swooping down to steal a kiss from your lips, "mmm, more," he spoke to himself — planting his lips to yours multiple more times.

gojo just can't help it, every time he comes over to visit you, or to pick you up for a date. he doesn't care no matter what make up or skin care you have latched on your face, he will nip on your flesh any time he gets to do it (every time).

GETO SUGURU. different than gojo, i feel like he will be more discreet about it in public. his fingers would gently squeeze your plump thighs, or your hips. but when you're both all alone — he will squeeze your cheeks, give you head pats, and just gush over his girlfriend.

"sugu, no more, my hair's a mess," you shooed his hand away from your head before patting down on the disheveled strands.

"'ts okay, you still look pretty," he gently grabbed your hand and put it down, and there his hand went. on your head, patting your hair here and there.

geto has this small habit of just — biting down on your finger when he holds your hand, your index, your thumb, your pinky. he just does it, out of the blue, and when you ask what he's doing, he just spews out about how cute and small your fingers are compared to his.

"sugu, no bite."

"baby, your finger is so small and cute," he chuckled, biting down gently onto your pinky.

"'ts not. it's normal — your fingers are too big," you reply back, pulling your finger out from being sandwiched by his teeth.

no matter how many times you tell him to stop, he does it again and again. and you just let him do whatever he wants.

ITADORI YUUJI. like gojo, he doesn't really care where he is or who's watching — even when he's talking with his friends or even gojo himself. yuuji's hand will find a way to pinch your cheeks, his eyes not even sparring at you. but his hands just maneuvers over to your skin.

like a stress ball. except, yuuji does it gently.

when he sees you, he becomes this extremely happy boy. hugging you tightly and just peppering kisses all over your face, his hands cupping both sides of your cheeks as he does that.

"my pretty girl," he kisses you on the tip of your nose, moving on to your cheeks and then your forehead, before eventually to your lips.

yuuji gets so giddy when he sees you wearing either lip gloss or lip stick, he turns into this fanboy and can't help but to give you a kiss or two on the lips — smearing his own with shades of red, pink, or glossy oil.

"is this a new shade, baby?" he asks, pointing at his lips — which had tints of dark pink.

you nodded, "it looks good on you."

"it looks better on you," he planted another kiss on your lips, "pretty," he glees out, biting your chin gently.

when he sees you in a new make up or outfit, he just gets so giddy at how adorable you look. he just has to praise you, hug you, kiss you, anything really as long as it's you.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

I had the great pleasure of designing/animating a bunch of 3D stuff for the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake! It was a joy to work with this low-poly adventure game style. Hope you all enjoyed this great show!!

Do you have any thoughts on "American Born Chinese"

Okay so I haven't seen the recent film but I have read the comic by Gene Luen Yang and quite enjoyed it! While I know AAPI kids are the main target and focus of this work, I think it did a good job of both delving into childhood/young adult triumphs and insecurities from the Asian American perspective, as well as in forcing everyone to confront the really ugly stereotypes that have long influenced how "real" (i.e. white) Americans think about and act towards AAPI communities & what affects these stereotypes have had on how members of said communities think about themselves. I thought it presented a pretty interesting take on the Monkey King as well: here Sun Wukong's journey isn't about transforming himself into a god, but about accepting what he is (a monkey) and finding strength and even enlightenment in that. In this way the Monkey King becomes a figure for the protagonist Jin Wang--who goes to some pretty extreme lengths to try and "fit in" with his white peers--to also understand that he's hurting himself and his friends by trying to "ascend" into something he's not, and that he can find true happiness by being authentically himself, no matter how much others may look down on him. It's also kind of funny in a deliberately uncomfortable way too because the way Sun Wukong gets Jin Wang to do this is by attacking him in the form of "Chin-Kee"--basically a walking racist stereotype--until Jin Wang fights back and punches his head off. It's only then that the Monkey King reveals his true form which had been hiding behind the stereotype.

Also you have to love the page of Sun Wukong's parting words to Jin Wang:

Black sexuality representation we want to see

@sapphosigns asked:

Greetings =) I was wondering if any Black mods and followers would be up to sharing your thoughts/feelings on portrayals of Black characters sexuality- given that a lot of portrayals hypersexualise or fetishize. What would you want to see/feel is more balanced given the way black people are treated in media at large? (thank you for doing what you do with this blog)

Here is my opinion on things that should be more represented in relationships involving Black characters, concerning their sexuality:

More queer relationships.

Black gay men or women

Bisexual characters

Aromantic or asexual characters too

Even though we tend to be more closeted depending on how theses identities are viewed in our communities (generally for religious motives), Black people aren’t “more straight” than White people for example.

Healthy and light-hearted relationships

Relationship not rooted in trauma or violence.

Going with that, more tenderness and romanticism too, with the funny-awkward moments that go with it.

Weird love declarations, embarrassing but lovingly awkward sexual situations.

Healthy family dynamics

I also want to add that it extends to family dynamics.

Black characters having a present partner for their children or having both their parents together (to be careful with the Absent Black Father trope).

More relationships involving two Black characters

More relationships involving two Black characters!! Lots of relationships involving a Black character involve a White lover. While this is okay, Black love could be a bit more depicted outside the romance genre (I’m thinking fantasy and science-fiction, or Young Adult).

More interracial relationships not involving a white partner.

These relationships can be harder to find in literature, due to the prevalence of the White lover.

There’s an amazing french graphic novel titled Amours croisées by Laura Nsafou and Camélia Blandeau which depicts Yari, a Black girl living in Paris, falling in love with Hide, who has East-Asian origins and mostly… is polyamourous. The graphic novel is about discovering different ways to love, including inside your own relationship. The drawing style and the plot are really soft. That’s an example of what can be done to depict our relationships in a caring way.

-Mod Lydie

Black followers, please add the BIPOC queer representation you want to see!

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 - 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

seeing that they aren't that different, a middle ground started to form.

masterlist | previous , next !

–pairings: jaime reyes x oc

– warning: fluff, canon divergent, blue beetle movie spoilers

– author’s note: kay so idk if i actually posted the last chapter as a photo post and it'd be so embarrassing if i did, but here's this mess of a chapter :') . fun fact, i also made a bunch of little doodles of drea hehe!! disclaimer: i don't speak Spanish, Nahuatl or Tamil so please do correct me if i am wrong! read more under the cut! :)

“What the heck, Jaime?!” 

Milagro’s voice rang through his head, guilt slowly seeping into his stomach, his conscience reminding him that this was definitely not how he should’ve treated guests, or friends of his sister, in this case.

But she was no ordinary guest.

“Drea?” Jaime knocked as soon as he was out of his family’s view.

Clutter was all he heard from within the locked room, a frown appearing on his face as the water from the tap turned off instantly. In the next minute, Drea’s voice responded, muffled through the door.

“Yeah, uh, give me a minute.”

And so he waited, his back resting against the hallway until the click of the lock pulled him out of the trance, the male standing up straighter unconsciously.

“Sorry, you can use it now,” His guest muttered, pulling the bathroom door shut behind her.

His eyes widened at the faint red patch on Drea’s face and the paint was off, but a shade of pink remained. Simply, he assumed that she must’ve scrubbed a little too hard to remove the pigment from her tan skin. 

He felt strange with suddenly becoming so observant, but the shakiness in her voice was enough to give away how she was feeling. Her gaze was downcast, and her breathing slowed, her nails picking at the skin of her fingertips.

Before anything else was said, she began to walk away, and Jaime’s arm darted to her forearm, Drea’s eyes snapping up to meet his in fear and confusion. The remorse that rose in his stomach lurched into his throat, realising that he never wanted to be the cause of anyone’s fear… even for her.

“No, I just… I want to talk.”

He saw the hesitance in her eyes, and his hand dropped from her forearm instantly.

“Jaime, I’m not really in the mood–”

“I know that my behaviour towards you tonight has been extremely uncalled for, but I would really, really appreciate it if we could talk,” He interrupted, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Then I’m out of your hair when we’re done.”

Contemplating, she pursed her lips, teeth biting her cheeks in thought. After what felt like forever, she sighed in exhaustion, nodding reluctantly. 

“Okay, fine. But I prefer if we discuss it in private, I wouldn’t want to make your family uncomfortable with… whatever it is you want to talk about,” She huffed, her hand running through her ebony waves.

“If I get any sense that this conversation isn’t pleasant, and it’s just one more way for you to prove that I’m not welcome, I’m walking out.”

Quickly, Jaime nodded, hand darting to the back of his neck, scratching the nape nervously. 

“Yep… It’s fair enough,” He muttered before flicking his head in an unspecific direction. “Come on, I got a place for us to talk.”

For the voice to cause him all of this trouble, Khaji-Da was awfully silent throughout the entire interaction, watching Jaime clean up the mess the voice in his head caused with all the little doubts it stirred up.

Despite it all, Jaime was secretly thankful that he didn’t have to deal with the mess he almost caused to his sister’s friendship while silencing the alien’s voice simultaneously, and if anything, now would be the worst time for Khaji to step in.

He glanced back, seeing his neighbour stare at the darkened horizon in awe, her gaze fixated on the neon lights that came from the heart of the city. The corners of her mouth were upturned in the slightest that Jaime almost had to squint to spot it.

“The view you have here, it’s… wow.”

“Yeah, it’s something alright.”

A smile of his own grew, recalling all the times he would run up here when life got a little too tough. His mind darted to his late father, his throat closing up at the fondest of memories he shared, from the biggest of hugs, that were filled with pride and love, to his final heart-to-heart in the garden.

Quickly, Jaime cleared his throat, cutting everything off before it could spill over, like a glass filled to the brim with emotion. He turned to face Drea, the girl humming before sitting herself by his side.

“Uh… What’s up?” He asked a nervous smile on his face only to be replied with an expression that screamed ‘are-you-serious’ plastered across the woman’s face.

“Okay, that was actually pretty obvious,” Jaime sighed, Drea, crossing her legs as she shrugged.

“Just get to the point, Jaime.”

“Right.”

Taking in a deep breath, Jaime quickly exhaled, hands clasped as the woman across him rested her chin in her hand, elbow jutting into her thigh.

“You’re not human, are you?”

Instantly, she perked up, head leaving her hands and the panic in her eyes briefly returned before vanishing. A smile filled with false disbelief spread across her face, eyes suddenly unable to stay in contact with his.

“What? That’s insane, who told you that?”

“I know you’re lying,” Jaime let out softly. “Drea, I studied pre-law. I know when people are lying.”

His brows furrowed deeper, annoyance running through him as the alien in his head started to appear, suggesting various methods of torture to get a confession out of his neighbour. A grumble of annoyance escaped him as the said woman started up her ramble once more.

“And what does that have to do with anything? I mean that’s the most random thing I’ve ever heard. Me? Not being human? That’s… that’s wild–”

“Drea, I know you’re not human, and that’s because you saved me today!” Jaime snapped, and the frustration that bubbled within him finally exploded.

Silence replaced the once-tense atmosphere, and Drea’s eyes slowly morphed from confusion to a dawning of realisation. As the fact that he had practically revealed himself slowly began to hit, Jaime’s eyes widened in panic, waving his hands before him.

“I-I mean, of course, you would’ve saved me, I was in the city today,” A nervous smile grew on his lips.

“No way. By the time I got there, the streets were practically clear and a wreck, and the only person I saved was–”

“Blue Beetle,” Jaime sighed, a sly smile growing on his own. “But on the upside, I got a confession out of you.”

“Excuse me? You just revealed yourself to be Blue Beetle in front of me too!” 

Drea raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as Jaime froze up, hands rushing to slap the woman’s mouth shut. A hiss escaped him, eyes filled with worry. He glanced around left and right, glad to find that there was no one around.

“Don’t say it so loud– I admit it but just… quiet about it. Please?”

His eyes begged for mercy, hand still clasped over her mouth. Slowly she sighed, her own appendages wrapping around Jaime’s wrists. She pulled his hands away, passing a reassuring glance to the man.

“Jaime, it’s chill. I promise to not get you in trouble, but you gotta promise to do the same for me.”

Instantly, Drea lifted her finger up, her pinky hooking around Jaime’s. Initially frowning, Jaime soon interlocked pinkies and then nodded in agreement.

He glanced down at their joining point, the thumb of his hand brushing against the tiles of his roof. The stone tiles suddenly felt so cold against the warmth of her hands, and his hoodie just felt that little bit weaker against the cold of the night.

“A little cliché, but hey, whatever works for you,”

“Real classy, Jaime,” She huffed, pulling her hand away from his.

Instantly, he missed the warmth, the cold feeling much more severe than it did before they touched.

“You’re really warm,” He blurted, face flushing as soon as his mind processed what he’d said. “I mean, personality-wise. Definitely.”

“Spectacular rescue, Jaime,” He hissed in his mind, Khaji-Da’s silence feeling too loud for him to bear.

“Oh… okay, thanks, I guess,” She chuckled, her smile dropping briefly. “But I am warmer because one of my moms is a fire alien. You’re free to ask, just don’t blurt it out. Or I will hunt you down.”

He let out a laugh, a smile breaking out on his face, and it felt like his humour was contagious. Her smile slowly returned, joining him in their little duet of joy.

And there they sat for the next minute, wind ruffling their dark locks as they came to a mutual understanding, calm falling over their once-chaotic misunderstanding.

gif by @rob-pattinson

taglist: @mooncleaver @hoshi4k @mymanjaimereyes @asvterias @tinkerbelle05

< comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

here, waiting for updates on the 999 fanfics I follow without thinking that people have to socialize, study, work, eat, go to the bathroom and sleep.

unfortunately, ive yet again joined another fandom, so metal family fans, hmu /lh

(unfortunately, these two are my newest kins)

((also, i dont feel like making an oc for this fandom, even if i do, itd mostly be platonic purely cause i dont id feel any romantic interactions these characters lol))

[12:18]

You are a steadily flickering candle in Bakugou’s dim world. He’s not gloomy or upset or tortured– no no, he quite likes the dark.

His mom has always competed with the sun. Bakugou rose first in his childhood home because beating the sun meant a few hours of peace. He wakes up slowly and heavily like he’s shifting under soil while blankets slip into the creased shapes of his body. In those first few minutes of dark the whole world is buried underground.

Now that he lives with his idiot classmates he sleeps early. Bakugou likes to pull the curtains closed as the sun sets and melt deeply into a too-soft pillow before his eyes can adjust to the dark. Making breakfast alone at dawn, training as loud as he wants to be in the gym across campus lit only by the fires of his quirk. Even at high noon he likes to shower with the lights off, for in these rare moments of dark Bakugou can finally think slowly without competition to worry about. If he lived a quieter life he might even get bored, but blessedly his friends can't spare him a sneeze in peace.

Walking through the halls is like trying to hide from fireworks. Running into Deku is as safe as watching a solar eclipse. He’s blinding and always has been; Bakugou startles every time the fucking kid flashbangs with a ‘good morning!’ or a ‘Kacchan!’ Sparkplug might as well be an electrical fire and Mina makes a blaring siren look like an insult to emergency vehicles. Kirishima is at least tolerable. He shines pink like a happy lighthouse but you still can’t look at him directly for too long.

You though. Bakugou didn’t even notice at first the way you could only be seen in periphery. In the bustle of class and patrol you stayed soft and easy to see. As noisy as the rest but not blinding. Like crouching on the beach and watching a sparkler come to life in your hand. Like polished bells.

If you woke up early enough you might catch him in the kitchen and twinkle sleepily past like a shooting star through the common room. ‘Mornin’ you’d grumble through a yawn and candlelight would peek out between your fingers when you covered your mouth.

Titling his head slightly to glance at you in class. A halo of gold outlined your body anytime he let himself linger on you like this. Sometimes he saw nothing but you illuminating the vast expanse of peaceful dark. Easier to look at but still warmer than the sun. Maybe the sun couldn’t compete. Oh jesus the sun would probably love you-

“Oi Dynamight,” you murmur.

Bakugou jumps. His cheek falls out of his hand and his elbow slips off the desk. You weren’t the radiant moon basking above rising tide– you were straddling the back of your chair lazily to chat with Uraraka behind you.

Tch, he spits and turns his head quickly towards the window instead.

Your cheek squishes onto your friend’s desk, “you look red, feeling okay?”

“Don’t get us all sick before midterms dude,” Uraraka adds.

Bakugou doesn’t get sick, your sleepy moonglow smile just makes him ache. Not like a sunburn. It’s like being too comfortable in bed for too long. Like a good stretch.

happy birthday katsuki (*ᴗ͈ ˬᴗ͈ )