A little touch goes a long way
From the person you love
One word could save your life-
And it did.
A smile brought me back distant
Childhood dreams
Running through the lilies
A type of laughter that brings you to your knees.
I could wake up to you everyday
That’s love.
That , and whatever else
The poets say.
2 notes
·
View notes
You try not to rustle the sheets too loudly when you sit up in bed. You rub at your eyes, frowning, as you tap at your phone screen to read the time. 3:26am, and you haven’t gotten the sleep you know you both need and deserve. you sigh quietly, sitting up against the headboard as you watch the dimmed colors pass on the tv.
“What’re you doing up?” A voice slurs to you from your left. You jump a little at the sudden gruff noise, before you deflate. You glance over to Bakugou, where he lays on his side, one crimson colored eye blinking up at you, before he yawns loud and wide, akin to a lion with his golden mane. You can’t help but rub gently at his cheek and jaw and neck, patting him once his eye flutters close at the warmth of your hands.
“Can’t sleep. You go back to bed, though.” You whisper to him, leaning down to peck at the corner of his mouth. You laugh under your breath when he frowns, hard and over dramatic. Silence passes on for a few minutes, with Bakugou’s frown slowly disappearing into a thin line, seemingly falling back asleep as your fingers continue to rub at his skin. Your quiet moment is interrupted though, when your stomach makes a whale-dying-classroom-interrupting-bomb-dropping noise. You don’t say anything, but blink down at Bakugou when he cracks his eye open again.
“You hungry?” He slurs once more, stretching a little in place as you run a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, but I don’t feel like getting up to fix anything, and we haven’t gone to the store yet to get some snacks, so,” you shrug to yourself, convincing yourself you’d fall asleep before the hunger pangs set in. It’s your turn to frown though, when Bakugou suddenly groans before rolling over and standing from the bed.
“Where are you going?" You ask him, afraid you and your loud stomach disturbed his rest too much. You watch how the muscle in his back ripple when he stretches again where he stands, guilty eyes tracking up his body when he looks at you from over his shoulder.
“To fix your hungry ass a midnight snack.” He tells you, finality lacing his voice as he starts stalking off to the kitchen in just his boxers before you can even answer.
“But it’s past midnight!” You call to him, scrambling up to put your slippers on as you try to keep up with his pace.
Bakugou doesn’t answer you by the time you make it to the kitchen, already boiling water, and dumping rice into the cooker. He’s pulling out different ingredients and knives and the cutting board, and it feels like too much to be so late, but you know if you try to speak up, he’ll only shoo you to bed until he’s finished. The only acknowledgment he gives you is when he turns, placing his hands on your underwear-clad hips and lifts you to sit on the counter behind him, pecking your lips once, twice, before he goes back over to the stove.
The next couple minutes go by gently, with quiet conversations about his most recent capture, about the paperwork you had to fill out, about Denki being an idiot, about Denki actually being a sweetheart, about eating all this damn food he’s cooking, about promising to clean your entire plate. The kitchens lights are low and dimmed, and it casts a soft glow on Bakugou’s high cheekbones and his pretty lashes and the sweet curve of his mouth when he grins at you.
And when the food finishes, you share a bowl, a respective fork for the each of you. Bakugou stands between your legs, chewing quietly and scolds for you to slow down when you eat too fast. He wipes away the rice from your mouth and you lick away the sauce from his chin. He grabs a water bottle from the fridge and lets you have the first sip, offers you the rest when you watch some of it dribble down his chin.
It’s a serene moment shared between the two of you, and when you’re both finished, he’s carrying you back to bed. Tells you that you better take your full ass to bed this time, and he doesn’t fall asleep until he hears your light snores first. Then, he can rest.
2K notes
·
View notes
What if Cody
What if Cody thinks that loving Obi-Wan was the chip’s doing?
That it was never him, even though now, after, now that he is Cody again, he still feels it tugging at his bones and clenching around his heart and blurring his vision
He reasons, as his boots sink into sand and the suns singe his cheeks and the shape on the horizon refuses to resolve itself into a house no matter how hard he squints, that if he still feels that love, now, after, then the urge to destroy it may have followed him here too
Tugging at his bones, blurring his vision
One foot goes in front of the other
There’s only one way to find out
310 notes
·
View notes
cw: pregnancy, kids (you guys have a daughter together), fwb’s, angst with a bit of a hopeful ending, refers to you as ‘girl’ once
Friends with benefits Bakugou who never really got over his ego to fully commit to you. You’re a little ashamed to admit it, but when you fell pregnant, you thought that things would change. That the whole “no feelings” aspect would’ve been dropped, that he would’ve embraced you fully.
But he just…didn’t? If anything, he distanced himself away from you, became so formal like you were another coworker he would address. It was heartbreaking, going through your first pregnancy feeling so, so alone, but having to grin and bear it the whole way through.
He supported you though in every way that he could. He never missed an appointment, would trek to your house during late nights whenever you craved something. He even moved you in to his own apartment during your last trimester, but a couple months after your baby was born, you went back home. You never felt unwelcome, but you couldn’t pretend to be a happy family when he slept in the guest room every night.
So now, you coparent quite easily. At least, it seems easy to Bakugou, but really, it’s all a facade.
In all honesty? He thinks he’s a fuck up. An idiot. The stupidest, shittiest person who’s ever existed.
He thought what he was doing was enough, that the words he didn’t say carried across oceans, formulated into titles that he never verbalized. So when you told him you would be happy to coparent, his world felt upended suddenly, as he holds his tiny little baby girl in his arms.
Coparent? How could a couple coparent? Where did he go wrong? (He only slept in the guest room to give you and baby space, only moved you in late because you lived so far away and you were getting so big. He never said I love you because he was too embarrassed to say it out loud. He didn’t know he had to say it out loud to solidify it. He thought you just knew.)
So it’s why his heart breaks when he catches a glimpse of curly blond hair and red eyes in the grocery store. He tries to duck behind an aisle, but his baby would recognize him anywhere. (It’s true; you’ve sent many videos of her recognizing him on billboards and tv commercials and magazines.)
“Bakugou?” You call, ducking around the corner to catch a glimpse of him. He tries to act nonchalant like he’s looking at cans of soup, tries not to cringe at your formal name. He turns when you come into view, eyes drinking in your attire. His heart breaks a little when he recognizes the shirt you took in your second trimester, still has the pic you sent him of you grinning as you show off what you stole.
“Hey.” Bakugou greets gruffly, mouth pulled tight, but it cracks into a grin when his daughter starts squealing. She’s in the front part of the shopping cart, twisting her little chunky body to get out and get to him. She damn near screams when he sets his basket down to pick her up, rubbing his nose to hers.
“How ya doing, squirt?” He asks quietly, pecking at her chubby cheeks as she instantly starts babbling to him. He holds her close to his chest, eyes full of pure love for his baby girl, and it makes your heart squeeze so tight you think it might burst.
“This isn’t your neck of the woods.” You mutter, head tilting to the side as you take in your daughters excited face to see her father. Bakugou’s eyes snap to your own, letting his daughter play with his fingers in the meanwhile. He looks embarrassed, cheeks a dusty pink as he grumbles and looks away.
“I was just picking up some stuff to drop off for her. Was gonna text you and see if you were home,” he replies, and something tells you that it’s a lie. But you don’t pester him about it, just nod a few times, taking in the sight.
He looks so good like that, in his compression shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from your daughters incessant pulling. He’s grinning at her, but looks so bashful when he turns to you, like he’s thinking about things he knows he shouldn’t, like he has a boatload to say but can’t cough up.
And if you were a mind reader, you’d be so fucking right. He can’t help but reminisce on before you got pregnant, the nights spent with you. The day you told him you were having a girl, the tears you cried when you delivered her. He thinks, filled with so much guilt the entire time, that he wants another one. With you.
“‘S it okay if I walk my favorite girls home?” He asks you gruffly, nibbling on your daughters cheeks to hear her giggle again, uncaring of the drool she leaves on his hand. You feel your eyes widen at his term for you, face suddenly flushing. Favorite? You, his favorite?
Something tells you that you shouldn’t fall down the rabbit hole that is Bakugou Katsuki and his suppressed emotions and shitty ego. But there’s another something that tells you to trust it this time, to let things happen organically and without expectation. So you do.
“I’m sure she would love to show her daddy the new toy her grandma just brought her.” You tell him, giggling when he rolls his eyes at the mention of his mother. But he walks with you the entire time you finish up your grocery order, holding your daughter the whole time and pays for your groceries despite repeatedly telling him that he doesn’t have to.
He pushes her in the stroller stored underneath the shopping cart on the way home, making small conversation. And when you’re halfway home, does he reach for your hand. Only to cross the cross walk though, he tells himself, only for your protection. But he doesn’t let go until you’re in your own place, and even then, he’s close by the entire time. He helps you put away groceries, remembers where everything is like he lives here.
And for some reason, the familiarity makes your heart ache a little more than you would like it to.
518 notes
·
View notes