As much as you love Bakugou, he can sometimes do or say little things that upset you more than he would think. Most of the times it’s not even meant to be directed to you, other times he’s upset within other factors, and you just so happen to be in the crossfire.
He says something to you before you guys are headed out to go to Denki’s pool party. It was snippy and a little rude, and it’s enough to make you huff and become silent for the remaining time in the house. He tries to ask you little questions on the car ride over to Denki’s, but you either one-word him, or just make a noise in acknowledgment. You let him hold your bare thigh, surprisingly, but he knows it’s only because you don’t feel like speaking to him to ask him to remove it.
But when you get there, you practically haul ass it to the pool, stopped abruptly by a big hand encircling your wrist. Bakugou pulls you back to where he sits on one of the beach chairs, looks at you from over his black tinted glasses with a frown,
“Oi, did you put on any sunscreen before we left?” He asks, eyes you up and down, tries not to ogle at the bathing suit you didn’t let him admire much before putting your bathing suit slip on in the house. You frown at him and answer quickly,
“Yea, ‘course I did.” But he can tell that you’re either lying or don’t remember by the way your brows furrowed and your eyes slightly wandered off in thought. He only huffs and tugs you a little harder until you’re forced to sit in front of him, legs splayed on either side of the chair as you place your hands down in between your bodies.
“No ya didn’t.” Bakugou grunts, before digging into your packed beach bag and pulls out the sunscreen. You don’t fight him on this either, just stick your arms out for him, move your hair when he lathers up your neck. He grabs your ankles in his hands and slathers your legs in the sunscreen, and as you watch him and his intense focus, you can’t help but love how gentle he is with you. How rough and powerful palms glide across your legs, how thick fingers knead the sunscreen into your thighs and the sole of your foot, even if you don’t need it there.
He tells you to turn around, and you do. You can hear him squirting more into his hands, looking around bashfully at how your friends all smile at the two of you, lovingly jealous at how he dotes over you. You have to bite back a smile when he finishes, and places a soft kiss on both of your shoulder blades, your nape, behind your ear.
When you stand, you go to tell him thank you, but he pulls you down once more. Warm palms encase your cheeks, and he’s slathering your face down in sunscreen next. He twists your cheeks this way and that, just to hear you grumble, which makes him chuckle under his breath. He brushes his thumbs across your brows, smooths his fingertips across your forehead, pats at your chin and the creases of your nose, before he calls that he’s finished.
He pecks at your lips once, twice, and you allow him, even kissing him back for one or two of the kisses. He pushes his glasses up into his hair, his shiny forehead that’s tinted white from the sunscreen damn near blinding you.
“Sorry I was being a dickhead to you. You didn’t deserve it.” Bakugou grumbles, blinks at you with those stupidly pretty eyes that show how sincere he is. You stare down at him for a while before you hum, leaning forward to capture his lips in one last kiss.
“Be mean to me again and I’ll bite your arm off.” You whisper against him with a smile, listening to his surprised laughter bubbling from out of him. He knocks his forehead against your own, grinning, and promises that he’ll bite off the other arm too, just to save you the trouble.
1K notes
·
View notes
hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?
hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].
but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.
it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.
and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.
the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.
an emptiness, like you said.
but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.
you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.
he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.
but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.
how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.
the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.
think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.
i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.
but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one.
wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.
as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛
98 notes
·
View notes
i think about non-silly nsh a lot
after all, losing two of their close friends, and then having to be there for a third who accidentally started the whole ordeal - it must have gotten to be too much for them
by the time of, say, rivulet... how much have they lost? he's isolated, knowing someone he loved is falling apart with no hope of recovery or even finding rest, all while his own, and everyone else's, can is decaying with every passing cycle.
how much must that sadness, that compassion, that desperation weigh on them?
he's already alone, but to let his friend die alone too... never. he can't do that. he can't lose another, especially in that way.
imagining him, desperate and alone, dedicating everything to saving pebbles
there's no one to be worried about them. no one to comfort him, to be there for him, the way he was there for suns all those cycles back
it's just him, his work, and the emotions he wants to ignore.
...they can't ignore them anymore.
91 notes
·
View notes