𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Heyyyy i was wondering if you could write megumi x little sister fic? Ofc platonic tho! Like toji prob had a one night stand with another soceror and she was born and shes like 3 years younger than him....maybe like she injured herself training cuz she trains too hard and he helps and comforts her?!?!? Hope you see this...thanks!!

Hey there!! love the idea and i hope you like it!! I was in a rush but here you go!!

!TW! This fanfic includes injuries and emotional distress reader at your own will

Sibling Strenght

ᴀ ᴍᴇɢᴜᴍɪ ғᴜsʜɪɢɪʀᴏ x ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ sᴛᴏʀʏ

The day was slowly giving way to dusk, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The Jujutsu High training grounds were empty, save for the lone figure of a girl pushing herself to her limits.

You, the younger sister of Megumi Fushigiro, were born from a fleeting encounter between Toji and another sorcerer. Despite being only three years younger than Megumi, you always felt a constant pressure to catch up, to prove that you were just as capable as your older brother.

This determination led you to train alone, ignoring the protests of your body and the fatigue that was slowly creeping in. It was during one such training session that you twisted your leg. The pain was immediate, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips as you crumbled to the ground.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you clutched your injured leg. The training grounds, once filled with determination and resolve, now felt cold and lonely. You were alone, or so you thought.

"Megumi..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper against the evening breeze.

Megumi, who had been watching from a distance, rushed over. His face was as impassive as ever, but his eyes were filled with concern. He had always been like this, his emotions hidden behind a stoic facade, only revealing his true feelings in the rare moments when he let his guard down.

"You're such an idiot," he scolded gently, his tone devoid of any real anger. He knelt beside you, his hands carefully assessing the damage to your leg. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to his usually reserved demeanor.

"You're not alone, you know," he said, his voice soft and soothing. He held your gaze, his usually cold eyes warm with concern. "You don't have to push yourself this hard. Not when you have people who care about you."

His words were like a balm, easing the pain and calming your racing heart. You weren't alone. You had him, and he had you. And as long as you had each other, you could face anything together.

"You don't have to be as strong as everyone else. You just have to be strong in your own way," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "And remember, I'm always here for you. No matter what."

His words hung in the air, a promise and a reassurance that you weren't alone in this journey. You had Megumi, and that was more than enough.

With a soft sigh, he gently lifted you into his arms. Despite the situation, you couldn't help but feel safe and protected. His arms were strong and warm, wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. As he carried you off, you couldn't help but feel grateful. You had the best brother in the world, and you wouldn't trade him for anything.

i have rewatched atwow in the cinema and yall better prepare for the neteyam x näytle angst post

𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢

yuuji's not a hair stylist, and tsubame's mistake was letting him try anyway.

masterlist

✭ pairings: itadori yuuji x oc ✭ warning: mentions of abuse, canon divergent, pre-shibuya arc ✭ author’s note: i actually had a lot of fun writing this, it's a nice break of fluff from the angst HEH– ✭ word count: 2.7k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

There’s nothing better than a good night’s sleep, everyone can attest to that. Tsubame couldn’t agree more if it weren’t for the nightmares that haunted her mind, ones of anger, ones of regret, but most recently, ones of her father, a man she trusted, one who should’ve cared for her since her mother’s passing.

His horrid sneer permeated her memory as he grabbed her hair pulling her around like a ragdoll, this one moment staining her memories of home. She would often wake up in tears after, sometimes not even realising that she was crying until she reached her hand up to find the trails of tears leaking down her face.

This led to her constant urge to cut off her hair, no matter how nicely she styled it. Just the feeling of her hands running through it made her shiver in discomfort. Up to this point, she held in her discomfort, tying it up in a simple ponytail to ignore the way she had to look over her shoulder constantly.

However, during a particular training session where her hair was lightly tugged on, it spiralled into a little fit of fight or flight, causing Tsubame to almost beat her classmate, Itadori Yuuji, into a pulp, which she felt extremely guilty about – she ended up buying him dinner for the next few days.

Tsubame sighed at her miserable reflection in the mirror, scissors in hand as she willed herself to cut her hair to a shorter length, fearing that she might hurt someone else if they weren’t the wiser. Heck, she still couldn’t explain to Yuuji why she reacted in such a fashion, the words dying in her mouth the moment she tried to explain. 

Sweet as ever, he never pushed her, only smiling in acceptance as he lightheartedly brushed off her little outburst as an outcome of her trained instincts. It didn’t help with Tsubame’s guilt, however.

Just as Tsubame raised the scissors to make her first cut, her bathroom door burst open, interrupting the silence as she jumped, almost snipping off a big chunk of her hair. Relief washed over her nerves as she saw that all her hair was still very much intact.

“Itadori,” Tsubame huffed, placing the scissors on the sink’s countertop to rub her face anxiously. “How many times have I told you to knock before you enter my dorm…”

Yuuji nervously rubbed his neck, a sheepish smile on his face as his tone was filled with apology, “Sorry about that, it’s just that the others were– are you cutting your hair?”

His big brown eyes now looked at her in curiosity as he pointed at the scissors on her countertop. Tsubame followed her eyes to where he pointed, and she exhaled softly, nodding. Yuuji didn’t miss the way she looked fidgety, almost as if she wasn’t sure about her decision to cut her hair.

“Hey… are you alright?” Yuuji frowned softly, looking over to the scissors. “You don’t look confident about cutting your hair. Is this about last time? Tadashi, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to tug on your hair–”

In an instant, Tsubame shook her head, reassuring him that it wasn’t his fault she was cutting off her hair, “No, no, Itadori, it wasn’t your fault. It’s just… my hair was getting in the way, you know?”

Yuuji frowns, not buying her lie, but he doesn’t push it. Tsubame knows he can see past her lie, and part of her hates how well he can read her. Sometimes, she forgets that just because he’s not as academically advanced as Megumi and her (as she often finds herself tutoring her pink-haired classmate, not that she minded), it didn’t mean that he doesn’t read people and their emotions well.

He sees the way her hands shake slightly, and he gently takes her palms into his, the sparks returning as she swiftly looks up at him, his kind eyes looking into her nervous ones. He doesn’t say anything about the pink blush on her cheeks, a soft smile growing on his face.

“Would you like me to help you?” He asks gently. “You’re uh, shaking quite a bit.”

Tsubame looked at the scissors once more before her attention darted to her hands which were engulfed by his larger, warm ones. She bit the inside of her cheek, exhaling softly before nodding.

“Okay,” she nods, finally meeting his gaze.

She never wears a smile, Yuuji notes. Tadashi is never seen with one, but everything is in her eyes, the way she carries herself. From the slightest hunch, he could tell she was either exhausted, or the stress from a mission was weighing her down. From the slight quirk of her eyebrow, she was thinking about the answer to a question Gojo-sensei asked, and from the little glimmer in her eye as she held a book in her hand he could tell she was excited, turning every page eagerly.

But right now, her eyes are soft, gentle almost. It’s quite the contrast from her sharp wit and tongue, and he feels his heart flutter softly as she looks so gently at him. Yuuji begins to smile, taking Tadashi’s hair in his hands.

“You’ve got pretty hair, are you sure you want to cut it?” He asks softly, and she nods, more confident in her choice this time.

“Yeah, I just… I want it short, I can’t really… maintain long hair anymore,” She huffs softly, looking at herself in the mirror as Yuuji stands behind her, her soft hair in his hands.

It’s silky, he thinks to himself, and it easily cards his fingers through her hair. Tsubame flinches but, his touch is gentle, and it reassures her that she’s in safe hands.

Finally, Yuuji raised the scissors, snipping away bits of her hair, bit by bit, and Tsubame kept her gaze on her hands, watching as bits of her dark locks fell onto the floor, bit by bit. It's a moment of silence between them, one of mutual trust.

Unfortunately, that trust is broken the moment Tsubame looks up at her reflection, seeing that her hair really is, rather awkwardly cut, with bits of hair sticking up and cut to uneven lengths. Horror fills her as she sees this change, but Yuuji doesn’t seem to notice her look of shock as she quickly pulls out her phone, texting Nobara and Megumi for help.

“Who you texting?” Yuuji asks in curiosity, Tsubame shrugging as she tries to cover up her previous expression with a small hum.

“Just Nobara and Megumi,” She hums softly. “I just uh, wanted a little outside opinion on the haircut.”

He grins, clueless as ever, “I’m sure they’re gonna love it! You look great with any hairstyle, to be honest.”

“...Yeah. Totally.”

Tsubame continued to eye her phone for a response, almost letting out a sigh of relief as Megumi quickly texted an ‘omw’. She plays with her fingers anxiously, dread filling her as she sees more and more bits of her hair falling onto the floor before finally Nobara and Megumi bust in, a laugh instantly escaping Nobara.

“Oh, my, god.”

“Shut up, Nobara,” Tsubame whispered to herself as Megumi eyed her haircut in amusement. He can see Yuuji smiling sheepishly as he holds a tuft of Tsubame’s hair in his hands, the said girl’s head lowered in humiliation.

“Oh come on, that’s hilarious!” Nobara grins, snapping a photo of Tsubame’s fuming face and badly cut hair.

Yuuji looks down at the haircut, brushing off some hair from his hands, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Oh, it’s so that bad, borderline horrifi– HEY!” Nobara hissed, clutching her forehead as Tsubame threw a tube of toothpaste right into her face.

“I’ll fix it,” Megumi sighs, walking over towards where Tsubame stood, gently pushing Yuuji aside as he takes the scissors, working his way through the mess.

Nobara mutters, rubbing her face, and eyeing Tsubame, “Sheesh, why’d you let Itadori help you? He clearly doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing.”

Yuuji pouts a little at Nobara’s comment, and Tsubame can’t help but find it cute.

“Yeah, Tadashi, why didn’t you say anything?” Yuuji frowns, almost as if betrayed that she didn’t say anything.

Tsubame fiddled with her thumbs a little, calmed just the slightest from the way Megumi’s so gently cutting her hair – not that Yuuji wasn’t gentle, it’s just that he didn’t know what he was doing. Not one bit.

“Well, you were just really nice about it, and I felt bad if I told you it looked bad,” She mumbles, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “Besides, you were giving your best, and I admire that.”

Yuuji looked into her eyes, and with just one glance, he knew she was being honest. His stomach flipped a little in excitement, knowing that she was honest about her admiration towards him.

“Well, you could’ve just said it was bad,” Yuuji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know,” Tadashi looked away guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t help the way his heartstrings were tugged at the sight. 

He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her the most reassuring look he could muster, “It’s alright, Tadashi. I get what you mean, but next time, just be honest with me, okay?”

Her eyes soften the slightest as she looks up at him. Since she can’t nod, she mumbles a small, ‘okay’, but what takes him off guard is the small upturn at the corners of her mouth. Yuuji felt his cheeks warm, turning them into a shade of pink similar to his hair.

“You guys are so mushy and ick,” Nobara sighs, winking at Tsubame’s direction. “Just get together already.”

Yuuji glared over at Nobara, his entire face red with humiliation. Tadashi’s face was the same shade of red as his, but as she glared her head moved and Megumi clicked his tongue, inwardly relieved that he hadn’t cut her hair yet. He placed his hand on her head, gently guiding it back before resuming his actions.

“Itadori and I just became friends, leave us alone,” Tadashi huffed. 

Yuuji agreed, his arms crossed against his chest in defiance, “Yeah, what she said!”

“And if I’m being honest, even though we just met, I trust you all,” Tsubame sighs. “So I might as well let you both in the secret, which Nobara has kept ever since we were kids.”

Yuuji raised his eyebrow in confusion, glancing over at Megumi who didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Let me just… how do I phrase this,” Tsubame sucked her teeth in thought. “My name isn’t exactly Tadashi.”

“It either is or isn’t Tadashi,” Megumi quips, brushing the hair off of his hands, “Which is it?”

Tsubame sighs, fiddling with her fingers, “Fine, fine. It’s not Tadashi. Tadashi was a stupid name my parents picked when I was a kid because my grandparents wanted a grandson – my birth name’s Tsubame.”

Yuuji felt his jaw drop as he turned to Nobara who nodded in agreement.

“And you knew this the whole time?” Yuuji pouted in Nobara’s direction, the girl in question raising her hands in surrender.

“It’s a secret for a reason! I’m not that bad of a friend, sheesh,” Nobara puffed her cheeks in annoyance. “And Tsu-Tsu and I have been best friends since childhood, of course, she’d trust her secret with me!”

Tsubame mumbles a curse, a blush growing at the humiliating nickname, and Yuuji can’t deny how her flushed cheeks make him smile the slightest.

“Tsu-Tsu?” He grins, “Oh my god, can I call you that?”

“Absolutely not,” She glares, her cheeks flaring a darker shade of red.

“And done,” Megumi announced before Tsubame could lurch in Yuuji’s direction with her hands around his neck. “At least look at your hair before you murder Itadori.”

Tsubame sighed, placing her wire-frame glasses on the bridge of her nose before looking in the mirror, her eyes lighting up as she leaned closer, admiring her reflection, “...It looks great, thanks, Gumi.”

Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, but Yuuji brushed past the fact that they were on a nickname basis, more in awe of Tsubame’s new haircut.

Her long hair was snipped short into a pixie-cut kind of appearance, but the length of the hair varied, appearing to be longer at the front than the back with a little bit of her head shaved, resembling a medium fade undercut.

Perhaps it was the lighting in the bathroom or the overall renewed energy between them, but her eyes just seemed to sparkle more, and her presence just made his heart beat faster. Maybe it was the way her short hair framed her face better or the way he could see more of her true personality shine through as she admired her new haircut. It was definitely… unique, but she pulled it off.

“You look great, Tsubame,” Yuuji smiled, and his heart thumped harder when her coffee-coloured eyes met his. “I like this haircut on you.”

She rolled her eyes, and even if he was supposed to feel a little hurt by it, he couldn’t help but smile at her sarcastic tone, “You don’t get to like my haircut.”

“Oh, come on,” He whined playfully, pouting. “Don’t I get a little bit of credit? ‘Cuz if I didn’t mess up, you wouldn’t get to look this amazing?”

He can hear the annoyance in Tsubame’s voice, but the way her mouth quirks upwards and the way her eyes sparkle the slightest makes him think he’s hit the jackpot.

“Yeah,” She groans, admittance in her tone. “You did mess up my hair.”

“So, do I get to like it?” Yuuji grins, his heart beating faster, pride filling him at the sight of her smallest smile.

It was a step forward in the right direction, considering that this was the most direct form of happiness he’d received from her yet. He’s just that bit closer to breaking down her walls. 

“Yeah. It means you get to like it,” She crosses her arms, smile vanishing, but the twinkle in her eye says otherwise as she flicks his forehead gently, walking out of the bathroom.

Yuuji grins, following after Tsubame as Megumi sighs, tossing out the last of her hair into the bin, Nobara snickers as she takes a quick photo of Yuuji and her childhood best friend.

“Does that mean we get to use nicknames?” Yuuji peers over her shoulder as she huffs.

“No.”

“But you call Fushiguro ‘Gumi!” He frowns with a mumble, and she scoffs the slightest.

“Because we got along better, and I owe him lunch now for fixing up your mess,” She pokes his shoulder and he playfully whines.

“Then at least let me make it up to you!”

Tsubame hummed in thought, giving Yuuji the smallest smile, and that was enough to make him smile again. Her smile, her rare smile that no one else saw other than their little group, was enough to make him feel as though it was all he needed.

“I’ll think about your offer, but you can start with helping Gumi out with the tidying process,” She quips, walking out of the room as Nobara follows.

“What?!” Megumi grumbles, Tsubame’s voice echoing through her empty dorm room.

“You’re amazing, ‘Gumi! I owe you lunch and dinner!”

Yuuji sighed with a smile, grabbing the broom from the corner of the bathroom, and sweeping her hair together with amusement in his eyes.

“Ridiculous,” Megumi mutters to himself, watching his friend hum to himself happily as he sweeps up the bits of hair, as though he was simply re-energised at the sight of a girl smiling her smallest smile at him.

“Yeah, but didn’t you see her small smile, Fushiguro?” Yuuji grinned. “I’m closer to knowing the real Tsubame.”

“You’ve still got a long way to go,” Megumi hums to himself, tossing the last bit of snipped hair away.

“I know, but I’m not gonna give up just yet,” Itadori grins. “I’m so close, don’t ya think?”

Megumi thinks to himself in silence for a minute, taking a glance at a small picture by Tsubame’s bedside before opening her dorm door, his clothes and hands now free of stray hair.

“You’ve still got a long way more but… if anyone can open her up to us, it’d be you, Itadori.”

And that was enough encouragement for Yuuji as he grinned, walking out of the dorm as Megumi watched him in amusement.

“That’s enough for me to keep trying!” He laughs lightly. “I’m gonna be her best friend, just you wait!”

“Yeah… I’m sure you will,” Megumi nods in agreement.

“Now, where were they meeting for lunch? I’m starved.”

gif by @planetafiyu

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki @sad-darksoul @yunymphs @saelestia @cheriiyaya @ladyth

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this is my favourite bit of otgw trivia (text from Art of Over the Garden Wall)

dear god please take all of yuji’s pain and give it to my ex

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) epilogue

summary: they ass is NOT doing homework 🤣

wc: 1k+

A/N: That's a wrap, guys! tysm for reading and enjoying!

prev

“Miles, what is this emo shit you got me listening to?” you laughed.

Miles was currently in the middle of an imaginary drumming solo next to you, with two mechanical pencils as drumsticks. Once the final cymbal crashed, he turned to you to respond.

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s emo, that beat goes crazy. You done with your conclusion yet?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“No, but I’ve got all my body paragraphs together.”

“That shit is due Monday,” the boy adjusted his glasses, “Mr. Padilla don’t do extensions.”

Shutting your laptop in protest, you got up and stretched your arms. “Can we take, like, a ten-minute break?”

Miles smirked. “The last half hour felt like a ‘break’, but sure.”

The smirk fell from his face when he noticed you staring at something on his desk.

“Aye, don’t touch nothing–”

“Is this me?”

Too late.

Miles’ notebook was already in your hands, flipped to a page full of sketches of your face. There were little lines scratched out next to each sketch, as if he were measuring the proportions of your eyes, nose, ears... 

His lines were sharp and geometrical, as always, but they softened at your hair and lips. Speaking of lips, there was an oddly-detailed sketch of them off to the side. He’d even managed to include the suggestion of gloss.

You looked up to see Miles standing in front of you with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. 

“You done invading my privacy yet?” 

“Nope,” you placed a finger on the page. “How long did you need to stare at my face for this?”

You held back a laugh when he tensed visibly.

“Not long enough for it to matter,” he deadpanned, finally snatching the notebook out of your hand. “It was just a study.”

“Oh, so you’ve been ‘studying’ my lips? Got it.”

Miles’ eyes flickered down at them as you spoke before he returned to his spot on the bed. “Whatever. Break’s over.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” you teased as you followed him, “the drawings are nice! You made me look prettier.”

The boy looked at you like he wanted to say something - to argue - but he remained silent. You elbowed him playfully in the side.

“What, you think I’m ugly, then? I’m telling you, Morales, one day we gon’ fight–”

“No,” he interrupted.

“Complete sentences, please,” you mimicked, laughing when the boy sucked his teeth in response.

“Fine. No, you’re not ugly, and I like drawing you. Can we move on?”

With a triumphant smile, you finally cracked open your laptop again. “Yes, yes we can. I need your genius powers to proofread this for me.”

Miles leaned in to get a good look at your screen, hitting you with the crisp scent of sports deodorant and some generic brand of lotion. You watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read your work out loud to himself in a low mutter. While he read, your gaze drifted away from the screen and landed on his side profile. His ears were now delightfully occupied by tiny gold studs that you would’ve missed at a farther distance. Past his jawline at the nape of his neck, a thin gold chain peeked out at you from beneath his black graphic tee.

Your eyes met Miles’ the moment you brought them back up to his face, amusement playing on his features.

“Yo, are you good? There something on my shirt?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “Go back to reading.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m done. I just said you need to switch these two body paragraphs so they flow better.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he laughed, dimples on display. “I’m scared I’mma get my face stolen one day. Do you stare at everybody like that?”

A beat of silence passed as you considered whether to say something bold a second time, if not just for a reaction.

“...Nah, it’s just you.”

Miles blinked, the smile dropping from his face. “Huh?”

“You’re nice to look at, and I can’t draw you in my notebook to make it last longer,” you tilted your head comically. “Staring will have to do.”

Like clockwork, the boy’s hand shot up to his ear to toy with his piercing. He glanced out of the window. 

“The sun’s setting, you should really get that essay done,” he blurted out before narrowing his eyes at you. “What’s so funny?”

You had a hand over your mouth to stifle the laughter. “I’m sorry,” you giggled, “it’s funny when you’re nervous.”

Miles scoffed.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you sang, beginning to type your conclusion paragraph.

There was no response. 

Your typing slowed as the silence grew long, feeling Miles’ eyes on you until you finally stopped to look at him quizzically.

“Yes?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

He leaned in closer until your noses were in danger of brushing each other, looking determined despite the rapid rise and fall of his chest. You met his gaze with a challenge.

“Well? You just gon’ sit there?”

Miles couldn’t hear anything above the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his eyes squeezed shut as he closed the distance between you. 

No one told him that kissing would feel this weird.

For one, your lip gloss wasn’t half as sticky as he’d anticipated it to be, tasting like artificial fruit flavoring. Your sweaty palm came up to rest on the side of his face and kept him anchored as his breath stuttered. Having no idea where he would put his hands (another thing no one had explained to him), he kept them flat on the mattress for support as you deepened the kiss and he leaned back. 

Your hand was gripping his chin now to guide his face. Having kissed at least two other boys before, you had a vague idea of where it was supposed to go. Unlike the other two, Miles was tense, almost unmoving, despite being the initiator.  

Miles’ head buzzed when you pulled away, chuckling softly.

What the hell was so funny? The boy felt white hot blood rapidly coursing through all of the veins in his body at once. He thought he might start floating, like a hot air balloon. Or explode. Or vomit. Preferably the first one.

“Are you okay?” you asked, dropping your hand. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

He blinked slowly, three times. “Yeah, I’m…fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. That was, um…” 

Hand on the neck. “Interesting.”

“A good interesting, I hope,” you laughed.

Miles tilted his head, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“I don’t think I’d mind doing that again.”

Handing the boy your phone, you said, “I think you’d need my number for that.”

-

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They're besties, your honor.

[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 )

moved –> @satorusgummies !!!