#I'VE BEEN SAVING THIS FOR A RAINY DAY

[bleepyear]

Rays of Sunshine

I like to think that after a hard mission, these two cuddle up in the nook of Price's cluttered office and take a nap in the afternoon sunbeams, like two overgrown cats ❤️

Isn't it great that the mw3 campaign doesn't exist?

[explosionshark]

I think it's time I read the last couple Green Bone books

[absolutebl]

I have a free evening and there's no BL airing and I have absolutely no idea what to do with my life

[meadow-dusk]

[celtrist]

Do you like redesign characters?? I was curious of how the hazbin hotel and helluva boss characters would look like in your style

Nooo, I took a class concerning the subject but I'm by no means an expert and haven't redesigned any characters before. I have, however, a BOATLOAD of characters both fan and original, most of which tend to be designed by me. Not all, but I think most of them are. Most of them are also in my wips because I am very lazy in getting around to doing bios and such. I also have some designs on my website.

I have thought about doing some hazbin redesigns, but it just never panned out. I don't actually know how well I'd do as I don't think I'm crazy astonishing at designing. I have moments, but I'm not usually churning anything out like the hellaverse characters. Because for all my gripes with them, I do admit they are relatively strong in different aspects. I do like the official designs well enough, but I've also liked a lot of redesigns I've seen. The only thing with a lot of redesigns, and this was sorta the "spin" I was going to take with it, is that they're not always animator-friendly. Another "spin" I was planning to take with the redesigns is to have them work within the show as "next season" designs. That would mean nothing TOO drastic could be changed (like Husk's wings would remain), but things like clothes, colors, and maybe some smaller features could be changed. Generally just something where it could be plausible for the characters to have that changed look.

If you know Batman the Animated Series a bit, they had a huge design change between seasons. While I wouldn't be looking to change up the whole art style of the show, I would be open to possibly doing some bigger design changes like that show did (like changing Husk's body shape to be more portly or adding a radio embedded into Alastor's chest). Their approach was that it was the continuation from the previous seasons and no one commented on the new looks all the characters had. I think the idea was that no one actually changed their style or anything, but I've never watched the show so maybe they do comment on new attire and faces.

I was planning to more or less act like the designs were going to be what the characters looked like for that next season. So they'd have to be animator-friendly and still work, for the most part, with the pre-established designs. Again, this means that Husk's wings wouldn't just disappear randomly and I couldn't go crazy and give Charlie like snakes in her hair in the first episode of that next season when the last episode of the last season she didn't have any. I never laid out the rules perfectly as I know with Niffty, I'd definitely want to bend that rule by giving her another pair of arms, but I also didn't go through with doing any redesigns.

Two similar routes I'd kiiiinda go with probably involve my two favorite redesigns of the cast: I've mentioned @/cholvoq but they really nailed a lot of the characters down and I love all the little details the characters had (Vox's old TV head being his chest is such a killer design choice for him). @/kaledya has some good redesigns too! You might have to look on their Twitter to see the full lineup, but they actually were rewriting Hazbin Hotel to their own version which uses those redesigns! Alastor in particular looks much closer to a man in his mid-30s to 40s than he does in canon. Same with Husk, he's actually super old but he looks around the same age as Angel within the official series when he's in fact in his 60s-70s. They also have some fun fan characters (I love Serenity, she's so fucking cool in design and I love how she relates to Alastor story-wise ;3;)

And then there's just a bunch of other redesigns I've seen that I've loved as well, but those are the two that came into my head and would be what I'd take some inspiration for my own designs. Granted, would I like these designs canon? Mmm, I'm so used to what we have that although cholvoq has one of my favorite Alastor redesigns, I don't know if I'd want that to be canon (I honestly don't think he'd work as well as a full deer anthro! It's not as unique as him being a kemonomimi. Hell has a lot of anthro characters, so him only being part animal makes him stand out and might relate to his death better I think). It's fun to imagine. Maybe someday I'll get around to it but I have lots of other stuff to worry about before stressing over whether I should keep Alastor red or put him in sepia tones lol I will critique, but I know between Viv and myself she probably can pump out a more appealing character design than I ever could. I wouldn't say designing is a strength of mine. Not a weakness, but not a strength either.

EDIT: Adding on these designs, I really like them too. I've seen the Vaggie one before (Vaggie's official design is boring to me, but I gotta acknowledge that HAS to be a personal thing. Not an actual critique because everyone else says she's relatively fine), but never saw the other ones and I like these ones! This goes with a lot about what I was saying about "next season" redesigns. Again, there's a lot of redesigns I like, but I can't point them all out or we'll be here all day.

[snackleader]

switcheroo! :O

Augustus 'Gus' Porter

Craft Type: Paper (Creative Craft)

Gus Porter is a student in one of the many Houses of Change in Jouvente, which is a little strange because he's still a kid. But that doesn't change a House's willingness to teach someone if they want to learn. Perhaps this made him a little strange. This particular House focuses heavily in experimental Craft, resulting in him having a very different Crafting experience than the average person. Likewise, due to growing up associated with such a House from such an early age, Gus is a very skilled Crafter, using a variation of Creative Craft to create illusions. In this, he's particularly skilled and considered somewhat of a genius. However, his skill is limited by him being somewhat sheltered from the outside world. The result of him spending so much like in the House is an assumption that people have a lot more Craft knowledge than they actually do, assuming things are common sense when they are not.

Craft:

Copy Paste: Support (Paper) type. Creates a copy. On the next turn there is a 50% chance that the copy will take damage instead of Gus. Once the copy takes damage, it is destroyed.

Paper Jam: Paper type. Light paper damage to one enemy and significantly decrease their speed.

Bold Statement: Support type. Increases all allies attack for the next two turns.

[byanyan]

in theory, byan likes fireworks. in practice, however... the sounds gets to them. it unsettles them. they've had one too many a close call with a gun pointed at them for the noise to not get under their skin. it's one of those things they'll deny though, one of those things they try to pretend doesn't bother them, but... yeah. they'll be wearing headphones and blasting music way too loud tonight.

[herawell]

.

[charmre]

Maybe tmi but I smell sooooo good rn

My new body wash smells soooo good and it makes me v happy 😌

[mandycantdecide]

send this to all your favourite moots and pass the pumpkin round! KEEP THE PUMPKIN TRAIN GOING 🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃

<3 <3 <3 <3

[corviknight-appreciator]

💭

...I'm lucky that I haven't really been dreaming when I've been taking naps for my cold. I'd probably try to avoid sleep like normal even if I was sick if I had to deal with nightmares too.

[aparticularbandit]

YEP. YOU ARE VERY DOOMED. GOOD FORTUNE TO YOU.

Its me, your feral godmother

[housederiva]

Here's every version of the letter the Inquisitor gets from their LI plus Varric (which didn't make me cry at all)

If your Inky didn't romance anyone:

Inquisitor, Greetings from miserable, rainy Minrathous! (Don't tell Dorian I called it that.) The rotten weather here is making me nostalgic for Skyhold. The mountains were freezing, but at least the air didn't smell like wet garbage. We'll have to get in another game of Wicked Grace, soon. Harding picked up the trail again. I'd tell you not to worry, but I know how useless that is. Instead, I'll just say: I've got a great team on this. Neve could stare down the Maker, and wait until you meet Rook. He's/She's/They're a natural: Smart, resourceful, completely unpredictable. You'd like him/her/them, as long as you don't try to beat him/her/them at cards. Chuckles'll never know what hit him. I'll write again once we have something solid for you. Drinks at the Hanged Man are on me when this is over. Take care of yourself. Varric

Blackwall:

My love, You have summoned me to Minrathous, and I will answer your call, as soon as responsibilities here in the South allow. I have missed being by your side. Will these troubles be the last we face? The world seems always to conspire, through duty or disaster, to pull you away from me. I do not resent it. You are dedicated to purposes far larger and more significant than myself. I hope you do not think me a fool for hoping that one day, your only concern will be the color you wish our walls to be painted, or the flowers we will plant beside our gate. I'm partial to carnations. Yours always, Thom

Cassandra:

My love, We are no strangers to duty, or the separation it demands of us. You head for Tevinter, and though I want to go with you, there is work we both must do. I will not falter in the tasks that wait before me and I pray my actions, in whatever measure they can, will keep you safe. The others see only confidence in my resolve, but you have always known more than mere appearance. I confess to you, and you alone, that I am afraid. I'm afraid of what may happen, that Thedas will face such turmoil as it did before. I know not what awaits us. Yet even in the face of uncertainty, there are two things I cannot doubt and never will. The first is that our paths are never separated long. That I will find you at my side when I need you, as you will find me at yours. I will play my part in this and follow as soon as I can. The second thing I never doubt is you. Whatever lies before you, trust yourself. Trust your heart as I trust it. It will not lead you astray. Yours, Cassandra

Cullen:

The top of the letter has been punctured by small, sharp teeth, leaving most of a beloved name and a few sentences chewed to read. I fear the puppy started on this letter shortly after I did. I'd start over, but I must send this tonight if it's to reach you. Matters are settled here and I make for Tevinter as soon as possible. I almost believed chaos might spare us this time. I can't say I wished to see Minrathous before now, but I am eager to see you. I long to see your face and know that you are all right. You are I've There's I wish I was better at putting into writing all that's in my mind. For now, simply know that I love you. It is the most cherished constant of my life. The days ahead will not be easy. I know there's much you carry, more than many realize. But whatever you must face, you will not meet it alone. You have my sword, my counsel, my - I could write this list forever when all I mean to say is this - Whatever you need of me, I am yours. Cullen

Dorian:

Amatus, I'm writing. Again. Yes, the sending crystals still work and yes, you'll be in Minrathous in a few short weeks. But a letter, written in blind longing, is real. It can be touched, and it can be held, when ink and paper must substitute for your skin on mine and my breath in your ear. I used to scoff at frequent declarations of affection. Trite, I thought. Save them for rare and precious moments. But time and love are no longer things I care to squander, especially not as we race again toward calamity. And so, in each of these fleeting, ephemeral seconds, I will tell you that I love you. Whether penned or spoken, or conveyed by glance or action, I love you. In this moment, and in all the moments to come, for as long as they do, I love you. I will find you soon. Yours, Dorian

Iron Bull

Hey, Kadan, Not the first time we've marched toward different battles. I know you're keeping the crap from catching fire up in Tevinter. Wish I could be there, but I'll make sure there's a world for you to come back to when you're done dealing with crazy vints and stupid Antaam and whatever other crap Solas kicked up. (Shit, the Antaam. Remember when I was worried what would happen if I went tal-vashoth? That right there!) I know you're gonna be careful, and you've got Morrigan there. Just take care of yourself. If anything happens to you, I'm going to have to take Krem and the Chargers and stomp across all of Tevinter to come get you. It'll be a whole thing, and you know it'll upset Dorian. Being apart from you made me realize something else. I spent so long being whatever the Ben-Hassrath wanted me to be. An investigator. An agent. A mercenary sending reports. These past years, since the Inquisition ended, I've been able to just be what I want to be. And what I really want to be is yours. I like the person I am when I'm with you. So come back safe. Love, The signature appears to be a stylized rendering of the Iron Bull's head.

Josephine:

My Dearest Lord/Lady, I have spoken to friends in Minrathous. They offer us their hospitality, not to mention shelter from the worst intrigues of the Archon's Palace. While you're well acquainted with the roving eyes of grand courts, please take care. Tevinter's regard can be the oldest and cruelest of them all. The family writes the weather back home is beautiful. I do miss our quiet times together. There is a question I've wanted to ask you for so long. I would like to pretend I have been busy, or it was not the proper time. But, if I am being honest, I only waited because I have been afraid of choosing a poor moment. Please, let me make a promise to you here. When we return to Antiva, I will ask you, on the steps of the estate, if you will do me a great honor. And I dream you will say yes. Always yours, Josephine Postscript: I cannot believe it nearly slipped my mind. Yvette and Lord Otranto send their best wishes, and hope to see us back home in time to welcome their third child.

Sera:

(An artistically doodled journal page presumably from the Inquisitor's partner, Sera.) Keep this as close as I need you. (A drawing of a pile of flowers, with lines like it's moving, an arrow pointing to it labeled "us.") - North again, Mini-wrathus still stuck up its own pucker. - Magiturds are scared of us. They don't even know. - We work with Maevaris, right? She's wow. - So many Friends! Jennies in all the walls! - We kill him this time. He took from us twice! (A drawing of a cracked egg scribbled out, with "can't even joke" in letters that tore the page.) - Still thinking of you sideways. - Never mind the Dalish, here's the Veil Jumpers! Tempest-kin! (A drawing of a tall, shorthaired elf (Sera?) and Irelin brandishing two fingers, backflipping as a tree explodes in runes.) - The memory thing makes my head spin. If that Rook doesn't take it, throw it out. - Tell Morrigan ppbbth! for me. - I'll also tell her ppbbth! She knows why. - Tell them to Stripe. Him. Up. I wanted more books. (More heavy scribbles that tear.) - You meet; I'll keep you safe. Then I'm your time off, and you're my time on. (The last section has different colored inks, like Sera has returned to it several times.) New naked names: -Sweet-tits (scribbled out) -Bestest (scribbled out) -Loverly (scribbled out) -Lovey (scribbled out) -My-for-always-and-ever - name's not too long, time's too short. -But "Sweet-tits," though (scribbled out)

Solas:

Vhenan, I do not know if you will see these words. My ritual is ready and will soon be set in motion. Perhaps when you read this the world will be as it once was, and you will see why all I did was necessary. I cannot ask your forgiveness, but I hope you come to understand. That night in Crestwood, when I shared the truth about your vallaslin... you do not know how close I came to breaking. I could have shared the truth, or even put my plans aside and simply stayed with you as Solas... as I wanted. I regret the pain I caused you. What I feel for you will never change. The note is unsigned, but the handwriting is Solas'.

[ravendruid]

I'm sorry you're having a bad brain day friend:( sending all the hugs and snacks rn. I hope u know I always always enjoy your writing and I love interacting with u cause you're so kind and always have the sweetest thoughts <3

Nooooes T_T you're going to make me cry! Thank you so much for being so kind to me! This means a lot :'D

I need to start writing post-its with everyone who's so kind and supportive and keep them within eyesight for when my brain is mean to me.

[cherryredcheol]

gatekeep gorgeous

tldr: just pot the photos? tf? a/n: sorry i've been MIA. life, ya know? also, what should i call this series? i'm still at a loss for names partner privilege passenger princess barbeque, baby

jeonghan crossed the room, calling out, “coups, i have a question for you.” 

seungcheol turned to look at his friend, “what’s up?” 

“why didn’t you post those photos i took of you the other day on your instagram? they looked really good and i was pretty proud of my photography skills.” jeonghan crossed his arms and waited for an answer, watching his hyung sputter to try and come up with some kind of excuse.

seungcheol was caught off guard by the question. “i just–”  

jeonghan interrupted, “don’t even try to tell me they didn’t look good, because i know they did.” 

“they just didn’t fit the vibe of my page right now, maybe i’ll post them later. save them for a rainy day, you know?” seungcheol was trying to lessen the awkwardness. 

jeonghan narrowed his eyes, not believing his answer, but not invested enough to argue, “whatever, they would’ve gotten so many likes. i’m sure of it. you should post them sometime.” 

“i know, thank you for taking them. they are great photos, i’m just not ready to share them.” 

“cheollie? are you sure you don’t mind?” you looked up at him from his chest where your head rested. 

he paused the movie playing on the tv in your bedroom, confused, “mind what, baby?” 

you sat up and looked down at him where he still lay, a little frown on your face, “you really don’t mind not posting those photos jeonghan took of you? they’re so nice and i feel bad asking you to let me keep them to myself. but sometimes i feel like i have to share so much of you with literally the entire world and i just wanted to be selfish. but i’m starting to feel really guilty about it and–”

“whoa, baby,” he interrupted your rant, sitting up to look at you better, “there is no reason for you to feel guilty. I don’t mind not sharing those photos if it makes you happy. you do share a lot of me, something i’m so thankful you put up with. so if you want to be selfish and gatekeep some photos of me, i don’t care.”

your frown lessened, “are you sure you don’t mind? i know your instagram is important to you and your image. if you want to post them, you can. i don’t mind.” 

he took your hands in his, “i am one hundred percent sure i do not want to post them. you are more important to me than any instgram post ever will be. keep them, those photos belong to you as far as i’m concerned” 

you beamed at him, “thank you cheollie. i love you.” 

“i love you more, baby.”

[gfguren]

@shotorus i… had to go lay down after reading this oh mY GOD?!?! are you kidding me?? i'm so! so! so! critical!! of my own writing, especially as of late! but then you just went and?? and!! complimented every line i wrote?! analyzed it like a book report?!?! called it a 'piece'?? a 'piece'?? are you kidding me?!?! when i saw this notif pop up my heart full on started doing twirls and shootin' fireworks and shit?!?!?! if you wanted me to fall in love with you just say so!!! im akjshdjh?!?!?! might fuck around and read this two or ten thousand more times idk ! think this cured my writers block, might go finish a wip or get my whole life together or something idk !!!!

pro hero!bakugou x sidekick!reader | fluff, mutual pining, blatant flirting, bakugou calls reader darlin', bakugou is soft(ish) | cw: injury, mentions of alcohol, name calling (idiot), kisses kisses kisses

-bakugou tends to your injury, pining for you nearly as much as you do for him-

Your arm burns in waves, like kindling fire, the plain between your elbow and wrist a bramble of red and purple. It stings like a million tiny thorns pricking your skin.

"Why'd ya get in the way, idiot!" Bakugou's words are fierce and his brow is drawn, but you see the way his cheeks flush. He's embarrassed, guilt-ridden though it's not his fault. Not really.

You were both too overzealous for your own goods, determined to land the final blow on the villains. But his quirk was bigger, more explosive, harder to stop when your hands inevitably collided. You're just lucky your arm took the brunt of it.

Still, you smile despite the pain and his frown deepens, "What? Ya hit yer head too?"

You take a step forward, then two, crossing the threshold of your front door, reveling in the way his blush travels to his ears. "Did you come all the way here just to nag me?" There's a lilt of amusement in your voice, and he huffs, exasperation on his breath. "Or are you finally gonna give me that?"

You point to the bag dangling from his fingertips, pharmacy label half hidden by his baggy combat trousers. He's still in costume, mask pushed up over his wild, blonde hair, light sheen of sweat dotting his forehead and shoulders.

He's a proper distraction from the pain at least.

His gaze falls to his own hand, as if he'd entirely forgotten. There's a palpable moment of hesitation, and then he grunts, knuckles clenching; he thrusts it against your chest.

"Did'ya sterilize it, at least?"

You're half listening, shuffling through the contents of the bag. "Mhm, rinsed it with water when I got home."

"Yer hopeless, darlin'."

You shrug, "If a little burn could take me out, I wouldn't be much of a hero, now would I?"

He snorts, "If ya were such a good hero, you'd have dodged in the first place."

"You think?" You humor his attitude, heart swelling in your chest when you spot your favorite candy hidden beneath the ointments and bandages. You have half a mind to tease him about it. "Are you gonna help me put this on?"

His arms fold across his chest, half a scowl twisting his face. He leans back, tapping a heavy boot against the floorboards. "And why would I do that?"

He must think he's subtle but you read him like a book, finger the pages, read between the lines. There's worry in his brow, guilt, turmoil, anger directed at his own self.

You figured it would help alleviate his conscience, at least.

"That's fine. I'll get around to it eventually." You turn on your heel, adding a cheeky "probably" to accentuate the wave of your hand, nudge him into action. It works.

Warm fingers encircle your wrist and you bite your tongue, suppress the laugh inching it's way up your throat. Predictable, cute. It takes everything in you not to grin.

Two big hands push you down by the shoulders, cushions folding beneath your thighs. Bakugou holds a palm out expectantly and you place your own atop his, reveling in the way his nose scrunches in frustration.

You don't miss the way he lets it linger - just for a moment - before finally swatting it away with a half-hearted flick of the wrist. "The ointment, idiot."

You relent, handing him the thin white tube. He spreads a stripe down his fingertips, seat dipping beside you; he extends his opposite hand. "Now your hand."

You grin, fingers gently curling around his own. It's not meant to be romantic, the way he draws you forward, presses your knuckles to his chest. He's just trying to get a better look at the wound, head tilting this way and that. But his hand is so warm, and he's so pretty from this angle, and when his eyes rise to meet yours his breath hitches in his throat; and so does yours.

It's intimate, familiar.

It makes you want to break whatever this unspoken 'something' is that the two of you have fostered - this growing affection you're both too proud to admit that wears on you, leaves you yearning to lean just a little closer and finally concede.

Just like all those nights ago, when he got a little too drunk at the hero convention, quickly annoyed by the crowds and reporters, the loud, boasting heroes. His champagne glass was quickly emptied once more, grunting when he pushed back in his chair. You remember leaning closer, close enough to discretely ask if he was alright. His red hot stare followed, burned through your chest and down to your core, left you shifting restlessly in your seat.

The air was thick when he finally careened upward, swaying perilously as he took you by the wrist, led you up and out of the dining hall until it was just the two of you, alone in an empty corridor. You could still hear the echo of stranger's voices, but it didn't bother him, not when he crowded you against the wall, not when his big hand fell to the space beside your head, or when his face dipped to linger just close enough to have your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"What about the party?"

"'as boring." He'd replied, fingers 'round your wrist, lingering on your pulse; he feels it stutter beneath his touch. "Ya scared?"

You would be, should be, if it was anyone else. Big, leering, all rippling muscle and explosive temper - but it was Bakugou, your mentor, your best friend, heart of a hero and handsome as hell. You've loved him as long as you've known him.

"No."

He'd grinned, leaned forward til' his lips found yours, deeper, sweeter than you'd ever imagined, and gods you had, too many times.

"Good."

You're so lost in thought that you miss the way skin meets skin, thin buffer of ointment between you, and it burns - his fingers against your aching forearm. Your cheeky smile twists into a grimace and you can almost taste his guilt.

"Quit bein' a baby." Bakugou's bark holds no bite, touch softening until his rough fingers border featherlight. "Yer a hero, r'member."

You watch as he carefully applies the medicine, touch gentling each time you flinch until he's barely touching you at all.

"You've said that a lot today. 'Hero'." You muse. "It's usually sidekick this, sidekick that."

He shoots you a look before wiping the ointment from his fingers. "Yer my sidekick."

"Yeah?" You tilt your head, leaning forward to rest your chin on your unattended hand. "And what's the difference?"

He could answer you honestly, if he wanted. You're capable, brave, strong in your own right - beautiful to boot. You're the best of the best; Bakugou would never settle for less after all. Not that he was going to admit that.

Instead his lips twist in amusement, curling, lopsided, askew; you realize you won't be getting a straight answer.

"Ya should know by now when t' stay out of my way, is the difference." He pulls a bandage as big as his fist from the bag, pressing one corner to the flat of your palm, working it up and around until it reaches your wrist, and further still. "Was perfectly capable of handlin' it on my own."

"Seemed like you had your hands full with the big guy," you quip back, rubbing your thumb absently over the scratchy bandage. "Was I supposed to watch while the other one pummeled you from behind?"

He quirks a brow, you're not sure if he's annoyed or amused. "Woulda been fine. How d'ya think I made it to the top twenty, 've practically got eyes on the back of my head."

"You sure? Think I recall a time or two you've been whacked upside the head."

His eyes stray for only a moment, simmering up at you beneath dark lashes. "Think we might need t' get yer eyes checked, darlin', seems yer seein' things."

"Guess I need a hearing test too, since I remember you being a total crybaby about it."

He centers the tips of his thumb and pointer just above your brow, fingertips bouncing off your forehead, a tepid flick! and he's resuming his handiwork.

"Hey!" you pout, rubbing the offended area with your unfettered hand. "I'm a patient, you're supposed to be nice to me!"

"And who's fault is that." He grins, light and easy and gone in an instant, with a flash of realization, guilt that reaches his eyes and worries his brow. It's his, still.

You sigh, "Look at me." And he does, begrudgingly as it may be. "It's not your fault. I should have trusted you more. And you should have trusted me. We're both idiots so quit blaming yourself." You lightly flick his forehead in return; he doesn't flinch, eyes never leaving your own. "Finish the wrapping and we'll call it even, yeah?"

He grumbles something lost on you, stretching the last bit of fabric beneath your elbow and tucking it into itself. He turns your arm over in his palm, lightly, carefully inspecting it before leaning back against the cushions. You can feel his guilt dissipate, the stress in his shoulders slowly deflating.

"Ya hurt anywhere else?" His voice is low, quiet. He desperately hopes not.

You think for a moment, read his face, his body language, and then you're rubbing the space above your brow, faking a pout if only to lighten the mood. "Yeah, some brute bruised my forehead earlier, think it needs medical attention."

He crosses his arms, muscles flexing, brow tightening in discontent. "I'm being serious."

You struggle to suppress the laugh bubbling up in your chest. "So am I. What a devastating injury, I fear I won't live long." You dramatically throw yourself over his lap, knuckles laid flat over your brow. There's a conflicting look in his eye; you struggle to read it. "If only a big, handsome hero woul-"

You nearly miss the annoyed huff, the subtle roll of his eyes, too enamored in the way he encircles your wrist with one big hand, guides it to rest against his chest before leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead.

You're sure there's hearts in your eyes when he straightens his shoulders, hand still idle against his heartbeat; his thumb absently strokes the soft underside of your wrist but his gaze doesn't linger. A hint of a blush creeps up his neck, eyes fixated on the opposite corner of the room. "Done bein' a crybaby?"

You try and fail, miserably so, to hide the delight dancing in your chest and curling your toes. There's a grin splitting your cheeks when you sit up, face an inch from his own. "Mhm."

You can feel his breath, his hesitation, the slippery, fluttering feelings he's struggling to catch, and name, and put into words. He decides it's easier to turn his back to them, to you - again.

It's always the same song and dance, one step forward, two steps back.

He's up in a moment, fidgeting with his tank, his gloves, his mask, anything he can get his hands on. You sigh, pushing off the couch, taking one step, two, arms wrapping snug around his middle. "What're ya doin'?"

"Checking something."

"And what's that?"

"Whether or not you have eyes on the back of your head." He ignores your teasing, so you press a little further, tease a little more. "Either you don't," you squeeze him tighter, closer, smush your cheek against his back. "Or you totally just let me hug you."

He croons his head to stare you down, if looks could kill, you'd be very very toasty right about now. Still you laugh, hide your smile in the shadow of his broad shoulders, tip toe around him when twists around to face you.

Finally he catches you, two big hands clamped down on either shoulder. You wait for him to scold you, tongue between your teeth, bated breath in your lungs. But he only grunts, fingers curling around the base of your neck until he can slant his lips over your own.

You sigh, it's the second time Katsuki Bakugou's lips have been on yours. But they no longer taste of saltines, white wine, impulse or hesitation; it's not some drunken mistake or whimsy he'll pretend to have forgotten by morning. This time he's kissing you because he wants to. Because the feelings he harbors are just the same as yours.

And when he pulls away his red eyes have mellowed, a dull amber, an expectant cinnabar. There's a palpable silence, one beat, two, three - possibly. His impatience gets the better of him. "Well?"

You stifle a laugh, keen up at him, hands absently against his chest. "Well what?"

"What d'ya mean 'well what'?!"

What ever self control you had wavers, the incredulous look in his eyes sending you over the edge until your devolving into a fit of laughter.

"What's so funny, huh?"

"'m sorry." The laughter rattles you, chest like a suitcase too small to pack away the joy that fills you, spills over the brim in fits of laughter. It's infectious; Bakugou grins.

Your hands cup his cheeks. "You're too cute not to tease."

He sucks on his teeth. "Cute huh?" His hand cups your wrist, thumbs the bandage, careful, cute. "I nearly cooked ya and 'm 'cute?'"

You lean forward, bump your nose against his. "Mhm."

"There's somethin' wrong with you."

"Yeah, it's called the guy I like is completely oblivious and won't tell me he likes me."

"I kissed you, twice. If ya didn't take the hint, that's on you."

You're smiling when you press your lips to his - quick, tepid, chaste, and over and over and over again.

He breaks away, eyes full of suspicion. "What was that for?"

"What? Didn't you take the hint?" You slant your mouth over his, linger a little longer this time. "I like you." You kiss him again, again, again.

He snorts, palm falling to the small of your back, big hand heavy on your skin. "Point taken."

He dips his head low, kisses you, soft and slow, fingers flexing against your shirt, dragging you closer when you move to pull back. "I like ya." His breath is hot against your mouth. "Always have."