#i cant write either

[spaciebabie]

girl help im having creation ideas above my concentration level

[hearts401]

i feel the urge to write michael.... ourgh

[teh-inggris]

I need to chew both of them like a stress toy

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[boredomsbonedeep]

they're gonna bring jason back right?? and piper's coming too? and she'll be an important part of the plot instead of just getting mentioned at the end? and leo will be there? and then valgrace?

[lemongogo]

they should get to kill each other at least twice .i think

[heroisk]

I needed to draw ryomina dancing

[starbxzy]

size kink jing yuan 😱

size kink jing yuan! who goes absolutely crazy at how small you are compared to him.

size kink jing yuan! who puts you in a mating press so easily. his big, strong arms pin your knees to your chest like nothing.

size kink jing yuan! who is obsessed with full nelson. he holds you by the underside of your knees, guiding you up and down on his cock.

size kink jing yuan! whose hand could encase half your face.

size kink jing yuan! who gets so hard when he sees you in one of his shirts. so big on your small, timid figure.

size kink jing yuan! who bends you over, grabbing a cheek with one hand. def leaves a mark. a big, red hand print.

size kink jing yuan! whose cock is so big, it leaves a whole damn pudge on your abdomen.

size kink jing yuan! who loves groping your tits.

size kink jing yuan! who loves your thighs the most.

———

i cant write please forgive me.

[valiantartwritingweasel]

❦ Oh no, there seems to be only one bed. Whatever will we do? pt.2❦

My favourite hate-love trope in which you have to share a bed with your crush.

Finally leaving my drafts now after everyone started making the "too many beds trope" (which is funny ngl)

pt.1 here

//Thoma, Itto, Dottore, Alhaitam//

(you can tell on who I just gave up entirely. Also my english is deterioating, maybe I'll proofread in the following days...)

no pronouns mentioned :)

❦

Thoma

If you didn't know better you'd say that this situation was carefully crafted by your employer. It had to be. Ayato had fun watching you squirm around your colleague. Which you did anytime Thoma shot you one of his signature smiles, or when he leaned over your shoulder to inspect what you were doing. You folded so quickly whenever he laughed at one of your jokes. How could you not? The guy was the sweetest thing one could ever lay eyes on.

All of that aside, you just had a feeling that this situation was no coincidence, as you stood there, next to your fellow maid, staring at the bed.

You blinked, then looked over at Thoma.

The poor guy. 

Before you could actually grasp the situation and make a comment about it, he already yelled out "I can sleep on the floor". 

When you turned to look at him, the first thing you noticed were his bright red cheeks. The second thing you noticed was the mild terror in his facial features. 

You blinked at him, taken aback by surprise before mumbling "You sound like the thought of sharing a bed is dreadful to you." You let out an awkward cough before speaking up again "I wouldn't want you to sleep on the floor but.. maybe we can find another mattress, if it's really that bad for you?" you raised an eyebrow, eyeing him with suspicion.

A shimmer of dicomfort hushed across his features. The accusation didn't sit right with him. He cleared his throat while scratching the back of his head in embarassement "Hm, no. That's not... what I meant...". He sighed "I just wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable you know.." A sheepish smile crossed his features while the blush only seemed to worsen "I'd actually.. like bedding with you- Ah!" He caught himself in a cough "Not..not like that! Oh" He hid his mouth beneath his hand, staring at you "Please say something before I keep talking".

Your only answer to that was a soft laugh, followed by a quiet but adoring "Alright, let's bed together then." With a smile you went ahead to get ready for the night, giving the blonde a second to compose himself before following your example.

(would sleep on the floor, maybe even outside if you'd ask him to)

❦

Itto

As soon as the two of you laid eyes on the bed..: "Dips" both of you yelled in unison, before staring at each other.

"Well" you crossed your arms "sharing is caring…?" You tilted your head and he nodded. "Yeah yeah, that's right. We'll just share. It'll be fiiine". He looked embarrassed but you didn't know what caused it. Maybe he was just nervous that he might fart during the night or something.

Then a thought hit you. "Oh" you looked at him "oh my, do you snore?". Your eyes widened in horror at the mental image of how loud he'd probably snore. He seemed offended. "What? ME? Snore? Noooo I don't snore" he made a move with his hand. 

All in all: "I'm not convinced" you sighed. 

"Okay okay, tell ya what" he pointed a finger at you "I know I don't snore but if you find me snoring in the night, I'll give you money. If I don't snore I'll get to take you out. How does that sound? Deal?" He extended his hand, which you naturally took to shake "Yeah whatever big boy, all you're gonna end with is crippling debt" you laughed. You didn't actually know if he was a snorer but you just had to believe now.

Both of you shook hands when you paused "Hold on" you narrowed your eyes, shooting him a confused look "why take me out? Like…you don't mean as in…death right??". He gasped "WHAT? No no no, not like death, I mean like food. Eat something. Make you less hungry yknow?". He shrugged "I've wanted to ask for some time now but the chance never came", he scratched his head embarrassed before returning to his signature grin "but now I'M going to win and you have to come with me. You can't say no!".

You chuckled quietly, shaking your head in disbelief 'what an idiot' you thought. "Alright" you murmured "let's get to bed then" 

(You cannot tell me that the guy doesn't snore, I am CONVINCED that he does (my friend said he'd probably have a snore bubble too and now I can't unthink it (ANOTHER friend mentioned how he doesn't sleep with his eyes closed, I'm losing my mind at the mental image)))

❦

Alhaitam

As soon as he sees your embarrassed expression he´s like „we´ll sleep on the floor“ and that‘s it. I know you wanted this. Thank me later.

❦

Dottore

Never would you have guessed that one day you'd end up in this situation.

You, standing next to your BOSS of all people, in front of a lonely bed.

It's not like you hated the man next to you. In fact he was actually quite nice towards you. Or…at least as nice as the guy could get. But you were still alive after like 3 years of working for him, so that already counted for something. 

You were more of a simple task person, so everyone always dumped some sort of random task onto you. Through that, you've managed to actually befriend some of your colleagues although you've started to not get too personal with them. Sometimes some of them just went missing and you really didn't want to ask anyone what that was about. Instead you opted for the emotional distance option. 

It was wild to think about. The only reason Dottore took you with him on his mission was because everyone else was busy, preparing for something big. You, on the other hand, were not so busy. All that was left for you to do was to bring an occasional glass of water to one of the other workers. So when Dottore asked you to join him on his travels, you just nodded, not giving it much thought. 

But even if you had given it much thought, the idea of ending up sharing a bed together would've probably been the last thing to cross your mind. 

Before you could actually grasp the entire situation though, Dottore had already started taking off his unnessecary accesoires, leaving them on the bedside table. Clearly he didn't care about the whole situation.

You on the other hand needed another second or two to collect yourself. You looked at him, wondering if he even mentally checked that this was about to happen or if he was so far off into logic land to recognize your presence in the first place. Sighing you just took off into the bathroom, following your bed routine like usual....

(says either we take turns on the bed or we share, who cares honestly, the man's on a mission)

[mintypsii]

not a part 2, but here's a prequel to this sanuso comic I did last month !!! (takes place the night before ,, technically after the first three panels)

[canneddolts]

Do you have any thoughts on freehoun?

[jessiescock]

please rb im curiuos about this owo

[generalsdiary]

remember this message from aventurine?

yeah, so I wrote that scene.

To Aventurine's luck, he was rescued from the Nihility, the end, by a knight of Beauty. How lucky… He lives to see another day. Another assignment, another project, another trip which will all get blurred in a haze, memories merging together like melted crayons his mind too blurry if he ever even tried to recall.

A single drop of water slithered down his back under his satin shirt. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, trembling, hands shaking with terror mirrored in his wide open eyes. The hill of his throat bopping as he gasps for air. The sheets felt too heavy, too warm, too suffocating. Another night he woke up drenched in sweat. Another nightmare where the air left his lungs, he was alone, they weren’t there, no peace of death, no calm embrace of sins forgiven and a new life beginning. The air scratched against his throat, rose thorns dragging along the sides of his windpipe poisoning his vocal cords, his words dying there before they could be vocalized in yelps, wails, or even pleadings. His chest rises and falls down in weak attempts to make his heart calm down, to stop it from jumping out of his chest and making him less of a human than he already thinks he is. Red crescent moons scattered inside his palms are sending aching pain to his nerve’s ends, he stares forward, he doesn’t pay them much mind- he cannot, the pain could ground him but he is too out of it. out of his mind, out of his body, desperately clutching onto the sheets, the branches of this existence, of this reality. Palms sweaty with the ending of the nightmare still trapped in his tense hands, the bitter taste on his tongue the flavor of nihility. The eyes that glow in the dark, that he would’ve sold in his past if it got him something… money? freedom? If such a thing even exists. Those same eyes like boiling water overflowing and, with salt and regret fall down the hills of his cheeks. He cannot control them, the tears, it is his body’s weak attempt at regulating his emotions. He has been running, every gamble, every manipulation, every flashy smile… it is him running from his past and back to it. his legs would give out underneath him if he was standing, knees too weak, feet too swollen, burning him up from inside. Settling more in the now, he feels the guilt dripping off his teeth, snake toxin that colors each of his smiles and paints his every pretty praise… did he truly do it just to see his family once more? throwing it all away for that… what would they think of him provoking an emanator, throwing this precious life away for the ones who have passed on? anger. White, hot anger, he regrets it. they wouldn’t- he never should’ve done it. they would want their little boy to persevere. to continue on. to stop gambling his own life. what is he worth if he won’t wager that of which has little matter to him? what blatant lies… the one who does not care for his life doesn’t clutch his chips in his hand for dear life. sadness. The ends of his hair stick to the back of his neck like ropes and chains that once bound him. or perhaps strings with which he is controlled. No one controls him. or perhaps this… glamourous, extravagant persona of Aventurine does. He needs to make a change. Cut the strings, control his own body, his choices, he can do better, he will do better… maybe he will dare to want to do better… in regards to himself. the various nightmares that keep his nights restless and his body frail keep coming, he exhales a heavy breath hoping, praying, that this is the last one. that this never-ending torment will end. Now his back aches from sitting up like so, or is it the weight of his job and his curse the ones which make it bend so? He has betrayed himself every day. putting the flamboyant clothes on and wearing it like a clown suit, parading around… except if someone gets close enough and sees the little Kakavasha hidden deep, far inside.

Sheets rustle behind him, grounding him even more in the present, anchoring him further in his body and out of the darkness of his dreams. “another one?” the baritone voice quietly asks, strong arms embracing his torso and his hand clutched onto them for… dear life. a hand presses against his damp forehead, seemingly checking his temperature. The thick, swallowing, dooming silence now cut with breathing of another that came to his awareness. Another set of ribs expanding and contracting against his own. A heart beating, pumping blood in rhythm with his. “I will draw us a bath.” The arms threaten to move away, and Aventurine grips them tightly refusing to let go, he turns back facing the man his eyes pleading, begging him to not go. “Veritas…” the man’s eyelashes flutter a few times before the indigo hair moves with a nod. “I’m here, Kakavasha. Right here. We will go together.”

[jemmo]

Making sense of love for love's sake: the game

Despite all the things i absolutely adore about how the plot unravels and expands in love by love's sake, upon first watch, there's some things i couldn't piece together, which @lurkingshan echoes in their post:

'The way the author was messing with Myungha and forcing cruel choices on him really does not track with a desire to help him find happiness.'

And to preface, this is not something i fully get yet either. I think i'll need a good month and a sizeable reading list of relevant resources to understand just what/who this author/sunbae is and what his role is and how he is associated with myungha. But as always with the best shows for meta (aka bad buddy), as a plot unfolds, you can always find a better understanding by looking backwards and re-contextualising what you've already seen. so i watched ep 1, specifically the scene between myungha and his sunbae at the bar. And i will talk about how everything said in this scene has a whole new meaning now we know the full story, but for now i wanna focus on that question that they keep coming back to; "Then... will you change it for him?".

When you watch the show for the first time, your brain follows the simplest, most obvious version of the story you're being told, one where myungha has been pulled into the world of his sunbae's novel that's being turned into a game and given the opportunity to fix the thing he didn't like about it; making yeowoon happy, and thus you just think the rules of the game are imposed by the author, and so when these cruel choices first come up, you see them as the difficult roadblocks that are nevertheless necessary to any kind of game, forcing the player to make an impossible choice so that the game can continue in a certain direction and its only after that you learn whether it was the right choice or not, or there is no right choice, it simply changes the game you are playing.

And when its revealed what this game actually is, at first i tried to interpret these cruel choices, namely the choice between yeonwoon and myungha's grandma, and at best i could come up with the concept of this being a choice between staying stuck to the past aka choosing his grandma, even though he knows that choice doesn't mean she's safe bc he knows the future where he loses here, its an inevitability, but thats the small happiness he knew before it was taken away and thus that happiness is known and safe, theres no risk, versus choosing to pursue a new happiness, a love of yeowoon and thus himself, which he doesn't know, he hasn't experienced yet, and could be risky. Its a happiness that isn't guaranteed like his grandma, but its a happiness that looks to the future and has hope in it that he can find a new happiness to pursue despite what has happened in his past.

And that fits nice, okayish. But then i watched ep 1 and heard that question "Then... will you change it for him?" And watching through the rest of the eps, we come back to this scene at the bar and each time we get a new run up to the author asking this question, either new dialogue is added or we hear a different piece of the conversation entirely. It starts at the beginning of ep 1 as:

"Because Cha Yeowoon is the only one who's miserable." "It can't be helped that some people's lives are like that" "The fact that some people are destined to live that kind of life is what's vile."

Then a bit later in ep 1 we go back and its expanded.

"It can't be helped that some people's lives are like that" "The fact that some people are destined to live that kind of life is what's vile." "Why? Do you think you'd write it differently?" "Yes, definately. Someone like Cha Yeowoon, or someone like me with an awful life, can also be happy."

And then all the way on in ep 6, we get this new dialogue.

"I don't like talking about destiny." "Why?" "Because it means everything is predestined." "Then do you not believe in fate?" "Fate and destiny are the same. My grandma likes to say that. She said life is like a written book, and how you'll live and die are written in it. (...)I don't like things like this. Even if fate is already destined, I think it can still be changed. Otherwise, there's no point in trying." "Really? Then Myungha..."

And while we don't hear the author ask the same question, I feel like him getting cut off like that insinuates that the conversation leads to that same ending point. All that is to say, every time we hear this question being asked, its like we learn more and more about what this whole thing is, what the game is, what myungha is saying he will do by agreeing to do what the author asks. And every time, we see myungha being more defiant against the idea of yeowoon being resigned to his miserable ending. He starts off thinking that kind of life is destined, and while it's miserable, its not something he can fight. Then he says he'd want to write the story differently, bc yeowoon, or even him, could be happy. He challenges the idea that yeowoon, and thus himself, is fated to be miserable, and opens up the possibility for happiness for them both, but doesn't yet have the means or resolve to do it, its like he knows its possible on a fundamental level, but doesn't see it as something he can actually achieve. But then we circle back to the idea of destiny and books, both of which came up in the previous quote, and seems incredibly pertinent seen as this whole thing is about a novel this author has written. Myungha talks about how he hates the idea that life is a book where everything written is predestined to happen, from the moment you live to the moment you die. He says "Even if fate is already destined, I think it can still be changed. Otherwise, there's no point in trying." That vile way of life he described before that he said was destined, he is now saying it can be changed, and that possibility is now something he's holding onto, its what he sees hope in so that he can keep trying, bc now he finally is trying, he has the resolve, he's trying to realise this thing, this impossibility of rewriting the life he thought was destined through the way he loves yeowoon.

And coming back to those cruel choices, given this fresh context, it made me think. bc this isn't actually a game that myungha has been put into where the rules are dictated by an author completely separate from him. He said himself, he'd rewrite it, he'd change things for yeowoon. And when you start to think of it less as him fighting against a rigid, removed system and more like him being a character in a story he is trying to rewrite himself, that has both the author and his own limitations, or just his own if you're in the school of thought that the author is some figment or part of myungha himself or his conciousness, then you can start to see where these cruel choices might come from. They could be myungha, the author making edits to this new story, imposing his own doubts and limitations on himself. When he says he has to pick between Yeowoon and his grandma, what if that's the new author myungha seeing this story unfold and thinking no this isn't right, he can't have it all, i'm not deserving of this much happiness.

And what makes me like this idea even more is that when we get that second choice between ending after 14 days or getting 100 days back at the cost of resetting Yeowoon's affection to 0, that whole conversation happens in what I think the bar actually is which is this frozen moment in time where myungha is in the water with this extension of a voice in his head that is talking through these things. That conversation in itself needs its own post, but when you look at it both as a decision to break up or not or a decision to hold onto life or not, you can see how the author is just this soundboard relaying the decisions myungha is going through in his head. The author's voice is his own, weighing up his decisions. And if he is the author here, it only reinforces that the person making the rules of this game is him. You can even extend it further to the idea of the debuffs, where he puts in place this thing that makes it so he causes harm to yeowoon when he's around, and its only by garnering affection that he can prevent it. He gives himself a reason from the get go to stay away from yeowoon and reason it as him doing it for yeowoon's safety, when in fact the only way to make yeowoon safe is to increase his affection, which he can only do by being near him. Its a system that at first gives myungha a reason to stay away aka not like himself, but ultimately says the only way you're going to make yeowoon like you, or the only way you can like yourself, is if you accept risk. And that in itself screams to me of a myungha writing in these game systems that are trying to encourage his own-self love while falling at the hurdle of his own lack of self-worth.

The idea is still messy in my head even for me, but i just really like the idea that myungha could be trying to fix this thing both as a character and game master, and that both these versions of him have these flaws that manifest in their different ways to cause the events we see. It kinda is the definition of being your own worst enemy, the idea that in order to work towards loving yourself, the biggest obstacle you have to encounter is yourself, bc we are the ones holding ourselves back, making all these rules that make it harder to like ourselves and pursue our own happiness. The voices in our head telling us that we aren't good enough and aren't deserving are our own, and while the things that happen to us can inform what they say, we're the one's reinforcing those words. And what this show teaches us is that, if we're the one holding that pen all along, we can choose to change what those words are. If we make the rules, you don't have to create a game with concrete ultimatums, you can create a game where rules don't control you. Instead, you make the decisions, and you can make the ones that make you happy.

[starry-bi-sky]

Part SEVEN of "Clone Danny"

Red Robin, Danny recognizes, steps away from him as he sits up. "My name is Phantom," he signs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. (From Red Robin's perspective, it looks like he has no eyes. There lacks his signature green glow.) "I'm not a gang member, just an out-of-town vigilante."

Red Robin frowns at him, an uncertain grip on the bō in his other hand. "Phantom?" He repeats, no lacking amount of suspicion in his voice. "How can I believe that?"

Right. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Danny shrugs at him, and slumps against the wall. "Google search?" He gestures, he's been out in the daytime before and he's seen the news articles about him.

Red's eyes narrow at him and Danny simply draws his knees up and faceplants into them, half-listening to Red's murmurs into his comm while also trying to get some extra-shut eye.

("Oracle, can you pull up anything on a vigilante named Phantom? The guy here is claiming to be one." Tim says.

"On it."

"Is this Phantom wearing a white mask?" Bruce asks, his voice gruff like an aftershock. "There's a vigilante who shares the same name, but he resides in Illinois."

"Is this guy from that Amity city you visited ages ago?" Says Tim, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. Yes, he's wearing some freaky mask. I said it reminded me of Hood's helmet for a reason."

"I've got something," Oracle interrupts, "Bats' right. as usual. The Phantom of Amity Park, not much stuff of this guy but he's only been out for over a year. Apparently, his rogues' gallery consists of ghosts."

"Oh great.")

"Look tell the Batman that I'm sorry for trespassing on his turf," He signs irritably when Red Robin eventually starts talking to (re: interrogating) him again. "It's not like I want to be here."

"How did you get in Gotham anyways?" Red Robin questions, batman was on his way to help deal with the situation but Tim doubted he wouldn't get caught up on the way with dealing with petty crime. "Your turf is nearly a thousand miles away from here."

"Two words." Danny deadpans, "Teleport ghost." (Red Robin winces sympathetically.) "I'm keeping this bastard in the thermos for a month for this alone."

(Danny was ignoring the slow-choking anxiety growing in his lungs over how he was gonna get home. He never takes his phone when he goes out, the risk of breaking it was too high. He had no way of contacting anyone to get him home.)

(He swallows the growing lump in his throat, and buries the feeling in the back of his mind.)

"Thermos?"

Danny unclips his Fenton Phantom Thermos off from his belt loop and shows it to Red Robin. "My ghost-catching device," He says with one hand, tilting it carefully for Red to inspect. "I wish I could say I made it, but its a FentonWorks invention."

(He wasn't sure if it was a smart idea to say who it belonged to, but saying it wasn't his probably loosened up any tracks on him, right?)

"Do you work with these Fentons, then?" Red asks, and something dark and shadowy flickers from the corner of Danny's eye. He glances over, and sees nothing, and his hackles raise.

(Either that was Batman, or a ghost, or Danny's mind playing tricks on him. He couldn't feel his ghost sense building in his throat, so he decided it was either the latter of the former.)

Danny snorts, quiet and gruff. "No." He clips his thermos to his belt again, stifling a smile on his face. "The Fentons hate me actually, I prevent them from catching ghosts themselves. Their son gives me their tech."

He had a cover story, so he might as well stick with it, right?

Batman shows up at that moment, appearing atop the little roof where the door is, and giving Danny a heart attack when he speaks in his low, rumbly voice like thunder rolling in, "Why would they hate you for that?"

Danny shoots up to his feet with a startled yell in his throat, clutching his chest as he whirls around and looks up. He nearly runs into Red Robin, and signs a few choice swears at the Bat.

"wow you're scarier in person, asshole."

"you didn't answer my question."

"Of course I didn't, you scared me." and Danny takes a trembling step back when the Batman jumps down and lands on the roof in front of him. He's faced ghosts before, but somehow the living is always scarier.

"But, um, the reason is a bit.. complicated, I guess." He says, fingers beginning to shake as his adrenaline wears off. God is he tired. He wants to go home. "The Fentons are the local ghost hunters and local crazies. I don't know if I can call them mad scientists because they're harmless to the living."

"But they're extremely anti-ghost. I've heard from their son multiple times the very unethical things they would do to ghosts if they got their hands on one."

Danny 'talks' a little more before calling it quits, even telling Batman that he can't tell him more without putting his identity at risk.

Plus, its getting harder and harder to hide his bone-deep exhaustion and his growing fear of being stranded in the most dangerous city in America with no way home.

"I would love to tell you more, believe me I'm dying to." Danny signs, shaky sarcasm dripping from his fingers. His hands are visibly trembling and he's withholding a slowly growing panic attack. "But I would like nothing more than to figure out a way to get home."

"Do you have no one to contact?"

"Sort of. But only one of them could probably come get me and get me back to Amity by sunrise. And I have no phone."

That one person being Ellie.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @sara0055 @blusunkhild @letmesayfuxk (?) @latheevening226 @tkiesai @rosedasy @meira-3919

[willowser]

bakugou hesitates beneath the dim light of the station lamp.

you notice it at the last moment, half-turned from him already. red riot is waiting at the end of the sidewalk, far back behind him, a fuzzy, red little blip in the distance; before, he at least tried to act like he was interested in something on his phone, though now that he is safely out of reach of his partner's searing glare, his attention is all yours.

it feels like permission, for something. whatever it is has your heart growing in your chest, beating almost painfully.

in one quick flash of movement, bakugou pushes a rough hand up his face, dragging his mask along with his fingers until it's free. there, it dangles a bit limply as he stares down at it, picking at a loose string. he's fussed his hair up a little, but you don't think he knows and it's too cute to call attention to.

by now, he should be half-way back to kirishima, back to patrol. back to the city.

"think y'can manage not to die if i catch up with shitty hair?"

you had hummed coyly, silly and light beneath his severe stare. the darkness of his mask bleeds into his eyes, making them seem deeper, sharper; it's hard not to squirm at the other end of it.

"we'll see, i guess," you grinned. "listen for me to scream real loud, okay?"

bakugou had huffed, material of his gloves scratching against itself as his fists balled. "don't say shit like that."

now he's pulling them off, his gloves. staring down at his own hands, skin a bit pale in the winter evening. you watch him flex his fingers, warming the life back into them, before he's glancing up at you from beneath his long lashes.

"got this," he murmurs, without explanation, "shit on my face."

and — he does; eyes still shadows, outlined in his tacky, grease paint. a ghost of his breath floats by every time he huffs, but there's a sheen to the paint, high on the points of his cheeks, where it's smeared, like he's sweating in this kind of weather.

again, you see the ant in distance move, and you think he may be closer.

finally, you ask, "what are you doing?" because — he should be gone by now.

the rare moments you earn with him are often stolen away by dynamight; this should be no different. instead, he is here, having quietly accompanied you to the train too late at night, borrowing time neither of you can afford to pay back.

not that you would. not when he's shuffling in his heavy boots, gloves crumpled in one tight, icy fist. bakugou raises to his full height — a sudden reminder, of his greatness; his slouch is terrible — and you feel the night closing in on you both. shrouding you in something unfamiliar.

he doesn't say anything, just fixes you with a determined stare that makes you feel seen; maybe too seen. before your heart can land another beat, he's there, too close in front of you, melting what ice has gathered over your own fingers.

you gasp quietly, visible in the winter. there's something a bit frightening about him like this, dressed in his warring gear, painted like a warrior, but heat floods your face and builds on the back of your neck, excited by the hazard of him.

he's so beautiful, unappreciated. you look into the soft plain of his face and melt a little further, lean in as if to press your cheek to his.

bakugou lets out another huff; a mirror of your own breath. he murmurs, "fuck it," before closing the space between you, finally.

his lips are a little dry, but so are yours, by the chill, and the first kiss is quick and firm and chaste. he doesn't move away from you when it's over, though, just crowds you with a furrowed brow, nudging it gently against yours in an affectionate little headbutt.

it makes you laugh and that pulls him in again, rough fingers sliding along the curve of your jaw, keeping you together as his lips part with your own, deep and slow, savored. you've day-dreamed this moment with him one-thousand times since entering into his weird, intimate little space, but he's easier to fall into than you could have ever imagined.

bakugou breathes against you, open and panting, and you know he needs to go — but he doesn't fight when you rest a hand on his chest; his fingers tangle in your hair and his lips become kiss-bitten, red and wet as he parts to you for the last time tonight, tongue brushing your own before he's pulling away with a rushed, "fuck,"

you blink up at him, smile growing as red riot hoots and hollers down the street. bakugou's face is as red as his partner's costume, not dimmed in the slightest as he breathes in the night air, turns his face up to the chill.

"i—" he hesitates again before taking a step away, yanking his mask back on. "call me when—y'get home."

you laugh, and the sound stops him for another split second, though his eyes are bright and alive as he gazes at you, this time. "okay," you agree, cheeks aching from your smile. "okay, i will, i promise."

it releases him; he doesn't waste another moment before turning on his heel, tugging his gloves on as he saunters back down the sidewalk — to a jumping kirishima. bakugou shoves him once, voice low and angry and unmistakable, even from the distance.

you both savor the moment one last time, with one more look, before it slips away.