Getting A Note On A Super Old Post

getting a note on a super old post

ANIMATED LINES | rainbow 002.

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( tw : flashing ) the og animated lines, but in other sizes ! apologies for not making these in different sizes in the first place—it’s actually been a year since I first released them heh. anyway, here are the other sizes 〜

as always, they’re vvv smol so it’ll be easier to save on desktop !

please like, reblog, and credit 〜

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((Banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/characters))

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5.1k

Rating: T+

Warnings: CH 362 SPOILERS, Pro-Hero! Bakugou x reader, angstttt, HURT/COMFORT, light PTSD, anxious stomach/vomiting, discussions about death, lots of comfort, est.relationship and lots of softness + trauma sharing

Summary:

When you love someone, you love their past, present, and future selves-- even if you were not part of their story for the hills and valleys that have made them who they are. This was the way of heroes: risking it all, even to death. You should know this threat by now, as it's the life you make for yourself as well-- but it's so much harder to keep the mentality when it's your loved ones on the line. You learn the extent of one of the biggest trenches in Katsuki Bakugou's life, and it shakes you to your core.

A/N: since I first envisioned my lil biker! reader, I've had this exact interaction on loop in my head. Making it the internet's problem now. apologies in advance for the feelings I've dumped in this fic. Signed, "Bakugou would hold your hair back" Club President

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on Ao3

Weekday mornings pass by generally uneventfully nowadays, leaving you with not much to do except to wait for calls for hero pickups when the shifts change over. It makes you feel like a bit of a taxi service, but the relaxed vibe makes up for the emergency response times you’re faced with in the dead of night when you get a message from the on-call line. 

After a brief stop by your office space to glance at your inbox, you take a lap around the Service Lab in order to catch up with Hatsume. 

There’s no one better fit to upgrade your helmet models and even take a special interest in how to bulk up your hero costume in order to protect you better. That’s a revolving topic from Bakugou’s lips as well, so your bringing up the idea wasn’t a foreign one– a revelation that touched you, deep under the professional front you keep here in the office. 

Hatsume is highly sought after nowadays. Time in her own lab is where she should be calling home, but given her sporadic interest in all things support tech, she has been prone to taking outsourced Technical Outsource calls for nearby agencies– especially when said agencies employ her dear old schoolmates. 

When you join her today, she’s busy talking shop and ropes you right into the conversation by pulling you right into her personal space. As far as subject matter, it’s hit or miss if you can contribute anything to the conversation, though today you’re pleased to see that she's in full ‘Dynamight’ mode. 

A favorite topic of yours– and of all the tech assistants in the room. Mei, however, holds a far more casual opinion of Bakugou out of familiarity. They’re hardly on a first-name basis as you are, but hearing her peel back details about the larger-than-life sweetheart of yours is both fun and enlightening to hear. 

Through your visits with her over the last year or so, you’re still not one hundred percent sure she actually knows what he means to you, because she barely looks you in the face as you cut your attention over old footage of him across all of her schematics monitors. Had she studied you as much as she studies Bakugou’s shoulder cannons, she’d spot your particular brand of appreciation by the tracing of a finger on your lower lip. 

"Yeah it's kinda nice sometimes to jump back to basics with Blasty,” Hatsume drifts into a relaxed state back at her table, “Simple fixes like this -darn thing- hmmmthere we go!- Yep, some things never change! Always smart to figure out how to store more sweat, defer more exhaust. Lil harder now that it used to be, having to worry about the magnets."

“Magnets,” you throw in a word, catching up to her thought process, “What, on his belt?”

“No, those clip into place! The way he complains about ‘em with his gloves though, I should probably look into making them easily detachable, too.. But no, I mean the ones he used to have across his chest, back when we made the first suit edits at UA: Year Three,”

Hatsume keeps a long, archived track record with Bakugou, if her nearby drive bogged down with version files is indication of how many changes she’s made to his hero costume and support items…

“-- because we were trying to offload weight from his arms, I tried to strap ‘em to his torso. Only we learned pretty quick the strength of magnet grade was affecting the charges where it was hitting along his chest.”

"Charges–” you pay more attention now, inspecting what she’s doing. Hatsume doesn’t look your way, but is listening, “In the grenades?" 

Do they go off at any second?? You assumed Bakugou’s smaller bombs were pulled in traditional fashion with a pin, as you’ve seen him use them in action firsthand. Hatsume has hard work, if she’s having to check each and every one of those, too…

"Oh! Haha no!" she chuckles brightly, "Sorry hun, shop term: ‘electromagnetic charges’! Each baby bombie has them, even when they’re not in use– but they don’t go live unless triggered. But in the rare event of a preemptive ignition, I didn’t want the chain reaction settin’ off his heart! Couldn’t use the strap anymore after that hoo-hah; too close to the loop device in the ‘ole ticker~"

Now that she’s talking organs, you start to get a pang of nerves. 

You know Bakugou’s quirk is biometrically dangerous, but till now, you’ve not worried about the risks it would cause him in that way. Even more, you didn’t know of any internal monitoring device he’d have to check for that sort of activity. Bakugou went to the doc here in this building, when he’s in too rough shape to handle himself. But beyond that, you’re stumped.

"Whyyyy would that matter? What’s inside him, again?"

Hatsume handles the internal wiring of Bakugou's cannons with ease-- now that nothing is connected to an active, explosive vial of sweat. With her outfitted eyes set on the tiny soldering work, Hatsume's got Bakugou’s chart up and briefly  flicks it over to the shared screen. 

"'Dat one, 'hurr," the a teeny tool in her teeth drops at her need to speak, "I pull a read on his heart monitor whenever I come around to keep tabs on things- same as the core staff here does! Works like a charm with the new heart, now that he's had time to build up muscle around it~"

You look for yourself at the screen as she chatters-- and are horrified at what you find there in a continuous crawl across the screen.

Can't move. You can't breathe. 

Can't understand how the hell Mei is still talking with such pep in her voice, when these pictures are taking nearly all of your composure away:

Nothing in your career prepared you to see stills of Katsuki lying stock still and caked with blood. 

You're pale as the ghost you're looking at– as gutted as he is in this photo: frozen in time. The archive thumbnails are mostly drone footage, but this much you can see clearly- and wish with everything in you that you could unsee it.

The reference photos on his hero account don't show the extensive medical layover you see here in his technical file. You run through every tiny detail in the stills above you on the screens. 

He's incredibly young. The soil around him, plants barely peeking out from the battle-torn ground; it's gotta be the big fight he rarely talks about. It's where he's got certain scars across his arms, chest, and the one cutting across his face; that much he's told you. They’re scars you’ve kissed and shown love and care for in his quietest moments, in which he felt the need to tell you why they stand out more than the others. In that much, Katsuki was honest… but not enough about this.

He never once mentioned organ replacement. 

He's never told you his arm was torn to shreds by his own doing. 

He never told you he’s living his second chance at life at the expense of another Pro Hero he’d never mentioned either--well, third if you could the brief blip while he was on the operating table after the battle. Didn't flatline for very long, according to these surgery notes, but still...

Surgery notes. Plural. There's many here. Wires sustain his oxygen and bloodflow, putting color back in his face. There's streaks across his cheeks- marred with tracks of soot and old blood, mixing with what must have been tears of pure exhaustion and rage and resolve. Yours sting at your own lash line. Every nerve ending clams up in your body: worse than the wreck that almost put you out of commission.

In your mind, Dynamight’s professional headshot is a flat, grumpy one. No smile to be found, but at least there's a spark behind the eyes.

He's not dead. 

He literally brought you a can of coffee this morning. 

He stopped you from getting up from the dining table too soon, needing to turn the clasp of your necklace around first because it was 'pissing him off'.

You know he's not dead– but you wish you'd never set foot in this room.

That old coffee's turned to lava in your gut.

"And these boots of his– they make too much noise! Talk about stealth-”

"Scuse- me, Hatsume.."

"--I know he’s not necessarily a known stealth hero, but– hey, when did she leave??”

He may not like how slick they go on when applied, but Bakugou had to admit it, these counterirritant patches were the best dang thing to ever happen to his shoulder blades. Menthol flooding his senses by heat activation, he was feeling better already after his first catch of the day.

After getting the note from Hatsume that his gauntlets were ready to pickup from R&D, he traipsed into her room while texting you. Just a short n’sweet message, hoping that he’d be able to cross paths with you before he’d need to go out again. The messenger app showed you were active within a few minutes ago, but you haven't responded to his messages.

He comes in, half listening to Hatsume’s rant to the staff technicians once again. He catches sight of his file, streaming up at the top of her video wall.

"Ugh, this again?” Bakugou barks out, “What am I, a sideshow to you science freaks?!"

"Hardly when we're the ones you need, Blasty," Hatsume huffed his way, "and besides, I think you better watch who you're talking smack to about this stuff anyway! And it wasn't online for my freaks, anyway. They know your work orders inside and out~ you should be nicer to them!"

You tell him as much, in his more crotchety moments… and you are always right. 

Bored of the medical records, he turns to his completed support items out on the reception table, "Then what're you blasting all this shit for? Haven’t had any arrhythmias for months."

“Just because you haven’t had any doesn't mean it’s not a good idea to circle back and check. We can learn plenty from stable periods, just as much as emergencies, ya know!”

Bakugou simply rolls his eyes, throwing a grumbly word of thanks to the technician who brings over the case for said equipment, and starts packing it into place. 

Hatsume slips her goggles up her face. Trying to read the Pro Hero before her wasn’t a hard task; he usually deflects when his weaknesses are on full display. 

"You want my advice Mr. Murder God?” Hatsume turns more solemn– an attitude she rarely radiates. 

“Sounds like you’re gonna give it anyway.”

“I think your teammates outta know what all's happened to you, cuz it sure isn't obvious to everyone. ‘Specially the ones who hang around you all the time… I think it’d be smart if they kept an eye out any emergencies, too- like your transport queen around here– Joyride, isn’t it?"

Katsuki flinched. He turns back from the table -past Hatsume- and centers back up to the full view of the record up on her computer. 

He’s not so irritated by its presence anymore… but rather worried about how long it’s been up there, in full view of the room.

"...She saw all this?..."

"Mmmmyea, pretty sure?" Hatsume was already engrossed in her current project, "Was in the middle of your pieces when she came by. She normally doesn’t as so many questions, but she sure was today till she-”

Kaminari slides into the lab -winded and nervous as all getout- nearly colliding with the reception table altogether. He almost hit Bakugou square in the face, since the hothead had turned ready to bust out of the room himself.

"Oh geez, (heh) there you are, Bak- (heh) listen-- your girl's barfing her brains out! You know if she's sick or something??"

Bakugou grimaced and seethed at his own negligence-

"fuuuUUUCK," he hissed rounding the table, before he remembered Hatsume- "YOU, DUMBASS-"

"Scuse you???!"

"TURN THAT SHIT OFF, AND WHEN I GET BACK, WE'RE HAVIN' WORDS-- AND YOU-" Bakugou yelled back to Kaminari, carrier of bad news as he was, "WHERE. IS SHE."

"Bathroom by the rec room- but, hey man, it's locked!!"

Bakugou didn’t take time to listen more as he books it down the hall, making a beeline to where you'd be.

Down the hall just a few corridors away, you hadn’t made it far to take your leave. Bakugou approaches where a couple sidekicks hear you coughing behind a door, and are presently failing to be let in. The sound is heart-wrenching, hearing you sick, but he’s in full protective mode and ready to take out the door himself if need be. 

He’s breathing hard, and scares them as he snaps and points harshly for them to move. They do, but not without one of them looking soured that he's getting in their face when they were only trying to help.

Coming to the door, Bakugou tries the handle despite Kaminari’s clear warning that it is indeed locked. He immediately rears up to bang his announcement, but rotates that fist to use just knuckles and taper his knocks down to a reasonable level. He's no less frantic in speech though, calling for you hoarse and breathy -mindful of his audience, only at first-

"Joyride...hon', it's me. Open up."

You're crying on the other side, but gasp when you hear him speak. An urp of a gurgle hits you in the quiet that follows, then another stomach-churning cough.

The rant of expletives that runs through his mind is enough to turn Bakugou’s own stomach... He palms his face for a minute, before letting his forehead drop to the door and speaks again.

"I can't help you if I can't see you, sweet’eart. I… know I got a lot to answer for." 

The chances of him greeting a furyless version of you all gone, Bakugou accepts his fate. 

"-And I figure if you're gonna yell at me, you should do it to my face. Please open the door."

After a sniffle and an incredibly uncomfortable beat of quiet where Bakugou is staring at the doorknob below him -gripping it in wait to open the second he hears the upper safety lock move-... he finally does, the moment you release it.

Bakugou steps in the single stall room -deftly fast- then locks it right up behind him. The girls on the other side fuss again, but he doesn’t give a spare thought to their efforts.

Down on the floor, not even fully sat back yet from your reach to catch the door, you're the most miserable sight. Stuffing a used-up paper towel that’s in reach by your stash, you're folding the unsoiled side to try and clear off your face and blow your nose for good measure.

What's worse, you can't bear to look at him.

With a careful sigh, Bakugou knows he's got a world of explaining to do- but has a greater worry over your slumped self on the tile floor. He’s seen you with the flu, and you weren’t this sick.

"Baby–"

One word and you're crying again, head down into your knees. Bakugou can only imagine what headspace you’re in, and the list of what he thinks he can say to console you is now down to zero. Actions it is, then. 

Bakugou kneels down, swiping your hair back into a rough pony by teething off a hair tie from his wrist to secure it. Just in case you feel sick again, it wouldn’t hurt, he reasons. Once freshened, he takes away your trash bucket next without a word. Collects all the used bits of your attempt at cleanliness into the trash, barely a care for how many there were to clean up. Whatever he’d need to do -whatever you’d allow him to do- that’s how he’s determined to serve.  

Finally, he shifts from a kneel to a sit. The blonde crisscrosses his stance under him, bringing you by both arms to pull you forwards, into his lap. 

At first you're confused at his hands' insistence, but since he's made himself in prime position to hold you, he's glad to see you fall to the open invitation even in a dire time like this. A little shaky, but still you clamber over to his lap on your knees until he can get you settled the rest of the way himself.

Chest to chest, legs astride him, he'd hoped he'd catch a better look of your face as you came over-- but no such luck as you duck your head in. His chance at helping you remains though, as you’re holding him tight around the neck and shoulders and clearly aren’t averse to him. Frightened enough for one day -maybe even a lifetime- Bakugou lets you cling on, and simply holds you tight in return.

All that matters to him is that you're positioned as close as humanly possible. Protected. Safe to cry and ready to just absorb it. He knows it's what he deserves, and considers himself your personal sponge.

To your hiccups making you jump against his chest, he just pets through your hair quietly hushing you to stillness.

"I'm here." He takes a tepid breath. "I’m not there, baby, I'm right here."

You stutter, but simply try to control your own breaths.

"i--... I'm so.. so.. 've never been so upset.."

"I know."

"I feel so'sick.. y’looked–"

The impulse to kick aside that damn puke bucket is raging within him-- but knowing your possible need for it, he brings it close instead. 

"I know, babe.”

He'll get you set before you head out on patrol today. If you ever settle… but for now, he's focused on the one thing he can control, and that’s getting you as comfortable as possible.

From here, you can't look at him, but you can look straight ahead- which shows you Bakugou's full back in the mirrored wall. The movement when he breathes, his neck craning as he lowers his head to sink over your shoulder. How you're being held so tightly it shows in each muscle group.

You can't see it, but feel it: cold breath blown from his lips, to comfort onto your heated neck. Bakugou's lifted up your haphazard ponytail, trying to introduce some cool touch to you in this small space.

You gather it's an apology, done his way-- seeing as he's unintentionally created this catastrophic response in your body.

As you've told him in your most private moments, you've only really felt this raw outlash of emotion in the workplace once before: the day you found out your sweet brother in arms, T’challa, passed away so expectedly. You suppose that's why this is jarring you so strongly now; losing him was the first major loss in your life, years before you met Bakugou.

This is so different, but all the same. A core figure in your support system- your inner circle– here one minute and gone the next. This was the way of heroes. You should know it by now, but it still breaks your tender heart. Even looking at snapshots of Katsuki at his lowest has you heartbroken and shocked.

You're a dichotomy of strength: tough enough to ride headfirst into a mission, but also prone to such intense emotion in your most private moments that you retreat into yourself and deal with an anxious gut all by yourself. Anything to protect the image you keep.

Only today, that exterior means nothing to Katsuki. Not when he alone can try and hold you back together while you try and fix yourself enough to speak coherently.

He's been holding himself together solo for far too long, too; you’ve known this from the first day he out and out confessed ‘I’m bad at this’ when he asked to simply hold your hand in public. You can feel it in your conjoined breaths, cycling back and forth for comfort. He’s unsettled, too– his new heart’s going far too fast.

“Did you actually die out there?” you manage in broken whispers. 

Tell me I just thought the worst.

“... I did,” Bakugou answered calmly, “But I didn’t wan’ you to see how. Not alone.”

“Would you have shown me? Ever?”

“Doesn’t exactly come up at the breakfast table, angel.”

‘But it should have by now.’ 

Bakugou senses the retort and simply pets through your hair again, another apology written by touch. 

“But… I coulda picked any other time, by now. You know everything else. I swear.”

Everything meaning injuries, you hope to God… “No more?”

“No more surprises. I promise.”

Secure enough to take a deep inhale, you try to lift your sights heavenward. 

Such a sobering thought you have to operate in on the daily, knowing hero work is among the deadliest professions. You could lose your best friends at any time, anyone you love. In that vein, you are trying your best not to be selfish with your need for Bakugou’s safety…. Yet you still hold that small hope that as long as you have each others’ backs, you have a shot at staying ahead and staying alive- together. 

Back then, you didn’t know each other. Katsuki Bakugou lived an entire life before he met you, one you were still learning.

"I didn’t know how bad it was for you…” you remember the site of the attack, what surrounded him- or rather, what didn’t. So much of that battlefront had been laid low. That told you as much as the injuries, how bleak everything looked.

Bakugou takes a centering breath himself. His grip on you never lessens. 

"It was the worst day of my life,” he shares, “I fought the world's greatest villain. Almost watched my hero die… Almost lost my best friend, all on the same day. Bad memories all around, for all of us."

Memories that seep into sleep.

"S'that what you dream about? When it gets bad?"

Taking the shot at Shigurake, sent flying back by his own ricocheted blast, giving it all- fruitless as it might have been in the moment when every bone in his body felt like it was bleeding out of every pore. 

You know somewhere in that event, the best friend Katsuki speaks of must have been on the brink of death in an emotional full-circle moment, for he never speaks ill of him in all the ways that matter. He’s a dork, but he’s his dork. You identified their relationship as special from the moment you’d met Izuku Midoriya but… in a deeper way than you’d found the words for yet. They’re twin stars, bound by something stronger than you even think you share with Katsuki some days. Or maybe it’s just different– not one bond that’s better than another. 

You've heard him waking in a panic those nights: how he calls for Izuku, and wakes up in tears. Even in recent months, he doesn't always explain why he’s crying, only that he wants to bury it for the night… and that you help him do that. 

On the subject of those nightmares, today’s discovery of that era of Bakugou’s past becomes painfully clear.

And so, he answers honestly, "...yeah." 

“That’s so scary, Katsuki. You were so young.”

He feels around with one hand between your crammed bodies- for yours. Your head's still hung over his shoulder, but you crane back to watch what he's doing.

 He puts it in place over his heart, forehead knelt to yours.

"Here. This is me, now."

The heartbeat under your palm is strong- a little fast, at the moment.

"They asked me if I’d do it again, if given the chance. N’for the longest time, I woulda said ‘yes’. That’s what I figured heroes say, in the face of the unknown.”

Before you can let that thought gut you again, you feel Katsuki press his thumb in one singular spot: your empty ring finger.

“But I faced the unknown. It was– really light, actually. But all I wanted was more time. I wanted the time to say words. Say more, or- do more. I had to make it right to the ones who mattered. I’m still trying to make it right. And I was given that chance to raise hell, and won. So when I see that shit, I’m grateful. I’m stronger now because of what happened then.”

You look to his face now; the older, stronger, seemingly immovable version of that younger self that still makes its appearance when he’s more pensive. He is still stuck on the look of his thumb where your third knuckle should be…

“Looking at it today though, there is more that war gave me than just making me the hero I am now.”

You press into his heart, “What’s that?”

“If I’d stayed dead,” he treads carefully, “I wouldn’t have you. I wouldn’t have someone who– cares for me, like you do. Who would care about that shitty kid who just barged ahead, even with warning signs going off everywhere.”

With a raise to kiss your hand, Bakugou lets his voice go raspy.

“You looked at that idiot and threw up- all because you cared,” he sniffs with a laugh, “Got a second chance at life, and got a complete knockout who gives a shit about me.”

Abrasive but honest; you laugh in full force. The odd thought passes you: why people watch gory, scary movies for ‘entertainment’ makes no sense to you. If they want horror, just take a gander at a pro-hero’s medical file. 

You cradle Katsuki’s head in for good measure and lay an appreciative kiss on his head. 

“Of course I give a shit,” you say hoarsely, “tho I prefer to say things like that with honey than vinegar, Kats.”

“Yeah, I know ya do… I count on it.”

When you hug him now, it’s a gentler connection. Bakugou still rubs his hand up and down your back, but out of affection instead of dire comfort. 

Finally you feel assured enough for now: you reconciled his past enough to have confidence in his present. He’s bold and never short of giving his all, but to know he acknowledges this living on extended time and has a unique appreciation for the cornerstones around him gives you calm again. 

Bakugou truly is your hero– who you know will drop everything to make sure he protects what’s closest to him first and foremost. 

When you sniffle and lick at the corner of your mouth, it still tastes sour and you finally register a pang of self awareness. You have to smell foul talking so close to him right now.

“I shoulda thought about gum or something..-sorry.”

“Would you stop,” Bakugou droned, taking out your insufficient ponytail now that you finally seemed settled, “I’m with you just about every morning the second you wake up, and I don’t give a fuck.”

Sweetly you silently thank his efforts with a sweet nod to how he put the hairtie back on his wrist. “Still, don’t mean to make it your problem.”

The hint of a smirk starting to come back to his face, you couldn’t completely eradicate his worry with one little bat of the eyes. 

“You are my problem. One I’m happy to fix up when I break it. We’ll get you freshened up when you’re ready. And only when you’re ready.”

You notice your position now on the floor of this bathroom and find it endearing how he managed full cuddle mode in such limited space. Surely the locked door was the straw that secured this.

But the knock was sure to halt it–

“Hey man, leave them alone!-”

“Um, hey ‘Joynamight’?~” Kaminari tested from the other side, “Haven’t heard any hurling in a while, are y’all good?”

“We’ll be GOOD when I SAY WE’RE GOOD!” Bakugou fired back, “HOLD YOUR DAMN HORSES, SPARKPLUG!”

Muting all laughter at the old school rivals was a challenge, but you did so while trying to gracefully detach from your loving partner. He let you with a steadying set of hands to yours to help push yourself up. You offer him steadying arms to pull him back up as well before putting your trashcan back to where it belonged. 

A rinse of your mouth later, you fan your face as best you could in a last-ditch effort to look like you haven’t been bawling like a baby. While he awkwardly stood to the side to give you a minute, you caught Bakugou thumbing at his waterline, too, with a stiff upper lip to get himself back in business. 

Once you rejoined him for a last hug, he readily accepts you with a rush of kisses to your forehead– just how you like it. It’s the mushiest he gets with you physically– guaranteed to get you back to your happy-go-lucky self. Once done, he smirks back at you pleased, petting your hair perfectly back into place. 

“You good?”

“I’m good~”

“OKAY, WE’RE GOOD, SHITTY HAIR!”

“Hey I was the one tellin’ him to lay off you guys!!”

“YEAH AND I CAN HEAR YOU SNICKERING FROM HERE.”

“Damn, for a guy with hearing loss, he sure can pick you out pretty well-”

Bakugou finally swings the door open, pissy as usual, “I HEARD THAT!!”

While Kirishima and Kaminari jog on, Bakugou pockets his hands and holds back for you. Once you exit, you figure you better brave a trip to the kitchen and make a round 2 of breakfast. 

“Something easy, ok?” he warns gently.

“I will. Won’t go fainting on ya~”

Knowing you’ll be on the roads later, Bakugou will impress a stable diet on you more than most.

“And no coffee.”

“Well, tie my hands completely, why doncha, Dynamight?” you sigh dramatically in the doorway.

He takes your chin in a bossy move, “Hey- m’lookin’ out for you, dummy.”

He sounds gruff and looks like he means it in the coolest of ways… but you hear everything in between the fussy brows and piercing eyes:

I care about you-

I’m sorry-

I know you’re this way because of me-

Never again-

Find me if you need me-

I love you- I love you- I love you-

“I know you are, Blasty~”

“UGH, she’s still calling me that shit too?!” Bakugou recoils further, shooting daggers down to the Tech Room, where he knows Hatsume is the one who fed you that old nickname.

You giggle as he stomps away, but he still throws back a last threat that you need to drink a fucking water before you go the fuck anywhere.

Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.

Writers should NOT feel guilty about:

Skipping a day of writing.

Not having a perfect first draft.

Partaking in sinister, arcane rituals for inspiration.

Working at their own pace.

Enlisting demons and/or helpful spirits to aid them with editing.

photogirl894:

littlemissmollymormon:

Forgetting why you came into a room like

ACCURATE