since i’m feeling particularly unhinged rn for whatever reason i’m gonna share a snippet of my upcoming noah fic (bc i cannot stop thinking about it so now you won’t be able to stop thinking about it either)
“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.
“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.
“No.”
Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.
As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of unknown he’s letting fall over you. You shift slightly.
But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.
“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”
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bakugo + february
(warning: gn i think? kinda shitty world building😖, a lil angst, happy valentine’s day!!!!!)
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“This is the third box of chocolates in this bin alone.”
You throw the frilly, silver package onto a large pile of red cardboard and ribbon, on top of another box of neatly wrapped sweets. Some of the gifts with sappy, little valentines written on top, others with pink and white sticky notes.
Bakugo huffs with a pout and an eye roll, in his own hands a stack of rainbow cards he flips through quickly.
“That’s funny.”
You don’t look at him, just continue to paw around in the bin in front of you. You pull out a dark brown teddy bear, it’s fur soft in your hands, and turn to plop it in the pile of things he said that you could keep: stickers, fake flowers, toys.
“Why?”
You don’t even glance at him as you say it, like it doesn’t matter, and he picks at a bit of lace falling off of a large greeting card and snorts.
“Not like I ever got any of this kinda crap in high school.”
You stop your rifling to stare at him, your expression so different than from moments before. “You didn’t get any fan mail in high school?”
You assume he did, at least: he was just as cute back then as he is now… you’ve seen the pictures of that blonde boy, smaller, still scowling, but still any teenager’s dream. He was working as a hero by then, surely he had some sort of fan club.
(You would’ve been amongst them if you had known. Now he’s professional, though, and you only met him through Jirou when you transferred from her team to his.)
“I didn’t get any…” he pauses, his face twisting in a frown, his cheeks going the slightest bit ruddy. “Chocolates and shit. Letters.”
“Katsuki…” he grunts but doesn’t look, your tone incredulous in a way he doesn’t want to address. “You were never confessed to?”
He blows out an angry raspberry, picking up and throwing a bottle of nicely-labeled hot sauce into his own keep pile. It clinks with the rest.
“Don’t fucking rub it in.”
“I’m not!” you try to assure, reaching out for him. “I’m just… a little surprised, is all.”
He glares, wordless and accusatorially, like your giggles are threatening and the vacuum sealed pair of panties you teasingly wave in the air (and he snatches, immediately trashing) are nuclear.
“…’cuz I would’ve thought you got tons. Like now, big boy.”
He turns even more pink. As pink as half the mail room has become with all the love notes sent in for February.
“Yeah, well,” Bakugo tries to move on, grimacing as he picks up a plain envelope that he initially had high hopes for and unfolds it into a long, love poem. “Can’t win ‘em all, I learned.”
And as you throw another box of store-bought chocolates onto the stack, you think you know what you want to get him for Valentine’s Day.
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Mir war es immer wichtiger zu lieben, statt geliebt zu werden.
Doch mittlerweile ist es genau andersrum, möchte lieber geliebt werden,
als selbst wieder zu lieben, doch am schönsten, wäre es natürlich, wenn beide Liebe kriegen.
Nach all dem Schmerz, möchte ich, erst einmal nicht die Person sein, die mit ganzem Herzen liebt, und seinem gegenüber, alles von sich gibt, während er die Liebe und Bestätigung gerne nimmt und weiß, dass für ihn das alles stimmt.
Sehne mich danach,
mal auf der anderen Seite zu stehen, auf der Seite der geliebten, nicht auf der, die sich zerreißen und im Schmerz versinken und später an ihm ertrinken.
Möchte das Gefühl erfahren, wie es ist, auf der anderen Position zu stehen, auch um zu sehen, wie ich, würde damit umgehen.
Ich bin mir sicher, das Gefühl ist wunderschön und warm, fast schon so, als würde einen jemand umarmen.
Glaube ich jedoch, dass es auch erdrückend sein kann, wenn man nicht das selbe fühlt und das einen sehr aufwühlt.
Doch egal, wie sehr ich mir wünsche, auch mal auf der anderen Seite zu stehen, weiß ich, ich bin immer die, die liebt, doch nie die, die, die selbe Liebe zurückkriegt.
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in which goro akechi is still unable to die due to the whims of others
context for people who don’t recognize the fandragons:
>doc runs status quo; it’s an organized militia/strike force
>the shadow lookin’ thing behind goro is loki; it’s essentially a spirit contracted to him
>the location shown is one of the final dungeons in persona 5
>doc’s basically a necromancer (very much Not a real doctor)
part 1 | part 2
[these are not my dragons nor my lore; they belong to a friend]
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