gardenofnoah

[gardenofnoah]

writing a sappy lovesick mess of a fic because i need it for ME

[gardenofnoah]

i love you bobs burgers, i love you burger family

also here are the belcher kids aged up a bit, yayyy, yayyyy

[gardenofnoah]

wedding bands came in the mail today c:

[gardenofnoah]

i looooove being a lesbian. just thought you all should know that

[gardenofnoah]

hello my beloved 💞💞💞

perhaps a friends -> lovers w blasty boy for ur writing practice (i am bad at prompts so sry </3)

my favorite trope for my favorite boy. you are indulging me 💘 i love u. cw: blood/minor injuries

you were five when katsuki fell out of that tree and bit through his lip. it was the most blood you’d ever seen and you swore he was a goner—you rushed through the screen door in a whirlwind of tangled hair and tears, tugging at your mother’s shirt and frantically pointing out back. overwhelmed with the fear clamping down around words that desperately fought to leave your throat.

he didn’t even need stitches. your mother taught you both the basics of wound care that day—and also the importance of staying calm after accidents occur. katsuki made fun of your crying for weeks, and neither of you ever mentioned the way he’d paled when he looked down at all of the blood on his shirt.

at 26, you’re less fearful when he appears in your doorway, torn up and bruised, and he’s a little less squeamish at the sight of his own blood. you don’t call attention to the way he still has to look away when you clean out the gashes left behind by whatever villain he’d been up against that day.

“you know i’m not actually a licensed professional.”

"so?" he rasps, eyes on the tile next to your seat on the floor.

"so, would it not make more sense to go to someone who is for things like this?" you reach for the arm he has tucked into his side. he offers it to you and turns his head in the opposite direction.

"m'not going to a fuckin' doctor."

you look up at him and his signature glare is already pointed at you. it only makes you grin.

keeping his arm held out of his sight, you lean forward and headbutt his knee. you're not startled when his uninjured hand reaches for you and threads through your hair, keeping you held there. you turn your head to look up at him, and your eyes settle on the nearly invisible scar across his bottom lip.

"you'd bleed out without me." it's only mostly in jest. something inside you needs so badly to ask the question--needs him to say the thing you've wanted to hear. his fingers across your scalp sear like a brand. you wouldn't pull away for anything.

you watch him swallow. his eyes are softer now, and they don't leave yours. "yeah. i would."

[gardenofnoah]

hi bea 💕 saw your note from a few days about gently pushing a writing prompt in your inbox 💌 if you're still taking them, here's a thought i've let run wild in my brain. hope it helps with your writing rut! bakugou and kirishima coming home to a non-pro hero!reader after a grueling 2 month stint overseas. it's the first long mission they've gone on since starting this fairly new relationship. it's a little awkward, but everyone underneath is brimming with longing. no one's not sure how to break the ice and settle back into a rhythm. maybe some insecurities come out as dinner is awkwardly made. how do the three of us get back to a safe and vulnerable place? a lil sweet? a lil angsty? all up in our feels? 👀 is it a soft kiss that breaks the tension? a lingering touch? a massive dam that breaks with clothes haphazardly ripped off down the hall?

i am kissing your brain directly for this one omfg

it doesn't feel like you thought it would.

to have your beloved heroes back home should have filled you with the familiar contentment that only they bring you. the knowledge that katsuki and eijiro are here and safe, back to you like you made them promise, should be a welcome thing.

but the hours that scratched at your loneliness until it bled are between you now. a great divide—one that widens with every touch the two exchange in front of you. you stand on the other side of it alone—an unfortunate voyeur to the very thing you've yearned for but could not have. how odd it is that the very people you have loved bring up a completely different sentiment now.

how strange it is that some part of you wishes they were still gone.

the apartment that felt too big now suffocates you. the mahogany under your fingers seems a far better sight than the alternative. they chat idly about situations you aren't privy to, missions you haven't gone on—you keep your eyes trained on the wood grain to ignore what's looking you straight in the face: you are othered—you are outside of this. you trace a chip in the tabletop and think with some detachment that you could get up unnoticed.

"you tired, babe?" eijiro's head turns to you as you stand. it feels foreign to have his eyes on you. you gather your bowl and utensils in your hands and fight the urge to tell him to look away.

"yeah, no, i just—i'm not hungry."

"oh! do you want to pick a movie to watch?"

you shake your head, looking anywhere but him. your feet take you past him, headed straight for the kitchen or anywhere else but here. "no, that's okay. don't worry about it."

"oi," katsuki's rasp commands a pause in your steps despite intending the opposite, "what's that s'pposed to mean?"

you don't move an inch—it's enough effort to contort your face into something resembling a smile. something to appease. you can't look at either of them—you keep your eyes on the floor and will it to open up and swallow you whole.

you jump when you feel katsuki's warmth in front of you—far too close. he takes the dishes from you, setting them on the table.

"don't worry about what?" he murmurs, reaching up to tip your chin up. forcing you to meet his gaze.

it doesn't take much else to make you crumble.

you whimper as your eyes burn, blinking furiously to fight the way his face blurs in your vision. he keeps you there and it's torture—fighting the wave that won't stop coming when no one has taught you how to swim. full of fear that it might be the thing that washes away everything.

"baby—" eijiro gets to his feet, startled at your outburst.

"sit down, red," katsuki mutters, holding a hand to the side to stop him. it's absentminded at best yet still effective—and the only thing you can notice is the unspoken between them. there is a trust there that existed long before you and has only been strengthened in the months without you. eijiro settles back in his seat. the canyon deepens—you get farther away.

you know that fighting katsuki's grip on you is futile and you try anyway. he lets you get as far as arm's length away before his fingers close around your wrist and drag you back to him. distantly, you can appreciate the metaphor.

the palm that cradles the back of your head and traps you against his chest is a cruel one. heart to heart, something inside yours breaks.

"it hurts," you gasp. god, does it hurt—the wound sears as hands that feel familiar and wrong hold you tighter.

"take a breath,” he says it so gently that you’re not convinced he’s not someone else in this moment, “tell me what’s goin’ on.”

you do as he says—shuddering and staggered, all torn up in his arms. you feel put on display here in front of both of them—an actor who’s been the butt of the joke the whole time, unbeknownst to them until the final act.

"you left and i—" you squeeze your eyes shut, bearing down on the sob that would love nothing more than to punch its way out of you, "y-you had each other and i was alone."

neither one speaks—the silence stretches and waits patiently for you to fill it.

"you left and i was the one to miss you. i—i feel like i missed everything—i don't feel like i have a place in this anymore—"

the grief knocks the wind out of you when you get to the root of it. it was silly of you to believe you could ever have a place in this, really. two heroes at the peak of their careers, and you—a chain around both of their ankles. how could you have ever held on to those that are held just as tightly by a whole nation? would it have ever mattered, with the hold they already have on each other? there could never be enough room.

"do you think we didn't miss you?"

the blatant hurt in eijiro's voice brings you back to the present moment. katsuki moves back just far enough for you to see it etched on to the red head's face in a way you haven't ever. something about it makes you want to step back into katsuki's warmth, as if it could shield you from it. you can't answer him—and the silence is more shameful truth than you're willing to part with.

"baby," eijiro breathes, strained and thick, "i—we—thought about you every single second we were gone. every single second, i thought about how you'd be spending your day, and i was so excited to get to call you to hear about it. at night we would talk about how you were probably burrowed in blankets and our clothes on the couch, and about how badly we wanted to be there with you."

"you are a part of me," he goes on, goring you any way but softly, "you are a part of us. this doesn't work without you. i know you're hurting and i'm so sorry we had to leave—but sweetheart, you are what we come back to."

your knuckles are white as katuski brushes his thumb over them. he brings them to his lips—brushing over each one softly. you shake in his grasp and he doesn't falter.

"i'm tired," you whisper to no one in particular. it's a half truth—the why hangs in the air between you—but the fatigue is bone deep. it hurts.

"alright," katsuki's voice is raw in a way that feels like a knife in your side—stoicism given away to something far too vulnerable for him, "shower first. then we're goin' to bed."

the ritual you had in place before distorts under the weight of the night. the act takes on new meaning as you let him peel the clothes off of you and corral you into the shower. you're only under the spray a short second before he's gathering you in his arms again--warm and damp in the steam as he dips down to press his face into your neck.

"don't you run off on me," katsuki’s lips brush your throat and it only feels melancholic. he whispers his fear against your skin and all at once you realize that it mirrors your own. you feel eijiro's chest at your back, and when he reaches over your head to wrap a palm around the back of katsuki's neck, the pain fizzles out into something like remorse. how blind you'd been to the knowledge that they held the whole time—that you were the thing they'd wrapped themselves around and sworn to protect.

there's nothing left to say, and yet you speak your apology anyway, hoarse over the patter of water against tile. much louder is what you don't say: i love you. i need you and i'm afraid.

katsuki dries you off slowly, like he's trying to commit you to memory, and it makes you ache. you let him preen you in some animal attempt at strengthening the tear in the bond.

but it's only a tear. blood dries and wounds repair themselves just as the connection between you will. when you settle into bed, it gives under the familiar weight of the two halves of your heart. it's almost comical, the way they both wrap themselves around you—nearly swallowing you whole.

it might be to keep you there—but your heart settles under their tangle of limbs and love and for the first time in the months they'd been gone, you sleep through the night.

[gardenofnoah]

No. I can't do inktober🙈 I just want to draw my kissing guys

[gardenofnoah]

thrift books i love you. i love you thrift books

[gardenofnoah]

that one scrapped episode

[gardenofnoah]

I don't feel like it gets me anywhere, anywhere

[gardenofnoah]

Continuation.

Bakugo Katsuki swore that he would die before he let you have Izuku's number.

And yet, somehow, the three of you have ended up together for drinks.

He thinks it's a fair compromise; Izuku can ask his million questions, Bakugo can kill the rumors that the two of you are together, you can-

He's not sure what your goal is, but he can see it shining in your eyes.

Izuku is still in his teaching clothes, a pristine button up rolled up to the elbows and a pressed pair of pants. There's an extra shine and coil to his curly hair, and it smells like sandalwood; he put effort into his appearance and Bakugo knows it isn't for him.

Your words echo in the back of his mind: people always want what they can't have.

"You worked for the commission? As a hero?" Izuku asks you.

You never give direct answers- just these convenient truths delivered with a pretty smile.

"I'm retired."

Lipstick clings to the rim of your drink. It makes your lips looks soft and round, even when you run your tongue across your teeth.

"Retired?" Izuku asks. "Wow, I'm kind of jealous."

"She's my social media manager." Bakugo cuts in. "And a tiktok person."

Not his girlfriend, he wants to add, but he refrains.

"Kacchan says you have a cool quirk." Izuku talks without pause, rambling mostly to himself in that way Katsuku has taught himself to find endearing. His attention never wanes away from you, but you don't blush or squirm. You sit and endure with that damn smile on your face. "What is it called? How does it work? I tried to Google it, but nothing comes up. You are so young to be retired, I just-"

You lean forward and place a hand on Izuku's upper thigh, cutting him off midsentence.

"You have very beautiful eyes," you say, slow, stepping gently over every word. "Wide, wet: like a rabbit's."

Izuku snaps silent. Each one of your nails taps against his thigh, one by one. Bakugo watches how your thumb swipes side to side, how your lips part with your exhale, how your smile creeps up all on its own as you lean even closer-

"You twitch like one too."

"Oh, wow, uh-" Izuku stutters, his whole face flushing a dark pink, so strong it eats his freckles. Finally, someone else understands your goddammit issues. Bakugo swallows down the strange feeling in his chest with the last dregs of his beer.

"I'm going to get a drink, I think." Izuku stands, pulling away from your touch.

"Grab me a beer?" Katsuki shakes his empty can. Izuku nods, then looks at you.

"Soda water with lime."

"No alcohol?"

"I like to keep my wits about me."

The man nods, then practically scurries off to the bar. You huff, content, like a dog that's bought it's master their hunt.

"You scared the fuck outta him."

"He liked it." You pick a piece of lint off of your skirt. "They always do. Watch: he'll come back and sit even closer to me."

Bakugo throws himself back into his seat, arms crossed. "You're so damn cocky."

"Look who's talking, Kacchan." You tilt your head, pouting your lips with fake sincerity. "I can call you that, right? As your girlfriend?"

He sinks even lower in his chair. "You aren't my girlfriend."

"I could be." You mimic him. You lean back and let your knees spread just a bit, just enough that he could see what under if he tried- "The sex would be phenomenal."

That hits him like a shot. It's not that he wants to have sex with you, but he can't deny that the thought crosses his mind every now and again. He thinks about it when he's alone, when the bed feels too big, when he's-

"You don't fucking know that!" He's too angry already, especially compared to your nonplussed response.

"I do.'

"You don't even fucking know me." He points a finger back at you. "And I don't know anything about you."

"It's better if you don't know."

Bakugo sneers. Another nonanswer. He looks back towards Izuku, who's locked in conversation with the bartender. Why would you even bother with him? Someone like you would rip through him like tissue paper. You're right- he is a rabbit, and you're a dog, waiting with your sharp teeth to-

A hand cups his ear. Bakugo watches as you lean in over the table, bringing your lips to his ear.

"I grew up in the commission. One of their little project kids," you whisper. Sometimes, your lips make contact with cartilage and his skin sparks with heat. "I did things for them. Bad things. Illegal things."

"You kill people?" he whispers back.

"You know the answer to that." With every word, you creep closer, until your hands are on his thighs now. "They forced me to retire when Hawks took over. No more need for girls with bloody hands."

It's the truth. Your voice is painfully sincere for once, a strange change from your usual composed self. You're just giving him what he wants, but it's working. It's working. He almost puts his hand around your waist.

If Izuku is a rabbit, he's a fox, and you've lured him out of his fucking burrow. At this point, he'd welcome your teeth in his neck.

"What else should I tell you? My favorite color's red, I love the beach. You're not allowed to pull my hair, I never sleep over after sex," you continue. "I have a scar on my chest. So, you're not surprised when you see it later."

"Stop assuming that I'm going to fuck you."

"Oh, you're going to." You slink back over to your seat. Hands folded over your lap- a snake ready to strike. "I'm going to flirt with Izuku until you break-"

You turn your attention away from him, waving towards the approaching Izuku. "And then you're gonna fuck my brains out, Kacchan."

There's no time to respond before Izuku teeters back, blaming three drinks with a little difficulty. He hands then out, then sits back down-

So close to you that his thigh brushes yours.

"Thank you, little rabbit," you tease, eyes flicking back to Bakugo with a knowing, smug smile.

Fuck, Bakugo thinks. Fuck.

[gardenofnoah]

Wishing all of you a tender forehead kiss from a strong but intimacy-starved man who is scared of the feelings you are awakening in him but is already in too deep to know how to stop.

[gardenofnoah]

Alexa play Mr. Brightside while your parents argue in the other room on youtube

[gardenofnoah]

i think that’s why it takes you so long to get together—you don’t know what his intentions are. he’s always got his arm draped across kiri’s seat at the bar and when he hugs izuku he brings him in by the back of his head and mina’s got her arm through his at all times. so you don’t think anything of the way he’s always got a hand on the small of your back until one day he’s had it and he’s nearly tearing his hair out like “do you think i just hold everyone’s hand?”

i think he blows a gasket when your answer is yes

i’ve decided that bakugou is actually a really touchy friend but no one comments on it because he gets embarrassed

[gardenofnoah]

i’ve decided that bakugou is actually a really touchy friend but no one comments on it because he gets embarrassed

[gardenofnoah]

i wish texts functioned like emails in that i could create a rule to send any text my family members decide to text me directly to the trash

[gardenofnoah]

head hurts. need bkg to tuck me into his chest like a baby and rub the back of my neck