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animestsstuff2 · 1 year ago

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•sickly sweet•

Bakugou katsuki x reader

Warnings- blood, death, eventual smut (characters are aged up slightly in this story to 17 and or turning 17. I know they are 15/16 when beginning U.A but I tweaked it slightly :)), cursing, teasing etc

-Master List-

Thought id provide a little description of the reader character!- quirk: vampire- She is basically a vampire! it was genetically passed down by her father. Her mother had a mineral manipulation quirk and combined with her fathers quirk allows her to manipulate her blood. She has increased physical stats due to being a vampire which include speed, sight, hearing, strength and endurance. These peak at night and weaken significantly during the day. She does not need food to survive but enjoys it and drinks animal blood!

Part 3

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Its been just over two weeks now since you started U.A and you’ve made a lot of friends. Kirishima is definitely your closest friend right now. Yous sit together in home room, during lunch and a few other classes, currently you sat in homeroom beside Kirishima and bakugou to your left. You also had made friends with Uraraka, Midoriya, Denki is also pretty funny so is Mina. Shes always talking and already shipping people together. Midoriya had pulled a chair up to your table along with Denki and Mina. "What do you think we'll be doing today?" Midoryia asked and bakugou spoke up.

"Why do you care deku! You'll probably be shit at it anyways like always" he grunted and you turned to the angry blonde and glared at him. You hated bullies, being bullied frequently as a child for your appearance; Bakugou is someone you have yet to find something about him to like. "Take that back!" He looked at you. His whole face radiating anger. This was occurring. He would pick on Deku like he always did but you. You had to intervene and speak up, annoy him like an insect. "Or what! What will you do?! You’re just a stupid extra, sticking your nose in everyones business" He snapped, glaring at you as his fingers curled into a fist.

"I-I'll make you" your sudden resolve you had. The anger towards him fizzled away as his dark red eyes glared into yours and you backed up slightly, feeling your stomach twist, not in hunger… not in a way youve ever experienced. You’re not really alive so your body doesn’t really do alive things. This was new however, Bakugou sometimes, his aftershave he wore was strong some days and would make you freeze. You couldn’t understand why. You didn’t feel anything but distaste towards him but sometimes, when you made eye contact your brain would draw blank.

“Well! What are you gonna do you damn nerd. You’re just like Deku. A weakling!” He shouted. He reached forward, not that there was much a gap between yous too. You sat beside each other, grabbing your collar and pulling you closer to his face. Your brain froze as he stared you down. His smell of burnt caramel tinged with smoke from fresh explosions wafted up to your nose. You felt your teeth grow as your mouth watered slightly. Your eyes widened and you pulled away quickly after your stomach growled, pulling your hand over your nose

"What the hell was that! Do i smell bad?”He growled and reached forward again grabbing your hand from your nose and glaring at you again. You felt yourself sweat as your stomach wanted him, more importantly his blood. You shook your head furiously, pulling your hand back and immediately grabbing your water bottle, taking a large gulp as you relaxed back in your seat. You never ever wanted another humans blood. Why did that happen? "You damn extra! You think I smell bad!! Smell me now. I dont smell bad!" He growled as his hand again reaching out to grab your collar and pull you. You resisted tipping your head back slightly. “Bakugou! Let me go. You don’t smell bad!” You yelled, feeling your fangs grow again as your insatiable beast inside of you grew. His grip loosened slightly and you looked into his narrowed eyes. “Tsk! Yeah thats what I thought you punk!” He snapped and shoved you away. You fell back not expecting it and fell into your chair. He slumped back into his and crossed his arms. "I am here!" All Might called out cheerfully as he broke down the door, standing tall.

"Well! Students, today we are doing battle training" he announced proudly and everyone excitedly picked up a chatter as they wondered what they would be doing. "Battle training! YES! Deku youre being crushed!!" Bakugou yelled at midoryia and All Might chuckled at midoryias fearful face. "But young heros! You are missing something!" He grinned as he pointed to the left wall "some awesome outfits!" Slits in the wall were pushed out. A box in each with everyone's numbers on them, everyone smiled excitedly and grabbed their own box with their personally designed costumes.

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Everyone changed and you stepped out of the bathroom You put your uniform in your locker and turned to your friends. They looked so cool. "W-Woah Yuri you look awesome!" Kirishima grinned as he stood before you. You looked at his outfit. He was topless, with black bottoms and a red ripped cape around his waits that fell over his legs. A large R on the front of the belt. He had a structure of a mask over his mouth and under his jaw but it was empty in the middle showing his toothy grin. "Th-Thanks! Yours looks cool to! Trying to impress the girls huh" you giggled and he looked confused before looking down at his bare chest and laughed nervously a pink hue on his cheeks. "Wh-what! No-" you giggled as you cut him off anf patted his arm.

"I know kiri. I was just teasing! But its definitely working" you looked around at a few girls who were eyeing kirishima. "Kiri?" He asked and you nodded "its a nickname, do you not like it?" He quickly shook his head "n-no its nice!" "Hey Yuri! Your costume is so cool" Uraraka complimented as you turned your attention to her and Midoriya "its so dark and mysterious, spooky. I love it!"

"Yours is so cute Uraraka it totally matches your quirk. A astronaut vibe" you turned to Midoriya

“Yours is super cool too Midoriya! It matches your green hair!" He blushed at your statement and opened his mouth to comment on yours when you heard an oh so familiar boys grumble behind you.

"Deku cool!? Hah! Dont make me laugh. Hes a pathetic weakling! Like you squirt" Bakugou laughed mockingly and you turned, crossing your arms under your chest.

"Shut up Bakugou! I said his costume is cool and what if i do think Midoriya is cool! Whats so wrong with that huh!" You retorted, leaning towards the blonde boy whos cheeks tinted a slight pink as he eyed your costume.

His eyes rolled up your body, taking in your costume. You had black combat boots on, with black shorts. A red utility belt strapped around your waist which attached to thigh holsters on both your thighs below your short. It held a small water bottle for you in it and another part held a small knife. You wore a small black sports bra which tied behind your neck with red lining it. A metal mask hung around your neck, similar to Midoriyas. "Well! If his costume is cool then mines is obviously way cooler! Im cooler than stupid Deku in everyway, so wheres my compliment huh! You complimented shitty hair and that round face!" He huffed in response and glared at you. You placed your hands on you hips and straightened up slightly, looking up at the blonde boy and into his crimson eyes before rolling your eyes down and over his body. He didnt like this feeling of being judged. He never cared what anyone thought he was the best! No he is, so why under your gaze does he feel small.

"Meh, its alright" you mumbled, in reality you kinda gawked at his arms for a bit at his muscles and then at his gauntlets which looked super heavy before looking at the tight shirt on his chest. "Alright!? ALRIGHT?! You shitty squirt! I want a proper compliment!" He yelled as he stepped even closer, pressing a firm finger into your chest which shifted you back slightly. “Yeah!? Well thats all youre getting. Youre nasty and your costume is alright!” You snapped back, pointing a hard finger into his chest but he didnt budge and his chest was so...firm

“Give me a proper compliment! Im better than all these damn extras!” He glared at you. You stood firm as your classmates watched. Midoriya was sweating and mumbling to himself nervously. You just rolled your eyes at him which seemed to fire up the boy before you even more and he grabbed your wrist pulling you closer to him. Your eyes widened at the close proximity and his smokey caramel scent wafted up to your nose. Your eyes widened as your mind went blank and your anger fizzled out. He looked you up and down again, noticing how you’ve kind of spaced out.

“F-Fine you have a cool costume. Your gauntlets are pretty intimidating” you stammered out, you pulled your hand away and stepped back. Your mind clearing. Bakugou just ‘tsked’ at your response and rolled his eyes, eyeing you once more. You pulled the mask which lay around your neck over your nose. Bakugous smell completely disappearing.

“Whats with the mask Yuri?” Uraraka asked as you guys moved outside to a large building. You reached for the mask touching it.

“Hmm? Oh my heightened senses also make my sense of smell super strong and my hearing. I find though that smells are super overwhelming! So I added this to my costume to help myself. It can be super distracting” you answered, smiling. It was half true, smells can be super overwhelming especially open wounds.

“Oh! Thats understandable” she hummed in response.

"Now we will be conducting battle training today!" All Might exclaimed and you stood beside kirishima and Uraraka, Bakugou was behind you grumbling about something.

"You will be battling each other, teams of two with one being the villians and the others being the heros! You will be in the a tall building with multiple floors. The villains have the bomb. Heros you must get the bomb or capture the villains!"

"How much can we hurt the other team?" Bakugou piped up and you rolled your eyes at his comment. "Now as i explained the villains will be placed on a random floor with a nuclear bomb! The heros must gain possession of the bomb or disarm and capture the villains!" He explained. All Might held out a box and explained we were choosing based on lots.

You got paired with bakugou and midoryia was paired with Uraraka. Kirishima was paired with the boy sero. Bakugou complained loudly about being paired with you. You looked over to Kirishima who gave you a sorry smile.

"Paired with you?! GOD this SUCKS!" He groaned and you rolled your eyes at his childishness. You and Bakugou were team A and Uraraka and midoryia was team D. We were the villains and they were the heros.

You watched as bakugou glared menacingly at Izuku and Izuku whimpered so quietly you barely heard it with your heightened hearing.

"Now everyone head to the monitory room. Villains! You head in first and get set up. I will send in the heros in 5minutes! Remember the best way to win is to embody villainy!" He explained to us and We both nodded as we headed it.

You walked into the room and saw the fake nuclear weapon. You turned to Bakugou, jumping slightly, not expecting him to be so close to you. You didn’t notice. He grabbed your wrist and you froze, feeling the heat through his gloves.

“Listen you extra. I don’t loose. I always win and if you get in my way. Ill blast you” he growled and you nodded, grabbing your mask and pulling it up over your nose. You are definitely keeping this on. His smell is so strong. “You think i smell bad again!” He snapped and you shook your head, stepping back and pulling the mask down.

“I dont! Your smell is just really strong, its distracting” you explained and he narrowed his eyes and your response but choose to believe you. He paced back and forth, thinking of his plan when you reached out and stopped him. He opened his mouth to yell at you for touching him when you slapped your hand over his mouth. he seethed at your actions but stayed still “Theyre in the building” you whispered and he nodded. You pulled your hand away, tilting your head slightly as you strained your ears

"You stay and guard the weapon. Ill deal with them" you only nodded, less work for you to do.

"Do you know what floor?" He asked and you stood still hearing their footsteps. "3rd maybe 2nd" he nodded and left.

You sighed, sitting against the pillar. It would be good to make your weapon. You pulled the small switch blade from the holster, bringing it to your arm and creating a small cut in your skin. You put your knife back and began creating your weapon.

Bakugou stalked down the third floor, stopping as he heard footsteps come towards him. He jumped up as they got to the corner and blasted his palm at midoryia. He and Uraraka jumped out of the way and bakugou stood where the once where.

"Whats the matter Deku? Too scared to fight me?" he growled as the smoke cleared and revealed the hole in the wall. Dekus mask was torn in half, showing his face as he glared at Bakugou.

Everyone in the monitory room were amazed. Kirishima thought it was a cheap trick but All Might was right when he stated he was playing the villain part.

You could hear Bakugou blasting and them yelling at each other. It unfortunately drowned out Urarakas footsteps so You had no idea where she was or how close. Bakugous blasts shook the building. You moved, hiding behind on of the pillars in the room. You focused your hearing and heard her. She was outside. Her footsteps were so light, maybe shes using her quirk on her body.

“Deku, im with the weapon” she whispered, most likely through the ear piece you all had. You waited, hearing her quiet footsteps grow slightly louder as Bakugous blasts echoed through the building.

“Where is she?..” Uraraka whispered as she crept into the room. The weapon right in the middle and you were no where to be seen.

You stepped out, showing yourself to Uraraka. Her eyes widened at the daunting weapon; A dark red scythe that towered over you. You grinned at her as you stepped in front of the bomb.

“Well hero. It looks like youve found me but you should leave whilst you can!” You cackled, trying to play the villain part. It was like acting.

“Never villian. Ill defeat you here!” She yelled back, smiling slightly. She ran at you and you stood firm, reading for her attack but instead she jumped over you and you realised she was going to try and touch the bomb. You swivelled your weapon around and struck her legs, sending her light body into the pillar. She groaned, getting up from the ground as you turned to her.

“You underestimate me hero!” You stated, the building shook again and you both braced yourselves when suddenly the floor beneath you crumbled. You jumped, switching your weapon into a chain with a pick at the end and wrapping it around the bomb. You quickly threw the pick end into the wall and manoeuvred yourself as you stood on the bomb, holding onto the chain.

You looked over and gasped at the pillar Uraraka threw towards you. You jumped from where you stood over to a part of the floor that was still intact in the corner, climbing up onto it and turning looking for her. She stood across the room on a floating piece of concrete. You couldn’t make another weapon. Youd pass out easily from it. You looked between her and the bomb as she did the same. There were a bunch of floating debris and bricks surrounding you, most likely Urarakas doing.

“Its over villain! Give up” she yelled at you and you shook your head, looking around and seeing some bricks beside you. You picked them up, aiming and throwing it at her. She yelped and the floating debris tipped and she fell off the side, grabbing onto the edge as she struggled to hold on.

“never. ill take us both down before I surrender!” You yelled back at her, grabbing another piece brick to aim again at her. You paused, looking down. She would seriously hurt herself if she fell. the bomb was placed on the fourth floor and Bakuogou blew both the third and second floor out.

“Surrender Hero! And ill make it easy for you” you yelled again hoping shed surrender but her brows furrowed as she pulled herself back up and steadied herself. She thought of what to do next when suddenly the building shook again and the piece of concrete you stood on crumbled. You gasped as you fell down three stories, landing in a pile of rocks and bricks.

“YURI!” Uraraka yelled as she cancelled her quirk and floated down herself, running to you. You groaned as you tried pulling yourself out of the rubble, falling forward onto your knees. Uraraka fell to her knees and grabbed your face.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” She asked, looking you over. You nodded. They had gone too far. You looked over seeing Midoriya with a broken arm, both boys puffing. You got up with help from Uraraka as Midoriya yelled at Bakugou who just barked back words that you didnt focus on.

You watched as Midoriyas eyes rolled back and you rushed forward, faster than anyone could see and grabbed him as he fell forward. He passed out. His body exhausted from the fight. You gently crouched to the ground and laid him down.

Everyone came rushing in and All Might took Midoriya to recovery girl after dismissing everyone. You stood up, looking up at the bomb and morphing the chain back into the scythe as the bomb fell to the ground, obviously fake so it didnt explode. You all moved outside and you groaned, stretching and rolling your arms. The adrenaline leaving your body as the pain from falling onto rocks set in.

you all headed back and got changed and went to your next classes for the day.

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author question: what type of boyfriend do you think Bakugou would be?

#bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #aizawa shouta #bakugou x reader #kirishima eijirou #all might #mha #ochako uraraka #mina ashido

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doyelikehaggis · 1 year ago

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Ok first of all, the name change confused me sm I thought I lost your user. Second of all, I hate you so much. You gave me a taste and now I’m addicted, but can’t get my fix because the drug is discounted, I’m going insane why did you do this to me

(Drug = stHudson|jesse/finn)

It has taken me about 9 months to answer this, so I'm sorry about that, first of all. However, your dealer is back in business and good to supply you with another hit of the good stuff, free of charge as extra apology. This is a continuation of the original St. Hudson drabble I wrote, set after Rachel did "Run, Joey, Run". <3

It's probably common knowledge to just about everyone that Finn doesn't really understand a lot of things that other people do. However, he thought he at least knew some things. Like, when someone suggests having lunch together, it's usually followed by an agreement to make an arrangement of some sort.

The other person doesn't usually just slide onto the bench across from them the next day and start taking food off of their tray like it's some sort of routine. Do they?

This is what has been going on in Finn's mind for the last ten minutes. Or has it been longer? He's lost track of just about anything, including his thoughts, from the second that Jesse joined his table in the cafeteria.

It occurs to him that he hasn't caught a single thing that he's been saying, either. Something about that strikes him as familiar, but that thought leads to thinking about Rachel, and he doesn't really feel like doing that right now when the whole "Run, Joey, Run" thing is still so fresh.

A quick, sharp snap brings him back. He focuses on Jesse, his eyes widening slightly as he tries to figure out how to ask him to repeat his entire rant without making it obvious he just zoned out. Or if he even wants him to repeat himself at all. Chances are, he won't understand it any better the second time around.

Before he can say anything more than, "Um--" Jesse takes the reins.

"So, you are still in there," he says, but the remark isn't as scathing as it might have once been. His head tilts to one side, fingers steepling under his chin as he observes Finn with furrowed brows. "So, what do you think?"

Finn blinks. "Um. What do I think?"

"Mhm." He's fearful momentarily that that's all he's going to get, and wonders again how he's going to lie his way through this interaction, only for Jesse to thankfully continue, "I mean, if we're going to do a duet to truly show Rachel that her pathetic little triple-act casting was the last straw for both of us, then it's going to have to be a song that really means something. I would choose it myself from my revenge playlist, but we should really draw on both of our emotions towards her, so what song would you say really captures your resentment, and your anguish, your deep-seated pain and loathing for Rachel?"

Finn blinks again. "Wait, we're doing a duet? When?"

If Jesse hadn't already figured out that he was not paying attention before, he's tipped off now. "On Wednesday? Mr Schue's next assignment for the week is going to be about moving on, and healing from past traumas. It's the perfect time to show Rachel that she hurt us and we will not let her walk all over us again."

"Past traumas?" Finn repeats. His mind goes briefly to his dad. "Are you sure singing about Rachel is really the best way to... show her you're over her? I mean, no offence, dude, but it might just make her think that we're still, like, hung up on her or something."

Jesse frowns. He takes a beat before quietly saying, "Maybe you're right." He leans back, his expression thoughtful now. "She's so vain and self-centered, of course she'd misinterpret the entire thing." He looks up at him so suddenly that Finn startles slightly. "We could sing 'She's So Vain', it's a classic."

Sighing, Finn says, "Look, Jesse, I get it. You're hurt. I was a bit, too. But maybe the best way to show her that you're not just gonna forgive her and get back with her is to -- to just... move on. You know, like Mr Schue wants us to do? You gotta let it go, dude."

"If that was your way of suggesting we sing that atrocious number from 'Frozen' then I am calling for a veto. My vocal talents will not be going to waste for a single second on that movie."

"I don't even know what that is," Finn say truthfully, and a little confused, as he always seems to be when Jesse's the one talking to him. "But, no. I'm saying to just... stop. Stop obsessing over what she did, and just forget about it. You broke up with her. It's over."

He shrugs, finally picking up his slice of soggy pizza to take a bit of it. After all, it's about the only thing left on his tray after Jesse somehow managed to pinch more or less everything else whilst talking at the speed of a bullet train.

Jesse continues to stare at him. It's a little bit unnerving. Finn just looks away and tries to ignore him, chewing self-consciously. Finally, he catches movement in his peripheral and looks back up to find Jesse once again leaning back, but this time with a look about him as if he's been stunned by something.

"You know, Finn," he says softly, "people really don't give you enough credit. You're smart. For someone who just seems to be stumbling his way through each day with those... large limbs and tall frame, and that amazingly, beautiful stereotypical jock body of yours... you're probably actually right."

He nods to himself like he's just had wisdom imparted on him by Yoda. Meanwhile, Finn's still slowly chewing in confusion, trying to work out if he was just complimented and insulted at the same time. Jesse's way of speaking is like one big riddle. There's a reason that Finn prefers the Joker as a villain, and it's not just because he really likes Heath Ledger. Though, that does have a big part in it, too.

"So," Jesse says, and he smiles, "what do you suggest we sing instead? I think we can still conform to Mr Schue's assignment about healing and moving on by singing something like 'I Want To Break Free' but if we wanted to do something more out there, there is always 'The Reason' by Hoobastank. I would prefer something a touch more classic over rock but it's a good song nonetheless. I just don't know if it's right for us."

Jesse steeples his fingers under his chin once more, looking pensive as he ponders it to himself. Finn watches him, pondering the fact that yesterday, they could barely stand to be seated next to each other in the choir room, and now today they're an "us" and trying to figure out what to sing for a duet. He's not even actually sure when he agreed to do a duet.

But, the more he thinks about it, the less opposed to the idea he becomes. Sure, it'll be a bit weird. Okay, a lot weird, but the dude's not a bad singer, an at the very least, he won't have to do too much worrying over what to sing as Jesse seems to be taking the lead on that so far. Unless he picks something way too embarrassing.

When he asks again what Finn thinks, he shrugs an says, "I don't know. I guess it's hard to pick something because... well, we don't really know each other. How are we supposed to sing something together about, you know, moving on and stuff when we... haven't really moved on from anything? At least, not together, you know, you and me."

Jesse almost looks affronted at that. "What do you mean? I thought after our conversation yesterday at your locker about Rachel that we were friends."

"Well..." Finn chuckles. "Dude, it's not that easy. Sure, I don't hate you and I guess you don't hate me but, like, we're not... really... friends." Seeing the look on his face, almost crestfallen, he for some reason finds himself hastening to backtrack. "Look, I don't mean that I don't want to be. It's just that, to be friends with someone, you've gotta do a lot more than just have one conversation where you agree to have lunch."

Frowning, Jesse uncertainly asks, "Like what? Surely singing together is the best way to get to know someone. It usually works for me."

"I'm sure it does. But you just gotta know more. You gotta hang out more, do things together, tell each other stuff, you know. Like, what's your favourite colour?"

"My favourite colour? How does knowing that make us friends?" he asks doubtfully, but at Finn's insistence, he rolls his eyes. "Orange."

"Mine is red," Finn replies and grins. "See, a normal conversation isn't that hard, dude, you just gotta be willing to try. Open up a bit."

Nodding slowly, Jesse seems to mull this over as Finn finishes off his pizza and downs half of his water. When he's done, Jesse has finally come to some kind of conclusion on the concept of friendship.

"So, what kind of things do you like to do other than Glee?" he asks.

"Well, I mostly do football. I'm pretty tired by the time I get home from practice most weekdays, so I don't get a chance to do a lot else, but sometimes I'll watch TV. I really like game shows."

"Game shows," Jesse repeats, but it isn't to mock him. He actually brightens up the more they talk, and begins asking more questions. Does he like arcades? Shopping? Malls? Road trips?

Finn has just finished telling him that he would love to go on a road trip someday but he and his mom just haven't really had the time or money to do it in the past when the bell goes.

"I could take you on one," Jesse says quickly when it stops. "I have a car. We could go this weekend. It would give us a chance to think some more on a song for our duet and... get to know each other more."

For some reason, the suggestion stuns him. Probably because, once again, they couldn't stand each other yesterday. How does something like that change so much in just twenty-four hours?

Even now, he's hesitant to agree to it. A weekend with only Jesse for company? Sure, this had been kinda nice, and he's actually not the worst company, but lunch is only forty minutes. A weekend is more like forty hours.

Yet he can't bring himself to say no. Something about the way Jesse's looking at him. Turning him down feels like he would be denying a puppy a treat for doing a trick. After all, he did just tell him that to be a friend, you have to put in a little effort. The guy's trying.

"Uh... sure," he finally says, standing from the bench. A smile spreads across his face at the way Jesse positively lights up. "Yeah, why not? Where do you wanna go?"

They still haven't actually answered that question when the weekend comes around. Finn hops into Jesse's car and waves goodbye to his mom, who is probably just glad to have the house to herself for once. He then turns to Jesse as he starts up the engine.

Once again, he asks where they're going. Jesse begins on what is sure to be a twenty-minute run-down of a fully itemized plan for the following two days. Finn hears "Nashville" and decides that's all he really needs to know. He reaches forward and turns on the radio while Jesse pulls away from his house.

A few songs later, "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman starts playing. His fingers drum along to it on his thigh and Jesse interrupts his tangent to gush over the vocals before diving into the song himself. Finn joins him, caught up in his own soft spot for the song after hearing his mom play it for hours. They're both singing as they speed down the motorway. Together. The weekend has barely started but already something else has. A duet, of sorts.

#spicy-cannoli #ask away earthlings #glee #st. hudson #finn hudson #jesse st. james #finn x jesse #jesse x finn #rowing the rarepair rowboat #spicy 🌶️ 🔥 ❤️

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maraharme · 1 month ago

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Can you make a valar version of yourself? What you would look like as vala.

Uhh what a task you gave me 🤕

I've been racking my brain for a long time, I just couldn't make up my mind. It's okay to just figure out what kind of Valar (Valie) I would be, but we also need to make sure that I fit well and logically into Tolkien's world. And this is a task with an asterisk.*

There will be a lot of text, so go make yourself some tea or coffee with cookies right now...☕️

🔺At first, I wanted to be a Valie that protects children. I almost made up a story about how I would (naturally in the image of valie) She saved the twins Elured and Elurin.('But Maedhros never found them!') Would shelter them, teach them healing magic, and grant them the ability to transform into animals and birds. Therefore, the first version of the art depicts two storks – these are Elured and Elurin. As a result, they would become my assistants, flying over the village, making sure that everything was fine.

Why storks, just because I really like these birds (even if it looks like an allusion to my culture and Belarusian nationality, but this is purely a coincidence)

Based on this image of Valie, my close communication with other Valar would be like this:

▪️- I would communicate well with the Lord of Arda, Manwё Sulimo, and his wife, Varda Elentari, since with the help of their abilities I could also see the world and observe what was happening (naturally, if the Lord of Manwё allowed me to do so)

▪️- I would also communicate with Irmo Lorien and his wife Este, as children often have nightmares and are very afraid of doctors. Extra support wouldn't hurt.

▪️- And of course, Nienna — compassion for the prematurely departed and for those who still have to go through difficulties.

As you can see, it turned out to be some kind of nonsense. It also seemed to me that I had gone too far with the stork theme and decided to change the art and history.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

🔺In the second option, I decided to become Valie muse, inspiration. My role here is already quite modest. I am a simple valie, who inspires the peoples of Middle-earth - to feats, in art, in invention, and the like.

Connections with other Valar :

▪️- Irmo — as inspiration can come in a dream (remember Mendeleev)

▪️- Varda and Yavanna — because admiring the stars and nature, you get inspired to create beautiful paintings, romantic stories, songs and poems

▪️ - Ulmo — how many poems are dedicated specifically to the boundless ocean

The second option, in my opinion, is more suitable for Tolkien than the first one. But still, it's kind of raw and... naive, I think. And I didn't bother much - I only changed the background. I removed the storks and added a Telperion instead.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Therefore, before posting these two works online, another thought suddenly occurred to me.

Once I was looking through beautiful photos of the Pinsk marshes - Polesie, Braslav lakes, Yelnya swamp and other beautiful places in my country. And it immediately dawned on me – "Exactly, swamps. So scary and dangerous – but at the same time majestic, mysterious and beautiful." And without hesitation, I began to draw new art.

🔺Valie Mirime (which means free), lord of the swamps. I chose the name for a reason, as it reflects the character of this image well.

I prefer a quiet life, away from intrigue, but when a threat looms, I don't stay away.

I communicate closely with Ulmo, and while Valinor was a part of Middle-earth, I helped the children of Eru with him, despite the ban. I could lure the orcs and other dark creatures of Morgoth into my swamps....leave them there forever (hint understood)

I gave the good travelers rich fruits and fresh water. And my mists protected their sleep and hid them from the dark eye.

Morgoth also wanted to lure me to him, but after my refusal, he poisoned my domain out of a thirst for revenge, and now almost all the swamps of Middle-earth are dangerous. I managed to preserve my swamps only in small areas near the waters and rivers of Ulmo. And after the arrival of Istari, Radagast was able to heal several more sources that were not greatly distorted.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

I think the third option is more logically suited to Tolkien's world. And while I was typing this post, it dawned on me – in the third art, everything came together hormanically, namely: let me remind you, if someone doesn't know, I'm from Belarus and my country is famous for its numerous rivers, lakes and swamps (because of this, we sometimes call our country blue-eyed). And I really love nature.

As a result, we get Valie, the "Lady of the swamps." And everything worked out well with Tolkien's world, and I was able to unobtrusively, not so obviously, add something of my own. And the name, by the way, was just perfect, I didn't even think about it. I took this name because this image is more freedom-loving and prefers solitude. But for me it already has a different meaning.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

That's what happened. I hope it was interesting to read. You can choose which image you like best. At the end, I attach a couple of beautiful photos of swamps, which inspired me.

#art #picture #tolkien #drawing #draw #valar #valie #swamp

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fipindustries · 1 year ago

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first course completed!

that was arc 1 of introduction to magic.

and this is the first drawing i made of the main characters all the way back in 2019

what is this

now that the first arc is done i would like to take a chance to actually stop and properly self promote a little here. it was about time.

i am currently writing a novel called Introduction to magic, an examination of a magic system i came up with by way of following the lessons of magical apprentice Katerina Dolcevita under the aprenticeship of Maria Bellanova. the best way i have to summarize the feel and tone of it all is Fantasy AU-R63! Rick and Morty. imagine if rick and morty were both women and they were exploring magic rather than sci fi.

the first arc is intended to be a prologue of sorts, to get you up to speed with the nature of this world and the nature of the two main characters.

where this came from

i came up with the story and the concept around this world proper in 2021, while reading pale. i was looking at all the extra material that wildbow had written for its magical world and i found myself really wishing that we didnt have to just see excerpts from the magical books like famulus or 100 years lost. and it came to me that if i really want a book about magic to exist then i can just write one myself.

the magic system in this story follows a bunch of my own deeply held beliefs about life and magic. mainly that is kind of silly how we insists magic doesnt exist when we have things like computers and planes and psychodelics. it occured that if we were to live in a world where magic was real we wouldnt call it magic either, we would just think of it as the normal state of affairs. there is a post i read here, which i cant find right now, which said something about how weird conciousness is, how strange the fact that conciousness arises from the specific configuration of a brain. about how conciousness is the last, mysterious, seemingly ineffable property of reality. they concluded that we live in a fantasy world where our magic system has only one spell "summon daemon". obviously a lot of it was merely poetic and rethorical devices to see with fresh eyes of wonder something we take for granted.

and a lot of this book stems from a similar wish to want to see the mundane with eyes of wonder once again, which is why i insist that low level magic in this world is things as basic as writing and lighting a fire. is also the reason why a lot of the titles that i use for the magic specializations are normal every day professions.

the second, stronger impulse was to try to come up with a system of magic that could be broad enough to grasp all possible forms of magic humans have come up with and yet simple enough that could be understood in a few pages. the classification system i use on this book is based on all the broadest, most basic forms of magic practisce that i have seen in history and fiction. manipulating signs as drawings and writing, manipulating sound as voice and song, using tools and props, moving the body, combining and refining substances and materials, handling living creatures.

what's next

as we move forward on this story the format will switch to a more traditional narrative where we will properly follow the adventures of these two ladies. ocassionally i will dip back into textbook-like sections where i infodump about another interesting concept i thought of, but even in the narrative sections most of the chapters will be an excuse to explore some concept or idea. i gather by sheer quantity 80% of the content of this story is going to be maria explaining things to Katerina.

so yeah, if that sounds at all interesting please do read this, and please do leave a comment, i really want to see what people think of this work. i dont need money or donations or to be engaged in any algorithm, all i need to stay motivated and energized and thus continuing the story is to know that people are invested in it.

thank you so much for reading.

#introduction to magic #writing

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khasiehondra · 2 years ago

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A Shadow of an Eagle Chapter 4: Rumor Mill: Alice

The common room was buzzing that evening to celebrate this month's birthdays. Amit, Sophronia and a few others were the guests of honor in tonight's festivities. While delighted to be there, she was exhausted. The Pensive Guardians had wiped all of her energy for the next month. They were terrifyingly beautiful but she would have been fine if the discussion in the map chamber did not allude to more of them in the future.

“You don’t seem to be having as much fun as the others. Thought you would be excited for your first house party?” Samantha was very sweet to be so concerned for her.

“I’m alright Samantha, just a little drained. The professors have me doing extra assignments to catch up since I started so much later.

“Are you too drained to socialize,” She turned Alice a little bit to face someone, “Someone has been trying to talk to you for a while now but I don’t think someone is getting the hint.”

Andrew was very handsome. They had started on rocky footing after the Duncan incident. “Once a coward, always a coward.” He had been so firm in his words, but after their yelling match in the common room one evening it was as if something had changed. He had not only apologized to Duncan but to her as well. “We have sort of a truce going on. I think I could manage some conversation if I really must.” She giggled with Samantha and walked over to Andrew.

“Is that a Butterbeer or are you also partaking in the stash of fire whiskey that somehow made its way in here?” She had slid up next to him and looked into his brown eyes.

“Just doing my prefect duties and testing it for the house.” He gave her a sly smile and scooted closer to her, abandoning the conversation he was just in. “Definitely fire whiskey in that lot.”

“Haven’t had any. At home, father would let me drink wine at dinners, and the muggle doctors claimed it was good for us.” Alice was swirling her cup of butterbeer. “I don’t mind the butterbeer but sometimes it is still weird being out of my routine.”

Instead of words of encouragement, Andrew held out his cup to her. “It burns a little more than wine, but you don’t have to.”

She grabbed the cup and drank. It warmed her up quickly and she thought her entire body had instantly turned red. “That was,” the aftertaste finally got her, “different.”

“Alice? Are you alright? You drank the rest of the glass.” Andrew was facing her now, hand on her arm just in case.

“I just feel a little warm. I may step out for a bit.” He was still a prefect, even if he was breaking the rules himself. “I won’t stray far, wouldn’t want to get detention for being out after hours and with my breath covered in firewhiskey.”

Andrew’s hand slid to her fingertips and the gravitational pull he currently had on her led them from the common room. There were more stairs than she remembered, but Andrew’s guidance brought them to the stairs leading toward the quad. She should have eaten more at dinner because her balance started to falter. Silently, Andrew maneuvered her in front of him and held her steadily with both hands. When they finally made it outside Alice felt alive again.

“Come on, lets look at the stars!” She pulled Andrew along and plopped him in the grass next to her. “It’s different seeing them like this than through a telescope. That I don’t own yet.”

“No more firewhiskey for you.” He was very close. Their hands were still intertwined and she felt him rub small circles on the back of her hand. “Would you be mad?”

Confusion crossed her face. “To not have to drink fire whiskey again, no I would not. I guess it did make me feel warm. If anything, I’m glad I didn’t drink more than what you had. That could have been dangerous. It’s important to maintain ones wits in all situations.”

He shook his head, “Not about the fire whiskey, about this.” It didn’t occur to her how little space there was between them. That speed at which that gap closed confirmed that they had been absentmindedly drawing closer to each other the entire time. He took her lips in his, softly and slowly. Her eyes didn’t close but seemed to grow.

Andrew is kissing me! Instead of enjoying the moment, she broke the kiss. “Andrew, if this is because of how much you drank, we must stop.” She was hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Trust me, I would have done this sooner if I had drank more. I've been getting to know you for days and wanted to be by your side." He looked into her wide, crystalline like eyes and closed the gap between them again. This kiss was more confident. It grew and Alice had lost all sense to anything around her. Her first kiss was with someone she had formed an organic connection with, and on top of that he was a gentleman through and through.

It had to be a while before he abruptly whipped his head to the space behind them.

“Andrew, what is it?” She still had the sleeve of his robe in her hand, the other on his shoulder.

“I think I heard someone.” Looking back at her, he gently smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Let’s go back to the common room, shall we? People may wonder if we are missing for too long a time.”

In all honesty, it was a wonder she made it to Care of Magical Creatures as early as she did. The only issue it caused was that as the girls swarmed her the minute they reached her. Samantha, Natty, Cressida, and Imelda crowded her table with smiles and big eyes. “Um, good morning. Is this an intervention of some kind?”

They exchanged looks as if wondering who would fill her in. The silent consensus was that Samantha was her closest friend so she needed to say. “There was word going around after breakfast that someone had seen you and a mystery man snogging after hours on the grounds. Everyone is trying to figure out who it is.”

“I couldn’t believe what I had heard but my curiosity had beaten me,” Natty claimed. “I wanted to confirm as well if you were really seeing someone. Cressida, here, was the one who had informed us when we were leaving the Great Hall this morning.”

“And Imelda and I both overheard this on the way into the Great Hall.” Imelda nodded at Cressida’s words.

This was happening fast. The realization that Andrew was correct and they were in fact seen snogging on the grass of the quad. It must have been so dark that he couldn’t be seen, but she also chose not to wear robes concealing her if it was after class hours.

“It was you! You’re as red as a dirigible plum!” She looked around her and lowered her voice, “Was it Andrew? I saw you two leave together but you never told me what happened.”

“Andrew Larson?!” The girls all gasped and squealed. Your hands were covering your face and you noticed more of the class arriving.

“Can we talk about this later. I can assure you, that it was a spur of the moment thing, with whomever it was.” Your cheeks felt as if you had swallowed a barrel of fire whiskey instead of just half a glass. Students began filing into the open hut and you want this conversation to be over.

“Of course, but I think you’ll need to figure out what you’ll want to tell others when they ask you. I’ve heard others place bets on who the boy is!” Samantha winked and placed herself at the table behind her. “Oh, I heard Sallow was a top pick in the gossip chain. He just had an instance getting caught in the library and Peeves said he was with a girl. Others are deciding to connect the two instances.”

Oh no. He doesn’t deserve that. At that moment, he walked in and took the table beside her. The little eye contact they had made her realize he didn’t know. No snarky comments, no banter. He would be either living in this moment or denying everything. She smiled and quickly gave her attention to her empty parchment. The hole she felt him burrowing into her head didn’t help. Risking a glance she saw the last two students stroll into the open hut, Poppy Sweeting and Andrew. Thankfully, Poppy made her way to the front as Andrew took the open space next to Arthur.

Paranoia was killing her inside. She found solace in the distraction and passion that was Poppy with the beasts. Her natural instinct and understanding amazed Alice as she struggled to keep the kneazles from swarming her for food. Before class was over they had taken a quick detour to see Highwing the Hippogriff. When they made it back, Sebastian was waiting with her belongings.

“Hello Poppy, mind if I steal Shaw from you?” He handed her a fully packed satchel, placing his hands in front of him.

“She’s all yours Sebastian,” she waved at Alice yelling, “I’ll send you an owl later!”

“Sebastian, is something the matter?” Please don’t be the rumor, I can’t have this keep happening to him. Especially when he has been so kind to me. “Something troubling you?”

“Nothing that I can think of, I was thinking it would be beneficial to teach you some spells that the professors do not want to teach at Hogwarts. I believe that it would be better to learn from them if they could save your life one day. Would you meet me near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?”

“Let me guess,” she crossed her arms over her chest, “after hours?” The smirk he gave her was all the answer she needed. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

He was walking toward Garreth when she turned into the strong chest of Andrew. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He didn’t even look phased.

“It’s my fault, Alice. Not just the lack of making my presence known. I heard about what people are saying. I haven’t made any comments, I didn’t want to say anything without talking to you first. If you want to say it was me, I wouldn’t be mad. It would actually give me a reason to do that again.” Heat slid through her body, her heart was beating like a thousand butterfly wings. “If you don’t know what you want, I’ll wait. I know you’re busy, and I will respect your space.”

She was going to catch a lacewing fly if she didn’t close her mouth quickly. How could one person be so handsome and gentlemanly? “Andrew, thank you. I am overwhelmed by everything I have going on to think through this. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything as of now. I would like to see more of you. It should get easier, being in the same house.”

An impish grin flashed through his eyes. “If it was as easy as you say, that kiss would have happened sooner.” He winked, turned and waved.

Finally being able to collect her bearings, she turned to exit the hut. If he hadn’t been so close she would have thought she imagined it. Sebastian looked as if he was about to set the world on fire. Alice was only able to see a glimpse before he had turned away, but the look of rage on one’s face is unmistakable.

#sebastian sallow x playable character #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow smut #smut #slow burn

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therapardalis · 2 years ago

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luminescenc1e:

There was not much that could be done, he would pay someone or a few someones to keep a closer eye on the Library and on the men that she had pointed out. It was not difficult to find people that would do fairly anything you could imagine for a few gold coins. The streets of Paris were littered with all sorts of individuals, mostly those that had come to Paris seeking a better life, having some kind of hope that the big city would provide them with more choices than the small towns or villages they came from. But life was always cruel and as faith would have it, starving in the capital city was all the more devastating.

“ A drink perhaps, if you are not completely done with my company? ” There were often lulls in work, sometimes that would last a few days, and then those few days would stretch out into weeks, months even. He hated those prolonged times of nothingness. Thoughts always get the loudest when one has nothing to do, and nothing to be occupied with. He drinks, and he does so often. But even that becomes stale, a mocking fate to be unable to fall into deep slumber even with empty bottles around you. “ Best not to draw too much attention to ourselves. ”

“I - ?” This time he actually left her blinking, eyebrows raised and almost forgetting the extra quiet of her voice so close to the men nearby. The future of those men was settled for the time being, and the Musketeer free to move along as he thought best. It was the addition - the invitation - that caught her by surprise.

“I fear I am working, Monsieur.” Amusement lined her voice, with clearly no offense taken; she hadn’t expected such a thing, or from her side considered him in any way not related to the investigation at hand. “It’s not your company, only that I’m required here for a few hours yet.” Her job was not entirely necessary, as she was fortunate enough to have a home and reserves to keep herself fed - but she enjoyed it, and the pay did provide a cushion for some small pleasures of life.

Like, say, a drink - of not for the inconvenient time. And not mentioning what might occur if the Marquise happened to see them leaving together. The corners of her lips tugged upward, one shoulder lifting briefly in regret. “Let me see you out, at least ... and encourage you to have one or two for me.”

#Luminescenc1e #;Athos de la Fere #Historical AU #Musketeers AU #v; tbd

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sanctus-ingenium · 3 years ago

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WIPs of some of my drawings where i made a full little painting for the sketch to nail colours or values first. i thought it would be fun to do a Behind The Scenes and also show u how some drawings changed, what i kept and what i discarded and at what point i just started adding unplanned details

all these were done using a mixture of sai and procreate

more comments on The Process under the cut

eye of the otherworld is inspired by a real photo i took two weeks ago!

i soooo wanted to draw water that looked like this, weeds and all, so the original colours of that sketch were picked direct from the photo. but i wasn’t satisfied with it so i changed it using a gradient map (you can see it’s crunchy on the borders between colours). for the final, i re-painted everything again using the sketch colours as a guide so that i would not end up with the crunchy edges a gradient map will give u, and so that i could add in extra contrast over the top. the black swirl pattern in the final was an ad lib lol but i’m really happy with how it gives the impression of water or liquid even if it’s not realistic... i will try again to recreate something like this photo tho because i am obsessed. the birds were originally swans but the necks were driving me crazy i needed a bird with a shorter neck and grebes are associated with this location in canon so it was perfect. they have very funny feet. the last detail i added to this was the white flashes in their primary flight feathers (which do not occur in nature btw)

hanged man was an interesting one because it’s based on a sketch i made in 2020 when i first wrote this fun impalement scene

here is félix being impaled for the first time in 2020 by a rusted harpoon that essentially rips his human disguise off to reveal the black carapace underneath

for the coloured sketch in the photoset i re-lined this exact sketch in sai to update it to match my current lineart style, but as you can see i realised the pose itself needed work and not just a re-line so i completely redid it in procreate to exaggerate the pose and gestures. i went into this one already knowing exactly what bg colours i wanted so that was no issue but the hardest part was weirdly figuring out what he was going to be standing on. in canon he is standing on top of a very high wall and leaning back over a fatal drop. the black pencil lines in the clouds and the bird were ad libbed but i liked the idea of throwing the bird in as some extra symbol of freedom the likes of which you will not experience if you have been shot with a harpoon. the green was not working at all so the swap out to more purpley pink tones was last minute. i unified the different colours by using a colour-shifting brush (you’ll see that his gaiters are different colours - i didn’t hand pick those, the colour jitter did)

for Big Pascal... originally it was going to be a confrontation between the guy on the ground and pascal but i wasn’t feeling the standing pose and it ended up being... if not restful then at least maybe a little more benevolent than the shadow of colossus shit it was before. the white cracks in the sky were originally going to be black but it just didn’t work. a lot of people tag this one as some form of cowboy aesthetic which is funny to me. there’s no cowboys here

i do like the lens flare effect in the b&w thumbnail tbh and i think i kind of lost the low camera angle effect in the final

i drew a bonus comic of the two characters interacting during this scene (mostly the lil guy just trying to ignore what’s happening in the sky)

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myreia · 2 years ago

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A Question of Home

Rating: Explicit Characters: Aureia Malathar, Aymeric de Borel Pairings: Aurmeric Words: 2143 Notes: An unplanned sequel to A Question of Desire. Set the night before Baelsar's Wall. Read on Ao3

I need to thank Lucia later, Aureia thinks distractedly.

It occurs to her that she and Aymeric are very fortunate there was no one in the halls. She has been to the Carline Canopy and its associated inn more times than she can count and the halls are never empty… Not that she can give it much thought much attention right now. Not with her legs locked around him and her mouth firmly on his.

He lifts her easily, fumbling with the handle before he pushes his way inside. Her chambers are small and modest—little more than a bedchamber and a connecting bathroom—but Mother Miounne insisted she be given a room with a view. The windows are large, the gorgeous detailing on the border only enhancing the beauty of the forest beyond.

Aymeric nudges the door closed with his foot and breaks the kiss, casting an eye about her room. Small lanterns hang on the walls, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Though the decorations are simple, it is well-furnished and inviting—and a complete disaster. Though Aureia has spent little more than five minutes in here, the room is already a mess. Her pack on the floor, its contents upended. Extra clothing strewn about, some hanging off the back of a chair, some piled haphazardly on the dresser. Only her weapons—staff, rapier, focus, the tools of her trade—are set away with any care, positioned respectfully in a corner.

It’s always the same whenever she arrives in a city. Some habits are impossible to break.

He coughs, covering a laugh, and leans his back against the door.

“What?” Aureia says, brow furrowed.

“I see you have approached Gridania with your usual flair,” he replies, a smile playing across his lips.

She tilts her head, scanning his face from her position above, and threads her fingers through his hair. She can never help herself; she has always loved playing with his hair. Humming with satisfaction, she bows her head and nuzzles his cheek. “Is that a criticism?” she murmurs.

He laughs and adjusts her weight, hoisting her higher. “An observation, perhaps,” he counters. “That you live in a state akin to a maelstrom—”

She trails her lips across his jaw. “Oh?”

He inhales sharply. “I wouldn’t change a thing. Though a thought has occurred to me, for the next time you visit Ishgard—”

She cuts him off with a kiss. He groans softly, leaning into it, and she laughs with delight. “Save it for later,” she murmurs against his mouth.

She can feel him smile.

Aymeric shoves off the door, carrying her across the room with quick, powerful strides. Aureia tightens her legs, squeezing her thighs to prevent herself from sliding down. She kisses him fervently, her hands drifting from his hair to cradle his face. Her heart flutters, the heat of anticipation already coiling deep within her.

They have reached her bed.

“Don’t put me down,” she breathes. “Not yet.”

He chuckles, eyes shining bright. “Whyever not?”

She loops her hands around his neck and draws herself upright. “Because I enjoy being taller than you,” she says with a little wriggle, testing his grip. “For once.”

His hands press into her rear. “Ah,” he replies, his gaze flickering over her. He lingers on her face, her collarbone, her breasts. The intensity is enough to make her blush. “If you want me on my knees, you need but say.”

She cocks her head, raising an eyebrow, and whoops with surprise as he loosens his grip, setting her on the bed. Her coat flips out behind her, the rich red fabric vibrant against the bedspread. He cradles her, a knee pressed against the mattress, and kisses her as she kicks off her boots. Her breath hitches as he trails from her mouth to her ear, gently caressing the lobe. When his tongue flicks against the tip, she all but melts, a little moan escaping her.

Chuckling huskily, he trails kissing down her jaw and her neck to her collarbone. His fingers are already pulling her shirt from her trousers and tugging at the buttons.

“Aureia…”

He mumbles her name against the hollow of her throat, his breath warm against her skin. Her hands brush against his as she claws at her clothing, eager to have it undone. She tears the buttons—she doesn’t care, she can fix them later—and pulls her shirt open. He sinks to his knees before her, his nose skimming her sternum, and kissing her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, her stomach. She gasps at his touch, heat pooling between her legs.

A low hum murmurs deep in his throat as he reaches her trousers. Unlacing them quickly, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and peels them away with practiced hands. The room’s cool air ghosts across her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he grips her hips and pulls her to the edge of the bed. His palms slide across her thighs, coaxing them apart—

And then his mouth is on her.

The first touch sets her senses aflame. His tongue glides through her folds, sweeping through her with unrestrained ecstasy. She gasps, swallowing a moan as he flicks her clit, trembling with pleasure. He chuckles at her response, his tongue roaming across her, through her, drifting in intoxicating circles. Her head tilts back, her hair brushing her shoulders, and she closes her eyes, giving into the sensation.

“Gods…” Her hands tangle in the bedspread, twisting fistfuls of it between her fingers. “Aymeric, I—”

He shifts his weight, relishing the mewling noises he coaxes from her with every lap of his tongue, and slips a hand between her thighs. His fingers press hesitantly at the entrance to her cunt, gliding through the slick heat. She groans and spreads her legs further apart, her hands now threaded in his hair.

“Go on,” she breathes, chest heaving. “Go on, please—”

He obliges. She moans, tugging gently at his hair as he slips two fingers inside her. Exhilaration clouds her mind, pleasure rippling through her with every thrust. He sucks her swollen clit, stoking her desire, urging her towards the edge. She gasps his name, chest heaving, and shatters beneath his touch. Her hips buck, nearly throwing him from her, but he holds her tight, kissing her through the throes of bliss.

Exhaling a long, satisfied sigh, Aureia glances down, her fingers still in his hair. Aymeric draws back and looks up at her coyly from beneath his long, dark lashes, grinning from ear to ear. He rises up and kisses her gently, cradling her back as he pulls her close.

“Content?” he murmurs.

She smiles and loops her arms around his neck. “With you?” she replies, breath still ragged. “Always.”

Her hands wander across his chest, toying with the thick fabric of his uniform. She fiddles with the clasps and belts, slowly shedding one piece after another. It’s not easy maneuvering around someone so much taller than her, but she manages, flicking away his hand whenever he moves to help. Soon, his robes and armour are a collection of blue and gold on the floor.

Aymeric stands naked before her, skin glowing warm in the lantern light, and cups her cheek. Leaning into her, he kisses her once, and lets them fall into the bed, pulling her on top of him. She straddles him and shrugs out of her coat, letting it slip from her shoulders to her elbows. The pleats flare out behind her, draping over her rear and across his legs.

She pauses, sensing him watching her with that captivated look he saves only for her. With an impish smirk, she tucks her hair behind her ears and rolls her hips against him. He grunts, face flushed, and his teeth scrape his bottom lip.

“Content?” she challenges, arching an eyebrow. Her gaze does not leave his face as she fiddles with her breast band, quickly undoing the knots and clasps. She pulls the garment free and tosses it aside, toying with her breast as she grinds against him.

He stares wildly, drinking in the sight of her. It is so rare to see him speechless, and yet tonight he has no words.

Not that she needs them. He hardens against her, responding to her touch. Leaning over him, she presses a quick kiss to his mouth. Then she reaches between them and takes his cock in her hand, guiding into her slick heat.

He groans, trembling, as he slides into her. She locks eyes with him, setting the pace, breathless at the feel of him moving inside her. He grips her hips, adjusting her position, and slips his hands beneath her open coat and shirt. His fingers rake across her back, mindful of the scars, marveling at the feel of her body against his.

She quickens the pace, heart hammering in her chest. Her body is alive with an energy to which no spell—thunder or otherwise—cannot compare. She bucks against him, guiding their paired pleasure to its zenith, sweat clinging to the nape of her neck and beneath her breasts. They move together, panting and breathless, lost in this moment they have carved out for each other.

He gasps as he comes, her name a jumble of vowels on his lips. She pulls free, falling against his chest, and he wraps an arm around her. He slips a hand between her legs, seeking her clit, and sweeps a finger across the slick, sensitive nub. She quivers, consumed by her blooming pleasure, and kisses him, moaning against his lips as he strokes her to her finish.

Lightheaded and dizzy with desire, Aureia disentangles herself from her coat and shirt, lobbing the garments onto the floor with the rest of them. She collapses on top of him and buries her head in the crook of his neck, clutching at him as if she can never let go. He holds her, those strong arms wrapped around her, and kisses her forehead.

They lie there for some time, tangled together, watching a sliver of moonlight on the hardwood floor. Outside, the woods dances in the wind, the canopy’s leaves black against a deep purple sky strewn with stars. Aureia has never felt more at peace. She wonders if it is the same for him.

“The thought you had earlier,” she says after a while. She props herself up on an elbow and runs a hand from his shoulder to his forearm, staring intently at their hands as she twines their fingers together. “What was it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her cheek. “While your propensity for staying in inns is charming—”

She shoots him a look.

“—and logical,” he adds quickly. “I thought that perhaps you should consider a more permanent solution?”

“We’ve been over this, I’m not staying at House Fortemps. I can’t, not after Haurchefant—”

“Aureia—”

“I’m happy at the Forgotten Knight, it’s what I’m used to—”

“Aureia.” He runs his fingers through her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. “I was not speaking of House Fortemps.”

She meets his eyes, a lump forming in her throat. If he is proposing what she thinks he’s proposing… No. They can’t. The uproar it would cause. He’s too important, too crucial for Ishgard’s advancement, he can’t involve himself in a scandal. At least not so openly.

“Aymeric, I…” She exhales a long breath. “I don’t know about that.”

“Even so, you should have a place to call your own. In that way, no matter how far your duties take you, you will always have a home to return to.”

Her stomach twinges.

Home…

Can she even call Ishgard home? Does she even dare? Home has brought her nothing but grief. She fled her first home, sending herself into permanent exile for the atrocities her family committed. Not along ago, she called Ul’dah home, but she lost that, too, to treason and greed. It’s a sad tradition, one that makes her heart ache if she thinks on it for too long: whenever she chooses a place to call home, it is inevitably ripped away from her.

She can’t bear to let that happen to Ishgard. To him.

Then again, that he even dares to ask her that question now, when they are on the brink of so much uncertainty and chaos… It is nothing but a demonstration of how much faith he has in her. Neither of them know what will happen tomorrow at Baelsar’s Wall, but there is no doubt in his mind that she will return to him.

Just as she always does.

She smiles and curls into him, grateful for his warmth. “I’ll think about it,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s the most I can promise.”

#aureia get an apartment in ishgard challenge 2023 #i kid #anyway #should have edited this more but i did not #i am in the goofypool over this please do not rescue me #it was only a matter of time before i ended up writing something like this #so... here we are #do not perceive me #running away now #fleeing the scene #ffxiv #ffxiv fic #aureia malathar #aurmeric #spicy fic #(stealing that tag from azia)

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

vested interest | 3 | todoroki x reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Reader

summary: You’d just thought Shouto was absent minded, accidentally leaving behind a jacket or a sweater or his vest. You didn’t realize this was a thing. (In which Todoroki Shouto—despite his quirk—has zero chill, and uses his clothes to ward off other men.)

length: 19,500 words | 5 chapters

tags: romance, pro hero au, misunderstandings, shouto is a little shit

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, slightly possessive behavior

For a while, things did go back to normal.

Well, normal enough.

Whatever strange thing had occurred between Shouto and Benjiro had passed, and Benjiro joined the agency with Shouto’s approval. As you suspected, Benjiro was an excellent match for Shouto in the field, and Shouto’s property damage numbers were rapidly approaching the lowest they had ever been. Benjiro was diligent, easy to get along with, and he went out of his way to be extra respectful to you, even beyond the common courtesy he showed the other agency staffers.

In fact, the only person he showed more deference to was Shouto himself, which made sense given his incurable case of hero worship. You supposed Benjiro was so courteous with you because he felt he might owe you, as you’d been the one to pair him with his idol.

Shouto, too, seemed normal enough, although he’d been hanging around more in your office as of late—his long, lean form stretched out across your guest chairs, never failing to draw your eye away from the things you should be working on. He usually came bearing some offering, a chilled tea from the vending machines or dango from the food stall down the street, probably to keep your complaining to a minimum. It was hard to be mad at a face like that, and even harder when the pot was sweetened with snacks.

On one notable occasion, Shouto even sent Benjiro to your office in his place, as he was caught up in a particularly drawn-out clean up effort. The sidekick poked his head through your door, bearing a little paper container of imagawayaki, stuffed with some kind of custard, so sweet you could smell it even across your office.

“Shouto-san said I should give you these on my way back,” he said, depositing them on your desk, smiling brightly. “He saved the grandpa who runs the stall—it was so cool!—there was this earthquake villain, right, and he ripped up the street right where this grandpa was and I swear I thought he was done for, but then fwoom Shouto-san bridged the gap with his ice, and—” he descended into a passionate retelling of the entire encounter, while you nibbled off a piece of the imagawayaki, groaning at how fluffy and sweet and good it was.

You didn’t know what business Shouto had sending Benjiro across the city on this kind of errand, but damn if you weren’t pleased.

Beyond incidents like those, however, Shouto was normal enough, and was back to causing minimal trouble for you.

Which is why it came as a little bit of a shock when you found him in your office one morning, when he should have been preparing to leave for a photoshoot. He was lounging in your guest chairs again, legs stretched out in front of him, long fingers tapping away at his phone.

You screeched to a halt, staring down at him. “Shouto, what do you think you are doing in my office?”

Shouto looked up at you, his bangs falling across his forehead as he tilted his head. His expression went carefully blank, exactly the way it did when he was up to some shit. “Good morning, Y/N.”

You waved a finger at him. “Don’t you good morning me, you have a photoshoot you need to be at.”

The corner of Shouto’s mouth quirked, and he regarded you patiently. “I thought you might accompany me this morning.”

His fingers tapped out something idly on your desk, and your eyes were drawn to a takeout coffee cup next to his hand. Even from your doorway, you could see the clean, minimalist font on the side, proclaiming the name of the really good cafe a couple blocks away. Your eyes narrowed. If that was for you, then this was officially bribery, and he was bringing out the big guns. He knew how you felt about that place.

“What are you up to,” you said, eyeing him suspiciously.

The blue of his left eye looked especially bright as he watched you. “There are perhaps situations I might...avoid if you were to accompany me.”

You waited for further explanation.

He watched you for a moment more, then slid the coffee towards you gently, right to the edge of your desk. “Magma Girl,” he said finally.

You almost groaned.

So that’s what this was about.

The photoshoot Shouto was doing this afternoon was a group spot for a hero merch distributor, and would feature several other heroes in various combinations. Among the heroes was Magma Girl, newly added to the top twenty, a pretty girl with a temper as fiery as her quirk. You rather thought she and Shouto would make a nice pair, as they were both so beautiful it was almost unsettling, and her outspoken nature was a good counterbalance to Shouto’s general quiet. You liked her quite a bit, and as huge as your crush on Shouto was getting, you still did want him to find someone who might make him happy.

Shouto, however, seemed disinclined towards the women you tried to fob him off onto, Magma Girl in particular. She was fairly vocal about her interest in Shouto, and Shouto was apparently taking countermeasures now.

He wanted you there as a human shield.

“Shouto, you can handle Magma Girl fine on your own,” you replied. “You’ve handled her fine up until now.”

His expression went slightly strange for a moment, before settling back into that poker face. “There are things now I would like to make especially clear.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Shouto didn’t answer, however, just tapped those long, elegant fingers on the takeout cup, drawing your focus back to it. Christ, that smelled like their holiday blend, the kind you bought by the pallet and hoarded for months just to keep tasting those hints of chocolate and orange peel long into summer.

They’d been sold out after the new year—you knew that better than anyone. So how the hell did he get his hands on it?

Then again, he was Shouto Todoroki. He could probably get his hands on whatever he wanted.

“I also thought you might like breakfast,” he said, gesturing to a box on his lap you hadn’t noticed. He rifled around with it a minute, and when he pulled it open you could see the puffy round of one of their infamously decadent brioche donuts.

God, he played so dirty.

“Oh my god, fine,” you acquiesced, stalking over to your desk and snatching up the coffee cup. You went to your filing cabinet and unearthed some papers you would need if you were going to get any work done, stuffing them into your bag along with your laptop.

You really needed to get new dietary interests, as Shouto was getting concerningly good at playing you.

You followed him out to an agency car, ignoring the very still set of Shouto’s mouth that you knew meant he was suppressing a smirk.

Whatever.

You didn’t know exactly how you being on set with him was supposed to deter Magma Girl’s advances, unless she considered you some kind of love police, so Shouto was really only setting himself up for failure here. He wouldn’t get much mileage out of you stuffed away in a corner, clacking away at your laptop.

Although, who knew. Maybe he thought of you as a kind of talisman of nonromance, an anti-mistletoe whose presence deterred the very idea of romance. He’d certainly never had any interest in you, at any rate.

The thought bothered you more than it should have.

When you arrived on set, most of the other heroes were already there. The studio was awash with casual chatter and the occasional click of test shots being taken, stylists darting this way and that. Several clothing racks groaned under the weight of all the hero merch stuffed onto them, brightly colored scarves and hoodies and baseball caps bursting out like the plumage of some exotic bird.

Shouto’s rack was especially obvious, the crimson and white split-color design standing out in its stark minimalism. You’d always liked the design of Shouto’s merchandise, mostly courtesy of your agency’s graphic designer, who’d solidified Shouto’s brand with the simple inclusion of red and white. It was getting to a point where most people in the country were starting to associate the combination with Shouto even more strongly than other things that capitalised on the color scheme—like Christmas.

You abandoned Shouto to a team of stylists and plopped down in a chair in the corner near the rack of Shouto merch, digging out your laptop and settling in to send your usual litany of morning emails, your bribery coffee warm on your tongue.

As you worked, several other heroes came over to greet you, making their way out of hair and makeup. You were especially happy to see Kyouka Jiro, her dark eyes rimmed in miles of eyeliner, as she came over to make brief small talk. She asked what you were listening to these days and very blatantly attempted to dig up dirt on Shouto for the former Class A group chat.

It was only when the first round of shooting started that you caught sight of Magma Girl herself. She was paired with Shouto and another fire-type hero for the first shot, all of them swathed in layers of their own merchandise. You watched with interest as they lit up their quirks, Magma Girl’s skin bubbling and swirling a molten orange just beneath the cut off of her dress. Fire bloomed down the path of Shouto’s left arm and you found yourself a little transfixed.

It wasn’t often you got to see him use his quirk in person, and the sight was always kind of mesmerizing. It seemed unbelievable that anyone could light themselves on fire at will, the flames licking over perfect skin, leaving it unblemished as before.

It was only after they’d wrapped up their first shot that something strange happened. Though the trio of heroes had basically been aflame for several minutes, the room suddenly felt colder than it had before. As Shouto prowled back over to you, your skin prickled, and not with appreciation of his good looks as usual—it felt like it was getting cool in the room, enough to raise little goosebumps on your skin.

You absently rubbed an arm, smiling up at Shouto.

“You guys looked pretty cool,” you told him, “The fireproof left arm was a nice touch.”

Shouto’s eyes flicked over you. “Are you cold?”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. And see? Nothing happened with Magma Girl.”

As you spoke, you thought you could feel the temperature dip again, like someone was fucking with the thermostat behind set. Maybe they were trying to compensate for the heat of the heroes’ quirks?

Shouto watched you with a strange light in his eyes. Before you knew what he was doing, he was shrugging out of his Shouto hoodie, and it was being settled gently over your shoulders. It smelled like campfire, and the left side was still intensely warm, like something pulled right of the oven.

“Not as of yet,” Shouto said lightly. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

You shivered in delight at the warmth of his sweatshirt, mouth quirking at the sight of the shirt they’d stuffed him into underneath it. It was the same split white and red minimalist design, but the buttons at the collar were grey and blue—the exact shade as his eyes. Cute.

“Thanks. And I’m sure you’ll be fine,” you insisted, trying to ignore the fact that the biceps now prominently on display had recently inhabited this sweatshirt. You took a sip of your bribery coffee to settle you. “Not sure what you needed me for, she seems like she’s behaving herself.”

Shouto glanced back over his shoulder to where Magma Girl was standing with the photographer. Her eyes flicked briefly between the two of you before the photographer drew her attention again.

“It would seem that way,” he said ambiguously.

You didn’t get a chance to ask him what he meant, as after that, he was called back to set and arranged in another triad with Jiro and a wind-based hero. They swapped out their pieces for each others’, and you hid a private smile at how weirdly good Shouto looked in one of the high-collared black jackets from the Earphone Jack men’s line.

It was as Shouto was being rearranged with Jiro and the wind hero—Jiro, adorably, having to step up onto a box to reach the height of her two costars—that Magma Girl came over to you.

“Hi Y/N,” she said brightly, twisting a long lock of vibrant orange hair around her finger.

“Hi!” you greeted her warmly. Just because Shouto was being frosty with her didn’t mean you had to be. You still held out a private hope that this was some kind of rebellious phase on his part and he would see sense soon enough.

“How have you been since the Hero Gala?” she asked conversationally.

You grinned. “Busy. Contrary to public opinion, Shouto is a handful, as you may well know.”

She gave you a toothy smile. “Oh, I gathered as much.”

“How have you been?” you asked. “I saw you hit the top twenty this month—congrats!”

“The same as you, really. Constantly busy,” she waved. “I saw you poached Benjiro Sato, and I have to say I’m a little put out. They keep putting me in these property damage workshops and I was kind of hoping his quirk could get me out of it.”

You grimaced sympathetically. “I don’t know that there was much hope for anybody once Shouto asked. He’s basically in love with Shouto.”

Magma Girl put a hand on her hip, her amber eyes flicking over you. “Speaking of being in love with Shouto,” she began, and you froze up, concerned where this was headed. For a fraction of a second, you had the strangest sense she was talking about you. But then you realized she had absolutely no reason to suspect your feelings, and it was likelier she was headed somewhere else with this conversation.

She wasn’t planning on confessing to him here, was she?

You didn’t get a chance to find out, however, because then the man in question was headed your way, and—was the temperature dropping again?

Whatever parts of your skin weren’t covered by the Shouto hoodie prickled, and you saw a little shiver go through Magma Girl.

“Furukawa,” Shouto acknowledged Magma Girl in greeting, stepping up beside you. In the sudden cool of the air around you, his left side was blissfully warm, and you could feel the heat of him through the sleeve of your sweatshirt. You resisted the urge to tuck yourself up against him and bask in his warmth, like a turtle under a sun lamp.

“Hi, Shouto,” she purred, her eyes flicking curiously between the two of you. “I was just thinking how lovely it is to see your...manager again.”

Another shiver went through you, and it seemed to get even colder in the studio. You thought you caught a little wisp of your own breath in the air.

“Is it,” Shouto said flatly. Without taking his eyes off of her, he reached out and plucked a heavy scarf off the rack of his merchandise. Before you could even register what was happening, it too was being wound around your shoulders. Shouto’s fingers brushed your chin as he pulled the scarf into a thick knot around your neck.

You stared up at him, shocked, but his gaze was still locked on Magma Girl. She was staring back at him with a similar intensity, a small smile riding her mouth.

“Interesting,” she said, though you had no idea what she could be referencing. She found the weird scarf move interesting?

You hoped she didn’t think Shouto thought you were an idiot who couldn’t take care of herself. Although maybe he did, as there was little other explanation for whatever the fuck he thought he was doing right now.

“If you’re cold, you’re welcome to the other scarves,” you said, gesturing at the rack of Shouto merch.

Magma Girl smirked. “Will you put it on for me too, Shouto-kun?”

The temperature dropped even further, and Magma Girl’s smirk widened. Shouto seemed to ignore her, though, busying himself with a hat off the rack, with a little ice puff for a pompom, and then that too was being stuffed over your head.

You sputtered, gaping up at him.

“Mmm, got it,” Magma Girl hummed, waggling her fingers at you, though Shouto hadn’t said anything.

And then she was turning away, sauntering back over to where the camera crew was setting up the next shot, tossing a fiery orange curl over her shoulder. You watched her go with some concern, then stared up at Shouto. “What the hell was that all about?” you asked.

Shouto gazed innocently back down at you, with all the tranquility of a placid lake. “You appeared cold.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I can put things on myself.”

Those heterochromatic eyes trailed down your face. “I’ve no doubt.”

“She was being nice, Shouto, there was no reason to act like a huge weirdo,” you said, wondering if he’d fussed about with you simply to avoid having to converse with Magma Girl. “She didn’t even say anything.”

“And she won’t,” he said, something weirdly satisfied in his deep tone.

A set hand popped up at Shouto’s elbow, waving an armful of blankets. “Thermostat looks like it’s working fine but it’s obviously broken. Can’t get it to warm back up in here,” he said, offering one out to him. Shouto waved him off politely, pointedly flaring his left side. The set hand eyed you thoughtfully for a moment, as though evaluating whether you too might need a blanket. He seemed to decide that the small mountain of Shouto merch you were currently swaddled in was enough to keep you warm, and trotted off without another word.

Warm fingers readjusted the scarf at your throat, and your breath caught in your lungs. You glanced up at Shouto again to find those heterochromatic eyes roving over you slowly, like he was appraising the look of his merch on you.

While crimson and white was a good look on him, you supposed you must look something like a melting candy cane. You lifted a hand to take the hat off, but Shouto caught your wrist before you could.

“Leave it,” he said, pausing a long moment before adding, “It’s cold in here.”

“I look like a Christmas ornament gone wrong,” you laughed. You tried to ignore the steady pressure of his grip on your wrist.

Shouto looked insulted. “I will choose to ignore the implied insult to my own appearance.”

You rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to shush him. “Shouto, please, you know you look good—” Then it hit you what you'd just let slip and you choked, cutting yourself off. You stumbled over your words a little when Shouto’s gaze sharpened. “Uh, I mean, you know. Normal. You look, um, like you. I mean, it’s your look, you know—”

A call from the camera director cut you off, like a divine bolt of intervention from the merciful conversation gods. Shouto lingered a moment, his fingers flexing on your wrist. There was a small moment where he looked like he might say something, a hesitant pause between one breath and the next—

And then he’d released you. He stepped back towards where the next shot had already been set up, Jiro already atop her box, tapping an impatient black combat boot.

You watched Shouto’s broad back retreat, your skin buzzing like a hive of bees had settled beneath it. You let out a relieved huff of breath, sinking back in your chair. He’d be busy for the next couple of minutes, and that would be enough time to compose yourself again.

You could be chill, totally normal. You could be as cool as an ice cube.

And after that, you were. Shouto was, too—whatever strange mood he’d been in with Magma Girl had lifted, and he didn’t come back over to stuff more Shouto paraphernalia onto you, though you did think you caught the occasional flash of grey and blue turning your way.

It was only after you’d been shepherded back into an agency car, still decked out like an overzealous candy cane, that you calmed down enough to turn your mind back to the thermostat issue. There was something tickling the back of your mind, teasing the fringes of your thoughts in dull flickers of suspicion.

It occurred to you that the thermostat issue had only started after Shouto had arrived—and had conveniently coincided with the incidences surrounding Magma Girl. Shouto, whose quirk had not only a heating element, but a cooling element as well...

From the corner of your eye you could see Shouto propped up against the opposite window. His face was still, but he was radiating smugness, like a pleased tomcat who'd just returned with a fat mouse.

And that settled it. If your years with him told you anything, then Shouto probably did have at least something to do with it. He was putting out the same self-satisfied energy as he had when he'd scorched the chair in the lobby of Hero Weekly, which meant he'd definitely been up to something in there.

You added the incident to the steadily growing list of unusual things that Shouto seemed to be occupied with lately, making another note to get to the bottom of things. You didn't like not knowing what was up with him, and it was going to have to stop.

You would find out what exactly he thought he was up to lately.

Shouto Todoroki couldn’t hide anything from you for long.

#todoroki shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x you #todoroki shouto #bnha x reader

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narutogwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Ruin the Friendship

⋇✦ Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x Reader

⋇✦ Genre: angst; fluff; oneshot

⋇✦ CW: none

⋇✦ Length: 2.5k+

⋇✦ @gaarasandpit just a angst/fluff naruto x reader request if you’re up for it 🥰 maybe where the reader and him are somewhat close friends and he notices she’s drifting from him because her feelings get in the way? he’s oblivious and hurt about it then confrontation happens ending up in a good old love confession

“Cmon! Open up!” Naruto called from outside your house, pounding on the door like he had been incessantly for the past five minutes. “I know you’re in there!”

He did not, in fact, know whether or not you were in there, but he couldn’t imagine where else you would be.

All week you’d been missing; Naruto couldn’t find you anywhere. Sometimes he would see the flick of your hair from the corner of his eye or his ears would pick up the sound of your laugh, but by the time he turned to find you, you’d be gone.

Your absence in Naruto’s life wasn’t something of a minor inconvenience; it was a constant pain, as if he was missing a part of his own body. Iruka had joked that Naruto missing you was akin to that of a phantom limb, like there was something of him that should be there and it wasn’t and he ached because of it.

“No, Naruto. We haven’t seen her,” Shikamaru shrugged. Ino nodded her agreement.

“Sorry. Maybe she’s on a mission or something.

Naruto frowned, sighing in frustration. “Alright, well, thanks.” He muttered before he sulked off. Shikamaru and Ino watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before Ino gave you a kick under the table.

“Ow!” you whined as you crawled out from underneath, rubbing your shoulder.

Ino rolled her eyes at you. “You’re lucky Naruto’s an idiot, or he definitely would have seen you.” She told you as you slid yourself down into the seat next to her. “Remind me: why are you avoiding him again?”

Propping your elbows on the table, you rested your head in your hands as you gave a forlorn sigh. That was a loaded question. You were avoiding Naruto because the absolute worse thing that could ever occur had happened.

You’d fallen in love with the idiot blond.

And how could you not? You’d been best friends with Naruto for the longest time. He was a constant in your life, always at your side. It was rare that one of you was seen without the other.

There was no one in the entire world that could make you smile or laugh the way that he could. Whenever you were sad or hurt, he always had the words to make it all better. Naruto had the type of smile that could save people, and you were no exception. There wasn’t a person in the world that could meet someone with a heart like Naruto’s and not walk away changed.

It had been a slow thing, a soft, unsure growing. It wasn’t a feeling you’d recognized at all once, because you always loved Naruto.

It wasn’t totally strange for you to get excited when you saw him or miss him when he was gone. It wasn’t unusual to think about him before you went to sleep.

But when you began to wake up and your first thought was, “my god he’s beautiful” when you looked at the picture of the two of you on your night stand, that was a little strange. You never used to spend extra time in the morning doing your makeup when you knew you were going to see him soon.

And you never used to blush when he smiled at you. Even you could tell you laughed a little too hard when he said something even remotely funny.

It was one day when the two of you were taking a walk that it happened. He was telling you a story, his motions large and exaggerated. Of course, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. As he turned to you, arms raised high over his head, his foot hit a rock. Naruto went sprawling to the floor, rolling across the ground and landing flat on his back.

You burst out laughing at the scene, hurrying to kneel at his side. “Are you okay!?” You asked him between giggles.

Naruto’s face was bright red with embarrassment as he laid on the floor. He looked up at you, smiling sheepishly. “Oops…”

It was such a simple thing, but you’d looked at Naruto and thought, “I love him so much.”

Nothing had ever startled you more.

Of course you loved Naruto; that was a given. It was never anything that needed to be thought or said. It was just a fact. But as soon as you had thought the words, you knew that it was different this time. You didn’t just love Naruto.

You were in love with him.

You’d hoped that the feelings would fade. Maybe it was just a fluke or a passing crush. Day in and day out, you waited for your feelings to go back to normal, but now that you’d acknowledged them, they only seemed to grow stronger. It got to the point where you couldn’t even look at naruto without turning into a blushing mess. It was pathetic.

So you’d decided there was only one reasonable solution: you would have to avoid him for as long as it took for the feelings to go away.

And of course you didn’t want to stay away from him. Being with him was as natural as breathing. But the way you saw it, if he found out about your feelings, your friendship could be ruined forever. This way, you could take some space, move on, and resume your friendship like nothing happened.

But Naruto wasn’t making that easy.

You hadn’t realized just how much time you and Naruto spent together until you were trying to distance yourself from him. He was everywhere. Every meal, every free moment, he was by your side or trying to be at least.

“Wanna go eat?” “Wanna go train with me?” “Let’s watch a movie!” “I heard there’s gonna be a festival in the next town over!”

You couldn’t get away from him. So this past week, you’d taken to hiding from him every time you saw him, deciding it was easiest to just avoid him completely. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe just how much time and effort Naruto was putting in to trying to find you.

But of course he was putting in effort. Because you were his best friend and he couldn’t understand it; where you’d gone or why you weren’t talking to him. Had he done something wrong? Were you mad at him or something? Your absence in Naruto’s life was drawing out every insecurity he hadn’t even realized he still had. He was worried, drowning in anxiety.

What if you’d decided you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? Maybe you were annoyed with him, found him to be too much. When you and Naruto had first become friends, he thought it was too good to be true. There was no way that someone as nice and pretty and cool as you would want to be friends with him. No one had ever wanted to be his friend before.

But there you were with your sweet smile and calming presence. You had accepted Naruto, every piece of him, without question or reservation. You meant everything to him, so the thought of losing you had sent Naruto into a panic.

You’d managed to avoid Naruto for a full week and a half. The past three days, as far as you knew, he hadn’t even made an effort to find you. It was a relief and heartbreaking all at once. You needed your space, but it hurt to think that maybe Naruto didn’t miss you at all anymore.

These were the thoughts racing through your head when you crawled into bed that night. You doubted you’d be getting much sleep; you’d barely gotten any since you had started avoiding Naruto.

Pulling the covers over yourself, you closed your eyes and tried to get comfortable. It seemed like hours you laid there awake before tiredness finally started to drift over you. You could feel yourself slowly dozing off to sleep when a sudden loud noise startled you awake. Sitting up quickly, your eyes darted to the window where the noise had come from.

Naruto had forcefully pried open the window, shoving himself not-so-gracefully through the opening and crashing onto the floor.

He quickly jumped to his feet, rubbing his head with a small wince before his eyes landed on you, widening slightly.

“Ah ha! I got you!” He shouted victoriously, pointing his finger in your direction. “You can’t hide from me anymore, believe it!”

God, he was too cute for words and that was exactly the problem. Your heart practically burst just looking at him as he appeared so accomplished and excited.

But the triumphant look on his face slowly vanished as he stared at you. When he spoke, his voice came out quietly, dripping with dejection. “Where have you been?”

Quietness settled over the room as the two of you stared at each other. Naruto made no move to get closer to you, and you likewise stayed strapped in your seat. “I’m sorry…” You offered weakly, unsure of what else to say.

“Don’t be sorry!” Naruto snapped, anger quickly replacing his despaired features. “Tell me why! What the hell? You think you can just avoid a guy? Cut me off like I’m nothing to you!?” He was trembling, his usual happy grin twisted into a broken grimace so despondent it took you off guard. You had caused that hurt that Naruto was feeling. The thought made you sick.

“If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, at least say something!” Naruto spat. “Don’t just run from me like a coward! If you have something to say, say it to my face!”

There was a harsh edge to Naruto’s voice that he never used with you before. Not in all of your years of friendship. You realized suddenly just how badly you’d hurt Naruto by avoiding him. It wasn’t something you’d considered; you’d only wanted some space so you could get back to normal with him.

But you saw it clearly now, the damage that you had done. Suddenly, in this moment, he was the lonely, isolated child that he had been before you met, feeling alone and abandoned in the world. And this time, it was because of you.

The regret was like bile on your tongue, and you wished fiercely that you could take back the past week and do it differently. You couldn’t stand the thought that it was you who had caused this damage to your best friend, the guy you loved so much.

You didn’t have any words to fix it. All you had was the truth.

“I love you.”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could pull them back in. And once they were out, they couldn’t be taken back.

Confusion quickly settled on Naruto’s face. It was as if you could see the anger dissipate from his body. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape, while he tried to process what you’d just said. “You… What?”

Turning bright red, you pulled the blanket back over your head in embarrassment. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that! Now there would never be any going back to the way that things were, but you had to tell him. You couldn’t just let him think that you were cutting him off without reason.

“I said I love you…” You muttered from under the blanket. “I’m in love with you, Naruto. I have been for a while now, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. So I thought if I just took some space and didn’t see you for a while, then maybe I would get over it, and then we could just keep things the way they were…”

It was much easier to get the words out when you were under the blanket and couldn’t see him, but you were still nauseous with anxiety as you told him how you felt. Your heart was steeling itself for rejection as you waited for his response.

The only noise was shuffling as Naruto came to your bed. You could feel the indent as he sat down next to you. He grabbed your blanket, slowly peeling it off of you and despite your reluctance, you let him.

You didn’t look at him as you pushed yourself back up into a sitting position. You’d never been so embarrassed before.

“Did it work?” He asked you quietly.

Fidgeting with the hem of your night shirt, you mumbled, “Did what work?”

“Are you over me?”

The question took you off guard, lingering between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but flicker your eyes to his. He was staring earnestly at you with those wide blue eyes you loved so much. You wanted to lie to him but you just couldn’t.

“No.”

Naruto’s focused expression stretched into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to him. You were too startled to respond, so you just stared at him, confused, instead.

“You scared me!” Naruto laughed happily as he rested his cheek against your head. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore! You didn’t have to completely avoid me, ya know.”

There was a mix of relief and disappointment at his reaction. So, he wasn’t weirded out about your confession? Things didn’t have to change. The two of you could stay ‘just friends.’

“So, we’re okay?” You asked him nervously. “We’re still friends?”

Naruto gave a puzzled hum as he pulled away from the hug to stare at you. He raised his eyebrow as he studied you for a moment. You could almost see the light bulb go off above his head as he realized.

“Oh!” He laughed, grinning sheepishly and rubbing his neck. “I guess I forgot to tell you it back, huh? I thought it was obvious! I love you too, believe it!”

You blinked as he giggled embarrassedly, that signature smile of his on his lips. “Naruto!” You snapped at him, lunging and knocking you both off the bed. He landed on his back with you on top of him as you rubbed your fist into his head. “You dummy!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” Naruto whined, squirming under your touch. “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend!?”

The question was enough to make you stop, your mouth frozen in a surprised “o” shape, just like he hoped. He laughed, sitting up and holding you to him before he placed a happy kiss to your cheek, making your face flush over red.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking at him as it finally sunk in what he said. He loved you too. He called himself your boyfriend. “Is that your way of asking me?” You questioned.

Naruto nodded earnestly. “And my way to get you to stop giving me a noogie! It’s a win win! Well, if you say yes, that is…”

Shaking your head, you laughed as your whole body softened in relief. Your arms slipped around his neck as you hugged him tightly. “Yes, obviously!” You told him. “Yes! I love you.” Naruto hugged you back just as fiercely. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t hesitate. His hand reached up to cup your cheek as he leaned forward, pressing a sweet, soft kiss to your lips.

Well, you guessed your friendship was officially ruined. But suddenly, you didn’t mind so much.

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

Text

Makeshift Heating Pad - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Kohei Horikoshi

MHA Masterlist - Main Masterlist

A/N: So I had this one in storage for a little bit to ‘save for a rainy day’ and all that jazz, and because I’m having to do a little bit more research than normal for a request I received (don’t worry dear anon, I haven’t forgotten about you!) I didn’t want to have a serious lull in posting stuff. So, everybody, welcome to the chat this bad boy.

Warnings: Mentions of periods (menstrual cycle), Shouto being the best bf on earth.

Word Count: 1.4K

When that time of the month came around, you knew exactly what to do. You even went as far as to having an app on your phone that cataloged when you would get your period; giving you notifications the week before and then the day before. So, when that little notification bubble popped up before you went to bed, you should’ve remembered to take a painkiller, take an anti-nausea supplement, and use a feminine product, right? Oh, how unfortunately wrong you were. Normally you were very attentive, but when you were in the arms of your ever so doting boyfriend, sometimes logic flew out of the window as you were nestled in his soothing embrace. What a rude awakening it was in the very early hours of the next morning.

With a jabbing pain to your lower stomach, you shot out of bed, unfortunately knocking Shouto’s jaw in the process that had previously been resting on the crown of your head.

“...Sorry” you muster, using your hands to press down harshly on your stomach, trying everything in your power to smush down the pain.

“S’okay… are you okay?” Shouto’s sleepy and raspy voice provided some comfort to your pain as he rubbed a calming hand up and down your shoulder. With another stab of pain, you gasped. All you could do in response is shake your head. While you had some suspicion as to what was going on, Shouto didn’t have a clue. He tried to run through any events that happened recently. Did someone accidentally hit you too hard in that spot during hero training yesterday? Did you eat something bad last night? Is one of your muscles contracting out of nowhere? Unbeknownst to him, his last thought was entirely accurate as your cramps continued to subject your body to awful pain. “Would you like some painkillers? Would that help?” With a quick nod from you, he gently helped you move back to rest on the headboard of your bed, trying to make you as comfortable as possible. That’s when he saw the large patch of red that starkly contrasted the swan-like white of your sheets. He sucked in a breath, his eyes stuck on deep scarlet, which caused you to flick your eyes to what Shouto was so shocked at. That was when a harsh truth laid itself upon you.

“Shit…” you whisper, your jaws clenched and your eyes squinting in pain and embarrassment as you look at your period-stained sheets that you, just a second ago, were sharing with your boyfriend. “Sho, I’m so sor-”

“Here, let me help you up so you can go shower,” His soft, velvety words cut through your worried and panicked ones, offering you his hand for you to take. Your mouth formed a small smile as your eyes watered a bit, taking his hand and letting him walk you over to the little bathroom in your dorm. What U.A. provided wasn’t much, just a small little sink, toilet, and the skinniest shower known to man-kind, but it was enough for you to appreciate the privacy it provided. Walking to a communal shower with red-stained pajama shorts wasn’t in your top 10 things to do with your dorm life. The curtain was flipped back and the warm water was turned on for you by Shouto, who was currently fluffing out a towel for you to use.

“Thank you, Shouto, but you didn’t have to do all this,” you say, your voice thankful and entirely gracious. Heterochromatic eyes flicked over to you and the smallest smile quirked in the process.

“It’s the least I can do. I’ll leave you to undress and I’ll be back with clean sheets, okay?” With a nod and a simper, you let Shouto close the door behind him. You took your top, shorts, and undergarments off easily, but you let yourself mourn your underwear for a bit. Another cute pair lost to the ever hungry void of your menstrual period.

The warm water did wonders to soothe the backache and headache that were both severely prominent to you, and the lavender shampoo, conditioner, and body wash left you feeling rejuvenated and fresh, but still tired. Wrapping the blanket that Shouto left out for you around your body and grabbing a few feminine products, you changed into the fresh set of comfort wear that he had slipped under the door for you and wrapped your hair up in the towel. Finally, you let the bathroom door swing open to reveal a freshly made bed, a painkiller next to a glass of water, and Shouto, who was holding a little grocery bag filled with extra period products and your favorite candy. You almost collapsed out of sheer happiness right then and there, but figured that Shouto’s efforts would’ve gone to waste, so you crawled over to your bed. The blankets and duvet felt cloud-like as your clean body slipped underneath them, causing you to let out a sigh of content.

“Comfy?” Shouto asks you, sliding in next to you and situating you in between his legs, your back resting on his torso.

“Very. Thank you so much-” And, once again, you lurched forward in pain. While back aches and headaches could disappear with a quick splash in warm water, menstrual cramps were a much different story. Quickly, Shouto maneuvers himself so that he could reach the glass of water and the painkiller, putting them gently in your hands.

“I’m sorry you’re in so much pain,” He says sadly, brushing your hair behind your shoulders so that it was out of your pained face. You shake your head and smile sadly.

“It’s okay, Sho, it’s kinda my fault for not preparing better for this. Usually I’m pretty good at knowing when this kind of stuff is going to happen. I must’ve forgotten to check my phone last night. You sucked in another breath as a second wave of pain washed over you, causing your fists to clench harder, your knuckles turning white.

“Is there anything I can do?” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point behind your ear, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Hmm…” You think for a moment, your mind circling to a suggestion that you have debated every single time you got your period. Shouto was a wonderful boyfriend - he was caring, kind, and a capable student, and you didn’t mean to be superficial, but his quirk and looks were also pretty high up in your mind. And, while his quirk was good for fighting and deterring villains, it also had much more practical uses. Like, for instance, using his left hand as a makeshift heating pad for your stomach. So, since he was already so comfortable with you as his girlfriend, you decided to just ask. “Well…” you began, drawing Shouto’s interest immediately. “You could, theoretically, use your hand as a heating pad for my stomach.” With your suggestion voiced into the air, all you had to do was await your boyfriend’s response. You squinted your eyes, a little scared of what his reaction would be, but you were pleasantly surprised when your shirt was being lifted a bit and a hand slid to rest on your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too warm.” He says simply, letting his hand heat up. Now, you’ve used heating pads before and they worked to an extent, but they could not even pretend to compare to Shouto’s hand. It calmed your cramps almost instantly as he gently massaged the area, working the heat that was emitting from his fingertips just below your belly button so that he could try to relieve you of your pain. You hum in delight as you sink further back into his chest, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for everything.” You murmur, pressing a kiss into the material of his shirt. “Thank you for my sheets, and for the treats, and for being just the freaking best.” As drowsiness starts to take over your mind - a definite side effect of a source of heat warming you up - a sleepy smile spread across your face.

“It’s no problem at all, Y/N. But, if you don’t mind, can I see the app on your phone that tracks it?”

“What? Why?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Oh, well, I just figured since you're my girlfriend I should know when your menstrual cycle occurs so that I can help make your experience a little easier.

“Like I said,” you say, moving a hand to his cheek and bringing him down for a sweet, tender kiss, “you’re just the freaking best.”

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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Hello! I really REALLY like your writing!! I keep coming back to re-read them. This is the first time I've sent an ask/ request on tumblr 😅 So what would Yan!Childe do with a darling who is equally competitive as him but only sees him as a sparring partner and nothing more? It doesn't faze darling that he's a fatui or a harbinger. Just a strong opponent to defeat. Thank you and stay safe! <3

Warnings: Blood mention, slight suggestive implications, and unhealthy yandere themes. Note: i’m working on some stuff so this felt like a perfect writing warmup opportunity!! i styled it as an interaction, i hope you don’t mind. thank you for enjoying my writing ahhh <33 knowing you come back to reread it makes me happy! 💖

You learn a lot about someone from how they fight.

In fact, you’d go so far as to say you don’t truly know a person until you’ve seen them in action, their life on the line. Do they fight with honor? Holding their word until they draw their final breath? Or are they more of a trickster, abusing every opening that comes their way, for the sake of winning?

Tartaglia, the 11th of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, is an entirely new category of his own design.

He looks up at you, tousled hair obscuring his wicked eyes. When you dare gaze into them, you don’t see anything resembling human warmth, only pure excitement. The thrill of battle. The pleasure of risking your all for an adrenaline rush. Your chest is heaving for air, but he’s in far worse shape, no matter how hard he tries to hide it with forced nonchalance. The tip of your blade hovers threateningly over his pounding heart.

“Tell me,” you manage in between strained pants, “Why are you such a plague on my life?”

Childe smiles sweetly and you tighten your grip on the hilt of your blade.

“Why, you ask?” He muses, as if the thought had never occurred to him until now. Your eyes narrow. Threateningly, you ease your blade forward, the tip just scraping his glistening skin. Childe doesn’t so much as flinch at your unspoken challenge. Instead, he bites his bottom lip to contain himself, pupils dilating.

His gloved hand lashes out, palm wrapping around your blade to prevent it from inflicting a mortal wound.

“I wanted to see you just like this,” he shivers at your bewildered expression, drinking it in like you were the finest piece of art to ever exist. “I never understood why you’d hold back in our little spats… so, I thought to myself, why not give you some extra motivation?”

Your lips part, fully intending on demanding a better explanation than that, but the chance never comes. Childe takes advantage of your stupefied state to change the tides. He lifts his legs in a flash, securing them around your neck, then slams you onto the ground with unrivaled force. You reach for your weapon out of instinct, only for him to hold your wrists above your head in a tight grip.

Childe holds you down using his own body weight, surprisingly heavy for how lithe his figure appears.

He examines the open wound on his hand with keen interest. “How worth it all that effort was! You’ve given me quite a thrill. It’s been a long time since my heart has beat this fast.”

You shiver when his inhumane eyes flicker from the cut on his hand back to you, glaring up at him with all your strength. The more you struggle the more energy you’ll lose, you reason, so you decide to wait for an opening as he did. In terms of raw physical strength, you’re unfortunately at a disadvantage.

“Now,” he runs the tip of his tongue over the cut, maintaining eye contact as he does so. “Surrender, and well… I promise I’ll be a little gentle.”

#childe x reader #childe #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff #answered #Anonymous

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haus-seeblick · 3 years ago

Text

"Spooning for Science"

New lil Destiel fic... College AU, they're roomates, contrived cuddling occurs & Dean's brain slowly melts.

Read here on ao3, or under cut! 5Kish, rated T.

More tags: Cuddling Your Pal to Help Out Your Other Pal, Charlie Ships It, Feels, Light Angst, Humor, Happy Ending

“Ugh, I just can’t figure it out!” Charlie barges into the apartment in a whirlwind of bags and loose papers, startling Dean where he’s sipping coffee on the couch. His roommate’s long hair falls into her face as she dumps her pile of stuff onto the entryway chair. A sketchpad and a pin-laden shoulder bag slide to the floor. Breathing heavily, she glares at the offending items for a moment before leaving them where they are and stomping into the living room. Dean hastily scoots over and holds his coffee cup high to avoid spillage as Charlie flings herself onto the couch next to him.

“Rough morning?” he asks innocently.

Charlie just bangs the back of her head on the couch and grumbles under her breath.

“All right,” Dean says, casual as can be, and makes a show of reaching for the remote. Just as he’s about to push the button, Charlie heaves a huge sigh.

“It’s stupid Professor Roman again.” She says the name like it’s a disgusting type of fish or something. Dean nods to himself and puts the remote back down. Charlie’s been in this art class for less than a month, but the complaints have been nearly nonstop. Her talent resides first and foremost in lines of code, not so much on art canvases.

“He’s still got you drawing weird shit?”

The growl Charlie lets out is impressive. She faux-punches Dean’s thigh a few times. “He knows I can’t draw people and he knows this is just a stupid last-ditch elective for me, but does he cut me some slack?”

Dean, who has heard this speech several times, knows this is a rhetorical question.

“Noooo,” Charlie continues, grinding her knuckles into Dean’s leg. “He’s all, figure sketching is an important base skill, Miss Bradbury, and you may not move on to the next unit without producing a satisfying figure study, Miss Bradbury.” Her Professor-Roman-impression-voice always sounds nasally as hell; Dean vaguely wonders what’s wrong with the dude’s sinuses.

“Ugh, I just wanna get through the semester and fucking graduate,” Charlie groans with a particularly hard prod of the knuckles.

Dean gingerly catches her hand and removes it from his near-bruised leg. “So what’s the new assignment?”

Having lost the target of Dean’s thigh, Charlie starts smacking a pillow instead. “Stupid cuddly thing,” she grumbles. “Two people on a couch. I don’t know.”

“You know you can always ask Cas,” Dean says. “I’m sure his sketchy hands would be at your disposal.” His coffee’s starting to cool so he takes a few generous gulps. Charlie sighs and drops the pillow onto her face.

“I knoooow. Roman’d figure it out, though. Cas is too good. Even his bad is good.”

Setting down his empty mug, Dean reaches for his laptop. “Ah c’mon, you got this. What’s the prompt? We can look up, like, references or whatever they call ’em.”

Charlie’s slowly dragging the pillow off her face when the front door opens again and their other roommate strides in, much more graceful than Charlie had been. Castiel’s dark hair is windswept, his cheeks pink from the January chill. It makes his eyes pop even more than usual, Dean thinks, the blue practically glowing. Dean quickly squashes that thought.

Toeing off his sensible shoes, Castiel eyes the haphazard pile of stuff strewn over the chair and the floor. He gives a tiny nod of resignation and shrugs out of his trench coat, hanging it neatly on the hooks behind the door. Only then does he turn to survey the rest of the apartment.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean greets with a finger gun, and Charlie lifts one half-assed hand.

“Hello, you two,” Cas replies absently, already hurrying to the kitchen in search of the extra coffee Dean had brewed, knowing Cas would want some after his early class. Charlie’s more of a canned-energy-drink consumer.

“Have you been assigned another difficult task?” Cas calls over the clinking of his spoon in the mug as he stirs in the cream.

“An impossible task,” Charlie hollers back. “Insurmountable. Hopeless!”

“Nothing is hopeless when you have help.” Cas appears in the doorway, sleeves of his dress shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose, long fingers wrapped around a steaming mug — his favorite one that Dean always sets on the counter next to the coffeemaker, the one with the bees around the rim. The dark jeans he chose today are a little tight, hugging his thighs in a way that nearly makes Dean’s breath hitch. Nearly.

Dean pointedly looks away to avoid any fantasies that might infiltrate his brain, like the one he had yesterday about those fingers slowly undoing his zipper, or that other one about those chapped pink lips wrapping around—

Nope! Nope nope nope! Dean blinks rapidly as his roommates talk, hoping that Charlie’s continued lamenting distracts from the very inconvenient blush heating up his cheeks. Cas has settled into the old armchair next to the couch, feet firmly on the floor and mug resting on his knees, always a picture of composure.

How Dean would love to pick at one of those neatly creased edges. Pluck at the thread until Cas unravels under his hands.

“Dean? What do you think?” The exasperated edge to Cas’ tone indicates that it’s not his first attempt to get Dean’s attention.

“Wha?” Dean digs his fingernails into his palm, the sharp pinch yanking him back into reality. It’s a trick he has to employ a lot around Cas. He sheepishly meets his roommates’ expectant gazes — Charlie’s hair is all mussed from the pillow — and clears his throat. “I mean, uh, say again?”

With a full-body eyeroll, Cas says, “I suggested to Charlie that she might try to find real-life models to pose as a reference. Studying a position from all angles may help with her sketching.”

“Oh yeah, smart,” Dean says, regaining some composure. “Listen to the actual artist. I was gonna pull up pictures on Google, but real life’s way better.”

“Hobby artist,” Cas corrects, but nods, a neat little tip of the chin. “Perhaps some of your classmates would help you? Dorothy seems outgoing.”

“I’m not gonna ask Dorothy to sit on a couch cuddling with some rando while I creep around them and draw glorified stick figures.” Charlie shakes her head incredulously. The next second, her eyes widen, and Dean’s alarmed to see her lips curve into her most scheming smile. She scoots up into a straight sitting position.

“However,” she starts, “I have two incredibly helpful and understanding roommates.”

Oh, no.

“Uh,” Dean says.

“You do,” Cas agrees, calmly sipping his coffee.

Charlie turns the full force of her beseeching gaze on Dean. “Dean, you wanna help me not fail, right? Your BFF?”

“Cas is my BFF.”

“Your favorite roommate?”

“Cas is my favorite roommate.”

“Your Queen?”

“Cas— Ugh, fine.” Dean throws his hands up. “But only because it seems like a handmaidenly duty. That’s all.” He studiously ignores the clammy prickling of his palms and the way his heart thumps all the way in his stomach. And he definitely avoids making eye contact with Cas. “What d’you need us to do?”

Charlie whoops and slaps his thigh. “You will be rewarded handsomely for your services at the next Grand Gathering, handmaiden.” As she skips to the door and starts rooting through her bag on the floor, Dean sneaks a peek at Cas. His roommate has his eyes closed, breathing in the steam from his coffee with a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s his zen face, the one that indicates he’s enjoying a basic life pleasure, those “little molecules” of joy that he likes finding throughout his days. Sometimes Cas seems immune to the speed and brightness of the world, like he’s from a different time, or like most of him is on another plane altogether, just observing the hustle and bustle of human affairs. Dean envies it now and again, that calm.

Not that Cas doesn’t have his own set of issues, of course. There’s a reason he comes across kinda closed-off and strange to people who don’t know him, a reason for his ultra-literal humor and lack of mainstream culture knowledge. During the four years he’s been at college rooming with Dean, though, those quirks have become less a mark of his past and more an owned element of his personality. And Dean lov— Dean really likes it. All of it.

And anyway, Cas can quote movies with the best of them now.

Charlie hurries back across the living room, sketchpad in one hand and pencil in the other. “All right,” she says brusquely, dropping it all on the coffee table and gesturing at Dean and Cas. “So the prompt is to draw two people on a couch, one leaning with their back against the other person’s chest. Everything else is up to my imagination.”

“That seems very vague,” Cas comments as he sets his coffee cup on the floor under the armchair, nudging it until it’s safely out of the way.

Dean fidgets. “So, uh— how, uh, should we do this?”

“Hmm.” Finger on her pursed lips, Charlie narrows her eyes and paces back and forth in front of the couch, surveying the layout. She pushes Dean to one side and then another, shuffles pillows around, tilts her entire torso to the left and then the right as if simulating some vision in her mind, and finally she nods in satisfaction. “Got it.”

At Charlie’s beckoning wave, Cas stands up and shifts over to the couch. He settles next to Dean, so close that the cushions slope inward and deposit his thighs and hips right up against Dean’s, warm and solid and — Dean breathes steadily — yeah, thick. Those damn jeans.

It’s not like they haven’t sat close before; hell, they do it all the time, in diner booths and on the stadium bleachers and on Baby’s bench seat when they’ve got a full car. Even on this very couch, sometimes, when the shitty heater’s broken again and it’s winter and they just want to watch a movie and be comfortable. So yeah, they’ve sat close.

Doesn’t mean Dean’s stupid heart can be chill about it. Especially not now, with the prospect of having Cas in his arms, pressed up against his chest all warm and solid, in just a few moments.

“All right, I think I want Cas in the back,” Charlie says, and Dean’s brain stutters.

“What, why?” he blurts, and at his friends’ raised eyebrows, explains “Well, I’m, y’know, I’m. Taller.”

“Barely,” Cas points out, and Charlie says “You got a problem with being the little spoon, Dean?”

“It’s not spooning,” Dean mutters, cheeks hot. “It’s for your class.”

“Spooning for science,” Charlie quips cheerfully. “Now get up and let Cas get into the corner.”

She flips open her sketchbook to a fresh page and sits on the coffee table. Dean begrudgingly heaves himself off the couch so Cas can scoot over and lean into the corner of the backrest and armrest. He holds himself as stiffly and properly as always, back straight, one leg out in front of him across the couch cushions and the other foot planted firmly on the ground. Once he’s settled, he opens his arms and looks right at Dean.

“Uh—” Dean hovers awkwardly, suddenly painfully aware of his body, of every inch of space he takes up, like he’s forgotten how to inhabit his own limbs. The heat still throbs in his cheeks. Cas is looking at him, through him, as is his habit, head tilted and eyes narrowed, like he’s not sure why Dean’s being so weird.

And why is Dean being so weird? It’s not like Cas would want to— to cuddle him or whatever in real life. It’s just pretend. Just helping Charlie out. Being good roommates. Cas wouldn’t want this otherwise.

That thought somehow deposits a boulder in Dean’s stomach even as it settles his mind.

He slaps on his best cocky grin. “All right, sunshine. You ready for me?”

Cas squints suspiciously at him, but nods, wiggling the fingers of his still-open arms. “Yes, Dean. As is indicated by my posture.”

“Gods, you two are complicated.” Charlie huffs and lifts a foot to nudge Dean’s ass toward the couch. “Just spoon already.”

The bitchface Dean shoots her rivals those of his brother, but he complies, planting his butt next to Cas’ thigh before bracing his hands on the couch to pivot and scoot himself back until — oh man — he’s right up against Cas’ torso, his ass up against Cas’ crotch, as if that’s something he’s just expected to survive. Cas lowers his arms once Dean is close, threads them under Dean’s and lets them rest on the tops of Dean’s thighs, palms down. Like he’s holding him in place. A live anchor.

Dean feels Cas’ breath on his neck and nearly rattles out of his skin.

“All right, the rest is up to me, so…” Charlie inspects them critically. “Dean, lean your head against Cas’, and kinda cross your legs out in front of you on the couch, yeah, like that— that way you won’t fall off — Cas, hold onto him —”

— Cas slowly lifts his arms, settles them over Dean’s stomach, tightens them in a soft squeeze of inner elbow.

“—and Dean, put your damn arms down, why are you holding them in the air like that? Just put them on Cas’ or something.”

Simple as that, apparently. Lay your arms on your best friend’s arms. Let your skin touch where his sleeves are rolled up. As if you haven’t spent cumulative days of the last four years wondering what that would feel like, touching him purposefully, while you lived in the tiny stolen moments of accidental grazes, of brief bravado-fueled hugs.

Easy as that.

Under Charlie’s impatient gaze, Dean lowers his arms and settles them over Cas’, a double-layer wrap of his waist. His temple rests against Cas’ cheekbone and he feels the warm wash of breath through his hair.

If it weren’t for the absolute panic bubbling behind his sternum, it would feel so fucking good. If he could close his eyes without Charlie noticing, if Cas would relax — he’s still stiff as a board — if, if, if — then Dean could maybe relish in this moment, pretend it’s real, imagine it might happen again.

As it is, he knows he and Cas are on borrowed time. One more semester and Cas’ll be off to grad school while Dean tries to figure out what to do with his life. He hopes they’re close enough that Cas’ll keep in touch, that he’ll not become just another figure to blip in and out of Dean’s life, but of course there’s no guarantee. And it’s not like Dean can just ask him to stay. That’d be— no.

His brain races and he knows Cas must feel the clamminess of his palms, maybe even his heart pounding through the muscle and bone of his back, all the way into Cas’ chest. God, this is embarrassing. Dean silently curses Charlie with all he has.

Charlie, the asshole, looks smug as shit, perched on the coffee table with the tip of her pencil on the page. She catches Dean’s eye and grins.

“All right, that looks good,” she declares. “Now just… hold still, I guess.”

“You better hurry up,” Dean grits out, and feels Cas’ mouth quirk against the side of his head. Charlie’s pencil starts scratching against the paper.

The minutes tick. Dean might get a cramp in his toe. He hopes he gets a cramp in his toe. Just to put an end to this.

Suck it up, Winchester. Dean flexes his toe and it’s fine.

The minutes tick, and maybe it’s his imagination, but the rigid lines of Cas’ body seem to be softening, incrementally. The taught muscles of his chest gradually give, and as Dean sinks further into him, he realizes that the hammering behind his ribs isn’t coming from just his own nervous heart. There’s another beat alongside his, arrhythmic pounding where their bodies meet.

Why would Cas’ heart be racing?

Dean takes stock — he was so caught up in his own shit that he didn’t clock the damp warmth through his thin t-shirt where Cas’ hands splay on his stomach. The jackrabbiting pulse tangible even across the scant centimeters between Cas’ throat and Dean’s skin. The quicker-than-usual breathing. And, huh. Maybe the stiff posture wasn’t… just Cas being Cas. Maybe he was feeling as awkward as Dean about this, after all.

No way it’s for the same reason, though. Dean would know. He’d be able to tell. Definitely.

He breathes in deep through his nose, presses his temple a little more against Cas’ cheek. Just so he doesn’t get a neck cramp.

“Stay still, Dean.” The quiet snap of Charlie’s voice in the silence makes both Dean and Cas twitch, and Charlie rolls her eyes. She gets up and shakes out her legs — Dean watches enviously — and starts walking around the couch, agonizingly slowly, inspecting them like fish in a bowl. She moves out of his line of sight, and — Oh.

He’s in the living room, looking at the gray January sky out the kitchen window, coffee-scented air warm, but not as warm as the arms around him. He’s on the couch, and Cas is holding him, and they’re alone and Dean never wants it to end. He wants all of it— all of Cas. His thighs and his long fingers and his messy hair and his blue, blue eyes. And everything underneath, all the awesome stuff about him that he’s shared with Dean over the years. Dean wants it all. He wants Cas to hold on.

And if that realization doesn’t make him want to rocket up off this couch and run. But he can’t. He can’t, they’re not actually alone, he’s gotta help Charlie pass her stupid class and graduate. So he grits his teeth and quells the urge.

And anyway, the longer he stays put, the more he admits — into the still space of his body — he doesn’t really wanna run.

Without conscious thought, he tightens his fingers over Cas’ arms. Slight crook of his joints.

And Cas tightens back. Against Dean’s hair, Cas’ breathing diverts from his nose to his mouth, deeper pulls, the shaky sigh of every exhale somehow speaking, saying something Dean’s not sure he’s ready to understand.

Charlie moves back into his view, at their feet now. Her tongue pokes out between her teeth and the way she’s scribbling on the paper looks pretty haphazard, in Dean’s opinion. It lasts for another agonizingly long minute, Charlie’s gaze flicking between the page and their pose, until she finally tucks the pencil behind her ear and inspects her work.

“Ooookay,” she says. “Think I’m done. You can move.”

And with that, the spell breaks. Cas shifts behind him, breaking the seal of their bodies, air rushing in cool against Dean’s back. Their arms slide away from one another. Dean sits up and swings his legs to the floor.

“Did you get it?” He raises his eyebrows at Charlie as Cas extracts his leg from behind him.

“I think so.” Charlie shuts the sketchbook with a snap before Dean can sneak a peek, though. “Your ugly mug’s not easy to capture.”

Dean sticks his tongue out at her, and Cas chuckles as he moves past them to retrieve his mug from under the armchair. The coffee must be cold by now.

“Hopefully your professor will allow you to move on,” Cas says, but he’s looking at Dean over the rim of his cup, and Dean quickly averts his eyes, studying the apartment’s ugly grayish-brown carpet. It hits him that he’s supposed to just continue being around Cas, even now that he knows what it feels like to be held by him — how the hell is he gonna be normal about this?

“He fucking better,” Charlie growls threateningly and makes her way back to the front door. “Uuugh, I gotta get to my next class. Thanks for helping me get this done, you guys.” She shoves her sketchpad into her art bag and leaves it on the entryway floor, bundling up in her big coat and slinging her pin-bag over her shoulder.

“See you later,” Cas says, calm and collected as ever, and Dean grunts.

A freezing gust whooshes in as Charlie opens the door, and it’s cut off the next second as the door slams shut, and suddenly it’s silent in the apartment.

Dean shuffles his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas sip his coffee. Still watching him. That in itself isn’t unusual, but they just spooned, for fuck’s sake! You don’t just stare at your best friend who you just spooned.

“So!” Dean says. Too loudly. Belatedly, he realizes he doesn’t actually have anything to say to follow up the so. “Um.”

“Tomorrow is your birthday,” Cas says, apropos of nothing, and Dean blinks.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“We haven’t made any plans.”

Dean shrugs. “Figured we’d just go out, like always.” Their birthday celebrations usually consist of burgers at the Roadhouse, drinks at various bars (beers for Dean and fancy, fruity hipster drinks for Cas and Charlie), and then movies at home with pie and every snack imaginable for the rest of the night. He’s not sure why they’ve never planned anything else. It’s just always seemed… perfect, the way it is.

Cas’ fingers twitch against his mug. Tap a little pattern. His leg bounces, too. Something’s going on, and Dean, welcoming the distraction from his own awkwardness, narrows his eyes. “What’re you not tellin’ me?”

Leaning forward to set his mug on the coffee table, Cas bites his lip, scrapes at it with his teeth a couple times. He sets his palms on his knees and blows out a big breath. Dean’s about to poke again, when Cas blurts out, “Dean, what are your plans after graduation?”

Not following the U-turn, Dean flounders. “Uh— well.” He wipes his prickly palms on his jeans. “Y’know. ’M not really sure. I figure you’ll go off to grad school, and Charlie’s gonna get some high-tech job on the west coast, and me— I guess I’ll stay here? If Sammy ends up goin’ to school here, too, I might as well be around for him.”

“You speak a lot about other people’s plans,” Cas says gently. “What do you want for yourself?”

What a fucking question.

Professionally, Dean has no clue. His engineering degree could get him a job pretty much anywhere, he figures. Just a matter of where that’s gonna be. As far as everything else… Mom and Sammy, and Ellen and Jo and Bobby, everyone he really cares about, are all here in Kansas. If he’s really honest with himself — which is something he avoids as much as possible — he has to admit that there’s really only one scenario in which he could envision himself leaving.

And that scenario’s sitting a couple feet away, somehow both stiff and fidgety, regarding him with that intense gaze that Dean used to find unsettling but that now makes him feel known.

Yeah, Dean knows what he wants for himself.

“Not sure,” he lies.

Cas nods, like that’s the answer he expected. “I’m going to ask you something,” he starts, haltingly. “And I hope you won’t feel pressured, but it’s something I’ve been— um, I’ve been feeling for a while and I’d like you to know, in case it affects your plans.”

Dean’s heart rate picks up again, and he can’t really feel his fingers. “Okay,” he says, mouth dry.

Cas stands up and goes over to the front door, picking up Charlie’s art bag. He pulls the sketchbook out, the one Charlie was scribbling in, and flips through the pages as he walks back. He bypasses the armchair and sits down next to Dean on the couch, just as close as before. The sketchbook lies open over his knees, and Dean lets his gaze slide down from Cas’ face to look at the page.

It’s a sketch— a really, really good one. And it’s of Dean and Cas on the couch, in the position they were today. Every detail is there, simply but perfectly shaped, from the slope of Dean’s torso to the cut of Cas’ cheekbones. It’s the expressions on their faces that catches Dean’s eyes the most, though. He has no idea how Charlie got this down so accurately in such a short time — or at all, actually. It looks like the moment when Dean gazed out the window after she passed out of his sight, the moment he felt like he and Cas were alone, the moment he realized that this was what he wanted. There’s a revelatory light in sketched grays of his eyes, his lips slightly parted. He looks at sketch-Cas’ face and his breath hitches. Cas’ eyes are closed, his lashes brushing his cheeks, and his head’s tilted into Dean’s, his nose in Dean’s hair. And his expression — it’s his happy face, his zen face, but times ten, the corners of his eyes actually crinkled with the force of his quiet smile. Dean’s almost never seen Cas look so content.

He looks and looks and looks, eyes greedy and heart hammering. It’s only when Cas takes a deep breath that he tears his eyes away from the page and blinks up at his friend.

“How— what—” He clears his throat. “Um. What is this?”

Cas ducks his chin, uncharacteristically shy. “I made it.”

Dean furrows his brow. “You drew this? What— when?”

“Last week,” Cas almost whispers. “Charlie left her sketchbook open on the table, and I was bored, and so I… I imagined the moment and drew it.”

“It’s exactly how it looked today,” Dean says, still utterly confused. “How’d you get my face… how’d you get it all right?”

Pink heat tints Cas’ cheeks. “I just drew how I hoped you would look. And feel. And I wanted to show it to you, I wanted… I wanted to…” His voice is so small. “I wanted to do this with you. But I didn’t know how to ask for that.”

Not allowing himself to fully internalize that quite yet, Dean gestures at the page. “So… you had Charlie, what, fake an art assignment?”

“I asked for her help. She was very keen on the idea. I… I just wanted to see if you’d react the way I thought you might.” With a belly-deep breath, Cas flicks his gaze up to Dean’s. “And you did.”

They hold eye contact for a long moment, and Dean braces for the spiraling to start, but the seconds tick by and he’s planted firmly on the couch, and Cas’ thigh and hip are against his, and he’s right where he should be.

“And I did,” he whispers. His brain is both buzzing and utterly silent.

“The question I wanted to ask you,” Cas continues, “is whether you’d consider coming with me after graduation. Or if you would allow me to come with you. Whichever way it would end up.”

“You wanna—” Dean closes his eyes, hoping the darkness will help him sort his thoughts. “You wanna go together?”

“You have become the most important person in my life during these last four years,” Cas says. “My favorite person. I’d like to stay with you, wherever that may be. If you’ll have me.”

Dean peeks at him, and hesitates for one long second, and then— he nods. And when Cas’ face breaks into the most brilliant smile Dean’s ever seen on him, he can’t help it, he grins too, so big it’s basically a laugh.

“And I was hoping,” Cas says, “that I could take you somewhere special for your birthday tomorrow, if— if you’d like to go with me. On a date.”

This time Dean doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” he says, through his smile. “Just nothin’ fancy, got it? I’m good with burgers and beer.”

Cas chuckles and leans into him, slipping his hand under Dean’s and threading their fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Burgers and beer it is. But maybe… I could kiss you, too? Between all the manly beverages, of course.”

Dean heaves a breath so huge that it leaves him feeling giddy and light-headed. Cas just talked about kissing him, like a— like a boyfriend or something. A laugh bubbles from his chest and he squeezes Cas’ hand. “That sounds awesome, Cas.” His eyes catch on the sketchbook again and he shakes his head. “Man, you two should’ve been drama majors. You sure had me going.”

“Oh.” Cas flips the page. “Charlie actually did have a figure assignment, just without a prompt. She was actually drawing. And agonizing. Um, rightfully.”

It’s a good thing Dean’s not drinking anything, because his spit-take would've been enormous. On the page after Cas’ drawing, there’s another sketch — this one obviously by Charlie. Two lopsided stick figures with a questionable number of limbs, entangled on what he recognizes as a couch only because he’s sitting on it. He's pretty sure the head that's supposed to be his has three ears.

“Oh man. ” He wipes his eyes with his free hand. “That is a fucking masterpiece.”

“So you see, Dean,” Cas says seriously. “We were spooning for science.”

“A great cause,” Dean agrees, once his laughter dies down. He sighs in contentment and leans his head against Cas’. Together, they look out the kitchen window at the gray January sky.

They both hold on.

#destiel fanfic #disaster dean winchester #destiel #this started out cracky and got feely #because it's dean and dean has Feelings #the overthinking is strong in this one #charlie bradbury #dean winchester #castiel

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