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luvymelody · 8 days

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NAME : katsuki bakugou , boku no hero academia

SONG : apple cider , beabadoobee

SUMMARY : y/n gets hit with a quirk, making their mostly stoic facade disappear, turning into a more clingy, more flirty in a way? wc : 1.8k

(y/ns quirk is practically earth-bending. its not really important tho so like dont worry)

(set around the time where they have dorms and hero license)

y/n smiled in the chair as they sat, patiently waiting as they tapped their feet on the floor and recovery girl looked around their figure, looking for any injuries.

"so, i don't see any injuries. i only see the personality change."

"they are okay though, right?"

bakugou asked, arms crossed as he leaned on the wall near the door of the nurse's office as he looked down to the ground, his eyes gazing up to the smiling y/n.

"yeah they are. i believe it's made them the opposite personality they are, simple thing really- it'll last for about a week. for now, i think it's best you act like everything's normal. say yes to whatever they say. i also don't believe they'll remember anything the next week-"

"katsuki!"

"yeah i know, idiot!"

bakugou yelled out, using his quirk to jump up into the air to avoid the villains running to tackle him, using his explosions on the villain coming his way. y/n stomped the ground as the ground made a crumbled path towards a group of villains, sending them into the air and todoroki froze them in air using his ice.

there was a villain hiding in the alleyway near the fight, watching his group being beaten by just three measly high schoolers. yeah they might be in the hero course but they were still teenagers!

"i think.. we're done.."

y/n breathed out, their hands resting on their hips as the two other guys went to stand with y/n, walking towards them.

"god, i did most of the work."

bakugou said, panting slowly as todoroki breathed out ice. y/n glanced around the area, seeing civilians taking photos of them on the sidelines of the streets.

"katsuki, your turn to take photos with civilians."

"hah? no way."

"me and shoto did it yesterday, your turn."

"argh, you're useless!"

bakugou yelled out, begrudgingly stomping his way to the civilians as they squealed, hitting each other and fixing themselves up in their phone cameras.

y/n watched as bakugou walked away, admiring him in a way. y/n's class saw them as the quiet, but powerful and strong person. y/n didn't mind it as todoroki was the same. but rather, y/n admired bakugou. even if they were friends and seemed to be considered 'close'. it's not like you can't admire your friends, right?

y/n's eyes glided back towards todoroki, but then suddenly a dash of colour came into their view, as they looked towards it and turns out, there was a villain aiming for bakugou, who didn't see, still walking towards the civilians as they didn't notice the villain either, too focused on bakugou.

without thinking, y/n's feet dashed towards bakugou, pushing him out of the way as the villain's hand latched onto their face, their eyes fluttering shut as y/n passed out on the ground.

bakugou stumbled forward, turning around and seeing y/n on the floor, their eyes closed and the villain standing over them. bakugou respected y/n in a way, they were strong, stronger than the whole class, even bakugou could admit. there was admiration that bakugou felt for y/n, he was also fearful of possible feelings that he felt for y/n, pushing them down.

"..who do you think you are, you villain?!"

bakugou yelled, his hands behind him as he launched himself towards the villain, his hands latching onto the villain's shoulder as bakugou sent him tumbling to the ground.

"what did you do to them, hah?"

todoroki ran to y/n, crouching down and checking their pulse.

"they're just passed out."

todoroki said to bakugou, who looked back at him and then bakugou looked back down to the villain on the floor, his knee digging into the villain's back.

"what's your quirk? and you better tell me straight or else."

y/n walked down the hall with bakugou by their side, y/n linking their arm as they held bakugou's arm who's hands were in his pockets.

"katsuki! are you hungry?"

"mhm yeah. do you want me to make you something?"

"oh yeah please!"

y/n became nicer, more clingy with everyone, but mostly bakugou. bakugou felt his chest warm up at the tone of voice y/n used to call his name, 'katsuki!' .

they made their way together to the kitchen, as bakugou made his way to the fridge and cabinets, taking some ingredients and setting them on the counter.

"do you want me to help, katsuki?"

"just sit there and look pretty."

bakugou said, setting down the egg carton on the counter, before walking over to y/n, picking them up by the waist, both hands firmly on the side of their waist as he lifted them up to sit on the counter next to the stove.

y/n payed no mind to bakugou's touch, smiling wide as they swung their feet, their feet not touching the ground.

a good thing about this quirk effect was how sweet y/n was. bakugou was used to the nonchalantly y/n, pretty y/n sitting there like no one was bothered by how pretty they were, even if they acted so stoic all the damn time.

another good thing was bakugou could make this into his advantage, try to make y/n feel giddy in a way. it's not like they’ll remember anything, right?

bakugou grabbed an egg out of it's place. grabbing four and cracking them into a bowl while separating the whites and the yolk.

"can i mix the yolk?"

y/n asked, twindling their fingers as they waited for bakugou's response as he looked sideways to look at them.

"yeah, here."

bakugou handed y/n the bowl of yolks while also handing them a pair of chopsticks, watching y/n mix the yolks while they stuck their tongue out a little in focus. bakugou forcing his eyes to look away to put rice into the rice cooker.

bakugou watched as y/n ate their omelette, eating his omelette calmly as y/n practically swallowed the whole meal in 3 bites. quickly finishing it as they waited for bakugou to finish his.

"what do you wanna do, pretty?"

bakugou mumbled, putting their dishes in the sink, thinking 'class rep is gonna do them anyway'. y/n heard his voice, smiling softly.

"i'm sleepy, can we have a sleepover in your dorm?"

bakugou nodded, bringing his hand towards y/n's as he clutched onto it, bringing y/n to the elevator.

the next day, it was a friday. class 1-a got excused from class early to rest. it was a friday anyway. nonetheless, the class cherished the rare wide smiles that y/n was giving them, doing whatever they could to make y/n smile bigger.

"guys! i say we have a movie night tonight!"

mina said, her hand in the air to direct the classes attention to her.

"what movie?"

"let's binge watch all the harry potter movies!"

"hell nah cuh"

eventually, the whole class agreed. mostly everyone set up the comfy area of blankets and pillows, making a little oval around the large couch that sat infront of the large flat screen tv that the dorms had supplied for the students.

bakugou only agreed to come to sit next to y/n, as close as he could, and no one could comment on it because y/n wanted to sit next to bakugou!

y/n sat in the floor, their back leaning on the couch as kirishima sat on the couch behind them, y/n between his legs. bakugou sat on their left, the closet people to him were kirishima and y/n. y/n’s legs were under a blanket to create warm underneath, bakugou also under the blanket close to y/n. y/n held onto bakugou’s hand, playing with his fingers as bakugou watched y/n’s hands work.

no one could see anyway, bakugou thinks a bird just got murdered, but he doesn’t know, nor care really.

y/n gingerly intertwines their fingers, rubbing their thumb along bakugou’s own. y/n places a leg between bakugou’s legs, getting impossibly close to him as bakugou lets it happen, getting closer to y/n aswell.

“what you doing, dumbass?”

bakugou whispered, not letting anyone else but y/n hear his voice, it was slightly raspy in a way, he had never talked in such a soft tone.

“jus’ wanna get close to you..”

y/n admitted, looking up into bakugou’s eyes. thank god the lights were off and the tv was emitting a small bit of light, bakugou’s face was burning, but maybe y/n could already tell by his sweaty palms. he’s had to wipe his hands on the blanket several times already.

y/n looked around to their classmates, leaning into bakugou’s ear as they placed a hand over their mouth to cover their voice. at the same time, bakugou placed his hand on y/n’s lower back, leaning his ear towards them.

“can i sit between your legs?”

y/n asked, leaning back out with a soft smile adoring their lips. bakugou couldn’t resist, not saying anything but just moving the blanket and tapping the space between his legs.

y/n smiled widely, quickly getting up a little bit and sitting down between bakugou’s legs. y/n leaned back on bakugou while he wrapped his arms around y/n, holding onto their waist and he liked the way it slightly squished under his rough hands. bakugou placed his head into the crook of their neck, snuggling his nose into the side of their neck as y/n giggled, telling bakugou ‘that tickles!’ .

bakugou rested his chin on y/n’s shoulder, getting comfortable as y/n rested their full body weight on bakugou.

“you’re lucky i like you.”

bakugou mumbled, it was nearly silent, but since it was right next to y/n’s ear, they heard all of it. y/n’s smile disappeared, their face being replaced with embarrassment and a burning hot face. y/n turned their head to the right, facing their head away as they were flustered.

"hah? are you embarrassed, pretty?"

bakugou let go of y/n's waist, rubbing at their hips as they placed their hands on bakugou's thighs, avoiding bakugou looking at them.

"do you not like me?"

y/n gasped, whipping their head around and hitting bakugou on the chest as he yelped slightly at the sudden action.

"of course i do. why do you think i hang out with you more than anyone else?"

y/n mumbled the last bit, looking back at the movie like they've been paying attention.

"you're gonna watch the movie now?"

"i've been watching the whole time, what do you mean?"

y/n quickly said, their hands crossing above their chest as bakugou leaned into them, his chest touching their back.

"you want me to stop?"

y/n didn't answer straight away, but eventually,

"no.."

bakugou heard the small mumble, as he hid a chuckle and a smirk by digging his face into their neck, which made y/n smile at the ticklish feeling, which made them laugh quietly, smacking bakugou softly to get him to stop.

#baku a lil ooc but like this idea was in my head and i really wanted to write it #bakugou #katuski bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #mha #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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swanprincessodette · 2 years

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My wrist is finally feeling better, so I am getting through my drafts! Sorry for the delays! I think I sprained it somehow? I don’t know... I am a walking accident lol! Please do not hesitate to ask for my discord!

#ooc-x-this is my idea

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cordyce · 1 year

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BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

#this is for my sweet matcha first and foremost <3 i hope u like it !#also i TOTALLY made up this entire celebration thing LMAO #i jus thought it was a cool idea and super cute sooo #also. i rlly hope u don’t think neteyam is too ooc bc he is a bit. flustered here #BUT SJDHDN AHHH ENJOY #neteyam x you #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam drabble #neteyam fluff #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #atwow fluff #avatar fluff #neteyam sully fluff

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moonsvillain · 20 days

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hotwings au where hawks is a vampire, dabi is a human, and they meet through the vampire equivalent of doordash.

dabi shows up at his door, scruffy and woozy (guy who's been doing this as a full time job and is not coping with the blood loss very well)

hawks is (rightfully) concerned and is ready to cancel his order but dabi immediately disagrees because "that'll fuck up my ratings sooo bad dude don't be an asshole"

hawks: "???"

dabi: "i really need this job man"

hawks kinda shrugs and asks if dabi's up to anything for the next few hours and dabi doesn't have anything going on so hawks invites him in and immediately sits this guy down on his couch to feed him and let him rest for at least four hours so he's not indirectly accused of manslaughter

one must imagine the disposition of an alley cat encountering canned food for the first time: internal battle of mistrust versus yummy treats

dabi goes down kicking and screaming

(the day he goes over to hawks' place it's raining so hard you can barely see and all dabi has is a cheap plastic poncho. hawks' place has heating—he very 'reluctantly' curls up on the couch)

hawks is probably the worst cook on earth but when he tells dabi this, he refuses to let hawks order food for him; dabi would literally rather die than subject another minimum wage worker to the storm outside just to come to this rich asshole's home

which ends up with dabi in hawks' kitchen, making himself a meal

(which, he probably wouldn't usually do this, but the blood loss is kind of getting to him. dabi's decision making has slowly trickled down to the average level it is when he gets drunk)

when he's fed and warm and hawks has forced him to watch two animated movies dabi could not give less of a shit about he finally turns to dabi like

"ok i know we're having a great time but also i really need to eat something. like. you. preferably."

dabi shrugs and offers up his arm, getting progressively more sleepy while hawks finishes his meal before falling asleep pressed against hawks' side

wakes up the next morning with a blanket pulled over him, cheek pressed to a throw pillow with a littleee bit of drool staining the fabric under him

sits up and looks around, armed only with blurry memories of the night before

("did i... sleep with this guy...!?!??!?")

finds a note on the table and unfolds it, trying to figure out what the hell is going on

(lovedddd hanging w u yesterday :P off at work feel free 2 make urself breakfast before u go. U should know where everything is. tip on the counter 4 u. xoxo hawks)

dabi, slightly mortified at the implication he rooted around in this guy's kitchen when he was out of it yesterday finds the tip

it's literally, like, $500 dollars

dabi scribbles down his phone number and sticks it on the fridge with a magnet

(half because he really needed that money and is pleasantly surprised that he got rent money a week earlier than he was expecting)

(half because he might not remember yesterday entirely, but he remembers feeling safe and warm and being addicted to that rare sensation)

hawks is very happy when he gets home, even if dabi isn't there, when he finds his little gift on the fridge

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katotaines · 1 year

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I’m so sorry Reinhard

#re:zero #natsuki subaru #reinhard van astrea #rezero #re: zero #subaru natsuki #I'm so sorry this meme is so awful pffff #This is just Reinhard bullying #And I know this is OOC but I couldn't help it #this idea has been in my head for weeks #so I had to release it into the wild #though I know some crimes can never be forgiven pfff #reinhard x subaru #reinsuba #subarein #subaru x reinhard

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bubble-dream-inc · 1 year

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TIME TO END THE WRITERS BLOCK- okay here's my request Pookie boo; Simon Riley lets his gf paint his nails. She's going into cosmetology, and needs a muse, and why not ask her hunky-dunky boyfriend?? The plot could maybe be he's on vaca, and she's all like "Yo hot stuff. Wanna get hotter?" (and she pulls out acrylics and polishes) And he's all like "...", but no matter how cold and has no emotions he is, he lets her sit on his lap while painting his nails (fake nails, cuz she put on the longest one possible to irritate him, to hear that smexxxxyyy British voice cursing on how he can't hold a teacup with the witch nails) BRIGHT ASS HOT PINK with a black skull painted on it. AND THEN SHE PAINTS HER NAILS BLACK WITH A PINK SKULL SO THAT THEY HAVE MATCHING NAILS????? COULD BE A HEADCANNON BUT IT'S SUCH A CUTE IDEA POOKIE BOO.

NSAJDNASJKDNJAKSN YOU WERE SO BIG BRAINED FOR THIS I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH

imma do headcanons bc my brain is too fried to come up with a full ass fic but i hope ya like it bb

Simon is very, very tired. He comes home from the gym on the second day of his leave to find you already standing in the living room, a menace with a wicked grin and a small metal suitcase in your hands.

At least you had the decency to let him get settled on the first day before you started with your antics.

"...What's in the suitcase." "A project." "Fuckin' hell."

After you reveal your idea, it might take some coaxing to get him to agree but it works out bc c'mon let's be honest. The man is secretly a simp and a softie when he loves someone. So he begrudgingly agrees, letting himself be dragged by your giggling self to the couch.

So he manspreads on the couch, getting comfortable as you perch yourself prettily on top of him to glue the nails to his gigantic hands (you actually have to dig around your materials a little bit to find tips that somewhat match his natural nail size), and, as grumpy as he is, he at least gets to enjoy the view of you looking so focused on his lap.

(You actually have to stop yourself from giggling a few times because of how the bright pink polish looks out of place on his dark self)

While the polish dries, you offer to go make him some tea, and end up having to help him with it between fits of laughter since he couldn't hold the cup with the extra long coffin nails he has going on.

In the end, you take some pictures and let him simmer in his misery for a while longer before moving to remove them, however, he notices how proud you were of your work, so he just agrees to keep them on as long as you cut them shorter.

So that's exactly what you do, grinning like a mad person. Doing Ghost's nails has you so inspired you actually do your own to match him, and pretend not to notice the soft look in his eyes when you proudly show your work and enthusiastically exclaim how you two are matching.

He ends up keeping them on until they inevitably break or get weirdly outgrown, and he couldn't care less about the weird stares he gets at the gym; as long as his girl is happy, he is happy.

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luckyarchivist · 2 months

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Inspired by Vere's artstyle being the TS artstyle, if Kuras birthday post is to be believed—

Aisvere modern!AU where Vere is a solo game dev and Ais is his FWB that Vere would reeeeally like to date, but he'd rather be fucked sideways and upside down before he was emotionally vulnerable.

So instead of saying anything to Ais, Vere copes by making a short dating sim with Ais as the love interest.

It's basically a vent piece, filled with all the nice, disgusting shit Vere can't do IRL (a fox has to have his pride), and all the sappy commitment shit he wishes Ais would say to him. And while Vere contemplates burning his computer once the game is finished, he instead opts to sell it, hoping to at least be compensated a few dollars for his months of pining-induced misery.

But, out of nowhere, it absolutely blows up.

Maybe it's because of Ais's sweet-and-spicy personality, or maybe it's because of his adorable love for his many unique pets. Probably it's because Vere has drawn Ais as accurately as he can, and Vere is an amazing artist, and Ais is hot as hell.

All of a sudden people are drawing fanart of Ais, writing imagines and headcanons about Ais, saying shit like "on the couch, on the floor, on the bed, backwards, forwards, till i pass out, while i'm unconscious, as soon as i wake up—"

Ais isn't actually a huge social media guy or a huge indie gamer, so it takes a while for him to see any of this. But see it he does, in the form of fanart of him railing somebody's OC. And I just know he texts that shit to Vere like "yo firefox don't this guy look like me lol" and Vere seriously contemplates offing himself just as soon as he figures out how to shut down the entire Internet permanently.

#luckyfiction #vere #ais #aisvere #ais x vere #oh this idea's real 😬#it's so ooc but i had to share bc that's what the blog's for #inflicting my mediocre thoughts on the public!!#anw thank god i can put it here #so i don't actually have to write it into a fic #modern au #touchstarved game

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cervicorvus · 11 months

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Some Homestuck beach doodles based on a recent unfortunate sunscreen incident that definitely didn’t happen to me ft the aftermath of said incident and why “shirtless Jake English” is now viable on an insurance claim on Earth C 👀

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finchers-ipad · 7 months

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au where there is a stray cat that looks ANCIENT (like it has completely white eyes from being blind, greasy matted fur and is long and skinny) hangs around paper street and tyler just falls head over heels in love with it.

he feeds it when going and coming from the pressman and the theatre, leaving random scraps from the restaurant on the patio for it. and the narrator DOES NOT like it, he thinks the house is already a shit hole enough without a cat. everytime tyler leaves for work the narrator is like “don’t even think about feeding that cat again 😐” and tyler is like “shut up i can do what i want :3”

tyler feeds it so much it starts coming into the house. the narrator walks into the living room where the cat is sat on tyler’s lap and he is like “NO ABSOLUTELY NOT KICK IT OUT!!”, tyler would be like “shut up she isn’t going anywhere, YOU can leave if you can’t be reasonable” and the narrator is just stood looking in shock “SHE?!?”

from that point on the cat just lives with them and the narrator starts to fall in love with it too. the narrator sits in bed reading ‘readers digest’ with the cat lying next to him. tyler walks into the room with a big smile and is like “thought you wanted me to kick her out”, the narrator just rolls his eyes. the cat also LOVES marla and only meows when she is around (she also sings to her), marla gets her a collar with spikes but that lasts for like 5 mins.

#this is so ooc but i don’t care #would tyler name the cat??? 🤔🤔#i don’t know #the idea of them having a cat is my favourite thing and any fics that include that are amazing #fight club #soapshipping #tyler durden #the narrator #tyler x narrator

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shhh-secret-time · 1 month

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This...this Gunslinger Kyle fic may end up being a two parter.

God damn it.

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sovonight · 1 year

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wips i don't think i'll be able to get to before my free time disappears:

special treatment:

after this:

#when a comic wip comes in at like 4+ pages i need to be assured that the behavior i've given xan isn't too ooc #before i can comfortably commit to it and properly finish it bc imagine committing to a 7-pager only to later go 'wow my writing sucked'#or 'wow i have no idea how this fits into their timeline' and think 'i should've put this effort into a different wip instead'#so quite a few 4+ page wips are in Wip Limbo bc i haven't done the xan character audit yet #and it's like either i spend my time committing to one of them or i take that time and make a new wip to take a new shot at it #but the thing is every new wip assumes my existing possibly-ooc wips have happened... so now i'm like... Just Post Them lol #not even 0.01% of u guys have even seen him in game so there's no need to fact check anyway. im free to Have Fun out here #sovo art #xan x radri

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chouettecrivaine · 8 months

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dead woman walking

Fandom: @shepherds-of-haven ! A little drabble of my MC who I have grown unexpectedly attached to and now she dances around in my head all of the time

Characters: Trouble/OC

Notes: 1.6k, angst, depressing introspection, the world's most OVERDRAMATIC girl has the most OVERDRAMATIC kiss

Summary: Lark has decided that the best course of action is to go on the mission alone, even if fatality is certain. She plans to leave in the middle of the night when nobody can stop her, but first there are some feelings she needs to put to rest.

Even if the trip from her room to Trouble's was familiar, Lark couldn't help but slow her steps as reticence pulled against her on every step. The magelights lining the hallway, for once, didn't seem as warm and homey as before - instead, Lark could only focus on that one spot of darkness between each fixture. It didn't matter how far the warm light stretched; the shadows always made their way to her.

She stopped just outside the door to Trouble's room, standing perfectly still and taking a deep breath. In the stillness, time didn't exist to her. Lark could pretend that she wasn't heading off to her final battle, a one-woman army marching straight into extinction. Maybe this was the battle she was created for - or maybe she was damning everyone by throwing herself away when she knew her reality couldn't be remade. Either way, the thought hollowed out her body and filled it with ice, the way she had been before. Somehow, Lark always knew she was going to die alone. At least this way, she could save anybody that she had tricked into caring for her from riding straight into the maws of death for her sake.

Lark had made peace with it, as much as she could. Her time in the Shepherds had reminded her all too well how to want to live, but blind hope wasn't something she had been able to afford for a while. This was her last stand, and she could accept that. It was bound to happen eventually in this line of work. There was just one thing she needed to do - one box left to check - before she could leave her loose ends in the hands of others.

Finally composed, Lark turned and knocked on the solid door, each in rapid succession of the last. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding against her ribcage and rising into her throat with every beat. Her mouth went dry, though she couldn't figure out exactly why. She heard a soft shuffling on the other side of the door and forced herself to swallow, determined to keep up with her own façade.

Trouble opened the door, more alert than Lark had expected, and gave her a friendly once-over. Despite not being bleary-eyed and half asleep, he still blinked a few times as if to make sure it was Lark in front of him. Easily, he smiled at her, unsuccessful in keeping his gaze covert as it lingered on her untied hair. During the day, Lark kept it in two braids circled around her head and pinned closely to her skull. She only ever kept her hair down when she was sleeping, and the few times Trouble had seen it, he'd been silently fascinated. Without fail, the attention would send a wave of excitement through her body, but now her apprehension was too strong for even that to shine through. Still, she smiled back at him.

"What're you doing here, Birdie?" Trouble asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. He only stood there for a moment before hurrying to make room for Lark. "Oh, I mean, you're welcome to come in. If you want."

Lark shook her head. "No, that's alright. I just needed to tell you something important."

Though he kept the mood light, Lark noticed how Trouble's face immediately softened. She noticed that when he was happy to see her - so, normally - his eyes seemed to sparkle as if the golden rings around his pupils were pure ore. Now, everything was warm seawater and honey. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

Lark's heart stopped beating, only to grow so quickly she thought it might burst out of her chest. God, she wanted to stay. An overwhelming affection flooded her senses, choking her up and forcing her feelings to well behind her eyes. Lark gripped at her nightshirt, trying to blink away the tears before they became too obvious. She thought heartbreak was supposed to be a shattering of glass as someone tossed her heart aside; maybe it could be your own heart tearing at the seams and spilling out all the love you were foolish enough to hide, too.

"Well, I have to tell you the second half later." At the end of her sentence, her voice trembled, and she covered it up with a shaky laugh. Trouble didn't seem to notice.

"Alright, then what's the first half?"

A beat of silence passed.

Then another.

Lark wasn't normally the type to be at a loss for words. She never felt comfortable unless she had a plan at hand to lie her way out of - or into - a situation. But Trouble made her honest, and the truth didn't seem survivable in that moment. Not if it was to be spoken aloud in a voice that would hurt Trouble the most.

So she stepped forward instead, brought her hands to his face, and pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him.

For a brief, terrifying second, Trouble went entirely rigid. Lark couldn't tell if he was staring at her, bewildered, or if his brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out how he got in that position. It didn't matter, because both were endearing, and neither would have stayed for long. His surprise melted away and his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close against his body. Lark almost sagged in relief.

Beneath her gentle hands, she felt his face gradually warm, certainly a few shades darker than before. In fact, she could feel his warmth all over, radiating from him and almost burning where their skin touched. In this moment, she could have anything she wanted, and she could delude herself into thinking it would last. In this moment, Lark was safe. Loved.

She wasn't ready for Trouble to pull away, yet he did. It was only an inch, and the many questions he undoubtedly had died on his tongue, but she could feel it. The ground was fracturing beneath her, and reality was swallowing her whole. Lark could only think of two things, and their certainty dug into her like claws: she loved him, and she was going to die.

So, even if it was selfish, she pressed her lips against his again, desperate and rough and scared. This kind of emotion, passionate and raw, was more up Trouble's alley. He kept her ferocity, yet held her with the care he'd give glass, like she was to be wrapped up and kept safe forever. Maybe he should've. Or maybe he should have kissed her breathless. It would have been a far kinder fate - but her fate was never meant to be kind.

Lark hoped that he could tell in the way she held his face, in the ease with which she leaned into him. If she was worth protecting, he was worth cherishing, and even if she never said it she hoped he knew. Trouble was always dense, but he had his moments. Now that she realized simply wanting him wasn't enough, had never been enough, there was nothing she could do but hope he was getting it now, and ignore her desire to stay ripping through her soul.

When they parted for a second time, neither of them said anything as they tried to catch their breath. Lark kept her lips parted, knowing that if she closed them it would be too obvious that she was trembling. Trouble didn't realize it,but even through his crimson fluster he was positively giddy. It was almost enough to convince Lark to stay.

But that was dangerous thinking. So she slowly untangled herself from him, her fingertips trailing down his shoulders and to his arms until there was nowhere left untouched. As he sorted his thoughts, Trouble's arms fell slack to his sides, a metal filament falling when the magnet attracting it moved away. Lark bit her tongue.

"So, uh…what does…this mean?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck if only for something to do. Bashfulness wasn’t something Trouble was well acquainted with, yet he couldn’t look Lark in the eyes all the same.

“That’s the second half,” She answered quietly. “I’ll have to tell you later.”

Trouble narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he knew Lark was keeping something from him. Void of any heat or anger, it was more of a way to make her feel guilty than get her to actually admit anything. But he let it go. This was something they had been dancing around for a long time; a little while longer wouldn’t hurt.

Clearing her throat, Lark reluctantly backed away from Trouble and towards the door, keeping her eyes on him. It was difficult to swallow and even harder to breathe, yet she twisted the handle anyway. The hallway air rushed in, cold enough to send goosebumps down her arm. The moment she left this room, it’d be the beginning of the end.

Just before she turned around completely, Trouble interrupted her. Looking at him over her shoulder, Lark could tell that he was worried about her. “You can stay, if you want. You’ve done it before.”

An arrow of regret shot through her chest. “No thanks. I need some time to calm down.”

Trouble chuckled at that, muttering something small and proud about the effect he seemed to have on her. Then, lifting his head, he nodded once and let Lark take two steps backwards, his gaze undeniably fond. “I’ll collect you tomorrow, then. We can go to breakfast together.”

Lark nodded once, firmly, and put on her best, brightest smile. “I’d like that.”

It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She would like that.

If only she’d be alive to do it.

#🌠 pisces ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{all writing}#💠 sagittarius ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{fics}#shepherds of haven #trouble alder #shoh #shepherds of haven mc #trouble alder x mc #i don't know how to TAG this and idk how to write trouble LOL #liya saw me struggle through 50 different ideas and problems before making a decision #guess what! this fic is not the one i eventually decided to write in that chat :)#anyway i'm obsessed with trouble and lark......lark my bbg i'm so glad i gave you life. is this how it feels to be a mom #because this was such a specific thing and my ONLY goal was a kiss i didn't really describe her at all #but hopefully. eventually. i will write more. i just couldn't squeeze it in </3 #trust me she's a cutie #oh god i need an oc tag #and i hope this isn't ooc AHHHHHHH #👩‍🚀 astronaut ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+{ocs}#☆ shoh #☆ shoh oc #☆ trouble alder

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violetpony11 · 1 year

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Pinkie: *Crying after chopping an onion*

Twilight: “Who did this!? Who hurt you!?”

Pinkie: “It’s okay, Twi, it’s just the onion.”

Twilight: *magically burns the onion* “THAT’S FOR MESSING WITH MY BABY GIRL!”

#lols #I know it's ooc for Twilight but #it was a silly idea #twipie #mlp twipie #Twilight Sparkle #Twinkie #mlp twilight #twilight x pinkie #pinkie pie #Mlp pinkie pie #mlp pinkie #mlp friendship is magic #mlp #mlpfim #My Little Pony

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moonsvillain · 17 days

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hotwings au where hawks is a fallen angel who happens to crash-land in dabi's backyard on his way down.

hawks' wings are from his status as an angel rather than a separate quirk

i'd like to imagine that quirks aren't really a thing that they're up to date on, as well as being pretty behind in, like, everything else

imagine hawks going into this with an ariel-like disposition

anyway this kicks off with hawks crashing into dabi's backyard in the middle of the night

dabi, who's obviously awake, gets up to go investigate what the fuck that was (naturally assumes someone's here to kill him, as any normal, not-paranoid-at-all person would think)

hawks is very upset (landed on his wing wrong and maybe broke it, which, like, "OWWW...." this guy has never felt pain before and now he's human, which is cool conceptually but why do humans feel pain?? are they like this all the time?? who would do this to them??)

which leads to dabi finding hawk in a pile of limbs armed with a broken wing tangled in the clothes lines that he never bothered to take down after he finally saved up enough for a washer-dryer unit

at this point in time, dabi hasn't been scouted by the league yet, but he's not struggling to survive. he's found a small townhouse to reside in, one story, one bedroom, and a small backyard

(the backyard was an important detail to him—sometimes dabi needs to just. bask in the sun. feel warm when he can)

hawks sees dabi and assumes that he must be someone from hell, and it was some sort of cosmic fate that brought the two together

(hawks has always been the hero-type, even as an angel. he doesn't want to defeat people, rather, he wants to help them.

(hawks is just terribly naive, which impedes this goal of his by a lot)

dabi drags hawks inside once he's figured out that he isn't with the hero commission after threatening to burn the rest of his feathers off (which, the fire isn't helping hawks' case against him)

hawks can't really just say he's an angel, mostly because he gets the feeling that saying as much to someone like dabi would go very sideways

so he spins a story about being kicked out of his home and having nowhere to go and no family to take him in even if they wanted

which, it's not really stretching the truth at all. that is what happened. he just omitted a few details

dabi is stabbed by a violent wave of sympathy that he tries to suppress at first, until remembering that he'd have done anything to have support from someone like dabi is now back when he had been scared, alone, confused and hurt

and even though hawks is cheerful enough, dabi can see the mask he's wearing—he's hiding something. something that hurts

so dabi nods, accepts this answer, and offers hawks the couch for the night, which hawks gladly accepts (and ignores the way his eyes get wet)

the next day both wake up, remember the night before, realize it wasn't a dream and think, fuck

dabi's gotten himself saddled with a roommate—cuz even if he wanted to ignore him, it's too late now, he spent the whole night turning the situation over in his mind and kicking him out would make dabi's already fragile emotional stability skew out of control

and its finally settling into hawks' head that he's been kicked out and he doesn't know where he's going or if he'll ever get the chance to go back even if he wanted to and he's doomed to spend the rest of his life wandering the earth looking for acceptance that will never last

tldr both are having mild panic attacks

dabi finally tries to address the situation by like, asking what hawks plans on doing or if he knows anyone that could help him out

which gets dabi a look so pathetic he immediately regrets asking

("fuckkk he's so sad and lame. what am i supposed to do. it's like staring at a miserable puppy with a bag full of treats in your pocket and pretending you don't know they're there.")

dabi grits out an offer:

stay here and figure out a way to pay rent, and dabi will do his best to fix up hawks' wing so he can fly again but also so it doesn't cost a million dollars to pay for the treatment in the first place

(dabi's plans consist of roaming the underground to find a doctor that could help the both of them out and threatening them—dabi's been putting off finding one for himself after his skin grafts start looking nastier than they should and this is the push he needs to get to it)

hawks, oblivious to this, agrees pretty readily

dabi nods

a moment of silence. then:

"is your real name dabi, or—"

"i'm not hearing this from you, hawks."

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chaddicus · 7 months

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sorry lol I just agreed with that post so much and it got me thinking tbh. I think a lot of us have gotten into a habit of looking at a story so critically, trying to sniff out plot holes and 'bad writing' in a way that misses the fact that the point of a story is to tell a story. I feel like people forget about suspension of disbelief in their mission to analyze a work sometimes. I do think there is a place for in-depth meta analysis of a work, I think it's just as much a worthy fandom experience as any, and maybe that post wasn't even meant to criticize people doing that sort of thing at all, but I just. I think a lot these days about how much more enjoyment I get out of a thing when I decide to watch or read or play it with the intention of just letting it be what it is and not trying to fucking grade its quality or something. you don't have to rate and review everything you do. sometimes you can go 'oh they could have written this differently. but this isn't that version of the story' and then just carry on and not let that other version of how things could have gone haunt your experience. sometimes you have to go 'wow that was kind of dumb' and then just integrate the understanding that the thing you're watching/playing/reading is gonna be kind of dumb sometimes and keep going anyway. and it won't always work out this way, but sometimes you're gonna get a lot more entertainment and joy out of a thing by doing that than by keeping score in your head of the things it's doing 'wrong' or whatever, and I think enjoying a thing for what it is can be a much better use of your time than criticizing it for what it isn't, you know? we're not all film critics. we're not all book reviewers. we don't always need to give a measurement of the quality of everything we experience. you can just experience it. you know?

#x: axel talks #idk man maybe I'm sick of looking for fandom stuff and seeing people complaining about this and that is so bad and awful and stupid and lik #you don't have to like it. but maybe you'd have a better time if you weren't going into it trying to judge if it's 'good' or not idk #was this movie good? idk but I had a good time! you know?#'wow this comic run is so out of character what garbage' ok it's ooc. I'll keep that in mind. might still be fun tho #you know?????#tbh I'm not saying don't do this ever. I just think it's worth trying out the idea of oh it's kinda bad. keep going anyway #maybe it doesn't do anything for you or maybe you get a good time out of it. idk #but my entertainment experience improved significantly when I started to just. accept that sometimes a story will do thinks in a way #that I think would have been better a different way but this isn't that and that doesn't mean I can't get anything out of this the way it i

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fancifulflora · 7 months

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(SFW) Azad deserves a break and happiness so can I request a drabble where Azad's been having a hard day and gets a lot kisses as he cuddles with the Crown?

Terribly sorry that this took forever and a half- I literally spent a good few days trying to come up with ideas for this prompt that didn't feel too close to other things I've written. It may be a tad short since I'm still very much out of practice and am currently busy sacrificing my life to Baldur's Gate 3 lol

One would think that a childhood spent around the upper echelon of Arsurian nobility and the best tutors Arsur had to offer would have made dealing with the pests buzzing around the Crown easier for Azad.

The only thing it did manage, it seemed, was make the tired Captain all the more aware of the little plots and schemes being seeded around him. Not that he'd do much about it mind you, those matters were probably best left to the General or Sorcerer.

Still, it wouldn't hurt for some of these nobles to at least try a little harder. Even a child would be able to see through their thinly veiled promises and idle threats.

The sounds of nervous shuffling brought his attention back to one of the more persistent officials. Some lackey that was sent here to pressure the Crown no doubt. A gangly, unfortunate-looking one at that. Why were they still here?

"Were my words not clear enough?" Azad tilted his head a little as he studied the shorter figure before him, his glare making the poor official shrink back as if the look alone had struck them. "The Crown is currently preoccupied with important matters."

A complete and utter lie, but a believable one.

"Well, yes, I-I understand," The official stammered, fiddling with their hands as they frantically jerked their head left and right, searching along the empty corridors of the palace. Unfortunately for them, there'd be no one else to lend them aid at this time of night. "It's simply that the Mîrs were very insistent that-"

"They can and will wait till morning. Unless the situation is dire, I suggest you heed my previous warnings." Azad corrected his head, glowering down at the official who was quickly developing an interest in his khopesh, the metal shining under torchlight. "I will not repeat myself again, nor will I allow you to disturb the Crown's peace. Now go."

Though there was really no need to, Azad made the subtle movement of resting his palm against the hilt of his blade, finding a great deal of amusement as the official swallowed.

Without a moment of hesitation and with a flurry of apologies and deep bows, the poor sod dismissed themself. And once more, the hall was refilled with a blissful, beautiful silence. "... Are they gone?" A muffled voice called from behind him after a few minutes had passed. His Crown's voice.

"For now, yes," He nodded at an invisible guardsman, moving to enter the room just as said guard smoothly took his place outside the Crown's chambers.

"Thank goodness," The weary voice of the Crown breathed, paired with equally weary golden eyes. Azad couldn't exactly blame them either, anyone in their position would have been worn down by back-to-back meetings and a lengthy court session that, truth be told, went absolutely nowhere. Still, they managed a smile upon his entry. "I knew I could count on you to save the day."

"As much as I appreciate your thanks, it may be a little premature," Azad grinned, his posture relaxing now that he was off duty or as off duty as a Royal Protector could be at this time in the evening. "I've only postponed the inevitable. You'll have to deal with that mess in the morning."

A long groan came from his Crown, the ruler of Arsur springing up from their desk... only to wander a few steps and fall rather unceremoniously on their bed. "I need no reminders, thank you very much."

Azad stretched a little, feeling the slight pop of his joints that accompanied the familiar ache in his body from being so active for the past few days. The poor protector was so busy in fact, that the last time he could even remember being able to wind down like this with his Crown was...was...

Damn, that long, huh? He couldn't recall the last time they were together like this- being able to have each other all to themselves. The two still regularly trained together, but this was a different matter entirely.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" He then asked, clearing his mind and taking a seat beside his Crown who was now laid out on their side, facing him with a small frown on their face.

"I think I should be the one asking you that Azad," Their eyes studied him, the Royal Protector raising a small eyebrow under their scrutiny though he kept any retorts to himself. "You look... awful."

Surely he didn't look that bad, did he?

With a small laugh, he leaned against the back of the chair, glaring a little at his lover though his hazel eyes lacked any real fire. "You've got little room to speak yourself."

The Crown gave a small mock gasp, their body seeming to reenergize from the banter alone. "Excuse you, I thought I looked rather nice today!"

"Three meetings ago perhaps."

"Hmm... You didn't deny that I look nice though," With little effort, the Crown rolled on their stomach, elbows propping their body up while their chin nestled itself in the cradle of their hands.

Azad rolled his eyes at that one, the faintest warmth beginning to wash over his cheeks. "You're even worse than the Pale Sword somehow. Congratulations, it's no easy feat." Moving to stand and eager to change subjects, he gave his Crown a rather pointed look indicating that he was quite aware of their attempt to dodge his initial question. "Wait here, I'll go-"

"Oh no," Though still remaining playful, there was an intensity behind the Crown's words that did manage to make him pause for a moment, the ruler moving to get off their bed to push Azad back down into his seat with a gentle hand. "Stay right there. Get yourself comfortable while I go find someone to make a run to the kitchens."

The Crown didn't even wait for his answer, giving him the briefest of kisses before hurrying to the door to catch the attention of some passing servant.

Azad, knowing when to pick his battles and still worn from days of work, simply relented and carefully undid the fastenings on his weapons; getting up to leave them on the bedside table.

There were words traded between his Crown and a servant, the Captain pushing what he could hear to the back of his mind as he undid the clasps on his silver armor with practiced ease.

By the time the door shut once more, he had finished placing the last of his gear by the bed, Azad glancing over his shoulder at the Crown.

"It might take a while but I did request a small cup of mint tea for you."

"With honey?"

"Naturally," There with a hint of smugness to the words, the Crown getting comfortable once more with their back pressed against the plush pillows of their bed, only this time, beckoning Azad to join them.

The ruler of Arsur tried and failed to hide their smile when seeing their Royal Protector getting on the bed and settling by their side, his head pressed to their chest, drinking in the steady beat of his beloved's heart.

"That was easier than expected. Do you plan on saving the protests for later?"

Now it was Azad's turn to groan a little, closing his eyes to give them some much-needed rest. "Only because I'm far too worn out to argue against your wishes."

"You poor thing." The sarcasm was dripping as he felt light kisses press themselves against his cheeks and the corner of his lips. "Perhaps you want to trade with me? I could send you to tomorrow's court session in my stead, surely."

The mere thought alone could give him a headache, the Captain shaking his head. With his eyes still shut, he returned the kiss in kind. "Enticing as that idea sounds, I think the Mîrs are best left to you."

"Ughh."

"I'll be just beyond the doors if that is any consolation."

That got a laugh out of his Crown, Azad's smile pressing up against where he'd approximated the Crown's forehead would be. Another kiss traded between the two.

"Any chance I could convince you to stand guard, by my side, this time?"

Another kiss, this time from his partner, soft lips heating the edge of his jaw.

Ah.

The Captain opened his eyes with a slow blink and studied the grin plastered across his star's expression.

So that was how they were going to play it, bribery.

"Perhaps." Azad kept his voice light, resisting the urge to smile as another kiss was planted on him, this time on his brow.

"And now?"

"Still unconvinced." His voice was a soft velvet now, an observant gaze picking up the slightest shiver running down his Crown's spine.

Cute.

Another kiss was gifted to him, this time directly on his lips. His arms made their move, wrapping around the Crown. With the softest noise escaping his lover's lips, he pulled them into an embrace. The two practically melted together, a kiss the Crown had most certainly meant to be chaste and quick now slowing as the two got lost within one another.

Spirits, he truly did miss this, didn't he?

Somewhere along the sixteenth or so kiss was when Azad finally lost count, or rather, when he simply stopped bothering altogether. Time itself seemed beyond his comprehension as the Captain thoroughly savored each little reaction he could get out of his Crown. Not that he minded, of course, Azad being the type to take his time with his love.

He eventually pulled away for air, forehead pressed against his Crown's as the two recovered from their entanglement.

"Well? Have I successfully persuaded you?" The Crown's voice was lighter now, breathless, and a touch sultry, the glimmer of gold in their eyes swallowed by the darkness of their pupils.

Azad paused a moment to consider the question, weighing the bliss given to him by his love's presence with the hours of senseless prattling he'd have to endure.

"Perhaps. Though I might be able to give you a solid answer... after we eat."

The look of confusion on the Crown's face was priceless, the tender moment between them was cut off by a knock at the door. Azad seized the chance to get off the Crown and straighten himself out, though he did clock the look shot at him by his charge.

With a small turn away from his Crown who was undoubtedly disappointed by the interruption, Azad turned to answer the door feeling lighter than ever.

#a tale of crowns #atoc #azad/ashti #sfw #fluff #drabble #i forget my own tagging system god damn its been so long #after writing this i realize... i have an intense urge to kiss A all over their face. This has happened like twice. Two nickles worth #im not sure if it's ooc but i like the idea of A being more mischievous in private- I have a weakness for teases I'm sorry #no where near the fiend that is X though #more >:3c than anything #writing A is so fucking hard lmao i reread everything once before posting and getting their voice in properly pains me #am i too teasing? not quick witted enough? i dunno man

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