#I WILL ALSO TAKE REQUESTS

[nine-lives715]

Above the Clouds - Izuku Midoriya x GN reader

Author’s Note: So this is my first time actually writing a story and sharing it, so.. enjoy? Also, I originally thought of this in a femme perspective, because it was originally more for *me*, but it was so cute, I decided to share it. If people end up liking it, I would love to share the next part! But for now, I hope you enjoy the story! Feedback is welcomed :)

TW: Ex Husband (Reader is a widow/widower), Mentions of d3ath and grieving, Izuku is a sweetheart. :)

Following the loss of your husband, your friends had planted the idea of you dating again for quite some time now. As much as you love them, you can’t bring yourself to forget him. He was someone you trusted. You saw the rest of your future with him, and it was hard to forget all the memories you made with him.

Eventually though, a will must have its way. So here you are, a year later, nervously sitting at a dinner table as you wait for your date.

“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” He says. Walking up to you is the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He seems gentle, and kind. He was tall, with dark green, curly hair topping his head. He wore a dark black jacket, a white t-shirt, and black jeans. He seemed decently put together. “I-It’s alright.” You responded. Why are you so nervous all of a sudden…? You can’t like him… what about your husband?

“It’s nice to meet you! I’m Izuku.” He outstretches his hand for you to shake. He seems slightly nervous as well.

“I’m _____.” You say, taking his hand to shake it. There’s that guilt… deep in your soul. The guilt of replacing your late husband stirs in you. You do your best not to think about it- if you did, you’d likely start crying. And you really didn’t want to scare this guy off on the first date…

He sits down in front of you and settles in. You two engage in light conversation over decent plates of food. He seems like a nice guy. He was nerdy, while also super polite and sweet. The two of you had a lot in common, and there’s definitely chemistry. But, it isn’t until your date is just about over where you’re reminded of him. Izuku starts to pay for the dinner (he insisted, of course). You check your phone for the time as Izuku had asked, and… you know those memory reels that come up on your phone in your photo gallery? That’s what it was.

You stare at your phone in silence. And before you know it, you’re setting your phone down with tears welling up in yours eyes. You almost made it..

Izuku is worried, to say the least. He’s hesitant to speak, wondering if he’ll just make things worse— but he speaks anyway.

“Hey… are you alright?” He asks, gently. You felt as though the words were dying in your throat is you looked at him with tears in your eyes.

“I-I apologize. It’s just…”

Izuku watches you, patiently. “Hey… it’s okay. Take it slow. There’s no rush.”

What? Is he serious? Most guys would have been weirded out by now…right? I guess now I might as well tell him.

“My friends put me up to this. I really.. I don’t know if I’m ready? You see, my husband died about two years ago and…” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence as you try to swallow your tears.

The concern on Izuku’s face is evident, but he showed nothing but warmth as he gently took your hand. “Hey. I understand. Look, I know a better place we can talk about this if you’d like? I would love to help.”

You look up as him in a daze. “Really?”

“Of course.” He smiles, before leaving the check for your dinner down on the table. “Thank you!” He waves to the staff before leaving, gently grabbing your hand and leading you out of the restaurant. He takes you to the back of a park, where a bench sits between two trees. There’s a clear view of the sky, and you can’t help but wonder if he sees what you’re doing.

“…Why here?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“It’s a nice place to think. I come here myself sometimes. I figured it would make a comfortable atmosphere.” He smiles, before turning to look at you, and— you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look at you with kinder eyes than his. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I understand where you’re coming from. I wasn’t entirely ready, myself.”

You stay silent for a moment, half wondering if he’ll continue. He does. “I.. I went through a bad breakup not too long ago. I thought… I kind of thought I would end up with her. I haven’t been entirely motivated to start dating again. But I’m glad I wasn’t alone.”

“I’m sorry,” You say. Breakups are hard.

“It’s not your fault. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. It must be really difficult.”

You’re unsure of how to respond. It was difficult. You choose your words for a moment, deciding to just be honest.

“It doesn’t feel right to move on… it feels like I’m replacing him.” Tears run down the apples of your cheeks. None of this felt right, but still…

“I understand, but you shouldn’t feel that way.” Izuku looks at you, and smiles gently. “He must have loved you a lot. And if that’s the case, then… He would have wanted you to move on. No one wants to end up alone… there’s no harm in finding someone new to spend your time with.”

You watch his eyes. You’re utterly speechless. What do you say? Is it really okay?

Izuku continues, “Nobody will ever replace the memories you made with him. Thats special to you. Finding someone else is you making new memories. There’s no replacing anyone, there.”

You continue to cry, unsure of how to respond. This was really the reassurance you needed- and you were getting it from a stranger!

He gently takes your hand in his own. “If you’re not ready to see anyone yet, I completely understand. But I want to help, so if it’s alright with you, I’d like to stick around. I will wait. And if you’re never ready, I’ll just continue to be your shoulder to cry on, okay?”

You’re in shock. “You mean it..?” Something in your gut told you to stay with him. Deep in your soul, you wanted some kind of bond with him— but you weren’t quite sure what, yet.

“Yeah, I mean it,” He smiles, squeezing your hand. “Anytime.”

You can’t think before you move to wrap your arms around him. You didn’t want to let go.

“Thank you, Izuku.”

“Of course.”

And that’s where it all started.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to see or be tagged in the next part let me know!!

Have a great day :) ☆

[2braincellslz]

I am down awful for The Corinthian.

Exhibit A:

In conclusion: please please please write more Corinthian x male!reader fic. <3

Or send me requests <3<3

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[raycatzdraws]

LU WIND BUT HE'S A ITTY BITTY HUMMINGBIRD

Slingshot Proficiency!

+bonus doodle drafts

[bluebells-and-dragonflies]

Imagine Astarion with ears so sensitive that he's never willingly allowed anyone to touch them except for you. Imagine laying next to him in your bed, facing him, lifting your hand up slowly for that first touch. His eyes on yours, the rapidity of the breath he doesn't need to take, but still does reflexively. Seeing that he's nervous, but that he's trusting you, feeling his shaking hand come to rest on your waist. The audible sound he makes- half a moan, half a gasp- when you finally brush your thumb over the soft skin at the tip of his ear.

You trace the long shell of his ear and watch his pretty eyes, deep red like velvet in the moonlight, flutter shut. He says your name softly, as close as you've ever heard him to prayer. You pinch his earlobe gently, and his hips roll forward involuntarily, the jut of his hipbone pressing against your thigh as he makes himself still. Heat flares low in your belly, but you tamp it down as quickly as possible- likewise, Astarion makes himself still against you. This isn't sex and won't become sex, you'd promised each other (though that's not to say that you won't explore this thoroughly during one of your hours-long lovemaking sessions. He is all about experimentation these days, after all).

You lay there, touching him in his most vulnerable place, with reverence and grace and occasionally disbelief that you could be here at all with this beautiful, horrible, ridiculous and wonderful man, that you could be trusted so completely. You take in his every shuddering breath, the flexing of his fingers in your shirt, the softness of his mouth when he presses his lips to yours and tells you he loves you. If you have your way, if he has his, if somehow your utterly insane lives hold together for a year or a decade or ten, it will always be like this.

[habken]

i was scrolling on my fyp and i saw smth about jirou and bakugou and i was wondering if you can draw those two (as best friends ofc) together doing smth like mini golf or rock climbing!

sure

[spiderziege]

BdoubleO’s crescent moon base? Or Pearl’s season 9 alien-scape?

cant believe ive never drawn this one before

[shrimparts-blog888]

👩‍🍳👌🏻

[khaotunq]

gif request | Anonymous asked: Can you please make a FirstKhaotung best kisses gifset?

[enigma-von-obscurius]

PL requests: Claire and Emmy!

[algoreithms]

late night cecilia post because i'm brainrotting so fucking bad. she's the worst

+ slapshipping nonsense below the cut because i am a degenerate

[azulmagpie]

I…. Do not really have an explanation for this except for stock photo funny lolololol

[pearlwingdraws]

Shake shake

[clownsuu]

I'm sorry, but I am in love with tiny Wally and giant howdy.... Could u perhaps draw them with matching PJs 😭😭😭

I was gunna draw them in howdy’s pajamas, but I had a raging urge to use Wally’s instead smhhh

Lazy doodle, but while drawing pajamas and listening to slow romantic tunes, iv realized Howdy would make a good pianist smhh

so mini au: howdy plays da biano and Wally can sing (probably JDHGDHDH)

[jarrows]

Ah, Lestrade. I've always had a bit of a soft spot for him, and it only got bigger with the recent reread.