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boytouya · 3 years

Note

midoriya x male catboy quirk reader fluff? male reader sits on his lap and izu goes 🥺 and they cuddle in deku’s dorm? i had a bad day and i need the most tooth rotting fluff rn

𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐍𝐚𝐩

a/n: this is literally the cutest request i’ve ever gotten. i hope you’re doing alright! if you ever need to talk about it my dms are open! i’m sorry this was kinda late, i hope it still helps you feel better!

Warnings: None!

Your quirk has a few….limitations. Like normal cats, you find comfort in areas that are closed off and quiet. You enjoy getting scratched on the chin or behind your ears, and if excited enough, you’d nuzzle your face against the person next to you. No one said quirks were perfect. You were a delight to be around, other students had told you it was relaxing to pat your head or listen to you purr. Deku does it the most, whether he notices or not. You never paid it any mind, plus he actually has the softest hands of Class 1-A, at least in terms of gentleness. Izuku is so kind, somehow your thoughts always manage to transpire about him. If he had a good day, if he’s taking care of himself, if he wanted to go out some time.

Mr. Aizawa announces a class outing, he says it’s an opportunity to show off quirks and abilities. Midoriya, a victim of many nuzzles and headbutts, sits at his desk scribbling away. He looks stressed, his round face distorting into a way too focused frown. Like everyone else in the hero course, you’re happy to help. You wait until Aizawa-Sensei finishes speaking, calling everyone out for a break before your next period. Then, as Deku gets lost in his own ideas, you nuzzle his face.

“O-Oh, hey! How are ‘ya!” He snaps out of it almost immediately, flashes of pink erupting on his face as he stutters and waves his hands to cover his appearance. It’s the same reaction every time you do it, but it never gets old. “I didn’t expect that, haha!”

Your purring is louder than usual, and Izuku feels butterflies beat against his stomach and rise from his throat. His scarred hand moves to gently cup your jaw, your eyes closing with glee as he scratches ever so gently.

“You’re so cute, (Name)! I-I mean...handsome? Not that you aren’t cute, haha! Uhm, I mean your quirk is cute! Was that offensive? I’m so sorry! I meant you’re very powerful, and your cat-like abilities give you an advantage in hand to hand comba-” Before Izuku can finish his wandering rant, he finds you’ve made your way into his lap, resting your chin on his shoulder. He audibly gulps, his bottom lip quivering into a wobbly smile. You do look cute, but the moment would have to be short lived because Aizawa had already left the classroom whilst students began to pack their belongings.

———————————————————

Deku’s dorm room has lots of clutter. There are All Might figures, plushies, limited edition pencils, and even a few rare collectibles. The first time you see them it takes an otherworldly amount of willpower and strength not to knock them over or play with them. You may think you’re hiding your impulse to wreak havoc but the way your tail swishes and pupils dilate isn’t fooling anyone. Izuku happens to have an All Might plushy that’s shaped like a fish, and he seems more than happy to give it to you. In a way it’s kind of nerdy, but it makes your palms clammy and heart rate unsteady.

“It’s not like I was gonna use it anyway.” He said with a smile so big it reached his eyes. Izuku really does have a heart of gold. You took the toy, purring to show your gratitude. It turns out Izuku had trouble falling asleep. Whether it was because he couldn’t stop thinking or he had too much to do, he never got to bed on time despite higher-ups telling him to.

As of right now, you were led on the embarrassingly All Might themed bed, your face pressed against Izuku’s firm chest. He was fast asleep, his calloused hand resting atop your head to randomly scratch behind your ears. There was a gentle breeze blowing in from his window, and you could feel the goosebumps forming on his skin. In an attempt to keep him warm you huddle closer, wrapping an arm around him. Izuku’s eyes are open just slightly, a smile ghosting over his lips as he whispers:

“You really are super cute.”

Although silent, you mutually agree to do this more often. Listening to Deku’s steady breath sends you fast asleep, where you dream of green eyes and freckles. You wanted to count them, trace them with your finger and connect them like constellations. You wanted to be his moon, just like he was your Sun and stars.

#🥞.deku #izuku midoriya x male reader #deku x male reader #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #midoriya x male reader #anime x male reader

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wordsablaze · 4 years

Text

Ch.8. Beneficial Blue

Blue Buttercup Almost like buttercups, it took Jaskier a lot of time and trouble to bloom and find his place in the world, but it wasn’t all so golden… (aka: yennefer was his mother way before he was jaskier)

A/N: can’t even see canon anymore but soft yen is worth it imo :p @dauntless-hufflepuff-pride x

previous chapter

It’s three days before they need to leave the house again.

“Yenny, why are you frowning?”

Oh, and she’s taken to frowning a lot over said three days. She can’t help it, she’d felt something wrong with Lord Ambrose’s house and Julian had said the same.

“It’s nothing, Julian. Are you hungry?”

Julian shakes his head, simply curling back into her lap again as he starts playing with the fabric of her dress, which seems to be a nervous habit of his. She can’t understand how it brings him comfort but she can’t bring herself to stop him either.

(It’s somehow comforting to her too.)

A part of her hates this, hates that she can feel so… comforted… by someone so small and fragile and confusing - It’s dangerous and she doesn’t like that.

“Do we have to go back?” he asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Yennefer sighs, running her fingers through his hair. “We do. You can stay here if you want but I’d rather you were with me.”

He tightens his grip on her dress and makes a strange noise before replying, “Stay with you, like you said.”

(She can’t believe he still wants to stay.)

“Okay well, we’ll have to leave soon then. Are you ready?”

Julian finally sits upright and stares at her, almost amused. “Aren’t we matching again?”

Yennefer doesn’t know how to comprehend the fact that four words can mean so much to her so she just settles for nodding and watching as he grins before running off to go find his chemise.

She takes the very brief moment of solitude to inhale and exhale slowly. She’s not paranoid, of course not, but even a simple job is different now that she has someone else to be worried about.

Maybe everyone at Aretuza had been right in thinking that life should be a one-woman show and that needing other people or having other people need you is just a euphemism for having a weakness, a liability, a way for things to go wrong and-

“Yenny, I need help with the buttons!”

(Either way, it doesn’t feel right to deny Julian her help.)

“Hang on, Julian,” Yennefer sighs, kneeling down to see what he’s done.

It’s not that bad, to be fair, he just seems to be struggling with doing up his doublet again. She does it for him without questioning it, only for him to frown at her. “You can’t see the matchy jewel!”

“The what?” Yennefer blinks.

Julian pokes her shoulder. “My new jewel. You traded for it.”

Oh.

(She’s pretty sure she’d trade almost anything for him if he needed it.)

“Your necklace? Hang on…” she trails off, unfastening the top button so he can pull the necklace out and have it on display.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s reinforced it with magic so it will never fall off or get lost. The only way it will come off is if he removes it himself but he’s yet to show any signs of wanting to do so.

“Are you ready to portal now?” she asks softly.

Julian nods, but lifts his arms above his head, curling his fingers. She sighs but lifts him up with one arm, making sure he’s secure before creating a portal and stepping through it.

He makes a pained noise as they do, clinging onto her as if his life depends on it. But a few moments of her stroking his hair later, he grins widely. “Your magic is fun.”

(He always says that as if she isn’t capable of destroying the continent.)

“Let’s go find this rogue mage, okay, little one?” she asks instead, lowering him to the ground and letting him take her hand as they start walking, following the trail of uncontrolled chaos that seems to buzz in the air.

It’s not long before they reach what looks like a small hut. “I wish these idiots had better decoration skills,” Yennefer mutters.

“Yours is way nicer,” Julian agrees, and she’s abruptly reminded that she might need to be careful what she says if there’s someone else with her. It really wouldn’t do to have Julian call unhinged mages idiots, now, would it?

“Who are you?” someone asks sharply, drawing their attention to the man standing at the doorway.

Julian gasps and steps behind her, his free hand clutching at her dress once again.

(It’s oddly satisfying.)

“Yennefer of Vengerberg, here to determine whether or not you’re actually Lord Ambrose’s problem.”

“Leave now and I won’t be forced to fight you,” he replies, all but growling at them.

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t last five minutes but do go on wasting your breath if it pleases you.”

The other mage lowers his hands and looks over them both, shaking his head. “I’m not the problem here and I have no intention of orphaning the boy. Haven’t you been to his manor yet?”

She’s not sure what he means because there’s no way someone with such appalling aesthetic sense could defeat her and there’s no way he could know who Julian’s parents are, but she chalks it down to him being somewhat crazed.

“What about his manor?”

(She doesn’t like the idea of having missed something.)

Julian steps out from behind her and squeezes her hand. “It was bad energy, like you said.”

The other mage looks at Julian in shock and Yennefer is immediately hit with the urge to remove his eyes for daring to do so. But before she can say anything, he nods at Julian. “Yes, exactly. There’s another mage staying with him and poisoning this town.”

Yennefer shakes her head. “That’s a heavy accusation to make for someone surrounded by chaos. Where’s your proof?”

“You weren’t following my trail, Yennefer of Vengerberg, you were following the residue of his magic on me,” the other mage says, stepping inside his hut with the nerve to assume she’s going to follow.

She immediately has every intention to set the place ablaze but Julian tugs on her hand so she decides to let the mage live for a little longer. Just until she knows what’s happening anyway.

(If Lord Ambrose is playing her, he’s not getting away with it.)

“What’s your name?” Julian asks the mage.

“Marcio, and you?” the mage, apparently called Marcio, replies.

Julian glances up at Yennefer before replying, which warms her heart just a little. When she nods, he turns back to Marcio and grins. “I’m Julian.”

“Where are you from, Julian?” Marcio asks as he searches a very disorganised desk.

Yennefer squeezes Julian’s hand as he shuffles uncomfortably and clears her throat. “He’s with me. Now, are you going to make a fool of yourself for much longer?”

Marcio sighs. “I made a note of every time someone went missing. And each time, there was a witcher in town to slay a monster exactly a week later.”

At that, Yennefer’s curiosity piques. Along with confusion and the slightest of awe, because if what Marcio is implying is actually happening, there’s a darker shade of magic involved that really shouldn’t even be possible.

(But it also shouldn’t be possible for anyone to desire being with her as long as Julian has and yet here they are.)

“What kind of monster? Big scary ones with lots of teeth?” Julian asks, his eyes wide.

Yennefer blinks, almost having forgotten that he’s a child and had never seen a bestiary of any sort.

Shifting uncertainty, Marcio nods. “Sometimes. It’s rarely the same one twice.”

“Are you going to fight them, Yenny?” Julian looks back up to her, no doubt in his eyes that she can do such a thing. Gods is it empowering to see the faith, however misplaced, that he has in her and her abilities.

She nods at him. “Of course. But first I think we need to figure out where they’re coming from, monsters don’t usually have a rota.”

(Not even the ones inside her head.)

Marcio chuckles. “They’re coming from Ambrose’s manor. I haven’t been able to get closer than a mile or so.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “We were inside just a few days ago.”

“The mage knows of me and my attempts to stop him but you weren’t a threat to him-” he holds his hands up, fingers splayed, as Yennefer narrows her eyes- “only because you didn’t know what I know about him.”

“You’re lying,” Julian blurts.

Yennefer resists the urge to look at him and instead watches Marcio glance at him nervously, his teeth briefly worrying his lip before he laughs. “Why would I lie to you?”

(She’s so tired of everyone lying to her.)

She shifts her gaze to the room they’re in, searching for anything to verify his version of the truth. Amongst all the chaos and clutter, there’s nothing to suggest he’s making things up, except for…

“Is that him?” she asks, nodding her head to a scribbled drawing that’d clearly been discarded in anger. One of the men in the drawing is clearly Marcio but the other she doesn’t recognise.

Marcio follows her gaze and pales just enough to confirm her suspicion. “You were working together on whatever it is happening in this town, weren’t you?”

Julian steps behind her once again as Marcio’s smile curls into a grimace, both of his tiny hands now clasped around hers as he goes quiet, clearly waiting for her to do something, seeking her protection.

(How dare Marcio even talk to Julian through his lying teeth.)

“It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t meant to be like this, it was just-”

“Toying with chaos that you couldn’t begin to understand?” Yennefer interjects, clenching her jaw. “Mages like you don’t deserve magic.”

Marcio steps back at the venom in he words, as he should, but he doesn’t give up, shaking his head slowly. “I wasn’t lying before, I swear it. He really is responsible for the disappearances and I need your help.”

“Yenny doesn’t need yours,” Julian says quietly.

(It takes all her willpower not to smile at that.)

Not that Marcio would have noticed because he’s too busy looking startled. “Please, there are innocent people in this town.”

Any other day, Yenenfer would have rolled her eyes, told him that there are so-called innocent people everywhere, and left him to clear up his own mess. But any other day, she wouldn’t still be internally smiling at the trust a small child has placed in her.

She sighs. “I couldn’t care less about your pathetic partnership and its failure. I will do what I came here to do and if you even think about interfering, I will see you as part of the problem. Do you understand?”

“He does,” Julian replies for him, grinning.

Marcio stays silent as Yennefer sends him a biting glare and leads Julian out of the hut, back towards the manor. He remains silent as they leave, for which she’s grateful as she’d rather not expose Julian to the sight of a dead mage just yet.

(He deserves better than her violence.)

“How did you know he was lying?” she asks Julian.

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. His words weren’t right, that’s what always happens when people lie.”

Yennefer can’t figure out what that means but she doesn’t push him to explain because she doesn’t want to know who else had lied to him. Well, that’s a lie, she does want to know, but she doesn’t want to upset him by asking.

And anyway, he’s one of very few people who have actually managed to help her so she doesn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt. She just nods at him. “Let’s go fix this mage problem, okay?”

Julian nods back eagerly. “And then can we have jam again?”

This time she can’t help smiling, she really can't. So she lets herself do so and nods. “Of course, little one. We can have all the jam you like.”

“Thank you!” Julian beams as if she’d just promised him the moon and stars.

(She would promise him those as well in a heartbeat.)

As the two of them continue walking, she makes a mental note to somehow acquire more jam on their way back.

one day i’ll crosspost to tumblr with no delay, but yesterday was not that day...

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#jaskier #yennefer #the witcher #fanfic #fanfiction #au #soft yennefer #parent yennefer #young jaskier #yennefer and jaskier #netflix the witcher #canon who?#yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier the bard #my writing #bbu

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bellringermal · 7 years

Text

Micorom Fanfic (+MicolashXFauxsefka because things are hella complicated :P)

Takes place some months before the Mensis ritual.

Translated from Italian & written last year. Enjoy ;]

Suddenly she was too close, but it was also too late.

He felt the woman’s lips pressing on the corner of his, her hands pulling him by the collar. A sigh, a laugh. “Relax. Yharnam is in your hands now.” As if that rotten town mattered something to him. He did not do it for power, to sit behind Laurence’s marble desk and look down at everyone else from the high balconies of Upper Cathedral Ward. He wanted not the idolatry of an ignorant crowd, the world itself was a relic of what it used to be, Yharnam was in ruins, a city no king nor vicar could be proud of anymore, especially not someone who like him could see what waited patiently on the other side.

Through the thin but impenetrable veil of material reality, the realm of the nightmare shaked wildly, calling his name through the trembling lips of young Caryll. Whatever the future had in store for him and the whole Mensis was not in the streets of Yharnam, it was not among the regressed citizens that haunted the alleys like a pack of rabid dogs. They were the devoluted deviation of the human race, those who will be left behind to kill and be killed like the animals they became. He and his followers were those who will go ahead, jump on top of the evolutionary chain and ascend. Mother Kos had shown him the way long ago, but her gift was wasted. It would not happened again, not now that a new infant was so close at hand… not now that the ritual was about to begin. Iosefka, or at least the woman who called herself so, nipped his jaw, still chuckling “Where is that little head of yours? Oh, what I would not give to see the world as you see it… the very thought makes me shudder. You’ll share your knowledge with me, won’t you not, Master Micolash?” “When the time comes.” He snapped, still stiff despite the blandishments of the false doctor who was now sitting on his lap and working hard to unbutton the scholar’s shirt and bowtie. “I’m sure it will be worth the wait. My colleagues… They did not have the slightest idea of the implication of their findings. They knew about Kos and about the effects of the brain fluid for so long and yet they never dared to… We are not like them. We are not afraid, Mensis fears nothing and no one.” “We? I never said you were one of us.” Hissed Micolash. “Not even if I’ll be a good girl? You know, if I want, I can be very, very good…” their lips met again and Micolash had to muster all his willpower to not respond at the intrusion of her tongue. Once he had youth, but now not even that could mitigate the disgust he felt for that pathetic shell of flesh and blood that was his body. Little more than a prison barely able to contain his thoughts and altogether unfit to put into practice their great complexity. One defective instrument, always there to remind him that despite all his knowledge and efforsts he was still just a human being, subject to hunger, pain and the weaknesses of the flesh. He hated feeling so unconfortable in his own skin, constricted in a earthly existence that didn’t fit the ambitions of his mind and unable to put to rest those beastly and low instincts that defined mankind. He hated the way his body reacted to the touch of that slut, how his hands clutched to her hips with desperate need and that he could not do anything to prevent it. When was the last time he had been with a woman? He couldn’t remember. He felt the grip of Iosefka’s hands on his shoulders, the touch of her smooth skin against his neck, but his mind was somewhere else. His wide-open eyes didn’t even see the woman clad in white above him. He felt like shattered, a few pieces of his psyche were driven into reality as splinters in the fingertips of a clumsy boy, others hurled at the star-filled firmament. He never had felt so disconnected as then. It was painful.

It was wrong, everything… All wrong.

Mother Kos… please … please, deliver me from this agony…

I was born a mortal… unclean, inferior, but have I not proven myself worthy of you? Deliver me from the idiocy and meanness of humanity, erase those desires that keep us away from greatness …

Kos… Mother mine!

I deny my own race, I’ll give up everything … everything…!

Suddenly, the pain ceased. It was a miracle, a truce or perhaps that double agent of the Choir had finally stuck a dagger in his heart? It did not matter, the silence was a pleasant company, the weightlessness a relief.

Then came a warmth, a familiar feeling that brought him back by twenty years, to the school that for so long had been his home, the voices in the hallways, the nights of intense and desperate study.

Her skin and hair felt so soft and warm as their foreheads pressed against each other as if to unite their minds into one. They had big dreams and expectations even then, oh yes, perhaps even bigger because of the fervor of youth. Their voices were lost in the gloom of the library accompanied by the rustle of pages, their fingers intertwined as they breathed in each other’s mouth. Carnality and intellect made complimentary, rather than polar opposites.

Rom … yes … yes, his Rom!

He would have listened to her for a thousand years, his back against the roof tiles and his star-lit eyes pointed to the skies. “Animis coelestis erant, corporis umbra iacet … ‘our minds were made for heaven, even if the body was lying on the ground’ … Sic itur ad astra…” He chuckled. He loved the way she frowned when a translation didn’t make sense to her. “Then we go to the stars.” “Simul cum tibi?” “I’m sure that that line is not in the manual … But yes, ‘with you’, my dear. Semper.” “Semper.” (Author note: Always) The echo of that word dragged him down. He gasped like a drowned man, until his hands found the carved armrests of the chair. He caught his breath, barely aware of the voice of Iosefka and her gloved hands on his shoulders. …had he fallen asleep? Was that a vision? A memory..? “Are you… crying?” Micolash jumped up, pushing away the young woman in chuch attire “Hey, what’s got into you?!” “Go away.” He growled, hunched over the desk cluttered with papers, fists clenched against the table, his whole figure was shaking. “Wha-” “I SAID GET OUT!” He roared, throwing the entire contents of a display of vials of blood and mercury on the floor while sheets of parchment and scribbled notes fluttered around like frightened birds. Iosefka needed not to be told twice and she closed the door behind her with a thud. But even so, it was impossible to ignore the sounds of breaking glass coming from inside. Micolash took his face in his blooded hands, his chest rose and fell frantically, tears running down his cheeks so abundant to made him blind.

Where Iosefka had touched him with her hands and tongue now burned as if he had been disfigured with acid. Micolash wanted to tear his skin away, clawing his own flesh to the bones, anything to erase those red markings on his neck. That wench! That Choir slut dared…! Dared to…!

Rom’s kisses came back to him, her big brown eyes, the words they spoke to each other in a soft voice as the night came to an end and the pale moon in the sky started to fade. Sunlight glimmered on the surface of the lake… that very lake that had become her prison, her entire world.

Rom, my little, stupid Rom! Even after all this time you’re still there, are you not? Hands that are no longer hands, lips that are no longer lips, but you’re still you! In that limbo out of time and away from everything, with just your children to keep you company… our …

The man stumbled and let himself slipping against the wall as the glass shards from the mirror he smashed into pieces with his bare hands get caught in the rim of his thick black cape.

…Our children.

I do not know if those… things…. really are what I fear them to be But I’ve always suspected it. Somehow, I always knew… Because I can still feel the shapes of your body against mine since that last night we spent together so… so long ago. I remember your touch as clear as that of Iosefka… how can you be more real than her, how can your memory be more vivid than the reality in which I wander and grow madder every day? Why, Rom?! Why did you do that?! Stupid, stupid!

He raised his eyes which had turned red from crying and meet his own reflection in the cracked mirror. The fragmented image that returned his gaze was that of a broken man of over fifty years, his hair graying, his lips tight and pale, his gaze as empty and lifeless as that of a puppet. A sob rose in his throat and transformed gradually into a crazy, high pitched laugh interrupted occasionally by choking breaths. “Oh Rom, my dearest friend! What a pair we are…! If you could see me now… would you laugh at me? Would you pity me? Me, a mortal man who’s growing older and weaker and you, a Goddess in your own right?”

#micorom #bloodborne #my writings #fanfic #micolash host of the nightmare #rom the vacuous spider #impostor iosefka

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