#kay writes

[meraxesmoon]

imagine daemon prohibiting bastard!reader from having dragon rides and balerion almost destroying dragonstone because of it

note: TURNING THIS INTO A ONESHOT BC OMG

warnings: yandere content, daemon being petty, rhae trying to mother (name), caraxes slander (I'm so sorry), a dead knight

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Dragonstone was particularly dreary today, or maybe she just saw it that way as she stood before her 'father' and his wife as he explained (or at least tried to) why she was barred from riding Balerion today. It made no sense to (Name). Did her father secretly hate her? Did he want her to suffer? Otherwise, why would he stop her from doing the only thing that made her happy?

It was obvious that Rhaenyra and Jacaerys did not agree with this, but she was Daemon's daughter, and what he said went.

"You are banned from dragon riding until further notice," Daemon says, looking at his little girl as she glares at the floor with her dark eyes. She's misty-eyed and refuses to look at him as she grips at the burgundy dress her stepmother had put her in early this morning. The fabric was being pulled at and wrinkled as she gripped in in her tiny hands, her knuckles paling as she urged her tears not to fall. She hated looking weak in front of him. It made her skin crawl. The only one she allowed herself to be vulnerable with was her dragon, Balerion.

She genuinely hated Daemon Targaryen with a searing passion.

"Come now, Sweetling," Rhaenyra tries to coo at the little girl as dotingly as she could, using the tone of voice she only used with her children. "I'll take you to see Syrax if you'd like." It was a kind gesture, even (Name)'s muddled mind could comprehend that, but she was too distraught to say anything back to her stepmother. Instead, she takes Jace's hand as he leads her back to her room, knowing that all she needs to do is cry and take a long nap.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

(Name) is only ushered out of her room once dusk hits, Luke taking her to Dragonstone's dining hall so she can eat with the family. She sits in between her "brothers," shielding Daemon from her view. She could hardly look at him, her lip wobbling as she sipped at the cider in her cup. Rhaena had gifted her a dragon figure made out of dragon glass, and (Name) grips it tightly in her small hand as she tries to eat.

"..."

The dining hall was usually bustling with conversation, but tonight, it was starkly quiet. Rhaenyra sat and made sure little Joff wouldn't choke on his food, Baela was sharing looks with her sister, and the boys kept sending worried glances to their mother. (Name), once tired of eating her food, just glared at the table. Daemon held his chin in his hand, ignoring the disappointment looks his other two girls were sending him.

"(Name), come with me tomorrow to ride on Caraxes, he's very -" "No." She grunts out her response, poison dripping from her voice as she glares at the table even harder.

She didn't want to fly on his stupid dragon. She wanted to fly on her amazing, graceful, gorgeous dragon. Balerion had a certain ferocity to him, of course, but he was gentle with her and treated her more kindly than most humans. It hadn't even been a full day, and she missed him dearly.

Before any arguments could flare up, a guard comes storming in, panic written all over his face.

"What's happened, Ser?" Rhaenyra questions, thinking that perhaps something had happened to her youngest children. White in the face, the knight clears his throat before answering. "It is the princesses dragon. The Black Dread is attacking Dragonstone!"

Daemon goes slack, his eyes closing in irritation.

He hated that overgrown cat.

"Daemon, take her to him. Now." Rhaenyra warns her husband, her amethyst eyes narrowing at him.

Daemon takes his daughter on Caraxes, and they fly down to the bridge of Dragonstone where Balerion was wreaking havoc. The onyx scales of Balerion shone in the evening sun as he trampled all over the place. In his jaw, the bloody remains of a knight. (Name) grimaced at the sight, because she knew that Balerion wouldn't have done this unless he was bothered enough.

He was angry, she could feel that much.

Noticing them, Balerion drops the corpse, crimson blood dripping from his black teeth as he huffs at the sight of Daemon. Daemon found the entire situation funny, which prompted (Name) to squirm on the dragon saddle. Balerion was never one for jokes, and he didn't like her father in the slightest. Balerion's ginormous frame barely fit on the bridge, and one of his clawed feet were in the water as he shook his scales as a warning to Daemon.

(Name) pops her little body off of Caraxes, running towards Balerion, not caring if her dress got all messy in the process. Noticing his small rider on the ground, Balerion lowers his large head, his nostrils flaring as he lets her stroke her hand over his snoot. Daemon looks at the black dragon with resentment in his eyes, pursing his lips in annoyance, Caraxes lets out a whistle in response to Daemon's emotions.

The Rogue Prince watches as his youngest daughter climbs up her dragons wing, settling herself on the saddle that rested on Balerion's back. The smile on her face was simply too sweet, Daemon couldn't be too angry. He eyes the bloody mess on the ground as Balerion turns back to return to his resting place with (Name) in tow.

"Ugh..."

Daemon really hated that damned dragon.

daemon: you can't ride balerion today

(name): :'(((

balerion: >:O 🔥

@your-favorite-god

#cw: yandere content #cw: yandere blog #yandere content #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere balerion #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere imagines #yandere #rhxegal #kay writes

[dawnbreakersgaze]

All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

#love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #lnds #love & deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #kay writes #god i love him #the thought of Zayne laying out the perfect plan only for it to completely backfire on him is just so canon at this point #Like hes so MAX intelligence DUMP wisdom #it makes for such a wonderful combo lmao- walking into his own trap like “oh no who could have predicted this” #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x mc #zayne smut

[alvojake]

𝖙𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

「paring」 : demon!sunoo x fem!virgin!reader

「synopsis」 : with your life on the line he offered you a deal and sweet innocent you accepted without reading in between the lines...

「word count」 : 10k & counting

「genre」 : smut, angst, dark romance, supernatural au, corruption

「warning」 : will vary with each chapter

「started」 : march 4th, 2024 「ended」 : tbd

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ♰ 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊

𝐨𝐧𝐞; the summoning

𝐭𝐰𝐨;

𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈…

If you would like to be added to the series tag list let me know by commenting, sending an ask or dming me! ♡ I will only add you to the taglist if you're 18+ and your age is visible on your blog! ♡ Also if you want to be added or removed from my permanent tag list, let me know as well.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 {𝖔𝖕𝖊𝖓} : @heeslut4life @fromkamal @mari-marimar @topichoon @strxwbloody @yeonzzzn @marimariiiiiiii @m3chigo @seoniwoo @sunghoonnsupremacy @graythecoffeebean @hoondiors @skzenhalove @enhaswirlds @yzzyhee @yizhoutv

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

#enhypen #kpop #kay writes #enha #enha x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen sunoo #enha imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagines #kim sunoo #kim sunoo smut #enha sunoo #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jungwon #enha jake #enha jay #enha heeseung #enha sunghoon #enha jungwon #kpop smut #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #sunoo series #taste of your sins series #jake sim #park jongseong #park sunghoon #lee heeseung

[stonebutchstories]

I know I’m not alone, I know that. I know there are dozens of Stone butches out there, and there have been dozens more before, all just like me. Someone has walked where I’m walking now, how else would there be this path to take? How else would I know the word, if someone else hadn’t said it first?

I just wish it weren’t such a lonely word. I have such a spectacular queer family, every stripe on the flag working together to tend, to hold, to mend. All of them are wonderful, and none of them had even heard of Stone before they met me. I wish that weren’t the case.

I struggle to reconcile the Stone community that I know must exist with the isolation that I experience. I struggle to talk about this in any meaningful online Stone spaces I’m a part of. (I’ve drafted this post and its lookalikes at least a dozen times.) I feel an obligation, since there are so few places for us, to be unstoppably proud of my identity. To be a force for fellow Stones, and to only write about Stones being respected, loved, and happy. To prove to myself and others in my stories that a happy life is possible for us.

Someone else has walked the path before me, and everything I write clears the brush a little more for the next traveler. For now, my Stone butch brotherhoods exist only in books. I read about their histories, and I feel like I could know them. They were like I am, a long time ago. Surely, there must be others even now. Surely I’m not the only one.

I wish more existed for me than this placating reassurance that brotherhood exists ‘elsewhere’. I wish my options weren’t to look backwards, or to charge forward alone. I know we must be somewhere. I know I’m not the only one. I keep my head down and try not to be irrational. Calm down, you’re not alone. Be reasonable, you know there are other Stones somewhere. Somewhere. There must be.

#stone butch #stone lesbian #stone femme #stone bottom #stone top #butch lesbian #kay writes

[kirishimasbabygirl]

The Ring

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Hey Guys!!!! Sorry this is so late, I've been super sick since Christmas and i just now been able to finish this.

Here's Pt.1

TW. Yelling, Swearing, and my usual angst

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As you walk towards his office, your heels softly click on the tile floor. You'd have to be deaf and blind not to see or hear what people are saying, the office goers whispering behind folders and sharing knowing glances. The news of your partner's affair broke that same morning he came in; he thought he was so fucking brilliant, had everything planned out, and how he was going to get away with it. Well, little did he fucking know that the paparazzi were following their every damn move. The paparazzi took pictures of them at that club, him driving her hold, her pulling him into her house, him grinning the whole time, him leaving early that morning. His PR team is scrambling, begging you not to speak to news outlets and gossip blogs, reaching out to you once they have a script.

You glance at his secretary, who gives you a pitiful smile before nodding for you to go in. You push open the frosted glass door, finding his office lights out, blinds closed, the office phone off the hook, his face on his desk, shoulders shaking. "Bakugo?" you gently brush your knuckles on the door frame; he doesn't pick his head up. "I told you extras not to fucking bother me." You shut the door quietly behind you and sat on the leather chair in front of his desk. "I thought you might've wanted to talk about what you did, " you spoke softly, bearly over a whisper.

His head shoots up at a neck break speed, startling you; he breathes your name as he scrambles out of his seat and rounds his desk. "Oh!" is all you can say as he throws himself at your feet in a deep bow, forehead pressed to the floor. "I'm sorry, I'm so so so so sorry," he mumbles, his fingernails digging into the carpet under him. 'Now what?' you thought to yourself; you would come in here, degrade him, demand an explanation, then dump him, but seeing him like this? Groveling at your feet, it broke your heart even more.

"Bakugo," you spoke, reaching down to touch his shoulder "NO!" He looks up at you, eyes bloodshot from heavy crying, still full of tears, face red and blotchy, and swollen lips "Please don't call me that, please!" You pause for a moment, considering it, before caressing a hand on his face. "Bakugo." "Oh god, no, please!" He sobs, pressing his face into your hand, scared you might pull it away. "We need to talk."

He nods slowly, sitting up on his knees; he wipes his face with the back of his hand before shakingly standing up. "Yeah…yeah, we do" He leans on his desk for support. The two of you sat silently, unsure of what to say. "I feel -" "I know that-" You both stop and stare at each other; you throw your hand over your mouth as you begin to laugh, and he smiles and chuckles himself. "God, I'm still bad at this." "You've always been bad at this." Your laughter slowly subsides as the reality of your situation dawns on the two of you again. Right.

"I…" He starts, eyes refusing to look at you as he plays with his hands, tracing the scars. "I think- I know," He corrects himself "That we…Can move on from this." "Move on?" You question, folding your arms across your chest and leaning back in the chair. "Move on how?" "I mean," he clears his throat. "I mean, I want us to do whatever we can do to stay together."

You throw one leg over the other, tilting your head to the side, sneering at him. "And how would we do that?" He pushes himself off the desk, falling to his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands. "I would do anything. Therapy, I'll do it, I was stupid, and I have no excuse for what I did." His voice cracks as his red eyes well up with tears "I-I want to wake up next to you every morning without any regrets; I want to hold you without any reservations, I…" He pauses, lips quivering "I bought a ring two months ago." You snatch your hands away from him, wide-eyed "What?"

He stands, moving behind his desk, opening the middle drawer, and pulling out a small velvet box, pushing it across the desk towards you. You look at him, then the box, then back at him, silently asking him if this was some sick joke. "My…My mom went with me to pick it out; the two of you were the same ring size, so…" He trails off. You reach for it; the fabric tickles your fingertips as you open it. You gasped; it was a beautiful golden ring wrapped around a blue sapphire and a red ruby. "I remember how you'd compare us to that stupid gem show you watched back in high school."

Your heart tumps against your chest. Why? Why now? After all these years, why did it take him putting his deck in someone else to make him decide? Tears stream down your face; you slam the box shut and chuck it at his chest.

"How DARE you?!" he fumbles to catch the box, and you scream at him. "It took you fucking someone else to want to marry me!?" His eyes widen as he clutches it to his chest. "No! No, no, no, no, no, I - no, That's not what I'm trying to do!" He rakes his hand through his hair. "I-I'm trying to say that I love you! And I fucked up. I fucked up, baby, But I want to fix it." He looks at you with pleading eyes "You don't have to forgive me, but please, let me try to fix it."

You sat there quietly, going over your options in your head. "Therapy." You finally spoke; you wiped your eyes with the back of your sleeve. "Therapy, we'll see if we can make this work." He grins. "I will." You nod. "I'll see you at home."

_________________________________

Tag List: @samkysnks

#Cheater!Bakugo #bnha #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #Cheater!Katsuki #kay writes #x reader angst #katsuki bakugo angst

[kayrma]

“It’s just scary, y’know, that there’s people out there with so much hate in them that I’m losing excitement over my cousin’s wedding. Have you ever been to a wedding, Evans? They’re supposed to just be fun.”

“Those people are here too, James,” Lily replied, thinking of her old best friend. She didn’t want to know the details of the crowd Snape ran with now, but she knew enough. “What’s crazy is that some of the shit they spew implies that they wouldn’t let, say, us get married, y’know?”

“You wanna marry me, Evans?”

“Ask me again at the end of term and I’ll let you know, Potter.”

 It wasn’t a good idea to ask the bloke who doesn’t fancy you anymore to propose to you, but here she was. They locked eyes and he grinned, and Lily knew she was so, so fucked.

#a little excerpt from smth i'm writing #enjoy hehee #jily #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #kay writes #userkay

[tuttiwrites]

A very late fic entry for Dipplinshipping Week 2024 (damn you migraines).

Day 6: Festival

“Fireworks”

CW: fluffy fluff, Ogerpon regrets nothing, some smoochin’, Carmine and Kieran bicker a little

The Festival of Masks was in full swing. The crowd was abuzz with excitement as the minutes ticked down to the fireworks show. The scent of fried food wafted through the air, enticing many a visitor to pick up a treat on their way to the festival plaza. Children ran between the sweets stalls and the games, holding their treasures aloft for their parents to see. The mask sellers were hawking their wares the loudest – it was the last night of the festival, after all, and for five bucks you too could attend the big finale in style. Nothing said reverence to the village’s masked protector quite like a cheap plastic copy of her mask.

Kieran flipped the toy mask around in his hand. Its mediocrity was slightly less offensive in the dim lighting of the overlook. “They really skimped on the paint job this year.”

Julie nodded in agreement. “For real. You’d think they’d at least try to get the colors right.” The copy they were studying was more green than teal, and the orange used for the mouth was bright enough to see from space. There had been an attempt to replicate the Tera jewels’ shine with glitter on white paint. Half of said glitter currently resided on Julie and Kieran’s hands.

It was, as their friend Drayton said about many things in life, mid.

“I’d have happily let Ponpon model for them if they wanted to.” Julie tried to brush off the stubborn glitter on the pants of her jinbei. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded.”

“True.” Kieran sat the offending mask on the bench and tried to rid himself of the glitter as well. “As long as she has a candy apple to munch on, she’d be happy doin’ anything.”

Julie laughed softly. “Too true.”

In the year since they first met the tiny ogre, Julie and Kieran had observed Ogerpon – lovingly nicknamed Ponpon by Julie – come out of her shell. Where she’d been too afraid to leave Julie’s side amongst the townspeople last year, she now mingled happily in the crowd. Children adored her; she’d made many new friends playing in the plaza. Curious adults asked Julie and Kieran about her, and they were happy to share her story.

Ogerpon also acquired a new hobby: sampling festival foods. The shaved ice had been her least favorite, causing her to shiver and hide her face. That made sense; grass Pokemon weren’t exactly fond of ice moves in battle, so icy snacks were low on her list. The fried noodles sat at a comfortable second place. Julie had managed to serve her about three bites of the meal before the little Pokemon dozed off in her arms.

At the top of the list sat the king of sweet treats, at least in Kieran’s mind: candied apples. Ogerpon had fallen in love at first bite with the treat on the first day of the festival. He estimated that since then, he and Julie had bought her at least 5 apples apiece. It was a good thing they were cheap, he mused.

Ogrepon had gotten into some mischief earlier in the day by sneaking two apples from the snack stand while the seller wasn’t looking. Julie had smoothed that over by paying double for the stolen goods while Kieran ran after the wayward Pokemon. He’d scooped her up before she could make off with a skewer of candied Rawst berries. He’d dropped a handful of cash on the counter to purchase the treat properly, and walked away from the line of food stalls before she committed another heist.

“Honestly, Ponpon,” he sighed, “an’ I thought I had a sweet tooth.”

The little Pokemon smiled at him serenely, belly full and heart content. Red candy coating and bits of berry clung to the fur around her mouth. That’d be a sticky mess for him and Julie to clean up later. But for now, they’d let her have her fun.

He couldn’t help but smile at her content little face. “Y’know, you don’t have to steal stuff anymore.”

“Pon?” Ogerpon’s eyes were wide with curiosity. And perhaps a little bit of sugar rush.

“You’re the guest of honor here now. Everybody here knows the truth now, an’ they love you. If you want somethin’, you can just ask for it.”

She seemed to consider this option silently, and solemnly took a bite out of the candy apple in each hand. (Paw? Sleeve, maybe? Kieran wasn’t sure exactly what to call them. Hand would do, for now.)

“But,” he said with a note of sternness in his voice, “you can’t just walk off with stuff that isn’t yours. You gotta let me or Julie pay for it first, ok?”

Ogerpon nodded, a sticky smile spreading on her orange fuzzy face. “Pon!”

“Good.” He patted her head gently. Ogerpon trilled happily, enjoying all the attention. She went in for another bite of each candy apple. As far as she was concerned, life was good.

If he could go back and tell his past self that in a year’s time, he’d be holding the ogre in his arms and feeding her snacks, the old him would have probably freaked out. It felt like an impossible dream back then, but here he was now, holding the now drowsy mythical creature in his arms like a child.

Julie ran up to them, holding a candied apple in each hand.

“There you are!” She held out an apple to Kieran, a small smile on her lips. “I got some apples for us. I figured you were getting hungry too.”

He took the apple gratefully. Warmth crept into his cheeks as his hand brushed hers. “Thank ya. I appreciate it.

“I made sure to pay for these, unlike a certain someone.” Julie scratched Ogerpon’s chin lovingly. The little ogre purred, regretting none of her previous actions.

“Was Mr. Fuji ok? He sounded kinda mad.”

“Yeah, he’s fine now. I think he has a new sales pitch now.” Julie swung out her arm dramatically. “Fuji’s Finest Apples, Ogerpon’s favorite snack! Get yours before they’re all gone!”

Kieran laughed. “Glad it all worked out.”

“Me too.” She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks for watching over Ponpon.”

“A-ah, yeah, of course!” He felt the Butterfree stirring in his stomach. “She’s no trouble. Well, not too much trouble anyway.

“Yeah.” Julie took another bite of her apple. Kieran followed suit, savoring the sweetness.

A comfortable silence fell between them as they looked back at the crowded food stands. It was nice to be away from the hustle and bustle for a moment.

Kieran glanced back at the girl beside him. The light from the lanterns sparkled in her eyes. She wore a contented smile, lips lined in a red lipstick he’d not seen her wear before today. His eyes lingered on her lips, then darted away.

If he could go back and tell his past self he was spending time alone with Julie like this, his old self would definitely freak out.

And if he could tell him what he had planned later that night, he’d probably faint.

Which leads us to the current moment.

Kieran was keenly aware of how close they were sitting on the bench. And how nice the view would be when the fireworks began. And how they were alone on the overlook. And how dry his mouth was at the thought of saying what he needed to say tonight.

He rubbed his sweaty palms on the pants of his jinbei once more. If there had been any glitter left on his hands, it was gone now.

Alright. It was now or never.

“H-hey Julie.” His voice wavered ever so slightly.

“Yeah?” Her smile was as radiant as ever. He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Uhm, s-so…I wanted to t-talk to you about somethin’.”

“Oh yeah? What’s up?”

“Uh, well… I was thinkin’…that…um…”

This was not going how he’d hoped. The words he’d practiced over and over were failing him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. But he wanted to, so badly.

He felt tears sting his eyes. This was just another failure in a long line of failures. This was nothing new for him, of course. He was just going to make a fool of himself and make Julie hate him. Or embarrass her. And himself. And-

Kieran forced himself to take a long slow breath.

No. That wasn’t true.

Julie had reminded him time and again in the past year how thoughts like that weren’t worth listening to. It wasn’t easy to tune them out, but he’d gotten better at it with time and practice. When he couldn’t do it alone, Julie had been a patient listener while he talked out his spiraling thoughts.

Right now, he needed to be as patient with himself as she had been all those times before.

All this panic was just him getting in his head again, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to-

Julie placed her hand atop his.

That was enough to snap him out of it.

“Kieran, are you ok?”

He looked up at her, finally meeting her gaze. For a moment, time stopped. He wasn’t sure if it was the lantern lights or his overheated imagination, but she looked more beautiful than ever. Her eyes sparkled in the lantern light, her hair was lightly blowing in the breeze, her lips – oh wowzers, he wanted to kiss them. Right here, right now.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to kiss her, and Arceus willing he wanted to be with her from now until he was old and gray.

But first, he had to tell her how he felt.

“Julie, I’ve been thinkin’ about this awhile, an’…well, I really have enjoyed gettin’ to know you and spendin’ time with you and all this week. And all this past year, really. And I got to thinkin’, I…I really like you. I didn’t want to come on too strong and scare you off, but I’m serious when I say I want to be with you, if you’ll have me. And, well, I know we traded Applins and all awhile ago, but… I want to ask you out properly.”

He took her hands in his and looked her in the eyes.

“Julie, will you be my girl?”

And there it was, out in the open.

His mind was racing. Did that sound too corny? Was it too much? How gently was she going to let him down?

His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he waited for her response.

He didn’t have to wait long.

She was grinning ear to ear.

“I’d love that.”

All his doubts floated away in an instant. He felt lighter than air.

“R-really?”

“Yes, really.” She squeezed his hand. “I mean it.”

“Oh wowzers.” He felt a little lightheaded, but in a good way. “I’m-“

Suddenly, a loud shriek pierced the air. Julie screamed in fright. Kieran pulled her close against him with one hand and reached for his Hydrapple’s Pokeball with the other. He scanned the area around him for where the sound had come from. There was nothing obvious: no people, no Pokemon, no nothing. Then what had that been all about?

A loud boom rang out, and an explosion of color filled the sky above the plaza. Red, blue, and yellow sparks of color hissed and crackled, then slowly melted away into the night sky.

Oh. Right. In all his excitement, he’d completely forgotten about the fireworks show tonight.

Julie sighed in relief. “Well, that’s one way to get the show started.”

“Yeah,” Kieran laughed shakily. His words were failing him again, but this time he didn’t mind so much. He was keenly aware of how tightly she was holding him and how warm she was against him. Her head rested on his chest, and he was sure she could hear his heart thudding away beneath her ear.

He thanked his lucky stars he’d hit a growth spurt in the past few months; she fit neatly in his arms like she belonged there. And in his mind, she did.

They fell into a comfortable silence once more, watching the fireworks fill the night sky before them with light. The light show meant the end of a week of celebration, and soon they’d have to part. Julie would be leaving for Paldea in the morning, and Kieran and Carmine would be heading back to Unova the week after. The summer had gone by way too fast.

But for now, they were together. That’s all that mattered.

But there was one more thing Kieran had to do before the night ended. He waited for a lull in the show to ask one last question.

“Hey Julie?”

“Mhm?” She sounded drowsy. It was nearly midnight, so it made sense why she would be getting sleepy. The thought of her falling asleep in his arms was a delicious one. But that was getting ahead of himself.

“You awake? Sounds like you’re dozin’ off a little.”

“Mhm, yup, totally…” Here she paused to yawn. “Totally fine.”

Kieran laughed softly. “Right. Um so, I wanna ask you somethin’ real quick.”

“Go ahead.”

“…May I kiss you?”

What he expected was for her to jump back in shock at his boldness, maybe even stammer out an excuse to run back towards the community center and out of his life forever.

What he didn’t expect was for her to drape her arms around his neck. She gave him a cheeky smile that only made him want to kiss her more.

“Go right ahead.”

Before he could overthink it, he leaned forward and his lips met hers.

Warmth bloomed in his chest as he savored the moment he’d been dreaming of for months. She tasted sweet like candied apples, with a hint of mint lip balm. The faint scent of roses wafted up from her hair and skin. Without exaggeration, this was the closest to heaven he’d ever felt. He held her close and deepened the kiss, not wanting to let go just yet.

As if on cue, the fireworks finale began. This time, the shrieking of the rockets launching in the air didn’t make them flinch. A rainbow of color filled the sky as dozens of fireworks exploded all at once, silhouetting the young lovers in a wall of light.

Kieran gently pulled away from Julie, lightheaded once again from pure joy.

“Was that ok?”

She looked up at him, a sparkle in her eyes and a dazed smile on her lips. “Oh yeah.”

He felt her hand touch the back of his head. The feeling of her hands in his hair sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Suddenly, his hair flopped down against his neck and face, and noticed his yellow scrunchie was now wrapped around her wrist. She gave him a look that stirred up the Butterfree in his stomach once more.

“My turn.”

—— Some time later…———

Carmine glanced at her phone once more, feeling more annoyed by the second. It was 12:45, and her brother was still not home. The fireworks show ended thirty minutes ago, and it took all of five minutes to walk to their house from Festival Plaza. She tapped her foot as she peeked out of her bedroom towards the front door. Where on earth was he?

She leaned against her doorframe, debating whether or not to go out looking for him. Surely he wouldn’t be going up to the Dreaded Den anymore, now that Ogerpon was with Julie. The cleanup crew would tidy up the plaza in the morning, so that wasn’t it either.

A thought occurred to her, one that raised her eyebrows, but she brushed it away quickly.

Nah, she thought. He’s not that bold.

A soft squeak of hinges and the click of the lock told her that Kieran was finally home. There was a slight clatter of wooden sandals against the floor as he took his shoes off.

Finally, she thought, took you long enough. She opened her mouth to tease her brother for dillydallying, but then she paused. She listened, wondering if she could believe her ears.

He was singing to himself. It was a happy tune, and one she recognized as he walked closer. A love song.

It had been a long time since she’d heard him sing like that. Years maybe, she thought sadly. Years of teasing and bullying at school had robbed him of his joy, and…yes, she admitted she had been part of the problem, too. Being a better sister was something she was actively working on now. She was doing her best to be supportive and kinder to her little brother, even when the temptation was real to tease him. Like right now.

Instead, she settled for spooking him as he walked by.

“Hey,” she said quietly. It was enough to make Kieran jump.

“Whoa, you scared me!” He paused to collect himself. “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Yeah, me too, but someone had to wait up for you. Where the heck were you?”

“Uh, well, y’see, Julie and I went for a walk after the fireworks show, an’ uh…we just lost track of time.” He grinned nervously. “I walked her home too. Er, well, to the community center that is. No way I’d let her walk back in the dark alone. That wouldn’t be very gentleman-like, would it?”

Carmine narrowed her eyes. He was rambling, and she knew he rambled when he lied. She flicked the light on in her room, curious if her hunch was correct.

Kieran blinked against the sudden flash of light. “Good grief, sis, warn me first before ya blind me.”

Carmine’s mouth dropped open. The first surprise was that his hair was down for the first time in ages. His scrunchie was nowhere in sight, and somehow his hair was covered in glitter. The second surprise was that his face was covered in red lipstick. The vast majority of it was on his lips, smeared here, there, and everywhere. Lighter kiss marks covered his cheeks and forehead, and one sneaky trail went down his neck to his collarbone. The faintest sent of rosy perfume hung in the air, and she knew it wasn’t her signature scent.

Maybe he had been bold enough to go for it, after all.

Kieran squinted against the light. “What’s wrong? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

“Nope, just you. Ya finally got enough sun this year to not look like one.”

Kieran stuck his tongue out at his sister. Even at sixteen years old, he wasn’t above acting childish if the moment called for it.

“Say, uh, random question,” Carmine began. “Did you ever get around to askin’ Julie out?”

His face lit up, grin broad and eyes sparkling. “Yeah! And guess what, she said yes!”

Carmine couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see her brother happy again. “I figured you did.”

“Wait, how did you guess?”

Carmine bit her lip to hold back her laughter. “Just a guess.” She waved him away. “Alright, it’s nearly one in the morning. Go wash up and go to bed. You’re smelly.”

Kieran sniffed the front of his jinbei, suddenly self-conscious. A soft smile graced his face for a moment. He then remembered where he was and who he was with. He cleared his throat. “S’not that bad, just a little sweaty.”

Aha, Carmine thought. So it was Julie’s perfume.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s bad enough for me, I could smell you at the front door.” She ruffled his hair, just like she had done when he was small. The only difference was that now he was nearly eye-to-eye with her. “Go on and shower before Grandma wakes up and gets nosy.”

Kieran nodded and turned to leave.

“Oh yeah, one more thing.”

“Mhm?”

“Makeup wipes are in the blue bag in the right-hand drawer.”

Kieran stared at her in confusion. Carmine gave him a serene, if smug, smile.

Then slowly, it dawned on him. His ears and cheeks flushed to match the shade of the lipstick all over his face.

He mumbled a thank you and rushed down the hall towards the bathroom. Carmine listened as he fumbled with the lock, and laughed to herself as he gasped at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She laughed, then shut the door to her bedroom. He’d be there awhile.

#dipplinshipping #dipplinshippingweek2024 #kieran x juliana #kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kay writes

[salparadiselost]

Do you have any headcanons or blurbs about To Hear, To See, To Smile by chance? I love abomination batboys so much🥺

I have this blurb. It may show up as a beginning of a story one day. Me and @jube514 were actually writing it out for a bit, but we kinda lost the plot. I do think the lore implications are fun though. IDK if it will ever fully develop, but this is the intro scene. -----

Bruce ambles behind his pack of children, slowly bringing up the rear in their little journey to the Gotham Museum of Science & History. It’s the middle of a day on a weekday, timed exactly to when the museum would be the least busy. 

And yet, there’s still some people milling about, floating through exhibits, and subtly avoiding his sons as they tear through centuries of humanity.

“I want to do the Egypt section next,” Dick gripes as his siblings drag him in the exact opposite direction of the Egypt section. They had already done South America, Africa, only part of Asia, and had just finished up with the “The Fight for a Better America: The Wake of the Civil War”. Now they were traveling out of the Americas more towards the European section.

“We will get to Egypt, Dickie,” Jason growled, shoving Dick with a shoulder. “But that’s on the entire other side of the museum. It’s going to be our last stop.”

“Well, it could have been done sooner if someone hadn’t wanted to look at the most depressing photos I’ve ever seen.”

Jason’s head reared back and Bruce rolled his eyes. He hoped his boys would eventually grow out of the phase where their favourite sibling bonding activity was bickering with each other. 

Tim freezes as they enter the next exhibit of the museum, making Dick and Jason abruptly end their argument about ‘The Dead of Antietam’ to avoid almost slamming into him.

“Move it, Timbo,” Jason growls, the sound harsher than was actually meant. His human form flickers for a second (too wide a maw, too many teeth), but Jason brings it under control with practiced ease and only a twitch of his glamored-on nose. If his puppyish ears were out, they would be flat against his skull. 

They knew that they needed to be very solidly human while they were in public places nowadays. Bruce didn’t want any threats made against them, more afraid of his boys getting hurt than saving the sanity of the general public to be honest. The man already had too many close calls with one of his boys flickering and resulting in some instinct-crazed person deciding they would try to be a hero by attacking his sons.

They’re called many names by many cultures– engkanto, fae, yōkai– but the scientific name of what they are in papers is H. admonition solitaria. God’s lonely rebuke.

There are several theories on how the etymology went from ‘admonition’ to ‘abominations’, but that’s what they’re called colloquially nowadays. The wretched. Monsters. Abominations.

No matter what they are called, the reaction they get has always been the same, often triggering the same primal instinct to hurt, maim, kill, on humans. 

These creatures drove regular people to do things they normally wouldn’t do– like maybe pull a knife on a ten-year-old’s throat as he held his father’s hand, or attempt to slam a small teen into the wall while they waited for ice cream. The affected humans never quite remembered why they had attacked the child — only that there was something deeply, inherently, wrong with the boys to receive such an attack.

It was a wrong that followed them from the very start. They could never quite shake it off. It drove them to cry into comfort, to home– to Bruce’s shoulder as he held their same shaking body and tried desperately to calm away the scare.

It made public outings dangerous, but Bruce wouldn’t lock his boys up in the Manor, even if it was the safest option. All three of them had been trapped for too much time in their short lives; Bruce wasn’t willing to be another jailer.

Hence, the visit to Gotham’s Science & History Museum. But only with certain parameters, of Bruce being right by their sides, and only in the middle of the day on a Wednesday when foot traffic would be at its lowest.

Dick sighs and pushes Jason to the side so they could walk around Tim.

“Come on,” Dick tells his younger brothers gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his smile. “You don’t want Bruce to leave you behind, do you?”

Bruce nearly scoffs at the implication. 

As if he would ever abandon any one of his children.

Jason stalks his way over to Bruce’s side, ignoring the way the people move away from him out of instinct. There weren’t any indications the fellow museum-goers even register he was there, just that there’s something wrong in the air and they have to scuttle outwards to the edges of the exhibit as soon as they can. 

Most people are like that– like they could sense the (many, so, so many) teeth even if they could not see them. 

Soon, only Bruce, his children, and the silent paintings of the exhibit remained in the room.

Jason makes his way to Bruce’s side, unconsciously bumping their sides together in a greeting that was more creature than human, but also a habit of Jason’s. Bruce found it to be wildly endearing.

Despite how human all of them looked, they always carried some bits of their creature bodies.

Dick is tactile as a bird, and even more so when he has a pair of hands. He’s constantly touching, grooming, or checking that one of his siblings is there next to him. 

He always listens, too. Of course, he always listened– is listening– but that was because of his species, with their (way too many) ears. Dick, as a constantly talking and touching brother, is because of his personality– someone who’s unlearning touch as something that hurts, that touch can be soft and caring, after all these years.

Jason, although he’s a wolf only in the vaguest sense, is prone to leaning up on his ‘pack’ and didn’t hesitate to show his teeth in a smirk or a (wide, too wide set) grin. Bruce knows that despite his comfort, the boy still fought to keep some of his more canine growls out of his throat. 

(Or, especially when he had been younger, to keep himself from biting visiting aristocrats who had patted his head and had complimented him on ‘developing manners despite being born in that horrid Alley’.)

Tim showed his alternative form in very different ways, unlike his brothers. He wasn’t bound to an animal (the way teeths were wolves and ears were birds), as his shadowy form was more fluid than form. He could be anything if he wanted to. Small or large. Solid as stone or as ever-changing as water. 

He showed he was something more by his stares and that, when he looked at you, you were always sure that (many, many more oh my god there’s too many) eyes looked back. 

A smile too wide, eyes too knowing, a face too distorted.

“Tim, what’s wrong?” The concern in Dick’s voice jolts Bruce out of his own head and makes him look toward their youngest. 

Tim is still standing in the entryway, eyes wide and fixed upon the exhibit stand in the middle of the room. 

For the first time, Bruce truly looks at it. 

It’s a crystal ball but with some kind of dark fluid suspended in the middle. The ball was on a moving pedestal that constantly turned it, making the dark fluid swirl almost hypnotically in the sphere. 

He guessed it was a display for ferrofluid, a magnetic fluid that was reacting to whatever charge was in the pedestal. A metallic ink that was constantly fleeing from the magnet underneath it. 

“Tim?” He asks, looking back toward his son. Dick’s face is growing more concerned by the second and even Jason began to shuffle at Bruce’s side anxiously. 

Tim shudders, eyes snapping towards Bruce. For a second, just a second, he looks scared and deeply unsettled in a way that inevitably puts Bruce on edge. Then, he schools his features and forces himself to look calmer. 

Bruce doesn’t doubt that Dick could hear Tim’s quicker heartbeat and that Jason could taste the sour tang of his discomfort.

“I… It’s fine. I’m being stupid,” Tim mutters, edging into the room like he thought the exhibit was going to bite him.

It set off all the alarm bells in Bruce’s head. 

It reminds him of the crying little boy in the Drake Manor who had constantly insisted that he was fine despite being blindfolded and locked alone in a room. Bruce still can’t stop the bile that rises to his throat when he thinks about the iron marks on Tim’s scarred skin.

Tim is scared. Bruce didn’t need to listen or taste to know that. Something is scaring Tim.

But what, and most importantly, why?

His eyes went back to the crystal ball and the churning fluid within it.

Was it…

“Hi!” A bright voice interrupts and all of their attentions snaps toward the chirpy museum volunteer that bounces into the room. “I saw you were interested in the crystal ball. Do you have any questions?”

Bruce is just about to say ‘no, thank you’, but Tim cuts in before he could.

“Yes,” Tim says, walking forward toward the crystal ball. He gives her a handsome gala smile. One that said Martha’s Vineyard summers and expensive polo shirts tucked into even more expensive jeans. Bruce could see it cracking at the edges, shadows flickering at the seams of his mouth. “What is it exactly? What’s in it?”

“Of course!” She replies, merrily walking towards the exhibit. She holds her arms out like she’s presenting a show rather than some display case.

“This is a crystal ball from the 12th century and we estimate its origin to be Romania, however this type of object is known to travel around so it’s impossible to know for sure. Crystal balls, like this one, were used in gypsy fortune telling—“ Bruce catches Dick’s flinch at the slur and the way he edges away from the volunteer and back towards Bruce and Jason “—and it traveled with them in their caravans so they could use them to predict the future for customers. This one, in particular, is a beautiful specimen and on loan from Rome.”

Tim nods along with the explanation, but his pinched look doesn’t waver. “And the inside?”

Her smile gets impossibly wider. “That’s the most interesting part. Nobody knows for sure and we’re hesitant to crack a ball open because they are so rare, but legend says that the black fluid is Seer blood and bone. The fortune tellers taught that it helped them see into the future and into other realms.”

Bruce’s breath catches in his chest and he watches Tim’s face pale. 

“Seer? Like an– like an abomination?” His voice trips up on the last word. The volunteer’s voice only gets more excited.

“Yes, the gypsies were quite adept in hunting down the seeing abominations. They were well known across Europe for their prowess and the little villages would hire them to take care of a seeing Abomination if they had one lurking about. The people were said to train owls to hunt them.”

“Owls?” It was Dick who asks this time.

“Yeah, owls! Although, it’s just a legend because scientists don’t know how they possibly could have trained any birds given their technology. Any modern attempts have failed to replicate any of them and it’s not like they were prioritizing making manuals when they had monsters to hunt.

The hunting owls of the gypsies are common figures in European myths, though. They are said to have been great listeners and able to follow any of their trainers’ commands. They were used primarily to hunt Seeing abominations,  but could also be used to bring down deer and boars. The gypsies treasured them and were said to sleep with them in their caravans, treating them almost like they were their children. Many European kings tried to steal the owls from them, but… well let’s just say it never ended up good for the Kings.”

Her smile turns a little dark, but then suddenly, it brightens.

“Do you have any more questions?”

#kay speaks #kay writes #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #abomination au #to hear

[murdocksluvrr]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄

❥ eddie munson x gn!reader

❥ summary: eddie comforts you after an impromptu mental breakdown

❥ warnings: angst, fluff & hopeful ending, pet names

❥ A/N: this is my first eddie fic!! it’s a bit self indulgent but i hope it’s enjoyable anyway. reblogs are highly appreciated !!!

hot tears manage to tip over the brim of your waterline, staining your pained face. your vision is cloudy, unable to clearly comprehend the space surrounding you. his clattered floor, the bedsheets crinkled around your limbs, loose items scattered on his nightstand— it all becomes a blur as sobs rack through your body.

the worries of yesterday find themselves lost in the sea of your current anxious mind. your movements don’t even feel like a part of you anymore; like someone or something has taken control and put the real you to sleep. much to your dismay, eddie knows nothing of your tears and shaky hands. his arrival to the trailer about half an hour ago called for an immediate trip to the shower, especially after a long day of rehearsal with corroded coffin. being with eddie is your favorite part of the day, and it remains your favorite despite the position you’re in now.

after a few moments, you find it in yourself to breathe deeply. trembling fingers find their way around his bedside table for a tissue box, and once you’ve acquired it, your cheeks absent of wet streams as they soak into the soft cloth. the door to his bedroom creaks open as eddie walks through, his chest on full display with only boxers to cover his middle. his hands are lost underneath his towel as he dries his freshly dampened hair, and a sweet hum fills the old silence (a melody you recognize to be one from his band).

only then is he snapped out of his daze when he hears you sniffle, and immediately his brows furrow at your reddened eyes.

“hey,” he voices, quickly settling himself by your side. “what’s wrong, honey?”

the skin on your back is met with his gentle touch as he traces soft circles underneath your shirt. he doesn’t push, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts and feelings. one small tear escapes as you look down, but he’s quick to catch it; his thumb soothing your damp cheek.

“i’m not really sure what happened…” you try to explain. “i was fine all day until something changed, and the weight became too much.”

your eyes stay fixed on the sheets beneath you, your hands fiddling with the ring on your finger. a thick silence envelopes the both of you and suddenly you’re afraid that your confession has made eddie uncomfortable. it’s an irrational thought, you know it is. there is no reason for your feelings to bring him discomfort. but the worry of being a burden is heavy on your heart.

“look at me, baby,” he coaxes softly, tilting your chin up. “you don’t need to say any more if you don’t want to. i’m here now but that doesn’t mean you need a brave face for me…”

he pauses, looking between your eyes. “whatever is making you down will go away, i promise. for now, let’s just relax together, okay?”

both of his hands have found their way to your face, cupping it as if you’re the most gentle thing he’s ever held. the roughness of his palms ground you from the far-away, otherworldly headspace you were trapped in. the aching feeling you couldn’t quite describe starts to simmer under his touch…under his love.

one of the many things you’ve always admired about eddie is how he always accepted you as you are, never daring to fix you. his love never falters even on your worst days, and moments like these remind you why you fell for him in the first place. sure, his looks were a big reason, or the way he never changed for anybody despite his title of being the “town freak”. but his heart is his most admirable trait by a long shot, even if it’s hidden underneath metal and rock at first glance.

you give him a small smile, melting into his touch. his mouth mirrors yours not long before his lips meet your forehead in a firm kiss. the smell of his body wash rolls off of his skin in a wave as he retracts underneath the blanket, inviting you with his arms wide. hurriedly, you scamper toward him and settle yourself onto his chest.

“i love you so much,” he whispers, placing another kiss to your head. “how do you still look so beautiful even after crying that pretty little heart out?”

you chuckle at his words, a genuine smile adorning your face. “i love you more,” you say, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes.

as the minutes go by, the both of you stay cuddled into each other. eddie softly sings your favorite song before he can stop himself; his voice soothing your mind and body. at some point, your eyelids find themselves heavy…the soft sound of song mending itself into oblivion as sleep washes over you. eddie, with his arms wrapped around you in an instinctive embrace, follows suit not long after, silently hoping that whatever trouble lays on your heart doesn’t find it’s way to the dreams that are soon to invade your mind.

#kay writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

[supermarvelgirl15]

When We Drink Cold Water

Summary: You made yourself look up, locking eyes with Joel before you were suddenly plunged into a new world of cold and darkness. You tried to swim back up to the surface, but it was as if the ice-cold water didn't want you to leave. Something was pulling you back down, further away from the much needed air, further away from Joel.

Pairing: Joel Miller × f!reader

Word Count: 3,450

Warnings: Guns, blood, canon-typical violence, near death experiences, choking, almost drowning, angst, and possible hypothermia

A/N: The Last of Us has taken a hold of my life as you can see, so of course I had to write a fic for my grumpy old man! This is my first time writing for Joel, so I apologize if I don't capture him perfectly yet. I hope you all enjoy it!!

Main Masterlist

××××××

    It was cold.

    The air fogged in front of you with every breath you took, the frigid air filling your lungs. Snow crunching beneath your boots as the two of you walked was the only sound that you could hear in the isolated town that you were trekking through.

    You pulled your jacket closer to you as the wind picked up, huffing out a clear sound of annoyance. You didn't want to cut through the town to begin with, saying that it'd be safer to just go around and head straight into the woods.

    There was a lesser chance of running into... inconveniences that way.

    But Joel said it was quicker this way, and the both of you needed to loot up on supplies anyhow. He said you'd only stay long enough to gather what was needed and then find a place to crash for the night.

    So, you followed him–albeit reluctantly–into what used to be a little convenience store, gathering what you could find as quick and thorough as possible. The faster the two of you got out of there the better.

    “I used to love getting these,” you said aloud, using the toe of your boot to poke at what used to be an old slushie machine that laid broken on the ground. It was hard to believe that it been almost twenty years since the last time you tasted one.

    Joel looked over from where he had found some ammo hidden behind the counter, a huff of air that someone that didn't know him would mistake as a chuckle leaving his nose. “I preferred coffee.”

    You wrinkled your nose at the thought of the taste of a bland convenience store coffee. Before you could comment on his apparent addiction, a sound from outside made you stop in your tracks completely.

    Voices. Human ones.

    Your eyes immediately locked with Joel's as he signaled you to duck down. Whoever it was was just outside the window near you. If you were lucky, they were just fellow travelers just making their way through the town just like you.

    You were never that lucky.

    Slowly, you crept over to the window, barely peeking your head over to see what exactly you were up against.

    There were five men at the least, all of them holding a weapon of some kind as they scanned the streets. It looked as of they were looking for something, or maybe even somebody.

    “What do you see?” Joel whispered, staying in his crouched position behind the counter. He held his revolver in his right hand, his finger ready at the trigger.

    “At least five men, all armed,” you replied, freezing when the voices of the group outside suddenly go quiet.

    The only thing you could hear now was their boots in the snow until someone called out, “I got tracks!”

    Your eyes flashed over to Joel once again as you slowly reached for your shotgun that hung on your backpack. Joel raised his hand up to tell you to stop, his eyes flicking up to the window just above your head.

    “I think they're in here!” The same voice shouted as he jumped in through the window. Before the man could even react to almost landing on top of you, Joel's revolver shot out a bullet between his eyes.

    You were quick to sling your shotgun around then, jumping to hide behind the counter with Joel. All the other men started yelling now, as if the sound of Joel's gun was the signal to start a war.

    More shots rung out as the other men blindly fired into the store, their bullets tearing through what little was left on the shelves. You cocked your shotgun, quickly jumping up to fire a shot, just barely missing one of them as they ducked for cover. You swiftly squatted back down with your back to the counter.

    “I told you we should've went around,” you muttered annoyingly, tensing when a bullet hits an object off the counter just above you.

    “Save it.” Joel jumped up just like you did to shoot, but judging by the scream, he actually hit one. “I'm gonna go out the back and get behind ’em. Stay here and stay down.”

    You shake your head. “No, you should stay here and cover me–you've always been the better shot. I can take them down while you distract them.” It was the more logical thing to do, but Joel wouldn't hear it.

    “No. Stay here and stay down,” he repeated sternly. You open up your mouth to protest again, but he headed out the back before you could say anything.

    Cursing Joel under your breath, you give your attention back to the men outside. They stopped firing, the crunching of the snow giving themselves away. “We know you're in here,” one of them taunts in a singsong voice as he steps inside.

    Oh, screw Joel.

    You pop up with your shotgun aimed at him, a smirk plastered on your face. “Hey there, handsome.” The man doesn't even get the chance to raise his gun before you've pulled the trigger, flinging him out the door he came from.

    The action is enough to give away your position, the others shooting in your direction. You make a break for it and dive behind one of the rotten shelves just as a Molotov was thrown your way. If this wasn't enough distraction for Joel, then he really is getting old.

    Just then, you hear a bomb go off, the sound of nails hitting everything in radius, along with the screams of the men that happened to be standing just too close. Hopefully that was all of them.

    “You son of a bitch!” Never mind.

    You took the chance to look out the window, seeing Joel getting swung at with a bat covered in barbed wire as another man continued to shoot at him.

    Quickly, you reloaded and made a run for it out the door, sneaking up behind the man with the gun. “Hey!” You shouted just as you shot him in the chest. You looked up to see the other man using the bat to pin Joel against a wall, the wire cutting into his skin.

    Before you could make a move towards him, your body was slammed into the ground, the air escaping your lungs throwing you into a slight panic.

    Another man had tackled you into the snow, the momentum causing your shotgun to fly out of your hands. You didn't even get the chance to earn your breath back before his hands found their way around your neck and his knees pinned you down. The look that he held in his eyes was enough to give you nightmares on its own.

    Your nails started clawing at his face, desperately trying to get him to loosen his grip on your throat. Your vision was starting to spot and you thought you could hear Joel screaming your name, or was that just the lack of oxygen? You just prayed that he wouldn't die as well.

    Your thumbs were finally able to find his devilish eyes, and you shoved them in there as far as you could go. The man yelled then, letting go of your neck to grab your wrists. You took the moment to take a deep breath and used your legs to push him off you. You scrambled after your shotgun that laid just ahead of you in the snow, but paused when you heard a gun click.

    Slowly, you turned around on your back, facing him. There was blood dripping down from his eyes, the gun pointed at your face just as deadly as his stare.

    “You slut!”

    A shot rung out...but you weren't dead.

    The gun fell out of his hands, him following after it. You watched as the snow started to soak up the hunter's blood as it pooled around his head. He was dead.

    You grabbed your shotgun as you slowly stood back up, your hand reaching up to rub at your throat. You finally tore your eyes away from the body to look at where the shot came from, meeting Joel's eyes that held nothing but anger.

    “Than–”

    “I told you to stay down.”

    Your brows knitted together. “You're welcome? What was I supposed to do? Let ’em kill you?” You inquired, slinging your gun over your shoulder. He couldn't be serious. “Besides, if we had just done it my way, it would've been a whole lot smoother.”

    Joel scoffed. “If we had did your way, we both would've been dead.” He bent down to check the man's jacket for anything useful. You just stood there, watching him. He really couldn't be serious.

    The sounds of more gunfire interrupted the both of you. Joel picked up the bat that was just used against him moments earlier, the cuts on his hands proof of it. “Let's get a move on.”

    You wanted to protest, not wanting to drop the subject so quickly, but was stopped by inhuman screeches coming from the same direction of the gunfire. Runners.

    Without another word, the two of you jogged out of the town, heading down a trail through the woods. Neither of you did nothing to get rid of the thick atmosphere that surrounded you, even when the sun began to disappear into the familiar darkness.

    Tonight, the darkness brought a frigid cold to join it, the worst of it seeping through your layers. There was something poetic about winter during this new world. The harsh season ripping away what was left of the already decaying world. At least the trees and flowers were given a second chance once spring came. Not everyone was that fortunate.

    There was a time when you loved winter. The fluffiness of the snow that made you giddy like you were a kid and the redness that would spread across your cheeks when the wind hit them. Now the once cherished season brought nothing but dread and death. Much like the reality everyone now lived in.

    “Here.” Joel started towards a cabin that set up on a hill. The wood had seen better days, but so had you. All of the windows were boarded up from the inside. Someone had holed up here at one time. Hopefully they were no longer were.

    Joel opened the door up with a shiv, peeking his head in as he scanned the room. He nodded his head towards you, meaning it was clear.

    Once you stepped inside, you could still feel the ghosts of the ones that used to live here. Your feet stopping when your eyes landed on a discarded teddy bear. Maybe they were still alive somewhere.

    Maybe.

    Sitting down in one of the near rotted chairs, Joel dug through his backpack, pulling out his canteen of water. “Take this,” he said, holding it towards you.

    You sat down on the molded couch, your back to him. “I'm good,” you replied shortly. You bit the inside of your cheek as you dug through your bag for your own canteen. “I can actually take care of myself, believe it or not.”

    Joel ran his hand over his face, dropping his canteen back into his pack. “You're still on that shit?”

    You faced him then as you stood back up, your bag falling over. “Yes, Joel, I'm still on ‘that shit.’ I don't know where you got the idea that I'm totally helpless without you. I survived long before I met you, Miller.” You shoved a finger in his direction. “If it wasn't for me today, you would've been dead.”

    Joel stood up as well, taking a few steps towards you. “You were almost killed,” he seethed. “If you had listened to me none of that shit would've happened!” He shoved the chair behind him across the room, but you didn't flinch. You were too fired up to care.

    “I had it under control. We've had plenty of close calls before,” you pointed out.

    An incredulous laugh left Joel's lips. “Under control? Then explain that.” Joel gestured to your bruised neck, your fingers reaching up to ghost over it. “If I was just a second too late, you would've been good as dead.”

    If you weren't so blinded by your rage, you would've caught the catch in his throat as the words left him. “What are you saying, Joel?” You asked, your fists clenching at your sides.

    “If it wasn't for me, you would've been killed a long time ago.” His words struck you like a knife, the voice in your head reminding you of what you feared all along, pushing the knife even deeper. You wouldn't listen to him. You couldn't.

    You gathered yourself before you spoke again. “If I'm so useless to you, then why did you want me to go to Boston? The only reason I'm even out here is because of you. So tell me, Joel, why?” You asked through gritted teeth.

    Joel just stood there, not saying a word. You waited for what felt like an eternity for him to say anything, but he didn't. You nodded, taking his silence as an answer, and bent down to pick up your bag. “I'm done.”

    You headed back out the door, the wind burning into your face, but you didn't care. You needed to get of there. Now.

    You could hear Joel's boots as he came out behind you. “What the hell are you doing?” He called after you, but you continued on.

    “I don't need you to babysit me. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!” You called back, refusing to face him. You just needed to get out of here.

    “You are goin’ out in the middle of nowhere when it's freezing-cold. Smart!” Joel continued, staying just behind you.

    Your hands tightened around yourself as you kept your eyes forward. “Then quit following me!”

    When you heard his boots stop moving behind you, you thought for once that Joel finally listened to you. But again, you were never that lucky.

    “Come back here, now.” His voice was lower than it had been, but that didn't deter you.

    “No!”

    “Stop!”

    “I don't need to listen to a word that comes out of your fu–”

    You finally stopped when you heard something crack beneath you. Your eyes slowly casted down to see fractures of ice run in different directions under your feet. Joel was saying something to you, but it fell upon deaf ears, your mind racing with everything that led you to this very single moment.

    You made yourself look up, locking eyes with Joel before you were suddenly plunged into a new world of cold and darkness. You tried to swim back up to the surface, but it was as if the ice-cold water didn't want you to leave. Something was pulling you back down, further away from the much needed air, further away from Joel. Your backpack felt like you had nothing but hundreds of bricks in it, dragging you to the bottom. The coldness stiffened your body, making it harder and harder to move.

    Right when you started to give in to the icy darkness, something grabbed you by under your arms and pulled you up towards the surface. As soon as you broke free, you gasped for air, the remaining water in your mouth turning your lungs into icicles. The frigid air mixed with the freezing water that soaked into your clothes made it hard to do anything aside from violently shaking, your body working as much as it could to give you at least a little warmth. It wasn't working, especially with the cold air making it difficult to breathe.

    The arms that pulled you up now wrapped their selves around you, picking you up. “I gotcha. It's okay, I gotcha.” You heard a voice repeat the mantra several times, but you couldn't make out who it belonged to. You turned your face to bury yourself into their jacket, the familiar scent of gunpowder and wood flooding your senses.

    “J-J-Joel?”

    “Shhh, I got you, sweetheart,” Joel comforted you, using his foot to open the door to the cabin. “I'm gonna get you warmed up, okay? Here,” he gently set you down in front of the fireplace, “I'm gonna get some wood. Stay here.”

    You nodded the best you could, holding yourself as tightly as you could manage. Joel brought back a blanket he had found in the bedroom, wrapping it around your shoulders before promising he'd be right back.

    Your eyelids felt heavy, but you knew better than to close them. You knew if you closed them now, it was more than likely that you'd never open them again. It was easier to keep them open with the help of your teeth chattering non-stop.

    Just as promised, Joel came back in with some firewood, quickly throwing them into the fireplace. It took him a few tries to get the fire going with his lighter, the cold wood not wanting to give him what he so desperately needed. He cursed to himself, grabbing a pillow from the couch and used it to feed the fire.

    Joel let out a sigh of relief as he turned to look back at you, the short-lived relief immediately leaving him at the sight of your closed eyes. He grabbed your face, patting your cheeks firmly. “Hey, I need you to keep them eyes open for me, sweetheart. C'mon now,” he said to you gently, your eyes fluttering open. Apparently your chattering teeth did nothing to help.

    Biting his lip, Joel slowly pulled the blanket off you. “You need to get out of your wet clothes,” he told you as he took your backpack off. You tried to help him, but he shook his head. “Let me do it.”

    Layer by layer, Joel took your clothes off, throwing them to the other side of the room. You attempted to smile at him as he wrapped you back up in the blanket. “You're su-supposed to take, t-take me to dinner f-first,” you joked as your teeth grinded together.

    Joel tried to return something of a tired smile back to you. “Maybe next time,” he replied, shrugging his jacket off. Your eyes widened as he started to take the rest of his clothes off as well.

    “W-w-what are y-you–”

    “You need body heat,” Joel stated, taking the blanket to wrap around the both of you. He gently laid you both on the ground in front of the fire, holding you against him with your back to his chest.

    The two of you laid there in silence, waiting for your shaking to subside. You watched the fire dance in front of you, the flames performing a show before your very eyes. The firey performers couldn't hold your attention, however, your mind solely focusing on the arms that held you together.

    “I'm s-s-sorry,” you apologized, fighting against the tears that pricked your eyes. “Y-you were r-right.”

    You felt Joel shift behind you. “About what?”

    A shaky breath ran through your body. “I'd never m-make it without y-you,” you admitted. Joel remained quiet for a moment, leaving you to your tormented thoughts, before slowly turning you to face him.

    “You'd be a whole lot better off without me.”

    Your eyebrows furrowed together. “I almost fr-froze to death in a l-lake. I don't th-think so,” you scoffed.

    Joel took a deep breath. “If it wasn't for me, none of that shit today would have happened.” You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. “You're one hell of a survivor. I've just been too caught up to remember that.”

    You raised a brow. “C-caught up in what?”

    He just raked his eyes over your face, running a calloused thumb over your cheek. “We can save it for later. Let's just get you warmed up first.” Joel pulled the blanket over you more, snapping out of whatever trance he was just in.

    Slowly, you allowed yourself to lay your head on his chest, holding him closer to you. Your heart began to race as you overturned his words over and over in your head. You wondered if he knew how long you've prayed for a moment like this with him, aside from the possible hypothermia.

    “Joel?”

    “Hmm?”

    “I've b-been caught up, too.”

    You hoped your words meant the same to him, squirming slightly when he remained silent. Your head rose up with his chest as he let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening around you.

    Joel leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”

    The fire held no comparison to the warmth that filled you while you laid there with him.

××××××

#joel miller × reader #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #troy baker #kay writes

[meraxesmoon]

Thinking about Aegon being absolutely whipped for his wife...

warnings: yandere content, aegon ig, idk he's horrible but not here lol, sexual content, babytrapping, I have baby fever again, ppl who write him as a top blow my mind bc what part of this man screams dom to you lmao 🤣

(Name), his precious wife, is the absolute center of Aegon's world. To be fair, there isn't much else going on with him, but it's the thought that counts.

She's the oldest child and only daughter of his half-sister, so many would imagine that their marriage is somewhat toxic, which is true, just not in the way most people think. Aegon is so dependent on the affection from his wife that he hardly has time for anything else. She's his savior in many ways, and Aegon's terrified of losing her.

Just thinking about how Rhaenyra would want to annul their marriage because she doesn't believe that Aegon is good enough for her baby girl! Aegon hears this from his brother and cries the entire night.

He would be absolutely lost without his dear wife and knows that his life would mean nothing without her.

Then he comes up with an ingenious plan.

He'll pump her full of his babies so the marriage can't be annulled!

Aegon uses that pathetic puppy look every night to convince his lovely wife to fuck him. He's on his back each evening as she rides him as though he were her dragon, and Aegon absolutely loves it.

He's such a whore for her, too. Aegon always puts on a performance for his wife, and he's incredibly insatiable.

And once she starts to swell in her midsection, Aegon can't help but feel relieved. The next time his sister returns to Kings Landing, she finds her daughter heavily pregnant.

Aegon couldn't be more smug.

idk guys, he looks like he'd call me mommy and let me peg him 🤧

#ignore my end note #cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere aegon ii targaryen #yandere team green #yandere smut #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere got #yandere game of thrones #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

[dawnbreakersgaze]

Excuse me but the idea of MC and Xav sitting on their respective balconies and texting each other The Tea while people watching in their neighborhood is both so silly and so endearing to me.

So let's go on a small adventure, shall we?

Warnings: None.

Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated fluff.

The late morning sun was already warming you through the windows of your tiny apartment before you'd even stepped foot outside. It was finally mid-spring in Linkon, which meant you could enjoy your late breakfast on the patio without having to worry about a stray chill or errant frost dampening your weekly Saturday 'brunch' plans.

Opening the patio door with your granola bar in one hand and phone in the other, you settle into the cushioned bench that overlooked your apartment courtyard and took a deep breath. Sometimes it felt like winter was neverending in Linkon, but you could finally feel the tension of the gripping cold that had settled in your bones start to slowly bleed from you.

After getting comfortable, you finally pulled out your phone, and quickly found your brunch 'date's' contact info, sending him the customary "Get up it's people watching hour" text.

[Hey Xav, you up? I'm already on my balcony?]

It doesn't take long for his reply. This has been your weekly tradition for a few months now. Ever since you had both just so happened to see that kid getting dragged down the street by the monstrous hound, it had become something of a... habit for the two of you to text each other the funny happenings on your street when you were home. Not that either of you were particularly prone to gossip, but the simple domesticity of it was oddly comforting after a long week of getting slogged on by wanderers.

[Yeah I'm up. Give me a sec]

The soft ping of your notification broke the peace, followed shortly by the shuffling of his patio door sliding open from above you. Sure, you could simply call out and greet him, as the acoustics out here are great and the soundproofing is atrocious, but the silence is cozy, and the atmosphere almost feels magical. This is your ritual, after all.

It's a bit like a storybook scene, you think, the two of you sharing a moment in time together yet still separated by some outside force. Maybe it was silly, but the fabricated longing almost made it feel romantic in a way that you're sure your neighbor would find ridiculous.

When you hear his footsteps above you come to a halt, you immediately notice something in particular is missing, however.

[You forgot your coffee Xav. Are you gonna be able to stay awake?]

[How could U tell?]

[I didn't smell any burning 🤭🔥]

He doesn't reply, but you can hear the huff he makes over the railing as his footsteps retreat, fading behind the sliding door once again. You don't even try to hold back the laughter his reaction elicits from you, hopeful the concrete carries it to him easily.

When he finally does reemerge, faint smell of bitter charred beans on the wind, his phone is already buzzing with the morning's newest additions to your people watching portfolios.

An older man you'd long ago dubbed "Green Thumb" who liked to frequent the flower garden outside your apartment complex was already taking photos of the new stargazer lily blossoms that had just opened this morning. So enamored by the vibrant petals, he didn't even seem to notice the couple he'd backed into who'd happened to spill their groceries all over the sidewalk. You heard Xavier call "Watch out!" From above you when he'd recognized the impending impact, but at your distance, it was no use.

[That was nice of you Xav. Too bad it didn't help 🫠]

[I can't believe they didn't see Green Thumb. He was so hard to miss. Even when Ur distracted U still see better]

[HEY! I'm not the one who sleep walks! 💀]

[And yet I'm always there to guard Ur back partner]

He's right of course, though you're not going to tell him. Xavier likes to play the part of a soft and harmless little thing, but it doesn't take much to stoke the hunter into burning hotter than you intended. His evol might be light, but you know better than anyone that light, under careful concentration, can start a blazing fire if you're not mindful. His teasing isn't ever harmful though, so instead you decide to simply poke the bear.

[Only because I'm starting to suspect you like it back there]

The distinct sound of a phone accidentally hitting the concrete marks the end of that thread.

Its not long before another of your regulars, pair of young kids Xavier had called the Trouble Twins arrived on scene. Aptly named for the number of times their poor mother has chastised them for chasing the ducks and picking the flowers, the siblings were quite the rambunctious duo. Today they seem to be a few steps ahead of their vigilant mother, rushing into the park with high-pitched hollers and improvised swords made of small branches they'd found. Today's unfortunate conquest seemed to be the pigeons that were being fed by the local grannies.

[They look like a pair of knights today don't they?]

[Knights? Don't knights usually protect people?]

[Maybe they're protecting us from the pigeons]

[Xavier those old ladies look pretty mad idk. That one even tried to chase the boy and almost caught him!]

The pause in messages was punctuated by his soft laughter above you, carried on the spring breeze. It was so warm, so genuine, so comfortable. You didn't need a mirror to feel the heat bloom in your cheeks; the overwhelming sensation of ardor flooding you at the the very sound.

[You're right. He needs more training. A good Knight should never be caught by an old lady]

[.... I don't think that's the message here Xav]

The rest of your morning goes back and forth like this for another hour. Watching your favorite people pass by, concocting new and interesting stories for them as they pass your balconies. Xavier has very interesting and oddly insightful opinions on those around him, considering you don't really recall seeing him with many friends. None the less, his company and companionship on your balconies has easily become your favorite part of the week. The only noises between you are the laughter that passes back and forth as the texts volley from one to another.

Finally, as the afternoon sun starts to become an uncomfortable heat, your phone chimes once more.

[I'm getting kind of hungry]

[Oh good. You're warning me this time. Thanks!]

[What?]

[No. I was going to ask if U wanted to go to lunch. With me, I mean?]

And just like that, the storybook was snapping shut. No longer a fragment lost in time where two people gazed at the same scene together from two separate places, but a tangible moment you could step into. Something intimate and real.

Perhaps you stayed in this thought a moment too long, or your silence below him made him second guess himself, as the chime of your phone snapped you out of your daze again.

[I didn't mean to impose if U have plans]

[I know it's Ur day off too]

Fumbling with the suddenly slippery device, softly cursing, and praying he didn't hear, you quickly hammer out the only thing that's been playing in your head on repeat-

[Yes absolutely! I'd love to grab some lunch I'm starving]

[Meet me downstairs in 30?]

#look i had 3 hours of sleep and i chose to this idk why #written in a single go like a psychopath #and now im going to bed gnight ♡ #lnds #love and deepspace #lads #l&ds #love & deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lnds #xavvy baby #kay writes #this text was just too cute I had too i was over come with emotions #god why is Xavier so adorable ugh #so soft boy sometimes i love himb #also- #not proofread we die like men #sorry im Le~ tired ill edit tomorrow

[aylinaliens]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: บรรยากาศรัก เดอะซีรีส์ | Love in the Air (TV 2022)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Phayu/Rain (Love in the Air TV 2022)

Characters: Rain (Love in the Air TV 2022)Phayu (Love in the Air TV 2022)

Additional Tags: Porn with Feelings, Overstimulation, Anal Sex, Hand & Finger Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Edgeplay

Summary:

His hips finally stop moving but his lips don’t as he swallows up the pleas Rain was saying. Rain knows deep in his soul that Phayu was punishing him by not letting him stroke himself into completion (again).

He liked that—being punished by Phayu, because one hundred percent of the time the punishment was always a reward, sometimes, however, it just took some time for the punishment to turn into something pleasurable.

#🫣🫣🫣 okay bye #lita fic #phayurain fic #love in the air #love in the air the series #phayurain #payurain #thai bl #thai bl fic #kay writes

[prettyandsarcastic]

heart on the stage

Seven (@infamous-if)/MC

≈2,300 words

Mentions of substance/alcohol abuse

EDIT: I had to repost this because I noticed I got Avina's pronouns wrong. Also added some things.

Music to read by: "Euclid" by Sleep Token 

The whiskey sears down her throat as Munroe throws back the shot, so used to it now that it no longer comes with the full body shiver as it settles in her empty stomach. For courage, she tells herself, has to tell herself. Not to dull the ache in her chest or the pounding between her ears, or burn out the sharp pain in the back of her throat. And that’s definitely why she’s taking shots in the bathroom of the green room because she’s not hiding it. No, of course not. 

Her eyes drag upwards to meet her reflection in the dirty mirror and she nearly laughs. The stage makeup just barely hides the dark circles, and the contour only draws more attention to how hollow her cheeks have become in the last months. Despite the wild, manic brightness behind her eyes, she can’t help but think how threadbare she looks. 

Munroe takes a deep, steadying breath and steps out into the green room as her bandmates all turn to her with varying degrees of concern. And why wouldn’t they? These last months they’ve seen her fall farther than she ever thought she would trying to chase away an unspeakable heartbreak, while she tried to keep the fracturing pieces of herself together long enough to get them through to the winner’s circle. And with all their eyes on her, Munroe has never been more aware of the fact that she’s become their weakest link. 

Especially after their last gig landed them in the bottom two and so close to elimination. She knows it was her fault, so out of her mind that she barely remembers performing. When she watched the performance back, saw how she staggered around the stage and skipped whole lines in the lyrics it made her physically ill. 

Her vision fills suddenly with Orion as he steps up to her. His warm hands cup her face and draw her eyes to meet his. Munroe sees herself as he sees her in the reflection of his dark eyes - blown pupils, clammy and flushed with the hint of whiskey on her breath. 

“Munroe…” he trails off, his expression crumpling in disappointment and worry. Because she promised him she’d ease up. Orion didn’t want to see her burn out, collapse on herself like a dying star and leave just as much devastation in her wake. 

Munroe appreciates Orion and everything he does, more than she could ever say, but this isn’t what she needs from him right now. She needs the man who has helped take care of her, promised to get her through this, who has kept her on just this side of breaking. She needs the calm, steady presence that she’s come to rely on - the eye in the center of the storm she's become.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, twisting her head from his hands. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea? We’ve never played this song live before,” Devyn pipes up. Beside them Iris anxiously gnaws on her thumb, and by the look on her face she agrees. 

Munroe sighs. “Look, I know this hasn’t exactly been the experience we expected and I know I fucked up last gig, but I need you guys to just… keep trusting me.”

She knows she’s asking a lot, but Devyn’s right. The song they have lined up for their performance has never seen the light of day. And while Munroe puts a piece of herself into every song she writes and bares herself for the world to judge with every performance, this song will be the equivalent of pulling her heart from her chest for a live audience. 

Rowan rises from his seat, nervous energy obvious in the way his fingers twitch at his side - pantomiming his chords. He’s unusually serious because he knows what this song means to her, knows what singing it is going to do to her. But he smiles wide and confident as he cups her face in much the same way Orion had. 

“We’re gonna fucking kill it,” he says, taking over Munroe’s usual task of assuring them that their performance is going to be amazing because she’s not sure she could muster her optimism. “They won’t know what hit them.”

“We’ve got your back, Munroe,” August says with a nod.

Her phone vibrates in her hand as Rowan steps away and Munroe finds a text from Sebastian: 

‘Good luck!’ 

Quickly followed by another:

‘Oh crap, I’m not supposed to say that… Break a leg! Maya and I managed to get second row! She’s practically vibrating with excitement!’

Despite herself, Munroe smiles. She can only imagine how excited Maya is going to be when she realizes the song they play is one she’s never heard. Munroe wouldn’t be surprised to see the girl combust from the stage. 

The speaker in the green room crackles to life before a tinny voice filters through: “Wanderer please make your way to the stage. Wanderer, to the stage!” 

The crowd doesn’t know it, but they’re about to witness a performance that they’re going to talk about for the rest of their lives.

.

.

Seven can’t stop smiling as the band stumbles, laughing and hollering into their green room. They gave, hands down, their best performance thus far. There’s no doubt in any of them that they’re going to make it through to the next round. One step closer to the finale. 

He feels too big for his body as he grabs and chugs a water, like he wants to run in every direction at once just to expend the pent up energy. Although he always gives everything he has into every performance, tonight feels different and his throat is on fire from singing, adrenaline bitter in the back of his throat and he can hear his blood in his ears. Nothing could kill this high. 

Not even when Avina turns on the TV and switches to the channel featuring Battle of the Bands and he hears: “Stay tuned! Up next are everyone’s favorite underdogs: Wanderer! Can they claw their way out of being in the bottom two from last show?” 

“God, turn it off,” Kieran moans, “We don’t need to watch them this time - we won this round!”

Avina turns and gives Kieran a look. Their hair is sweat-damp mess, cheeks rosy. “I want to watch it, thank you very much.”

Kieran gapes at them before turning to him, “C’mon man, I know you agree with me. Besides, after their last gig, ain’t no way they’re staying after this week.” 

Part of him wants to agree with Kieran. Wanderer bombed their last gig so badly Seven's surprised that they weren't eliminated. And it wasn't even the band's fault - it was Munroe. She'd been such a mess, so clearly not in her right mind, her voice wrecked and thready, even forgetting her own lyrics.  

But Seven’s on cloud nine, his ex could walk into their green room right now and he wouldn’t give a shit. He shrugs, “Let 'em watch it.”

The commercial break ends, the camera pans along the audience before Munroe’s band is introduced and then the lights on the stage go out completely. Seven resists the urge to roll his eyes - always with the theatrics. 

A single spotlight comes to life on the stage. Munroe is seated at a keyboard with no sign of her bandmates. Seven watches as she takes a deep breath before raising her hands to the keys and starts to play - something slower and emotional so unlike Wanderer’s previous, high energy performances. Did she really think a ballad was a good idea? 

It feels like a bucket of ice water gets upturned over his head when she begins to sing - no back up, just Munroe and the keyboard for the opening lines of the song. It’s been so long since he’s heard her play, he had almost forgotten how good she was. It feels like a lifetime ago when it was just her and her keyboard and him and his guitar writing together, falling together between chords and lyrics. 

“Turn it up,” Seven says, ignoring the surprised looks from his band. 

As the lights dim once again, the rest of the band’s vocals rise like a choir in the dark for the refrain, which surprises him because Rowan and Iris don’t usually provide backup vocals. He sees Munroe’s shadow take her mic and make its way to the front of the stage, place the mic in its stand. The rise of the band’s instruments finally coming in takes his breath away as the lights come back up and Munroe, now joined by the band, is backlit by the stage lights, her too thin silhouette outlined in the short, sheer black kaftan-like dress she’s wearing. 

These months on tour have worn her thin, broken her down in a way Seven never thought possible. Munroe is an eternal optimist, she's not like him, she pushes aside her anger, her hurt, holds it quietly inside herself and puts a smile on her face, always, because she never wants anyone to worry about her. But this tour has dulled her light, turned her into something Seven never, no matter how he felt about her, wanted to see. 

Munroe has thrown herself into self-destruction as she is wont to do. Into the parties, the hookups, and the glamor of it all - anything to avoid facing herself. She’s tried to hide the effects, but Seven notices more than he’d like - the drinking, the erratic behavior, the insomnia, the bloody noses. 

Something in his chest kicks watching her and it suddenly occurs to him - he’s never heard this song before. This is new, or at least unreleased… and then it dawns on him: This is for me. And Munroe’s singing with her entire being, all her rage and pain and heartbreak displayed on live television for someone who has barely shown her any kindness these last few months. 

And she had endured it all, his snide comments, his attutude, his disdain for her with such grace. While there were moments when Munroe seemed to reach the end of her long suffering patience, she still smiled at him, always had a kind word for most everyone, hid behind her laugh. Now, a shadow lurked behind her eyes, and Seven is forced to face the uncomfortable fact that he's, at least in part, responsible.

The camera pans to the audience that seems to be held in a daze as they watch her. And Seven understands, he really does. At her best, Munroe is magnificent on stage, something divine - a goddess demanding devotion and supplication from the masses. 

They bring Munroe in close up - there are tears lining her cheeks, but her voice is strong as ever, ringing clear throughout the venue as the song comes into the denouement. It’s as soft as the beginning of the song, with the band slowly fading out until - 

"You will never be mine…"

The lyric hits like a punch in the gut as, for a moment, the crowd is quiet in awe and then erupts into uproarious applause. He watches as Rowan sets his guitar aside and rushes Munroe, enveloping her in his arms. To the crowd and the people at home, it’s a happy hug - a celebration of just how amazing their set was, but it’s not. It’s to keep Munroe from crumpling right there on stage - he saw how her knees went weak.  

Seven’s on his feet before he even realizes he’s moved, propelled by a sudden gripping panic. He hears the questioning of his bandmates, but can’t make out the words over the roar in his ears, the way his heart wants to escape the prison of his ribs. He rips off his mic, then he’s over the back of the couch and out the door of the green room, sprinting full tilt down the hallway. 

The song wasn’t just for him. It was good-bye. It was letting him know, in the only way he’d listen, the only way he'd hear, that Munroe was letting him go. And Seven realizes he doesn’t accept it, can’t accept it. Once, not even very long ago, it was what he wanted, a freedom from the grip she's always had on his heart and soul. But he didn't realize until now just how much he unintentionally let her light and warmth back into himself because despite his behavior toward her, Munroe still tried. Tried until she was fractured and hopeless and worn. It was something he loved and loathed about her in equal measure, her refusal to give up even when she should. 

Seven bursts through the door to backstage, dodging stage crew and members of other bands. He’s managed to make it backstage in time for Wanderer to come off the stage. He has to get to Munroe before she’s mic’d up again, before the after-performance confessional. 

His body collides with hers with a surprised grunt, and for once he doesn’t care about the cameras and the people as he gathers her against his chest. 

“Seven?” Munroe chokes out. But he feels her cling to him, her hands under his vest, nails in the back of his shirt. Then she's trembling, crying softly into his chest. Finally shattering apart as he tries to hold her together.

“I’m sorry,” he says, into the damp of her hair. He has so much to apologize for, so much to make up to her. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, as he angles her face up to his, thumbing away fresh tears. And the awe on her face breaks something in him in turn, because he knows she doesn't believe he's there. 

“I’m sorry,” he says against her lips. They have so much lost time to make up. 

And kissing Munroe feels like a sun rising in his chest, like being found, like coming home. 

#infamous #infamous mc #infamous oc #infamous if #seven/mc #seven lawless #kay writes #munroe redding

[kirishimasbabygirl]

🌄Early Morning🌄

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hey y'all!!! Long time no see! This is the first part of a three part series I have whooped up for ya! I really hope you like angst this holiday season.

TW. Cheating (Katsuki is an asshole), Drinking, The word cum idk.

I hope you guys like it! I haven't written anything in about two years.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2 am.

He was supposed to be home six hours ago; you had called him over forty times with no answer and later went straight to voice mail.

You called his office and spoke to his secretary, who told you that he had left with his friends, so you called his best friend, who said they did go for drinks, but they all had left by 10 pm.

So here you are, sitting in your living room drinking.

Drinking whatever you could find in your cabinets.

You and Katsuki have been together since you were in your second year of high school; that was six years ago.

While the two of you did go to UA, only he could make it as a hero; once he broke the Top 10, he'd convinced you to quit your 9-5 and be a stay-at-home wife, more like a stay-at-home girlfriend.

You thought he would've proposed by now, but he would always say, "We're practically married already; why do we need a piece of paper to prove it?" and that was that.

It wasn't long after that he started coming home late.

You were always understanding about his work, so coming home late wasn't a problem; it didn't bother you; why would it? You trusted him.

Until now.

You downed your last glass of wine when you heard the front door open; you looked down at your phone.

3:30 am.

You hear Katsuki sigh and the thunk of his boot hitting the ground as he takes them off; you look over your shoulder, staring into the black hallway that leads to the entryway waiting for him to appear.

He slowly emerges from the darkness, groaning as he rolls his shoulders back.

"Hey."

He jumps, dropping his keys and wallet.

"FUCK!"

He glares at you as he reaches down to pick them up.

"What the fuck are you doing up?"

You drunkenly stand up. You are wobbling as you walk up to him.

He sets his belongings on the side table as you reach out and lay your hands on his chest, his hands coming up and engulfing yours.

He frowns.

"Are you drunk?"

You nod, leaning into his shirt, smelling him.

Flowers.

You roughly shove him back.

"S-shit!" He yells, grabbing the archway

"What the fuck!?"

He screams at you; his scowl softens as he sees your eyes welling up with tears.

He calls your name as he slowly reaches for you.

You turn your back to him, crying into your hands, shoulders shaking.

His heart breaks a little more; it's been hurting him all night.

"Who?" you sob.

He could feel his blood run cold.

"…What?"

You turn to him, face red and snotty

"Who is she?"

He swallows. "Baby, I don't know what you're talking about."

He reaches for you again, causing you to stumble back drunkenly.

"No! No, you liar!"

He hurries to catch you.

"No!" You wiggle in his grip.

He holds you tighter, pressing you into his chest.

"I called and called!" You scream, pounding on his chest.

"I called you! I called your office! Kirishima! And no one knew where you were!"

He feels his gut tie up in knots.

"And now… you come back smelling like a whore!"

You scream, thrashing around.

"A WHORE!"

"Hey! Calm down; I need you to fucking calm down!"

You slump in his hold.

He ran a hand down his face as he sat in the leather reading chair in the corner of the room; he thought back on the night it went wrong.

"I hate you." You mumble as he picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

"I know."

"You're a liar."

He nods, walking you down to your shared bedroom.

"I know."

"I…I'm so tired."

He nods, pushing the door open.

"I know, baby."

"Don't call me that."

He nods again, laying you down on the bed.

"You don't get to call me that."

It wasn't long before you nodded off, leaving him awake.

Was it when he was getting ready to leave the office?

Was it when his friends dragged him out to some club?

Was it ignoring your calls in favor of talking to some blonde he knew from a modeling shoot his done?

Was it when he took her home?

Was it when he slept with her?

Was it that he thought he could come home and think everything would be alright?

5 am.

His phone dings.

He looks down at it; It's her. She sent him a picture.

He opens it.

It's a picture of his cum leaking out of her with the message, "Come fuck it back into me."

He glances up from his phone and looks at you, sprawled out on the bed, softly snoring.

He sent her some money and said, "Don't talk to me. Buy some plan B."

He looks at the time.

Fuck. Katsuki throws his head back and groans.

He has work in an hour.

#bakugou x reader #Cheater!Bakugou #bakugo x reader #x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo angst #x reader angst #kay writes #Cheater!Katsuki #Cheater!Bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #mha #mha angst #bakugo angst #x y/n

[kayrma]

something something coriolanus being encouraged to fall further into his fascist power fantasies by dr gaul, and something something lord henry instilling his hedonism in dorian gray leading him to sacrifice his soul for his beauty

and something something corio falling in love with lucy gray despite the fact that there are multiple times when he says he doesn't really understand her songs, and something something dorian pushing sibyl vane to suicide because he's embarrassed by her acting

and something something corio having sejanus try and convince him to have humanity for and help the people in the districts but corio betrays sejanus and kills him indirectly, and something something dorian killing basil, even though he was basil's muse and possibly the one person who sought for dorian to regain his humanity

and something something corio and dorian both being their own downfalls by finally facing the consequences of their decades of misdeeds

#this got sm longer than expected?? #i love when media parallels each other! #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird #sejanus plinth #dr gaul #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dorian gray #lord henry wotton #basil hallward #the picture of dorian gray #kay writes #userkay