#fic Drabble

[rapplesart]

Random fic idea

Tim drake but instead of loosing his spleen he lost part of his leg.

Tim thought it was obvious he was missing his right leg from the knee down. It was a whole leg that was missing after all. Sure he was wearing a prosthetic made by Ra's' best people.

One he painfully earned after that crazy fucker made him fight a bunch of his assassins one legged in order to "proof himself as the true heir of the bat he saw in him" or something. So sure, the leg might be more advanced than most, and it imitated natural steps a lot easier and even made it possible to easily run without switching to a different leg. Truly it was a perfect leg be vigilante with. But he never even bothered to give it human like appearances.

But apparently the Fam didn't notice. When he returned with Bruce everyone was too reliefed to give Tim a closer look and it just never came up afterwards.

Tim thought they just didn't want to ask about it in a weird attempt of being polite or even caring. Bruce surely did enough research on how it happened on his own. The man spend the whole travel back to Gotham with Tim after all. Tim truly believed the world's greatest detective would have noticed his missing leg.

Except he didn't. Not if he interpreted the way they looked so incredibly disturbed by is nonchalant way of handlinh the boiling hot chemicals that landed on his metal leg. He just brushed it off, the battle continued and since nothing seemed to be injured no one pressed him when he said "Must've missed me after all"

Now, how do you deal with a family that didn't notice you're missing a leg? That's right you fuck with them.

First thing he did was buy himself a few more realistic looking prosthetic leg. It had to be custom made to fit his stump so it took a whole but it was a worthwhile investment.

The first one was Jason. Call it a twisted revenge for trying to kill him but Tim just really wanted him to be messed with the most. So one day when he knew it was only Jason and him on patrol he strategically set himself down to fall. Crunching some spaghettis to ass in a sickening way only to stand up and walk away as if nothing ever happened.... With his foot toned the wrong way around. Insisting on nothing being wrong and Jason being delusional whenever the older boy tried to get him to get medical treatment. He switched it up the whole evening, whenever he was out of sight he turned the fool right and wrong. Driving the guy insane.

Jason did not sleep well that night. He was also top weirded out and unsure if what he saw was real to talk about it with anyone else.

Then, he challenged dick to a flexibility contest seeing how far they han bend their knees and feet. Even Mr bones are a social construct gymnast Richard Grayson looked horrified as Tim stood there, food bend almost in half, knee twisted to the impossible and what looked lihe a bend in the middle of his leg. Dick claimed cheating except the thing that greeted him when he demanded Tim to puch up his pant leg to expose his trick was a normal looking leg. The first Robin did lots of stretches in the following weeks. His pride was hurt after all.

Finding a way to mess with Damian was a bit more difficult. The brat still made a bunch of harsh comments again and again and he really wasn't close enough with Tim to be easily gaslit. The kid was a trained assassin and was probably used to a bunch of weird shit considering everything Ra's. So Tim decided he could go a bit more gory on Robin than the others. So one night he sat in front of Damians room, in the dark hallway and waited till one of his pets passed him. Once Alfred the Cat came along he made some louder coping noise that would Definetly make the kid look out to check on his animals. It worked just as planned, Damian peeked out his door to see Tim, crosslegged and barefoot on the floor, seemingly cutting off his toe to feed the cat. In reality it was nothing more than a cat treat and carefully picked, animal safe food coloring.

The kid scremed at him, threatened to stab him, punched him real good for harming his cat and took off with said cat to find Alfred so the older man could check on the poor kitten. Of course not beforeaking sure Tim was in an adequate amount of pain on the floor, with his 'injured' food secured to the floor with another knife. Only to return with a worried Alfred on tow to see Tim, standing two whole bare feet with a confused expression and a bag of cat treats in the hall.

Tim got a broken nose for it but it surely was worth it. Especially once he quietly whispered a 'no one will ever belief you' to the kid in passing. He might have traumatised the boy a little but Tim fought it justified for all the attempted murder he suffered.

[nyoomerr]

(cw for omegaverse and Gender Stuff. sfw/mature at worst)

---

It’s been many, many years since Luo Binghe spent his rut outside of a nest. He may not have ever had a proper mate, but ever since his rise in power he’s had no shortage of rut partners, and the intensity of his ruts often throw his partners into heat. An omega facing discomfort will instinctively create a nest, and an omega in heat will not be too picky about who it is that comes inside that nest.

So: Luo Binghe is used to spending his ruts in an omega’s nest, even if the nest is different each time. 

He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d become until he was staring down the full force of his rut and realizing that no nest had been created for him; that no nest would be created for him.

Shen Yuan is not an omega, after all. 

Surely, though - surely he would be one, if he’d been born a part of Luo Binghe’s world rather than snatched out of that terrible scentless one? Luo Binghe has never been able to get it up for anyone not actively expelling an omega’s ‘come hither’ scent, but all Shen Yuan has to do is smile at him, or scold him, or pitch his voice up into that spoiled whining tone - 

Surely, Luo Binghe would not feel such fierce attraction to Shen Yuan if the man was meant to be a beta. If Shen Yuan had been born in Luo Binghe’s world, he’d no doubt have all the instincts of an omega, and so he’d surely have been pushed into pre-heat by Luo Binghe’s oncoming rut, and so he’d have built a nest.

Put like that, Luo Binghe has an obligation to help Shen Yuan out. Shen Yuan should be building a nest right now, but he doesn’t know that he should be, or even how to build one, and it’s Luo Binghe’s job as his mate to instruct him. Luo Binghe will show Shen Yuan how to do it just this once - he has watched many omegas build their nests over his lifetime, so he knows how it’s meant to be done - and then the next time Luo Binghe enters his rut cycle, Shen Yuan will know how to do it himself.

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe calls, and then when Shen Yuan raises an expectant eyebrow, very quickly corrects himself: “Yuan-ge.”

“Is your rut in full swing, now?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe swallows thickly as he catches the way Shen Yuan casts a nervous glance below Luo Binghe’s belt. 

Shen Yuan hasn’t been… hesitant, really, but he has been clearly nervous to spend Luo Binghe’s rut with him. Luo Binghe isn’t willing to look too closely at the feelings that inspires in him: both Shen Yuan’s nervousness, and the fact that Shen Yuan is still here in Luo Binghe’s rooms despite it.

“Not yet - I’ll still be fully conscious until tomorrow morning, most likely.” Luo Binghe answers, almost absentmindedly. He has to teach Shen Yuan how to build a nest, but now his mind is stuck here, on Shen Yuan’s nerves and how to soothe them. He has to soothe them, he has to make sure his mate is safe and happy, he has to remove the threat -

Luo Binghe forcefully shakes the thought away. His instincts have been prickling at him nonstop like this for the past several days; a side effect of knowing that his upcoming rut will be spent with a proper mate rather than a simple bed partner. 

Shen Yuan has already expressed his dissatisfaction about Luo Binghe’s foolish instinct-driven behaviors this morning when Luo Binghe had dragged him out of bed and into the kitchens so he could keep Shen Yuan in sight while still providing his mate with a good meal. If Luo Binghe’s instincts make him do something unnecessary that causes Shen Yuan to complain again, then Luo Binghe really won’t be able to take it. The panic that had flared through him at potentially offending Shen Yuan so close to a time when Luo Binghe needed him had been… distinctly unpleasant.

So: a nest. Shen Yuan’s nest, which will be built by Luo Binghe just this once, and which will both settle some of Luo Binghe’s uncertainty by giving him a point of familiarity and, hopefully, soothe some of Shen Yuan’s nerves. After all, even if Shen Yuan doesn’t possess omegan instincts, who isn’t soothed by a nice nest?

Luo Binghe clears his throat. “Before my rut begins, I wanted to show Yuan-ge how to build a nest.”

Shen Yuan raises his sleeves up to obscure half his expression, a habit he’d picked up after Luo Binghe had confiscated all the fans he’d been using to hide his face previously.

(Luo Binghe had not confiscated them because Shen Yuan had hidden behind them. Luo Binghe in fact finds Shen Yuan particularly easy to read when he’s trying to hide something, and especially cute when he thinks he’s getting away with it. 

Luo Binghe had taken all those dreadful fans away because Shen Yuan would not stop fanning himself with them, which - while indeed is the point of such an object - had been the cause of one of the bloodiest court sessions in the history of Luo Binghe’s reign, when Luo Binghe had caught the way some of his petitioners had been so clearly trying to get a whiff of the scent that Shen Yuan was blowing about with his fan.

It made no difference that Shen Yuan did not actually have a scent to blow around, outside of the smell of human sweat and the soft milky tones of the soaps Luo Binghe commissions for him. The insult of looking for Shen Yuan’s scent had been enough.

No more fans.)

“A nest as in… like, what an omega builds?” Shen Yuan asks cautiously. Luo Binghe nods, and Shen Yuan raises his sleeves higher. “And Binghe remembers that I’m not an omega, correct?”

Luo Binghe waves a hand dismissively. He does know this, even if he also believes that Shen Yuan should be an omega nonetheless.

“A nest helps to soothe nerves,” Luo Binghe says in place of his thoughts on what his attraction to Shen Yuan must surely indicate about Shen Yuan’s secondary gender. 

Shen Yuan watches him for a long moment, considering. “...Is Binghe nervous?” He eventually asks, and Luo Binghe is startled by the force of his defensiveness at being asked such a thing.

“No,” Luo Binghe says, voice carefully measured. He counts the spaces between his breaths - in for four, out for eight - and reminds himself that he isn’t nervous. He already knows Shen Yuan enjoys laying with him outside of ruts. Shen Yuan’s own nerves will be soothed by the nest, and then Shen Yuan will enjoy spending Luo Binghe’s rut with him, and Luo Binghe will be able to please his mate quite thoroughly.

“Hm,” Shen Yuan says. “Alright. What do you - er, what do I - need for a nest?”

Luo Binghe feels tension slip from his shoulders. Good, good; Shen Yuan will build a nest. 

“Yuan-ge should go grab his dirty robes, and one of mine if you want,” he instructs. “It will be most comforting if it’s mostly made up of your own scent, with only some of your mate’s, and it’s already going to have a lot of mine from the bed sheets themselves.”

It’s impossible to sleep on a bed without scenting it to some degree; the bed Luo Binghe shares with Shen Yuan will always smell more like Luo Binghe than anything else since Shen Yuan doesn’t have the scent glands to rub off on it to begin with.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says, even though his nose wrinkles when Luo Binghe mentions the dirty laundry. “And while I do that, Binghe should start on the base of the nest, okay?”

Luo Binghe frowns. That doesn’t sound right. Shen Yuan is supposed to be the one learning how to make a nest, because it’s an omega thing to make a nest. If Shen Yuan isn’t present while Luo Binghe works on it, how can Shen Yuan learn?

Shen Yuan hums, reaching up to rest the palm of his hand on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck. Instinctively, Luo Binghe shifts so that Shen Yuan’s wrist rests properly on the scent gland there; even without Shen Yuan having a proper scent of his own, it’s a pleasant sensation. 

“Good,” Shen Yuan praises him, voice soft. “Now I’ll go paw through our dirty laundry, and you’ll go work on the sheets.”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe agrees, and turns to go and do just that. 

Luo Binghe starting the nest by himself turns out to be a good thing, in the end - he’s never built one before, only ever watching his rut partners do it, so it takes some trial and error to figure out how to create the shapes he wants with the sheets. Shen Yuan wouldn’t learn anything watching Luo Binghe place and replace the sheets and pillows like this, struggling to figure out how to get things to lay just right. 

Luo Binghe has to teach Shen Yuan the right way to build a nest, after all. He knows that what makes for a good nest can be subjective to each omega, but Luo Binghe has always had his own opinions about the nests that his rut partners have made. Surely, as an alpha, the opinions that Luo Binghe has had are the result of finding an objective common denominator from all the various nests he’s slept in. And if Luo Binghe can recreate what feels good for an alpha, then that would give Shen Yuan a good base to customize the nest to his own liking without much trial and error of his own.

By the time Shen Yuan joins him at their bedside, Luo Binghe is quite pleased with himself. It isn’t a good nest yet - it needs their robes for that - but it’s -

“Very good, Binghe,” Shen Yuan praises. Luo Binghe all but preens; it’s a good nest, so it’s sure to ease Shen Yuan’s nerves once it’s done. “Now show me what you’re meant to do with the dirty robes, hm?”

Luo Binghe takes the robes from Shen Yuan - there’s more of Luo Binghe’s clothes than Shen Yuan’s, but Luo Binghe supposes that perhaps the scent distribution doesn’t matter too much for Shen Yuan’s beta nose - and begins working them into the nest.

“This is for - an air current,” Luo Binghe explains haltingly. He’s never had to put into words why certain things make a nest good, but he’s sure that he’s right about some things being an objective common denominator, and that means there’s an explanation for why. “We get air from the window on that side of the room, so the air needs to be directed through the nest like this.”

“To give us fresh air?”

“No,” Luo Binghe snarls, his claws tearing into the robe he’s holding as he goes tense. Then he realizes what he’s done and forces himself to drop the robe, counting his breaths again - in for four, out for eight, in for -

“Ah, Binghe… the rut is coming in sooner than you expected, isn’t it?” Shen Yuan murmurs, bending down to pick up the robe. Luo Binghe watches him warily; of course Shen Yuan can pick up the robe, because this is Shen Yuan’s nest.

He still feels relieved when Shen Yuan hands the robe back to him. He hasn’t finished teaching Shen Yuan how to make a nest yet, after all. 

“No fresh air,” Luo Binghe says, firmly but without the growl this time. 

He chooses to ignore Shen Yuan’s comment about the timing of his rut. It doesn’t actually feel like his rut is settling in upon him, but he feels so - untethered, and yet pulled taught at the same time - and he isn’t sure what else it would be. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Air flow for what, then?”

“For -” Luo Binghe gestures with one hand jerkily, eyes firmly on where he’s still working the robe into their nest with the other. 

…Into Shen Yuan’s nest, he means.

“- for air flow in the opposite direction,” Luo Binghe eventually gets out. “The window will carry in foreign scents, no matter how tightly it’s closed. This is to keep that out.”

That much Luo Binghe does know for certain as an alpha; it isn’t uncommon for young alphas to start brawls with their neighbors just because their scent wafts in under a door frame. 

“Very smart,” Shen Yuan says, handing Luo Binghe another robe. 

Luo Binghe takes it, but the thought of adding it to the nest makes his teeth itch, and after a moment he hands it back. He doesn’t know if the nest is done, yet - he doesn't have the omega instincts to know - but he needs to come up with a reason to explain why and when the nest is done, because this is the nest that Shen Yuan is learning from.

Shen Yuan catches his arm, and Luo Binghe only barely doesn’t startle.

“Perhaps Binghe would know if his nest is done if he gets inside it?” Shen Yuan asks gently. 

Luo Binghe nods. Yes, yes - maybe his rut really is settling in early, if he can’t even think clearly enough to come up with the idea of getting inside the nest to check it on his own. 

He gets into the nest. He can’t - his memories of nests are usually when lying down, or when hovered over his rut partner, so he can’t compare this nest to the ones in his memories while sitting upright. 

He lays down. The nest is - 

“It’s done,” Luo Binghe says thickly. “It’s - I know Yuan-ge doesn’t like to hear about my past partners, but they’ve helped Yuan-ge today.”

The nest is better than any nest Luo Binghe has ever been in. He must have been right that observing so many omega’s nests would let Luo Binghe objectively build the best one, even as an alpha. 

“Can I come in?” Shen Yuan asks, peering down at Luo Binghe from the edge of the bed. He’s raised his hands to partially hide his face with his sleeves again, and for once Luo Binghe really has no idea what kind of face Shen Yuan is making. 

“Of course,” Luo Binghe says. “Didn’t this lord make the nest for you, so that you could learn how to for the future?”

“Mn,” Shen Yuan says, which is neither an agreement or a disagreement, but he does carefully join Luo Binghe in the nest. “Binghe was right; a nest does help with nerves, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe says, feeling relieved. The prickling in the back of his mind - the instinctual urge to figure out how to help his mate feel better about joining Luo Binghe through his rut - fades. 

Shen Yuan shifts, turning to face Luo Binghe in the nest. He watches Luo Binghe for a long moment, and Luo Binghe watches him back, his heart beating rabbit fast in his chest. Is something wrong with the nest? It’s - it’s perfect, but Luo Binghe isn’t an omega, so maybe Shen Yuan noticed something that Luo Binghe didn’t, or -

Shen Yuan brings his hand up to rest on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, a mirror of the way he’d soothed Luo Binghe earlier. He still isn’t resting his wrist in quite the right spot, but Luo Binghe can’t bring himself to be upset about it. The fact that Shen Yuan tries, despite lacking all the instincts that Luo Binghe himself has, is enough to soothe Luo Binghe in place of any calming omega scent.

Still, Luo Binghe begins to move so that Shen Yuan’s wrist is resting in the right spot. Before he can, though, Shen Yuan - still watching Luo Binghe so very, very carefully - shifts his grip on Luo Binghe’s neck and squeezes.

Luo Binghe goes still. That isn’t - it isn’t the way an omega would scent an alpha. It isn’t quite anything, really, since Shen Yuan is a beta without the instincts to guide this type of action or the scent to back it up, but -

But it’s very, very close to the way an alpha might scruff an omega to calm them down. 

Luo Binghe’s breath hitches. His hands curl into tight fists around the front of Shen Yuan’s robes - robes that Luo Binghe had commissioned personally, because he’s an alpha, and because it’s an alpha’s job to provide for their mate in those sorts of ways. 

He gets an immense amount of satisfaction from doing so, too, just the same way he feels nearly gorged on pride and pleasure from caring for Shen Yuan in all sorts of other alpha ways. Feeding him, protecting him, showing off his martial skill - Luo Binghe loves being a good alpha for Shen Yuan. 

He finds himself nearly distraught at how much he loves being scruffed like an omega, too. 

“Ah, Binghe…” Shen Yuan tuts, even as he squeezes his hand tight on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, grounding him. “What are those wet eyes for? Did your Yuan-gege not already tell you? I’m not from this world, so what the hell do I know about any of this secondary gender stuff?”

Luo Binghe looks at Shen Yuan helplessly. He knows for a fact that Shen Yuan understands scruffing to be a thing done exclusively to omegas; Shen Yuan had asked about it after catching the way that Luo Binghe had been watching a couple showing off their fresh bonds at a tea house they’d visited. 

Luo Binghe had only watched because he’d wished it to be the sort of thing he could do to Shen Yuan. He - he’d only -

Shen Yuan squeezes again. Luo Binghe goes limp. There’s a tightness in his throat, similar to the feeling right before Luo Binghe growls but far more gentle. 

“I don’t know jack shit about this secondary gender stuff,” Shen Yuan says again, “so I’m just doing whatever I feel like, okay? As - uh, as in, I’m just doing stuff from my world.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says weakly. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Binghe being an alpha or anything else,” Shen Yuan reiterates. “So Binghe doesn’t have to think about it in those terms.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says again, even more quietly. 

“...But if you want to think about it that way,” Shen Yuan says cautiously, “then because I’m not from this world, I wouldn’t know any better.”

Luo Binghe takes a deep, shuddering breath. He knew, distantly, that his rut was going to be… difficult, this time around. He knew that his instincts would be working overtime at the thought of having a real mate, and he knew it would be hard to reconcile his own intensity with the fact that Shen Yuan is barely even a beta by this world’s standards. 

He also knew that the shape of his relationship with Shen Yuan would make this rut especially difficult, not just the existence of it. Shen Yuan, his Yuan-ge, his would-have-been-Shizun in another lifetime…

No, even without the titles, Shen Yuan has power over Luo Binghe in a way that no one else ever has. It had been a difficult thing to come to terms with to begin with - and Luo Binghe still feels shame at the way he’d bitten and snapped at Shen Yuan in a panicked attempt to feel like he was still in charge of the relationship after realizing that Shen Yuan had managed to leash him so thoroughly - and that had been when Luo Binghe was in a normal state of mind. Of course that internal struggle would rear its ugly head again when Luo Binghe entered his rut, when his alpha instincts became so much more intense.

He hadn’t expected it to take this exact shape, though. He hadn’t expected to be the one to start it, by building a nest that neither he nor Shen Yuan should ever need. 

Shen Yuan is still watching him, he knows. The grip on the back of Luo Binghe’s neck has loosened, giving Luo Binghe room to think. 

He wants very much for the pressure to return and make it so he doesn’t have to think about anything anymore.

“Since Yuan-ge isn’t from this world,” Luo Binghe says slowly, “I should… inform you about what is expected from my rut.”

“You should,” Shen Yuan agrees with no small amount of grace, considering that he’d already spent the last two weeks anxiously pestering Luo Binghe to get all sorts of details about how alphas behave during rut. 

“During my rut, I won’t be in a clear state of mind,” Luo Binghe continues. “It’s important that an alpha not hurt their mate even in that state, so -”

Luo Binghe breaks off. His jaw clicks as he figures out how to say the next part; if he can say the next part. He is an alpha, even if the dynamics of his relationship with Shen Yuan don’t match those of any other relationship he’s held. 

Shen Yuan moves his thumb to gently slide up and down the column of Luo Binghe’s neck, drawing Luo Binghe’s attention back to the way Shen Yuan is still lightly scruffing him. Luo Binghe breathes out carefully through his nose.

“To not hurt their mate, an alpha might be better off on the receiving end,” Luo Binghe manages to get out. “Even if - even if I cry about wanting to knot you, Yuan-ge can just squeeze with his hands.”

It’s a lie. Shen Yuan knows it’s a lie. No alpha ever would allow their partner to be the one on top during their rut. 

“Good boy, Binghe,” Shen Yuan croons, squeezing Luo Binghe’s neck again. “You’re a very good alpha, thinking about how to keep me safe.”

Luo Binghe’s throat feels tight again. He realizes, so distantly it might have been the thought of another person, that he is trying to purr like an omega despite not physically being able to do so. 

“Is there anything else you should tell your Yuan-ge about your rut?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe shakes his head wordlessly.

There’s more that he wants to say, but he doesn’t have the words for it. He might never have the words for it. Already, this feels like too much. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says. “That’s okay. You can tell me more next time, okay?”

Luo Binghe nods weakly, clutching tightly to the front of Shen Yuan’s robes. Next time, next time - 

Yes, Shen Yuan is Luo Binghe’s mate, no matter the world he came from or the way it prevents Shen Yuan from actually bearing a proper mating bite. There will be more ruts they spend together in the future. 

“Next time,” Luo Binghe agrees, and leans into Shen Yuan’s touch.

[villainbait]

Surprise Encounters

Pairing: None (Sylus x reader distantly implied) Rating: G Tags: coffee shop, secondhand embarrassment, canon sylus behavior, playful stalking, flirting, jealousy, crack, fluff Summary: Sylus stalks you to a new coffee shop in Linkon City, but it seems you two weren't the only ones who wanted to try it. Word Count: 1.1k

Someone was following you. 

It had been a long day at work and now there was the definitive sound of someone’s steps dogging yours as you approached the cafe. It wasn’t the one you usually enjoyed visiting, but you were in a hurry and going to duck in for a quick pick-me-up before heading out on yet another mission. Wanderer activity had been increasing lately, which left you exhausted most days so you were counting on this coffee to work miracles for your fatigue.  

Picking up the pace, you do your best to weave through the crowd and lose the person, happy to find you no longer hear the footsteps by the time you reach your destination. Your phone suddenly rings and you look down to find it’s Sylus. You don’t even bother answering it and reject the call. A text message accompanies the rejected call and you sigh in exasperation but before you can open it, you hear the dulcet tones of the current source of your annoyance behind you. 

“It’s not very nice to ignore a friend, kitten.” His voice is far too close to your ear and you pull away with a frown. Before you can retort, you see him glance at the cafe with a curious expression. 

“This isn’t your usual cafe, either.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you huff and look around nervously, before tugging on his sleeve and pulling him quickly into the cafe. The only reason you didn’t make a scene in public, you told yourself, was because you were worried your connection to the N109 Zone would be severed if Sylus was caught. Just because you wanted to punch him in his smug face sometimes didn’t mean you wanted to see him get hurt or worse. It still baffled you that the most wanted man in the world could simply chat with you on the street like this and not a single person knew. 

“What’s the hurry, sweetie?” he playfully murmurs as you march both of you up to the counter, but he’s more than happy to oblige as you both order. The baristas are charmed by Sylus but you don’t seem to notice, too busy bantering with him. 

“The hurry is that you seem nonchalant for a man in your situation.” 

“And what situation is that?” he replied smoothly, taking his card back from the blushing barista with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know,” you gesture vaguely as the two of you move to the end of the counter. You’re not sure if you want to lean away when Sylus puts his face close to yours but your pride won’t let you even if you did so you meet his gaze head on. “Oh? I don’t know that I do, so why don’t you say it?” He remarked, knowing that you wouldn’t give him away. At least not today, in this sunny little cafe where his defenses are low and there’s too many civilians. 

The little bell above the shop door jingles but you don’t notice it at first, your attention still focused on Sylus who hadn’t moved away despite his teasing. Still, with how he had leaned down you could see over his shoulder and you stopped breathing as a familiar face appears in your line of view. 

What was Zayne doing here? 

Sylus realizes mid-sentence you’re no longer paying him any attention and starts to look around and see what you’re gawking at. 

“No! Don’t turn around,” you hiss and jerk him closer to you, using his bigger body as a shield. He doesn’t mind that but his curiosity burns, one eyebrow raised. Opportunistic creature that he is, he slips an arm around your waist before you can protest.

“Why do you need me to hide you?” Sylus’s grin was anything but comforting. “Are you trying to avoid someone? Do I need to take care of it for you?”

The expression on your face must’ve been comical for Sylus chuckled. “You should see how you look right now. I want so badly to know who it is you’re hiding from.”

Zayne had made it to the counter now and you shifted to stay out of sight, still using Sylus to shield you if the other man looked over this way. The barista has the worst timing and offers your drinks at the same time Zayne steps towards the end of the counter. The two of you lock eyes. Time freezes. Zayne's gaze slowly slid from you to Sylus, whose arm was still slung low across your hips but it was too late for you to do anything but accept that. 

Sylus, meanwhile, doesn’t seem fazed and takes the cups one by one, handing yours to you and thanking the worker with a dazzling smile that makes her flustered and blush. “Hope you and your girlfriend have a great day!” she chirps cheerfully.

That immediately snapped you out of your shock and you turned with a disgusted frown. “I’m not-“

“Now, now there’s no need to be hurtful, sweetie.” Sylus interjects. “She's just trying to be nice. Besides,” he leans in close, his saccharine tone dropping an octave. “If you correct her, she might think she has a chance.” He swivels his cup to show you the number written cutely on the side of it and for some reason it makes you jealous and grumpy. 

Zayne’s order comes up quickly after and he inspects the number on his own cup before showing it the two of you. “Is this a new cup/service they perform here for every customer?” He remarks dryly, but there’s a hint of mischief in his expression. He shows the same number on the side of the cup and you have to hide a smile behind your hand. Sylus looks like he swallowed something sour and pulls out his phone. An awkward silence lingers and you almost wished a wanderer would appear in the cafe to save you from this situation. Still, you had to try to salvage the moment and you searched for something to say.

“Why don’t we sit down?” You try brightly and Sylus’s fingers dig into your hip but he doesn’t look up from whoever he’s texting. 

“Sure, and you can introduce me to your friend.” Zayne said calmly, but you’re panicking internally. “I thought I was your only friend, so I’m glad to see that isn’t true.” He was teasing you and you blushed. The two men turn to each other and Sylus tucks his phone away, business concluded. 

“Sylus.” He held out his hand. “Zayne.” They shake hands and you all find a small table to sit at.

They both focus their attention on you and you realize as your stomach churns nervously that this was going to be one interesting afternoon.

[hollythius]

too scary? ﾉ chuuya nakahara x reader

synopsis. reader wants to watch scary movies. their boyfriend wants to get too touchy on the couch.

length. drabble

ﾉ CHUUYA NAKAHARA

“baby doll, this is boring,” he groans into your neck. you’re half laying on top of him, half sitting in his lap. a soft, fluffy blanket keeps the warmth of the popcorn bowl around you. he makes attempts to nip at the exposed skin of your neck, but you avoid him every time, eyes laser-focused on the movie.

“chuuya, stop it. watch the movie,” you pout, but his ministrations don’t cease. you can feel his smirk as he licks a stripe down your neck, beginning to bite the soft flesh of your shoulder. “chuuya!”

“what, babe? don’t like the movie?” he grins, and knows he’s won this little battle. you turn in his lap, letting the movie turn into background noise as you finally kiss him. he melts in your arms, face red and eyes lidded with lust.

“this is much better, i think.”

[such-a-daydreamer]

*flutters eyelashes*

Me when I oc x cannon but it's platonic and I also get to expand on pre-existing lore with my random ass world building.

Check under the cut for a fic drabble of this scene and the oc info

My Gf Oc Manny!!♡♡ :3 (I want to be him so bad the gender envy hits HARD grrrgrrgrgrgrgrrrgrgrgrgrr)

He is a closeted gay man and cursed so every cryptid in a 20 mile radius wants him dead.

Now onto the story explaining the comic scene!!!!!!!

Lil' warnin, but there be blood!!!

✄----------------------------------------------------

The three men wander the halls in silence, they each know the importance to stay quiet in times like this, and each man has decades of experience in stealth.

The hospital -a real classy choice- is full of spiderweb decor, and each room has decayed into an unrecognisable square full of debris and metal skeletons.

Stanley wishes he stayed in the van, while Ford's mind is occupied with suspicion regarding their new "travel companion."

"So, Manny," Ford breaks the silence with a directed whisper. He doesn't miss the way the other two flinch despite his soft volume. "Since you're the "renowned expert" when it comes to cryptids, I'd like to ask you about this particular case."

Stanley feels the tension crackle between them, and suddenly regrets standing in the middle. Then again, if they decide to jump at each other's throats, he'd better stay put. Not that he'd like to break up a fight in the middle of a possibly-haunted run-down hospital, but he's done worse in worse places.

"It's a curious case." Manny mumbles out. "I've never seen a ghost report like this before, but considering it seems to be a location-bound spirit, I'm not exactly surprised. They tend to get more bizzare the longer they "ferment."

"Location-bound?" Ford repeats.

Manny gives his rival a sideways smirk. "C'mon now, this is basic ghost knowledge. You tellin' me you don't know?"

"I prefer to sort them through catagories, is all." Ford dismisses the subject in favour of staring at his EMF reader.

Another round of tense silence goes by, yet the three of them have come across nothing. Stanley is beginning to think this is just a huge waste of time.

Manny holds a similar sentiment as he pauses to shine his UV light around one last time.

"Welp, if nothing has come to get us by now, there's probably nothing here. This place is a bust, let's wrap things up." He points his finger up and swirls it before pointing to the exit.

"What, just like that?" Stan grumbles out as he lowers the flashlight. "Ya couldn't have made that decision any further back?"

With the light now pointed at the floor, it leaves everything above their waists in a dark abyss. The only other light source is from the UV lamp Manny holds.

"Scared, are we?" Ford asks, but there's an undeniable mocking tilt to his tone.

Manny rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, the UV light in his hand makes the side of his shirt glow.

"No, it's just that I've got something you don't."

"And what's that?" Ford crosses his arms in a similar fashion.

Manny does a little flourish with his hands. "Magic."

Stan and Ford scoff in sync.

"I knew I shoulda stayed in the van." Stan begins to make his way back to the exit while the other two continue their squabble in the growing dark.

"So, this "magic" lets you know when ghosts are about?" Ford asks, partly curious, and partly to jeer at him.

Ford isn't poking fun at Manny because he doesn't believe in magic, it's just that if a spell to detect ghosts were in use, Ford would be able to tell. So far, Manny doesn't have anything on him that could be used for such a spell.

"Not just ghosts, but yes, it does. And it's totally real, by the way!" Manny spins on his heel to follow Stanley out before he pauses abruptly.

"Actually, nevermind. I think we've found our ghost."

Ford follows Manny's gaze down the empty corridor. The shine of the UV light does little to illuminate their surroundings, unlike the flashlight Stanley had.

Ford feels his blood run cold.

"Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking." Ford replies evenly.

"Really? Because you just broke the EMF reader."

Ford looks down to the cracked device in his hand. Alright, he'll admit this to himself and no one else, but he is very much panicking.

"The ghost didn't trigger the EMF reader, so it's not like we'll be needing this anyway." Ford throws the broken pieces to the side with a little more force than he intended.

"Uh... true, I suppose." Manny shines the UV light around the hallway before spotting drops shining against the cracked tiles. "Okay, we've got a lead, at least."

"And all it took was my brother to find it." Ford grits out under his breath.

Manny lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "I know you probably don't want to hear this right now -and certainly not from me- but let's try to calm down and keep a level head, alright?"

Ford shoots him a deadly glare, but Manny simply holds his gaze with a worried expression. Out of both of the twins, he likes Stanley more, so Ford isn't the only one concerned.

The trail leads to a room, a suspiciously empty room. The far back wall glows brightly under the shine of the UV light, and that's the only thing worth noting. Ford is reasonably upset once he realises Stanley isn't here, but trudges onward into the room anyway.

Ford stares at the wall curiously. He places a hand on it, and it feels completely normal. Dissapointed once again.

"I wonder why only this wall glows under ultra violet light..." Ford murmurs to himself as he raises a hand to place on his chin.

"Up."

"Pardon?"

Ford turns to Manny and sees his horrified expression. Before he has time to register that, something wet splatters against his glasses.

Manny lifts the UV light upwards just as Ford lifts his gaze.

"Ah, I see... Up."

There, strung up by limbs of what can only be assumed to be blood, is Stanley. He looks furious.

Behind him, flat against the roof, glows an almost cartoonish depiction of a human. They laugh, but there's no sound. Slowly, it removes itself from the roof and takes form. It shines hauntingly under the UV.

What first started as a light sprinkle, is now a full on downpour of blood as it looms above them. The stench of it makes Manny gag, but Ford just narrows his eyes at the being while it approaches slowly. It continues to laugh silently; that's the only thing that irks Ford.

"How do you suppose we kill this thing, Manny?"

Manny jolts a bit in surprise at being addressed, then strugles to form a sentence for a moment as he takes a step back.

"Wha- me??? I dunno, usually with ghosts I can just exorcize them with my medallion and be done with it, but that isn't a ghost." He points at the liquid mass that Stanley's struggling to escape from.

Both men would be worried about Stanley possibly suffocating from the stream of blood that covers the lower half of his face, but it doesn't seem to be covering his nose. Which, as relieved they both are, is still concerning.

Could it be using Stanley as bait? What is it planning? Whatever it is, no one's keen to find out.

It continues to move forward, almost sussing the two men out like they are to it. Ford mentally checks his inventory for a weapon that would do the most damage to a creature made of blood.

Predictably, nothing comes to mind.

He lets out a frustrated growl. "We have to do something."

Ford decides to take the inititive, seeing that he's the more capable one out of the two. Not that he's being presumptious of Manny's abilities, but the fact of the matter is that Manny is staring at the creature like a deer in headlights and Ford is inches away from trying to pummel a liquid.

Which also isn't good, but it's better. Ford will take better than nothing.

Flicking open one of his books from inside his coat, he searches through it until he finds what he's looking for.

"I believe this might be a failed resurection spell."

Ford pauses on an old partchment page in a plastic sleeve, the words are written in a dead language, but to Ford, it's like reading english.

"The closest I can find to-"

Ford doesn't get time to finish before he finds himself being shoved to the side. There's a split second where he sees Manny, then he doesn't.

A stream of blood slams Manny through the wall and leaves him lying in a pile of debris in the corridor. A pained groan proves that he's alive, so Ford returns his focus to the task at hand.

Despite the UV light now being broken, the mass of blood continues to glow.

"It would appear you've made your final assesment." Ford says to it while pocketing his book. He's read all he needs to, anyway.

It looses it's human form in favour of creating large waves to try and crash against Ford, but it underestimates his speed.

Manny stumbles back into the room with his madallion in hand. He raises it and the metal glows blue, acompanied by a low hum.

The blood spikes, then looses form. Most of the blood falls to the floor with Stanley, who wastes no time to put distance between it and himself.

Multiple souls writhe and scream as they try to escape the blood, but eventually they fade back into the mass. Manny lets his arm drop as he joins the other two men.

"There should be some sort of tether, we need to destroy it." Ford explains.

"There's a heart-" Stanley starts as he tries to wipe himself clean. He makes zero progress. "-Inside that thing somewhere. It kept movin' the damn thing around though, so I couldn't get a grip on it."

"That's fine, Stanley, thank you." Ford turns to Manny. "Do whatever you did before, and I'll shoot its heart."

Manny, although dazed, manages to nod and turns his attention to the growing ball of blood.

"Do you still have your flashlight, Stanley?" Ford asks as he pulls out his trusty gun. The line along the side of it's triangular barrel glows blue as it whirrs to life.

"Even if I did, it would've been chock-full of blood."

"Alright. Just stay behind me, then."

Begrudingly, Stanley complies. He wishes he could do more to help right now, but he has neither guns nor magic. He would offer to punch the thing, but he's been doing that for the last ten minutes and done no damage.

Once the ball reaches its previous size, jets of blood shoot out from it. Stan and Ford manage to dodge them but Manny gets clipped on the shoulder.

He stumbles back against the wall with a pained hiss. Yet he still manages to lift his hand up to activate the medallion. Ford takes aim.

The blood spikes again, more violently this time, before a large jet of blood slams against Manny.

"Dammit-!"

"Manny!"

Ford takes a shot in the dark, hoping to distract it.

The lazer passes through it with a sizzle as blood get evaporated. The light from the lazer briefly illuminates the inside of the blood enough for Ford to see the heart.

It stops the constant stream against Manny to turn its attention towards Ford. Manny falls to his knees and coughs violently.

"Sixer." Stan calls out to his brother with a warning tone.

"Manny, I'm counting on you here!" Ford takes aim again.

It takes the form of a human again and its expression is livid.

It lunges at Ford with its mouth open too wide for a human in something like a scream.

The being stops a mere inches away from Ford, its hands ghosting around Ford's neck before it writhes. Blue spikes jut out from it as it tries to keep form.

It takes a moment, but Ford can feel something on his shoulder. He glances to his left and sees Stanley with a handful of his coat, his stance tense and ready to run. Ford hasn't seen an expression this serious on his brother's face in a while as Stanley stares down the entity.

Ford returns his gaze forward.

For a split second, he sees the heart reveal itself.

He shoots.

✄----------------------------------------------------

Uhm!!! I like them all a lot :3 Mwah mwah mwah kisses to all. If you read allat then THANK YOU!!! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!! Lmk if you'd like to see more of this stuff idk

[angelxd-3303]

To say that Nimona had made it an uphill battle for Ambrosius was a tragic understatement. Ever since she'd reappeared in true chaotic fashion, the 'Golden Boy' didn't think he'd ever received more dirty looks. With Nimona incessantly pressing herself between him and her 'boss', Ambrosius was left wondering if this was how others had seen him. Back before...yeah...

Even now, weeks later, Nimona was cuddled into Ballister's side while swatting Ambrosius with her tail. It was a scarlet whip like appendage with an arrowhead tip, and Bal grasped it to keep her from smacking him again. Nimona huffed, shifting into an otter and snuggling into Ballister's lap. The brunet ran his fingers through her fur, sighing deeply.

As annoying as it was to be pushed away from his boyfriend, Ambrosius had to admit that he was grateful for Nimona's protectiveness. The way she defended Bal, even when the whole world stood against him.

'Including me.' He thought bitterly, looking away. He and Ballister had talked about the whole thing, of course. They'd spent many days after the collapse of the wall sitting in Ambrosius' apartment crying and holding each other through choked apologies. Once it got out that Bal had been living in a broken down tower, Ambrosius had spared no expense in fixing it up so they could move in together. Since everything that happened, he wanted nothing more than to get out of the city. Now they sat in the newly renovated tower living room, scrolling through Netflix to wind down for the evening.

There were times where Ambrosius wondered if he'd ever regain the kind of relationship he had with Ballister before. Did he completely mess it all up?

"Hey, can you grab the popcorn Bambi?"

Ambrosius' breath caught in his throat. He hadn't heard that nickname since they were kids! He and Nimona both whipped around to stare at Ballister. The brunet was transfixed on the TV, clearly unaware of his slip-up. A fond smile spread across Ambrosius' face, and he stood up. As he walked around the back of the couch, Ambrosius placed a gentle kiss to Ballister's temple.

"Sure thing, Thumper."

Ambrosius strolled into the kitchen, chuckling at the rapid footsteps behind him. Nimona grabbed his arm, jerking him down to her level.

"What the hell?? Bambi?! Thumper?! Wha-?!" She sputtered. Ambrosius laughed, setting up the popcorn machine.

"Heh, yeah. Kind of an inside joke." He replied. Nimona gestured impatiently. Ambrosius smiled softly.

"Well, when we were kids, Bal had a hard time... pronouncing things. He didn't have access to a lot of the education that I did, and he kinda found other ways to say things."

"So he started calling you Bambi?"

"Well, it's easier than Ambrosius, right?" Nimona shrugged.

"I guess so." Ambrosius chuckled.

"The teachers at the Institute all thought it was so cute that no one corrected him. I gotta admit... it's nice to hear it again." Nimona tilted her head as Ambrosius leaned back against the counter.

"Yeah?" He nodded.

"I...I feel sometimes like everything I did to him has ruined our relationship. Like we'll never be as close as we were. I guess hearing it kinda..." He struggled to explain.

"Reminds you that the foundation is still there." Nimona finished. Ambrosius looked up at her, surprised. She raised a brow.

"What? I wasn't born yesterday. I'm older than both of you combined." She deadpanned. Ambrosius chuckled, pouring the popcorn into bowls.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." As they returned to the couch, Nimona leaned in to whisper:

"You know I'm never letting you live this down, right 'Bambi'?" Ambrosius gave her a fake look of annoyance, face splitting into a grin as they sat down.

If Ambrosius noticed that Nimona let him sit next to Ballister on the couch, he didn't say anything. Counting it as a victory, he pulled Bal into his arms and cuddled him close.

'I've got to be the luckiest man alive.' He thought, as Ballister melted into his arms just as he did before. Nimona leaned into his side with crossed arms, not without giving him a light smack with her tail.

[kickis-conan-king]

I like to think that in a modern au, if Keith had any kind of social media, it would be a little bit like one of those accounts where you go “is this guy just really committed to the bit or is he just Like That?” Like his instagram account would be full of nothing but reels where he sets the phone camera down after staring silently into it, walks far enough away that his whole body is in shot and does like, ten backflips before the video just abruptly ends with him still in motion. Another video where he walks around town with a ton of little throwing knives and it’s just a montage of footage of him lodging them into billboards and signs and other random hard to reach places. A lot of his videos are taken in the dark at indiscernible locations with nothing but the flash too bright and distorting his face, his eyes flashing like a raccoons in the brightness, and those videos are the rare times he speaks in his vids but it’s always something like “if life has to include suffering then how come it’s minor shit. I’d rather be miserable in a big way that is kinda badass then go through one more awkward conversation with a barista.” His most normal videos are of his dog just zooming around (no commentary or caption) and just. Footage of his legs dangling from absurdly high places with beautiful views.

Lance just randomly comes across his account while scrolling through his Instagrams suggested reels and immediately becomes OBSESSED with xxjustkeith.xx4510fu. At first Lance thinks it’s a meme account, some kind of bit but then the more he watches the less sure he is. He kinda can’t believe someone That good looking would make anything other then thirst content. He spends hours scrolling the account. He starts to wonder if maybe this guy is a serial killer or something. Then he notices in one of the videos that…hang on…he recognizes that place. And that too. And holY SHIT they totally live in the same town!!! So under one of the videos he comments something obscure but that is undeniably From Their Town, basically calling this guy out on where he lives without doxxing him.

Keith immediately dms him like. Who the fuck are you and what do you want. Lance is like teehee hi uh. I think you’re insane 🥰🤪😉. And Keith is like meet me at x spot at x time for a fistfight. And Lance is like hell yeah brother, writes his last will and testament (a text to hunk) and goes to meet this unhinged hottie who literally said they were going to fight. So they meet up and like. Keith is how he is, kind of mostly just awkward and shy with an inclination for feral hobbies and knuckle first thinking and Lance is how he is all chatter and bravado and challenges and charm and so. The do spar a little bit but once they’re both breathless they just go get coffee and talk.

And after that in all of Keith’s videos there are snippets of someone chattering in the background, tan legs dangling just out of frame, a dude who does backflips with him, someone cheering or whining saying “let me try 😞 Keith hey. Let me try.” When he walks around throwing knives. A dude who is otherwise not mentioned anywhere or tagged in anything.

All the people who are fans of Keith account for its adventurous and surreal humor start speculating in the comments. Eventually Keith gets fed up and posts a video reply to the comments.

It’s in selfie mode. It a beautiful day, and him and Lance are side by side. Wherever they’re sitting it’s up high. A breeze ruffles their hair. Keith looks straight into the camera and says completely monotone. “This is Lance. He’s my boyfriend.” Lances silent shock gets cut off by the video ending (he did not know they were dating.)

[kalelactually]

posting a merlin drabble here that i’ll never finish. arthur’s pov — sorry if this doesn’t make sense !! i’ve been staring at it for too long :)

——————————————————————————————————————————————

— and all my tears have been used up, on another love, another love —

——————————————————————————————————————————————

you look at him, and tremble with the weight it takes to keep secrets together.

you are a prince. you are used to secrets. secrets that are vital, that hide bodies of villages, arms of troops, and the beating heart of your city. secrets that mean, if exposed, you could lose everything your ancestors have worked for overnight. a beating heart, gone, in the blink of an eye.

but his secret, oh — his secret would destroy not your kingdom, but your world as you know it (with him in it.) and you can’t live with that. you know you can’t. and you don’t want to find out what it would be like to have to.

so you keep moving, and you stay blind, and pretend, and hope and hope and hope, that above all, he will stay safe. (that he will stay with you.)

——————

however, some part of you is always mad at him. you’ll look over and see his face, split in half with a grin, and get unbearably, irrationally angry. you’ll snap, and throw insults, and cut with your words, if not your actions — and you’ve never known why.

(you know why. it’s fear.)

——————

leon points it out to you one day, easy, simple, quick as breathing.

he tells you that you never seem to smile. and that shakes your mind.

you ask, confused and caught off guard, why he points it out. he shrugs, leaning on his staff, and stares off at your servant, your merlin, who is mock-battling with some kids. (and when have you ever not thought of him as yours? just as you know you’re his.)

“you haven’t smiled since we were children.” he holds up his hand, as if to stave off protests you’re already forming. “oh, you’ll grin, and you’ll smirk, but it’s sardonic. like you don’t truly find the humor in it; humor that everyone else seems to see.” he hums. “you’re jaded, a little bit.”

you immediately get defensive, the heat of your anger rising, as your throat tightens and almost chokes you up, strangely.

he shrugs again before you can answer, tilting his head towards your servant (your friend.) “but you smile when you’re with him.”

you sit back, dumbfounded, and remarkably exposed. (oh.)

——————

you think later that night, once you finally have some time to yourself, and realize that you can’t remember what your face looks like when it’s smiling. you haven’t felt laughter, or humor — let alone joy, not truly, for years — and you abruptly remember something your father said, once.

“joy is for peasants. it’s the only thing they can afford. it’s common, and it’s cheap — and as kings, as rulers, we have no use for something so easily obtained.”

you didn’t smile in his presence again, after that.

and that decision, one you can’t even remember making, has followed you up until now.

(until him.)

——————

you understand why you’re so angry, now. it’s not because joy is cheap, (like your father once claimed,) or below you, (like you were once taught.) it’s because for you, joy is rare — and you don’t know what it’s like.

you, a king, a prince, (a man, a boy, a kid,) don’t know what it’s like to feel joy. to feel … happy.

and then he came along, and burst into your life, with abhorrent manners and mismatched outfits (and a humble kind of wisdom you’ve never seen,) and shows you that something like happiness is there, and it is possible.

and you are scared.

you, who backs down at nothing. you, who has fought dragons, who has stared down the queen of the north, who bested knights at the age of five. you, who gained your father’s approval. (you, who has fought for the right to live since birth.) you sit back, and you realize, you are deeply, deeply scared.

and then you’re angry, and full of a white-hot rage, and then touch your face and feel tears slipping free without your consent. and you think you’re grieving, because you were never taught things that so many others seem to just know.

and you, you are the one who doesn’t know something so simple, so crucial. you don’t know what it’s like to feel, and you think, that’s unfair.

you also think distantly you’d rather face another dragon, or a horde of them. it’d be easier. those, at least you know how to face.

you don’t know how to fight an enemy, one without a body, or arms, or legs — one that is nothing more than just a feeling, a shadow, a futile grasp at something you don’t even know how to understand.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

hope someone on here enjoyed !! sorry for the abrupt ending :// someday i’ll learn how to post using the tumblr format but today is not that day <33

• character credits belong to bbc and bbc’s merlin. all works enclosed are solely my own, and are purely fictional and meant for the enjoyment of the reader. please do not repost, republish, or steal my works without explicit permission, otherwise you will be blocked and reported. ty !! •

[vamp-stamp-fics]

Jet hates his face. He can't stand to look at it. He always looks away from mirrors when he's in the bathroom or ignores his reflection completely whenever he walks past water.

He doesn't believe he's ugly, no far from it. Jet knows he's not from the way girls smile shyly whenever he talks to them. The way they giggle with flustered faces whenever they're in his presence. Smellerbee always rolls her eyes whenever he indulges a little in flirting with girls whenever they pass in a town.

No, Jet hates his face because he looks just like his mother.

His beautiful, caring mother. The one that would always kiss him goodnight after telling him stories of spirits or star-crossed lovers. She was a hopeless romantic jet remembers that. His mother who would coddle him and rock her in his lap after he came home crying, another one of the village boys picking on him for how small he was. Jet used to be quite scrawny and weak if his freedom fighters could believe that.

His mother, the one that protected him from the seething hot flames the best she could the day the fire nation came to their village. while his father did his best to hold the soldiers off. And when he failed to do so, held jet tight to her as she told him to run as far as he could and to never look back. Even promising him she'd be right behind him.

He didn't keep the promise of not looking back as Jet heard the wailing screams of his mother dying. Tears blurring his view of her as the last thing he saw of her was her eyes. Only to see her killer on a Komodo Rhino in front of him with a hatred he'd never seen before.

So now jet covers mirrors. And if he can't do that, he breaks them. Letting the glass shatter as his fist covers in blood. Not only does jet hate that he looks like his mother, but he has the same hatred in his eyes as her killer. Hatred for the fire nation and what it did to him, to his own people and others.

And the thought of the only reminisce jet has left of his mother being tarnished by seeing her face with hatred in her eyes, would kill him sooner than what was to become of him in ba sing se.

[rapplesart]

Ok but like hear me out .

One of the dc crossover fanfics where Bruce adopts a kid (Danny phantom or Peter Parker iykyk) but instead of you know the bats finding them on the streets or having a whole hero cants and mouse thing or Barbara seeing them in the library they just go to the Wayne’s doorstep asking for money after being broke and having the idea in a half drunken state or joking about it .

Like for example Danny after being chased away from amity park and escaping his parents sits on the rooftop and talks with a gargoyles named Gary

„Yeah anyway that’s how I got here Gary, no clue what imma do know“ he says between another bite of pizza „like I’m pretty fucking broke and yeah maybe buying Pizza wasn’t the best investment in my situation but I was hungry I think I deserve a treat after all that .“

Gary stays silent as the two of them look over the city . Sirens echo in the distance, a few roofs in front of the, a black shadow appears between the gaps of the buildings, disappearing into the shadow just as fast as it appeared. Must be one of the bats Danny thinks .

He sets the piece of pizza back down into the carton in order to take a swig of the wine he stole from Vlads gift basket before his great escape. The man puts puts them on the counter for Mandy to find on a weekly basis now as part of his latest attempt to woo the woman. Jack adored the baskets when they first appeared, exited to have his best friend care about him and his wife.

Danny didn’t really plan on drinking it, he just brought it because it was the closest thing to grab. It was there so he took it . Now, sitting on the rooftop realising how fucked he truly was he decided he might as well be drunk for this too.

„And it’s not like any safe and sane workplace will take a random kid without paperwork. I probably need to do something illegal to go by now , Jazz would be so disappointed „ another swig from the wine .

It was fruity and dry and scratched his throat and Danny honestly didn’t enjoy the feeling but it made his wine just a little bit fizzier than before and it helped in a strange way.

Gary remained silent .

„sure there are a lot of Wayne foundations in Gotham that give out stuff , I did my research once I arrived after all, but they’d call cps and cps would either give me back to my parents or just straight up hand me over to the government so that is not an option „

Another bite of pizza . It was delicious a stark contrast to the wine

„It’s not like I can just go to Bruce Wayne and be like ‚yo got some money?‘ the guy would probably think I’m robbing him and call the cops and yeah, you get the gist of it Gary“

Another few beats of silence .

„But the dude is like crazy rich right? And he has his name on all of these foundations , and people say he’s an airhead so maybe I can just go to his house or something and ask for a donation. I mean it would be for a good cause , feeding a hungry homeless teenager is a good cause isn’t it ?“

„Yeah sounds like a pretty good cause Danny“ Damny answered himself as Gary by lowering his voice . The way one might get more into his head than he thought .

„You know what , I think imma just do this. Let’s just ask the rich guy for money he probably won’t even notice that he’s being scammed and if he does he probably has enough money nöt to care „

[nyoomerr]

Normally, the community of Proud Immortal Demon Way can hardly be called as such. To call PIDW readers a ‘fandom’ would be akin to calling everyone who visited the same porn site a family. PeerlessCucumber is a loud exception, but in the end he’s still only an exception - by and large, people reading PIDW know exactly what they’re there for, and it certainly isn’t for any sense of shared enjoyment or community.

The community of people following PeerlessCucumber himself, however, is a whole different story.

PeerlessCucumber is the asshole single handedly responsible for at least seven different copypastas, the rich bastard that will pay an artist’s rent for a single picture of Luo Binghe if only the artist can tolerate his demands for constant revisions, the dictionary definition of an anti-fan.

He is also blissfully unaware of the absolute glee in which people take in riling him up. And in the age of the modern internet, nothing brings a group of strangers together like the opportunity to poke fun of a guy like that.

“How do I look?” HualingsWife whispers to her companions. They take a moment to scrutinize her, gaze lingering around her chest.

“I don’t know,” SwordsOfCultivators says, “I think the guy ahead of you let his robes drape open further.”

HualingsWife rolls her eyes. “If I let my robes drape open that far, I’d be disqualified - you know the rules are different for men.”

“It’s not like you’re looking to win, though,” XuanyuMeat says. “And the open chest is clearly effective.”

The three of them pause, turning to look at the stage from their spot in the wings. The competitor that came before HualingsWife is running through a series of poses that are slowly but surely allowing his robes to slip ever wider. 

Two of the judges are watching with thinly veiled amusement - after several years of this tradition, they’ve gotten used to the chaos that PeerlessCucumber’s fans bring to these cosplay competitions. 

The third judge is PeerlessCucumber himself, and he looks like he might be experiencing a serious health condition. A serious mental health condition, to be clear.

“- robes of inferior make! Binghe’s exposure is always purposeful, and artful, and it wouldn’t be because he was wearing robes that didn’t fit him! If you don’t care about dressing true to his character -!”

“Hm,” SwordsOfCultivators hums. “Is it just me, or is Peerless not being as harsh as he usually is? Do you think he’s finally losing some of his obsession with Luo Binghe?”

“He better not!” HualingsWife cries. “I’ve put way too much time and money into working on a cosplay for that awful porn book for him to lose interest right when I get my chance to join the torturing-Peerless-fun!”

“No, no,” XuanyuMeat says, shaking their head. “You heard his rants for the Luo Binghe cosplayers one through four - he was especially cruel to them! Look at his face now, that isn’t the face of someone losing interest!”

They turn back to the stage. Luo Binghe cosplayer number five - likely DickBiggerThanBinghe, if HualingsWife were to guess based on her limited interactions with him in the PeerlessWatchers discord chat - looks unbearably smug. His robes have fallen completely off his shoulders by now.

PeerlessCucumber, on the other hand, looks so red HualingsWife wouldn’t be surprised if she started seeing steam pouring out of his ears.

“Ah,” she says, understanding. “You think he’s recently finally realized his obsession with Luo Binghe isn’t that of a straight man’s?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to get this flustered over a man’s exposed chest and still think it was caused purely by the outrage of seeing one of our ‘poorly done’ cosplays,” XuanyuMeat says wryly. They send HaulingsWife a pointed side eye. “So…”

“Oh yeah, I’m on it,” HualingsWife says, already loosening her robes further. “Just make sure to have the cameras ready to get the direct comparison of his reaction to a woman’s nip-slip versus the absolute conniption he’s going through now.”

“Please, he probably won’t even see it - he’ll probably get all awkward and look away like he does with any female cosplayer dressed in anything but a full body suit.”

“I think he’ll peek through his fingers anyway,” SwordsOfCultivators says gleefully. “He wouldn’t dare miss the chance to oggle another Luo Binghe cosplayer.”

On stage, DickBiggerThanBinghe finally waltzes off, having received his scoring from all three judges and a score from the back of the room where the group of PeerlessWatchers are sitting. 

After all, none of them are really here for the actual cosplay competition. They only care about one thing: whoever can get the highest scoring Peerless rant about their cosplay will pay for dinner for everyone that night. 

“Ohh, seven out of ten!” HualingsWife says, as the group PeerlessWatchers wave their scorecard around with glee. “The last time someone got scored that highly was when TofuBuns dared to cosplay as a half-dead Luo Binghe covered in wounds!”

“TofuBuns still has their display name set to ‘faithless mongrel undeserving of witnessing Binghes success’ in the discord server,” SwordsOfCultivators sighs. “I can only hope to one day trigger a Peerless rant so iconic.”

On stage, one of the judges glances down at the score sheet, sees that another Luo Binghe cosplayer is scheduled to come out next, and stifles a laugh before gesturing for HualingsWife to come on.

“No way I’m getting something that iconic my first try,” HualingsWife says, “but if I can get Peerless to make that hilarious choking noise he made the last time he saw a female-presenting Luo Binghe, I’ll count it as a win.”

[villainbait]

Unexpected Savior

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, angst, canon sylus behavior Summary: An encounter in the no-hunt zone goes wrong and when all seems hopeless, your savior isn't the person you expected. Word Count: >500

A hand harshly covers your mouth and you're jerked against a body much larger than your own, their heat seeping into your back. The familiar voice makes you stiffen but you don't struggle after hearing his whispered warning into your ear.

"Quiet."

The horrifying, ethereal sound of an angry wanderer pierces the silence and you slump against Sylus; grateful that he’s here. It wasn’t who you expected to save you from the wanderers in this no-hunt zone, but Sylus’s presence was comforting in a way you could never fully explain. You had been running from the wanderer that claimed this no-hunt zone as its own, its metaflux fluctuations far stronger than anticipated and that had made you careless. 

Once he’s certain the danger has passed, he lets you go and you sink back down into your hiding spot. He unpacks the supplies he brought and helps patch you up best he can. 

“At least now you can’t run from me for a while,” Sylus teases as he wraps your ankle and you glare. You try to kick him with your injured foot, but he rubs his thumb along the soft arch of your foot and it leaves you gasping instead. 

You ignore him. “I can still fight.” 

“I know you can sweetie, but did you stop to think about whether you should?” A frown accompanied his words and you realized Sylus was actually angry with you. It tempered your own frustration and you stopped fighting him. 

It was hard to argue anyway when you had lost this much blood. “I don’t want to leave you alone to fight them.” 

“Are you actually worried about me?” He sounds surprised, but his expression is inscrutable. 

“Only because if you die here, I do too.” You huffed and he laughed, shucking your chin with your fingers before standing. His gaze lingers on your face until you’re forced to look away, your heart aching uncomfortably from the way he looks at you. It makes you think of all the things still left unsaid and unanswered between the two of you and how you almost died today if Sylus had not come for you.

“It’s adorable how you think anything other than you could hurt me,” he murmurs with far too much confidence. He glances back, making sure you’re as safe as you can be with Mephisto perched on your shoulder. “Stay here. It won’t take long.” 

The dense fog seems to welcome him as he disappears into it and your protests are lost to the wind. You slump against the smooth rock with a sigh and do your best not to focus on the pain from your injuries, your gaze trained on the spot where Sylus had disappeared. You couldn’t hear anything except the soft mechanical whirl of Mephisto on your shoulder and the rhythmic pounding of your heart in your ears. 

…Sylus would come back, wouldn’t he?

[souptastical]

pulling up a scene from an old, unfinished draft & i got the vibe of James & Sirius at 19 yrs old in the middle of a war figuring out Lily's pregnant so damn perfect👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

•••✧•••✧•••✧•••

"What's wrong?! Is she alright?!” Sirius started to get off the bed in a panic but James shook his head and put his hand out to stop him.

“She's fine!” He said quickly. “It's just-” He huffed loudly while turning for a moment to shake his head in disbelief then hastily rub his face with his palms. 

Upon turning back, Sirius noticed he looked like he was about to cry and he proceeded to frown hard at the display.

“Spit it out then, James!”

“She's... p-pregnant.” James whispered in horror.

Sirius froze. 

“Pregnant?”

James nodded hurriedly while pursing his lips like he was about to be sick.

“Like… a baby?”

Sirius realized how stupid that question sounded the second it fell from his lips but he couldn't help it- couldn't wrap his brain around it.

“For the love of- yes, Padfoot! A fuckin’ baby!”

[serialkilluh1996]

Keegan being your passenger princess cause he can't drive for shit. He's so danger prone, you won't even let him touch things in the car. Hands in his lap, pouting like a child, seatbelt on at all times. God forbid danger prone Keegan get injured.

[angelxd-3303]

Nightmares were no stranger in the GoldenHeart household. Even if the Institute was gone, and with it the Director's influence, that didn't keep all three people from sometimes jerking awake after their dreams showed them their deepest fears. Ambrosius was haunted by visions of his lover lying in a pool of blood, arm nothing but a stump, while he's helpless to save him. Ballister is plagued by visions of the Queen's death, always left wondering if he could have saved her.

Nimona?

Nimona's nightmares consisted of Gloreth. It would start off happy, with her carrying an elated Gloreth on her back as a horse. Napping amongst the foliage and exploring the forest with her. Then, it would shift. Much like her.

"No, Gloreth, wait!"

"I'm not a monster, I promise!"

No matter what she pleaded, the dreams were always the same. A sword pointed at her heart. A gaze that bled uncertainty, ignorance, distrust…

"Go back to the shadows from whence you came." With that declaration, pain. Blinding, burning pain. Then…nothing. A vast expanse of nothing that left Nimona feeling hollow. Like someone had scraped out her insides with an ice cream scoop.

'Gloreth?'

'Boss?'

…

'Ballister?!'

….

"DAAAAAD!" The scream jolted Ballister and Ambrosius from a rare bout of restful sleep. Fast little footsteps thundered down the hall and both men jumped up. Bal ran to the door, throwing it open. There, standing in the hall, was a frantic and very confused…

"Nimona?" Bal inquired. He looked…younger. Smaller, with longer hair that was a darker red than usual. Big pink eyes looked up at him,and tears began to spill over as Nimona let out a wail. Ballister had her in his arm before he could think. He turned to Ambrosius, who stood in the doorway shocked.

"Grab my arm, Bambi." Ambrosius reached for him, before remembering what he meant and running back into the bedroom. Bal sighed, turning back to the panicked child in his grasp. Nimona clung to his nightshirt, hiccuping and sobbing.

"I'm not a monster, Daddy, I'm not!" She wailed. Ambrosius returned, helping Bal put on his arm. He stood, scooping Nimona up. As he cradled her to his chest, Ballister pressed their foreheads together.

"I know, Mona. I know. You're not a monster. I know, it's ok. You're ok." She threw her arms around his neck, still sobbing. Ambrosius came closer, petting her hair.

"It's ok, sweetheart." He murmured. "They're the monsters, for sending you away. What happened is not your fault, ok?" She peeked up at him from her hiding place in Ballister's shoulder, sniffling. Ambrosius wiped her tears with a smile. The trio migrated into Bal and Ambrosius' room, and the former sat legs crossed on the bed. He cradled Nimona close, letting her cry into his shirt. Finally, she seemed spent, and went limp against his chest. 

Ballister gently kissed the child's cheek, humming softly as he rocked. Nimona cuddled into his chest, sighing. Bal hummed sympathetically.

"Bad dreams, kiddo? That's no fun." Nimona shook her head with a sniffle. Ambrosius sat beside Ballister and brushed a strand of hair from Nimona's face. With a deep sigh, he guided his boyfriend to lay back down on the bed. The pair curled around Nimona, both holding her and soothing her whimpers with soft reassurances. Eventually, she fell asleep, and the tiny child was replaced by a stockier teen with a far more shaved hairstyle. The scared furrow of her brow remained, even in sleep. Ballister and Ambrosius made eye contact, and the blonde smirked.

"Dad, huh?" Ballister let out a breathless laugh.

"Not a word to her about this tomorrow, Ambrosius." He ordered, albeit quietly. Chuckling, Ambrosius leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. They snuggled into the soft pillows, soon following Nimona into a peaceful sleep. All the rest of that night, no nightmares plagued the GoldenHeart household. And if there were, they'd face all of them together.

[skz-elle]

kacii told me to post this and it’s her fault i was throttled by the thought of Hongjoong studio sex so…

inspo: bestie @kaciidubs ✨🎀

hongjoong x fem!reader

fluff, unregulated romantic fluff, slight nsfw (mentioned orgasms but no descriptions), unedited except for the one thing i saw i misspelled

His headphones are around your neck, where he had you come closer to hear a part of a song. Just moments ago, you had been standing in front of him with your eyes closed, nodding to the beat, carefully listening to the small details because he asked you for your opinion and you knew he meant “critique”.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was enraptured. Enamored with the way your face was softly lit by his keyboard. Infatuated with your hands gently holding the speakers to your ears and how your fingers poked out of the sleeves of his hoodie, which he had just pulled over your head at the first hint you were chilly.

That’s why he wrote songs for you. About you. About how he felt towards you. About how the world was you and him and nothing else whenever you were here.

He can’t wait for you to finish listening. He tries, and he wants to, but he physically can’t wait. His body craves your touch and it is the one thing he allows himself to indulge in without hesitation. His hands slide over your waist and he softly tugs to get your attention.

He’s in love with the way you don’t even open your eyes to check, you just trust him to guide you down into his lap. You sink into him like you were meant to be together this way. Like you were two pieces of a whole, like magnets drawn together. It’s graceful and gentle but intoxicatingly powerful in its own softness. He can’t resist. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t want to ever get enough. Being on the verge, always reaching for more, is too pleasant a chase for him to ever stop running towards it.

You’re still listening to the song when his lips slot together with yours.

You keep listening, even as he becomes more insistent, tilting your head this way and that to get the right angle. He has to make you feel his love. He wants it so deeply it aches.

You’re still listening even when his hands burrow under his hoodie, under your shirt, under your bra. His fingertips whisper their way across your skin, on paths he’s memorized long ago but will never tire of traversing.

You keep listening even when the song has ended, just to see how far he’ll go and how desperate he’ll get before he realizes. He’s addictive like this, strung out on wanting you and finally — blessedly — allowing himself pleasure in emotion just for the sake of it.

The joke is on you, though — as long as you let him, he won’t notice it’s been ten minutes instead of ten seconds.

He’d keep going for an eternity and time wouldn’t pass at all, so long as it’s you and him locked away in this little world.

You push the headphones off yourself to maneuver his hands into your hair, and that’s when he blinks back to reality for the briefest moment.

You think he’s going to speak, but he just gives you a dazed look — lips parted and shiny, breathless, cheeks pink, and eyes glossy — before he dives back in.

That’s eventually how Seonghwa finds the two of you, just a bit later. You’re asleep in Hongjoong’s chair, tangled together in what has to be an uncomfortable position, but it’s nothing new. Seonghwa always finds you like this after a particularly good orgasm or several.

Hongjoong has a tendency to rip the most mind-numbing climaxes out of you, before you both doze off just long enough to recover before waking like you’ve had a full night of sleep. heavy limbs, sore muscles, everything that comes with a comatose nap, except — Hongjoong would do it all again for even just half a second of the look you give him when he mumbles “I love you” into your skin at the joint of your neck and shoulder, and you return it with an “I know, my love.”

‘My love’, he thinks — and that’s right. Your love. He’s yours. Forever.