#short Fic

[morgottbathwater]

Galgespil ♡

SFW. Canon typical violence. Varré and his first encounter with the Lord he's come to serve. Platonic or romantic.

Word count — 497

His bloodied chest had gone cold, and it reeked of iron and betrayal. No, it wasn't; his comrade had simply followed protocol. Even allies face the lethal judgment of the Miséricorde, regardless of whether you're a commander or a fellow War Surgeon. The dagger had missed vital organs, his comrade had not confirmed the kill, and Varré was left to bleed. He had gotten too ambitious, too diligent; the knight, in turn for execution, wasn't fully incapacitated. With his last breath, he had pierced Varré's soft stomach. Without armor, he was left vulnerable.

His miscalculation had cost him his life, waiting to take his last breath as he reflected on the misery before him. Heaps of lifeless bodies he will soon join, another corpse to be forgotten.

As he fluttered between consciousness and slumber, he twitched awake at the tune of metal chattering. With weary eyelids, he turned to face him, an Omen.

“Rise, carrier of death, your end is not yet nigh,” he arose from the pool of blood spilled by War Surgeons. Healers become hangmen, abandoning their rejuvenating arts.

Varré didn't speak, he couldn't nor wished to. He merely observed the Omen, blood running down his calloused, coal forehead. Intimidating, yet eloquent and soft-spoken.

“Join me, become my blood-sworn knight, and I will salvage the brittle life left behind your eyes.”

The Omen stepped forward, looming over the fallen man. His shimmering, bedazzled spear towered over both of them, casting a shadow across Varré’s breathless body.

“Live an honorable life, a warrior of the Mohgwyn Dynasty. Or perish among the lives you’ve stolen. Die, you too, in obscurity,” the Omen continued, his voice was raspy but spoke with confidence.

He continued, “say, will you choose life and community, or a certain, lonesome death?”

With little contemplation, Varré reached his trembling hand towards the Omen, an attempt to communicate. His breaths grew scarce, his thoughts became muddled too. Anything but this, for his life cannot end on the battlefield he was tethered to.

“Very well, you have your wits with you,” the Omen answered, drawing a slit spilling red rain. It dripped down Varré’s head, down through the holes in his mask, spreading across his short stubble.

“Consume the blood I've spilled, for it will be the bond that ties us together.”

Varré looked up at the strange sight, a rain of blood manifested from nothingness. Regardless, he will heed the Omen’s call and escape the battlefield he detests. Mouth ajar, he let himself consume the blood. It tasted sweet, unlike human blood. Like the nectar of fruit or berries grown from fertilized soil.

The Omen scooped up the bloodstained War Surgeon, his limbs had gone limp, and his neck failed to keep his head perked. His cold body had regained some heat, warmth prickling at his skin, twitching as his fingers regained function.

“War Surgeon, what is your name?”

“Varré,” he whispered.

“Abandon your title, for you will be remembered as my White Mask, serving the Mohgwyn Dynasty.”

[fanged-fanfics]

Imagin baby dough y/n cookie pointing at a shadow and babling "shadow cookie, shadow cookie!"

☆ Images of Futures Passed — Pure Vanilla & Doughbaby Reader ☆

Genre: Gen, Mild Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Ik it wasn't inherently a PV req I just added him cause it's an easy way to bring in the plot I hope that's okay-

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

Pure Vanilla was carrying you about the kingdom, letting you balance in his arms while he communicated with the subjects. You were looking around aimlessly, spotting all the curious critters that were about. Butterflies, sheep, blue birds, everything of the like.

As he was talking to one of the preachers, he felt you wiggle in his hold. He chuckled good naturedly, patting your head "Careful, little sunflower, you'll slip" he warned lightly. You kept reaching your hand out in the direction of a shadow "Cookie!". "Hm? Do you see someone?" Pure Vanilla asks, trying to turn his staff in that direction to see as well.

There was nothing but shadow, coming from one of the many statues his kingdom held. Even still, you were reaching to it insistently "Shadow Cookie! Eee, Shadow Cookie!". Pure Vanilla felt a small chill snake through his form. You were much too young to know of the Beasts, he'd kept the knowledge from you completely. And yet, just almost hearing the name of his adversary made a sickening worry fill him. His breathing became shallow, and he felt the eyes of the preacher on him. He shook his head a little, nervously chuckling.

"Ahah, yes, the shadow from a Cookie statue! How wise! You're getting very observant" he praised in a soft tone that nearly shook. You looked up at him with some confusion, and he pecked your forehead to soothe your frown. "How about we finish this up, and then we can go play in the gardens?" He asked, smiling gently at the way your face lit up "Ooo, okay!!". He sighed gratefully, going back to talk to his subject. He tried his best to put the thought out of mind. He didn't want you to worry, not when he was here to protect you.

[r-riri]

batboys reacting to you giving them a gift out of nowhere

word count - 916

as usual if you see issues with grammar, you dont

when you came up to him with a small box that had been neaty wrapped in a matte black wrapping paper including a sparkly bow ontop of the gift he was confused for the first thing

he didnt know what to expect and suddenly he was going though all the dates in his head making sure he didnt accidently miss something but even if he somehow did alfred would have told him so for something to have avoided his and alfreds memory would have been shocking in itself

when you gave him the small box and smiling with this cute soft smile that you wore whenever you were proud of something

you usually gave that smile to him everynight when they both were laying in bed and your finger traced his scars that littered his body and he loved it, he loved you

so now he was confused why you were giving him something so out of the blue but of course he took it thanking you deeping claiming that uou never woukd have to give him something like this and that your smile and presences would always be enough for him and for him alone

so when he opened up the gift and looked inside and saw two black clufflinks with a shiny 'b' engraved into the tops of them he couldnt help but smile at them remebering how he talked about needing a new pair for the new suit he got for an upcoming gala and you did it

you were always so caring to him

when richard saw you approaching with your hands tucked behind your back with this smirk plastered on your lips he knew something was up

he eyed your appearance trying to see what you were hiding from him and he knew something was wrong.

when you showed him the medium sized box with black and blue wrapping paper a shining smile graced his face seeing it. he should've know you were up something

dick smiled at you eagerly grabbing the box knowing whatever was actually inside the box he would love and cherish until the day he could no longer cherish them

he carefully opened the wrapping whilst looking up to you watching how youd react as he knew you were always a very facial person

inside the box was something he nearly cried at, inside was a porcelain statute of his dog haley and it was painted to look exactly like her and he sowre in this moment right now he knew he had to make a collection of porcelain statutes of him and you now so that he could make a family creation and put it somewhere he would be able to see everyday

he would then have pulled you into a hug and never would want to let you go as he knew this was his forever.

now this man isnt someone who is well equated with getting gifts so this was something he didn't know how to react to when you gave him a neatly wrapped box that was coloured red and black

at first his instinctive reaction was to smile and thank you before arguing that he didint need anything special and that your love and just pure intentions with him was more than he ever though he would be deserving of him knowing you he couldn't escape this and he has escape many things in his life time before

he begrudgingly he opened the gift and low and behold was something that made he want to curl up and just sit in his feelings and seeing a handmade book and inside were 134 reasons why you loved him and why your pick him in a crowed room before anyone else

he knew you loved him, sure it was something he struggled with but he knew deep down you were gonna vanish on him but it was the small acts like this that reassured him that you werent just gonna up and leave on him

as usual timothy would usually have been found in either his room or the batcave, so when he saw you walking into his room with a red box with a yellow ribbon he was confused

he knew no important dates were today, he knew, he would always know when it came to you, he wouldnt rather you hate him than have forgotten something so important to you so when he saw this safe to say he was perplexed on why

when you gave it to him- more like shoved it into his face he knew you were up to no good so he sighed and slowly unwrapped the box and carefully looked in side and smiled rolling his eyes looking back up at you with a 'are you serious' kinda look in his eyes

instead the box was a framed photo from a newspaper of him at a interview for the latest Wayne enterprises launch and it was of him talking to a newsreporter and he had this lovesick grin and the headline read in bold 'timothy drake lovesick?!' as in that moment he was talking about you since one of the questions asked about how he balances the role at WE and being a 'regular' teen and tim mentioned his lovely partner that he adored

the look on your face had him sighing internally but he knew deep down he never would want anything but this in his life

[maritheillusion]

Just a pretty thing ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

You were walking through the forest, in a hurry once again, trying to distract yourself from the rustling of the leaves breaking that the footsteps behind you cause.

"Pleasee, just listenn" The handsome man whines as he follows you, trying to keep up with your pace.

"I'm listening," You respond with a tone of slight irritation, if he keeps trying to stop you like this you will be later than ever to work.

The nymph gently grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him, making you look at his beautiful pouty expression.

"You never give me the attention I want! You're always making excuses!" The man says in an almost childish manner, lightly stomping his foot on the ground, typical behavior of his.

"Ephisis, put your head together just for a moment, I have things to do, I work, you're a nymph, all you need to do is take care of the plants and be pretty!"

Hearing the last sentence, Ephisis's upset expression quickly changes, his eyes shining with love.

"You think I'm pretty?"

[olailamajnoon]

Jason appeared one morning on a summer's day. He was fresh and clean, and missing his customary violent tissue scars.

Bruce saw him enter the Manor, and held his breath. He didn't want to shake anything, shake the universe in any way to make Jason go away.

It's a dream, he said to himself. The Red Hood swallowed up my son. It's a dream.

Dream-Jason spoke up, munching Froot-n-Nuts in the kitchen. "Bruce. Where the fuck is everyone?"

Bruce stared in horror. Jason's face was clean of any hate. Why? He knew, then, that something was Very Wrong.

"No one is here," he said casually. "The house is empty, as you can see."

Jason nodded okay, and moved to go upstairs. "Jason," Bruce called. "What are you doing?"

"Going to my room!" Jason called. "I wanna see it! I know I don't live here anymore, but—I wanna see."

"Okay," said Bruce, already speed-dialling Dick. "Jason! Don't run up the stairs!"

"Okay," Jason called meekly.

Dick arrived in half an hour, to find Bruce and Jason sitting next to each other, watching Prince of Egypt.

"Wha—" he almost said, but Bruce shushed him with a finger. "Come, take a seat!" Jason called.

"Wha—" said Dick again, but then he caught Bruce's gaze from the corner of his eye. Bruce was warning him to keep silent.

When there was a popcorn break, Dick and Bruce conferred in the kitchen.

"The last thing he remembers," said Bruce, "is Zatanna."

"Zatanna did this?"

"She hasn't been answering my calls." Bruce roamed angrily, his hands tight by his sides. "She fucked with my son."

"She took away his anger! His—" Dick searched for a word.

"Hate," said Bruce. "That's what you're looking for."

"And without those things? He's like a lobotomized sheep!" Dick was angrier than Bruce had ever seen him. But then a sound came from inside the room, and both Dick and Bruce opened the door to find Jason playing with a sleepy Ace. The loyal old dog was licking Jason's fingers, and Jason was laughing.

Literally and actually laughing.

The two men looked at the boy Jason had become. The wonder and innocence in his eyes.

"Is this what he would have been like," Bruce murmured deadly, "if the world hadn't found him and taken him apart."

"I don't know," said Dick, with hot bitter desperation, "but that kid in there? That's not Jason. Not my brother."

"Hey Dick!" Jason called, and then snickered. "You remember how we used to take Ace out on walks while it was freezing, after making him wear the dog sweater?"

And Dick looked numbly at Jason's expectant, childlike face, and burst into tears.

[moodyvoid]

Touya’s been slumming it on the streets for a while now. Pick pocketing here and there, even mugging and robbery in desperate times.

He’s eyeing a couple walking down the alleyway, deciding they look like good enough targets.

You and your sort-of-ex-boyfriend have finally gotten together to grab lunch after some time separated. You consider maybe giving him another chance, after all, he really didn’t mean to steal $200 from your bank account to spend on Onlyfans.

You pause in the alleyway as another figure approaches you. Before he can even finish his sentence, ��Hand over your wallet—” your boyfriend pushes you forward, you falling to the ground in front of the attacker.

Touya pauses watching the absolute pansy of a man high-tail it out of the alleyway, you sitting on the ground also watching him scramble back out to the street.

Did he piss himself?

You slowly turn your gaze to the pierced man. He looks down at you, pity on his face as he holds out his hand to you.

You take his hand, standing up. “I don’t have much.” you begin.

“Nah, forget it.” Touya replies.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need the money for?” you ask.

He hesitates for a moment.

Why would you care?

“Food.” Touya says.

You pause, looking down at the bag that carried your now definitely ex-boyfriend’s leftovers. You hand it over to him.

“Here. It’s soba.” you say.

Touya takes the bag, looking it over. “Thanks…”

You nod and turn to exit the alleyway.

“What’s your name?” Touya asks.

You turn back, “Y/n… yours?”

Touya pauses for a moment, he’s been going by the name Dabi for a few months now, but for some reason when he opened his mouth— “Touya.”

You give a soft smile, “Enjoy your soba, Touya.”

Touya nods in response and watches you as you leave the alleyway.

Why did he tell you his real name? Why did it sound so sweet when you said it?

“Y/n…” he repeats, your name tasting just as sweet on his tongue.

“Y/n?!” A man calls out, Touya seeing the ex-boyfriend poking his head into the alleyway. Touya’s eyes narrow and he walks towards the man, his hand igniting in blue flame.

Names are so special.

The man screams in agony as the smell of burned flesh fills the air, blue flames eating him alive.

He doesn’t deserve to say your name anymore.

[sonderingdreams]

tsukishima is a petty bitch. he wasn’t born male or female, he was born a fucking drama queen. and he’s your boyfriend too? yeah, good luck solider.

you took the last slice of his stupid strawberry shortcake. you weren’t thinking, you told yourself. you didn’t even think about it! it was a moment of temptation, a unbearable craving late at night while drafting an unreasonably long essay that you procrastinated. but kei ain’t having any of it. you ate his sweet treat, so here the two of you are, kei on the other side of the small living room space, glaring down at his book with crossed lanky legs and a mess of blonde locks. you just finished the dishes and your approaching him for the millionth time, in an attempt for redemption for your crimes. “kei, baby—

he grimaces at the nickname. he likes the endearment but as of now he knows the tricks up your sleeves. “don’t pull that out now.” he grumbles back, clicking his tongue in annoyance and flipping the next page of his book with his long fingers. you groan in annoyance, getting on your knees, next to the couch and intertwining your hands together in mock prayer. “oh come on kei! please? i did not have evil intentions! i was fucking hungry and suffering!” you cried out with furrowed brows, as if you were pleading your innocence in goddamn court. he looks down with disdain, rolling his eyes and placing a hand on your forehead in an attempt to shove you fully away, almost making you fall on your ass in the process. but you simply laugh and push his rather large veiny hand away. you let out an exaggerated sigh, scooting across the carpet and generously placing your head on his lap. you smile up at him, soft and tender, nuzzling close and reaching for his hand before he pulls away, flipping you off but with a quick and reluctant sigh grabs it in his hand and mingles his hand into yours.

“sooo do you forgive me?” you drawl out, low and conspiratorially, looking up at him with big eyes and a hopeful smile.

“no.” he remarks, adjusting his glasses sliding down his nose. but he’s what you call a, “liar, liar, pants on fire.” he lets go of your shared intertwined hands, his hands now finding their way to your hair. gently grazing through and playing with the fine strands tenderly.

you smirk, all knowing and satisfied with your success of a plan. but it doesn’t last long, because he interrupts that celebration with a flick to your forehead.

“so when are we going to the cafe, huh? your paying.” he mutters, putting down his book and arching a brow.

he always pays, liar.

[fallenbratfiction]

crop top ~ bucky barnes x f!curvy reader

Bucky helps reader feel confident wearing a crop top on their date, reminding her that she’s beautiful just the way she is. A soft, supportive moment with a little bit of flirty chaos because… it’s Bucky. 🖤

masterlist faq

A/N: I should be going to sleep but you know what? you get a fic and I ruin my circadian rhythm. I love that top but you can imagine any you like!💞 you are beautiful and deserve to be wearing any crop tops you damn want!!!! No one should never make you feel like you are supposed to look a certain way in order to wear something.

warnings: curvy! reader, boyfriend! Bucky, reader is self-conscious and bucky reassures her.

minors dni. i am not responsible for what you choose to consume.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

“You sure I don’t look stupid?” you asked for the third time, fidgeting with the hem of the baby blue crop top. It was soft, ribbed, and paired perfectly with your favorite jeans—but it clung to your stomach in a way that made your skin crawl with nerves.

Bucky was standing behind you in the mirror, hands resting gently on your hips. “You look like you walked out of my dreams,” he murmured, voice warm against your neck.

You let out a nervous laugh and pulled the top down, trying in vain to make it longer. “You’re biased.”

“I’m observant,” he said, turning you gently by the shoulders to face him. He crouched slightly to meet your eyes, thumbs brushing the outside of your arms. “Baby, look at me.”

You did, hesitant and searching. He gave you that soft, steady gaze—the one that always made the world quiet for a second.

“You can wear whatever you want,” he said firmly. “You will look beautiful. That’s not up for debate.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re my boyfriend”

“No,” he said, voice softer now. “I’m saying that because I love you. And I think you look like a goddess.”

You sighed and looked down at your stomach, poking the fabric. “I just…I feel so exposed like everyone can look at my stomach, everyone can see everything”

Bucky was quiet for a second, then he lifted his metal arm and turned it palm up, flexing the fingers slightly. “You know,” he said, “I used to hate when people stared at this.”

You blinked, glancing at the vibranium. “Bucky, that’s not—”

“I know it’s not the same,” he said quickly, “but the feeling… it’s close. Feeling like eyes are on you. Like people are forming opinions before they know you.” He paused, stroking your waist with his other hand. “But I started realizing something. This arm? It’s a part of me. And if someone wants to stare? Let ‘em. I’ll still sleep fine at night.”

You smiled, just a little. “Easy for you to say. You’re hot and mysterious and your arm is is cool like it can kill people and stuff. That’s powerful, these are just stomach rolls.”

Bucky blinked at you, then let out a soft laugh through his nose—not mocking, just surprised. “Sweetheart,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours, “did you just say my arm is cool because it can kill people?”

You shrugged, flustered. “I mean… yeah? It’s a weapon. People stare at you and probably think ‘wow, badass.’ People stare at me and think, ‘she should’ve worn something looser.’” You motioned vaguely at your stomach, the fabric hugging closer than you were used to. “These are just… rolls. Squishy. Uncool.”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression a mix of heartbreak and fierce love. “That’s not what people think. And even if it was—who the hell cares?”

You didn’t answer, just crossed your arms, trying not to fold in on yourself.

“I know what it’s like to feel like you’re being watched,” he said gently. “I’ve felt it in my skin, in my spine. But if I spent my life dressing in a way that made everyone else more comfortable, I’d still be hiding under twenty layers of tactical gear.”

He took your hand and guided it to his chest. “This arm may be powerful, yeah. But you? You’re brave. You walk into rooms knowing what people might say, and you still show up. You still want to wear the damn crop top. That’s power, baby.”

You bit your lip.

“And those ‘uncool’ rolls?” he added, fingers brushing your sides. “They’re a part of you. They’re soft and warm and they’re where my hand fits when I hold you at night. So yeah, maybe this arm can kill people—but those rolls? They keep me alive.”

Your breath caught, and you smacked his chest lightly. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned. “Only for you. Now come on, let’s go out. Let the world stare. You’re with the guy with the murder arm, remember?”

You laughed—really laughed this time—and reached for his hand.

“Okay. But if I chicken out halfway through dinner…”

“I’ll give you my hoodie,” he promised. “But I’m betting we won’t need it.”

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!! Feedback is always welcome!

Shares, Reblogs, Likes & Comments help stories grow! I appreciate each one of them!! 🩷🩷✨✨

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[verstappensrealwife]

… Girlfriend? - Carlos Sainz jr x bimbo!reader

[carlos sainz masterlist  / f1 masterlist] ʚɞ in which... carlos just assumes they're dating ʚɞ fluff ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 700 words ʚɞ warnings: short because I have severe writers block

-୨♡୧-

You were always a little different, and that difference was reflected in your style. It wasn’t just fashion—it was an expression of your personality, a riot of color. Neon pink, light pink, rose, magenta—if it was even a shade of pink, you made it yours. It wasn’t something you’d planned. It just happened, and when your friend-with-benefits, Carlos Sainz, saw you, he couldn’t help but shower you in the same colors. Not because you asked for them—he just did. In exchange, you’d be his constant companion at races, perched on his arm like a trophy wife, in a way.

The two of you had been playing this game for a while. Both of you harbored feelings, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Carlos had assumed, from the very beginning, that this was more than just a friends-with-benefits thing, that you were already his girlfriend. That was how he’d approached it.

“Well, since you’re my girlfriend, I thought you’d come to a race in March…” he said one day, his eyes searching yours.

“Girlfriend?” You blinked, a bit taken aback.

“Yes?” He stammered, suddenly unsure of everything. “Aren’t you… my girlfriend?”

You laughed lightly, casual, but there was an underlying confusion. “Well, you never actually asked, so… no.”

He froze for a moment, caught in the awkwardness of the situation. Was he supposed to formally ask you out? That felt so old-fashioned. He didn’t know how to handle it, and it showed—he just stared at you blankly, uncertain. Meanwhile, you were blissfully unaware of the discomfort you’d caused, and your mind quickly shifted focus.

“Anyways, I can’t come to your race,” you continued, waving a dismissive hand, “I’ve got coursework to do.”

•

But Carlos wasn’t deterred. No, he had a plan, a big one. February 14th—Valentine’s Day—was the day he had chosen. He had spent hours perfecting every detail: candles, rose petals, the works. It was supposed to be perfect, his moment to make everything official. He invited you over at 6 PM, but of course, you arrived fashionably early, at 5:56.

You knocked on the door, a soft sound that echoed in the stillness. Carlos opened it, and for a moment, he couldn’t even breathe. There you were—dazzling in a tiny slip dress that clung to your figure in all the right ways, red-bottom heels that made your legs look endless, and nails perfectly manicured with a Valentine’s theme. He wasn’t sure if his heart stopped or sped up, but either way, he was stunned.

He ushered you inside, his hands a little unsteady as he pulled you into his arms, expecting the usual kiss. But instead, he gently led you to his bedroom, where the real surprise waited. As you stepped inside, your eyes widened. The room was lit by the soft glow of candles flickering on the windowsill and bedside tables, casting shadows that danced on the walls. Rose petals were scattered across the floor, leading up to the bed, where they rested in a delicate arrangement.

You turned to him, already beginning to speak. “This is really pretty—” But before you could finish, his voice cut in, softer and more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“Please… be my girlfriend,” he asked, his voice almost a whisper, like he was afraid of your answer.

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then, a smirk played at the corner of your lips. “Well, duh,” you said, the words slipping out easily. “I thought we already established that when you called me your girlfriend the last time. I just assumed that was your way of asking.” You stepped forward and kissed him, the tension breaking. “Y’know, you’re kinda stupid sometimes,” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

Carlos was completely dumbfounded, standing there in silence, still trying to process everything. For a brief moment, he couldn’t quite figure out how to respond, but in that silence, you both knew—this moment, this silly, awkward moment, had made everything official. -_-

[forthefictionallesbians]

Andy stared pointedly into the glowing eyes of the affini sharing her table, daring them to prove her right. It would be an easy victory for "Wisteria Salashi, Fourth Bloom," should she decide to take it. Andy was under no illusions about her ability to resist any of the countless tools Wisteria had at her disposal--the xenodrugs, the hypnosis, even just prolonged exposure to her biorhythm. But if she could count on anything, it was her domineering friend's pride. That was the game, and she was winning.

Wisteria just sighed, the scarlet vines composing her chest folding inwards slightly along with the loud exhalation. All five of the eyes embedded in her "face" closed, and one titanic hand reached up to rub the bridge of her not-nose. It was a shockingly human gesture. Proof of how far Wisteria had come since moving into terran space.

"What's wrong, Wist? Afraid of showing your empire's true colours?" She tried her best to sound innocent, and failed. Each word dripped with the smirk slowly pulling at her lips. Behind her friend, a set of floret servers in overly cutesy orange-and-pink floral dresses had paused their rounds to gape. A few of the diner's other patrons, humans and affini alike, had also glanced after hearing the sigh. No matter. Witnesses would just make the victory all the sweeter.

"Really, Andy? You're taunting me with a feralist talking point?" Wist's response came slowly, as she completed her exasperated display and stared down at Andy with disbelief and... hunger? "You do understand that I could use that as a reason to domesticate you, without violating your rights as an independent at all?"

Ooops. "Ah, but we both know I don't really believe that," she retorted in a sudden flash of anxiety.

"Then why, dearest acorn, did you think this was a good idea?"

Her mind reeled slightly. What did Wist mean? It felt like the whole impulsive plan was crumbling around her. But she had known why she'd pushed when she had. This had seemed like a good idea then. Frost and fire, it could still be a good idea. She just had to make it work, and then she would finally be the winner in their daily sparring matches. Time to dig in.

"If you're so frustrated by this, then what's stopping you from domesticating me?" Wisteria's eyes were unreadable, dazzling ovals that seemed to dance as Andy resumed glaring. That wasn't fair. Hers couldn't do that. And they were so beautiful. And deep. And wow. Wisteria blinked with a slight chuckle, forcibly breaking their eye contact for a second. Wha- right. Andy continued. "I know you want to, so desperately. It's why you come here every day. And all that's stopping you is my explicit lack of consent." She folded her arms over her chest, the sleeves of her jacket making a satisfying rustle as a flared nose finished her picture of defiance.

Wisteria leaned forwards, towering over Andy as she closed the distance. The expression on her face had turned distinctly predatory. Andy yelped despite herself, before returning to her best facsimile of resoluteness. "Do you want me to domesticate you?"

The way her voice squeaked in response was horrifically undignified. "N- no! No, I don't! I-"

She was cut off by a purred pronouncement, silenced by the forest of thorny teeth curling into a cruel smile. "You've been coming here too, little one. Every day, just to meet with me. I think you do want it."

"You- you can't! Unless you break the rules! Which-"

"Which means you win? Because you've proved I don't care about them?" Her voice rolled like sap, slow and irresistible. Andy had the horrible feeling that she had messed up somehow. "Isn't it cute that the only way for you to win is on my leash?"

Frost. Frost frost frost frost. How had this gotten so out of hand?

"It's almost like you want me to take you."

Maybe she could still pull this together? Not be the flustered one for once in her storming life?

"To wrap my vines around your neck and never let go."

No. She didn't want that. Didn't she? Wisteria was so close, her eyes were so bright. The rest of the restaurant had stopped existing.

"Turning you into my little pet, my little plaything, forever and ever."

She was blinking so fast. It didn't help. Her mind was filling with that light.

And then it was gone. Andy shuddered, confused, the world slowly fading back in. What had happened? Wisteria was sitting back, leaning away from her, a satisfied expression on her beautiful face. The glow in her eyes had faded, and they were back to their normal burnished sheen. Part of Andy twinged in disappointment at that. But that didn't matter. As memories slowly folded back into her mind, she realized she'd lost. Again. Frost, she was hopeless.

"It's funny, you know?" Wisteria was speaking. Andy's head whipped up towards them, gaze refocusing.

"Wuh-- huh?" Eloquence had always been once of her strong suits.

"You could already be my floret, domesticated and then hypnotized to not remember it. And you would have no idea." Wisteria wasn't even looking at her while talking, focusing instead on swirling an oversized glass of some affini beverage. If Andy wasn't so busy panicking, she would have found the image strikingly beautiful.

Full consciousness crashed back in an instant, mind returning and immediately flying into overdrive. "I'm not, am I?" Andy frantically began searching through her memories, desperately hunting for proof of her lauded independence. What had she eaten for breakfast that morning? Where did she work? Were the answers real? Could she know??

Wisteria chuckled, still looking away. "There's only one way to find out, my acorn."

"And what's that?" Her heart felt tight. Panic still held her in an iron vice.

The towering affini pushed the chair back, and stood. However much she had dwarfed Andy while sitting, standing just made it worse. She held out a hand. "It's time for us to go now, pet." Her voice was iron, commanding, sweeping through Andy. With the turmoil in her head, there was no refusing the order.

Tentatively, anxiously, but obediently, Andy stood and walked over to take Wisteria's hand. Vines snaked out, binding her wrist and upper arm with a surprising gentleness that still lacked any give. There was no escape. Wisteria started to walk. Andy quickly began jogging along, barely keeping up with her friend's(?) massive strides. After the hypnotic display, a solid third of the patrons watched them go. Most of the humans were gaping in open desire. She blushed, hard.

Wisteria swung the door open, and Andy quickly followed out into the street. Her mind was still churning, struggling to catch up with how quickly things had gone wrong. Wrong? Had they gone wrong? She didn't know anymore. Gathering enough thoughts to ask a question took until they reached the train station, where she was picked up and placed firmly on a viney lap. That silenced her for another long moment, until she finally spoke up.

"Wist?"

There was no response; Wisteria didn't even acknowledge that anything had been said.

"Wisteria?" Andy turned to look up at her. Still, nothing. Her shoulders clenched. She had lived in under the compact her entire life, she had been surrounded by affini media and books, to say nothing of having watched many of her friends and acquaintances fall to domestication over the years. She knew what Wisteria was waiting for. And as hesitant as she was to say it, she had to know.

"....mistress?"

A wide grin spread across the affini's face, and she looked down at the girl in her lap. "Yes, my acorn?"

Andy felt herself tremble. This was not how she had imagined the conversation going this morning. But nothing felt real anymore. She didn't even know if her hab unit was real. The train was traveling the wrong direction for her, but she didn't know if that was right either.

"Did you-- Am I a floret?"

"Not yet, dearest. But we're going to change that right now. After how adorable you were today, I couldn't believe I'd held myself back for so long."

Andy whimpered, but did not resist.

[bamboobooshark]

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

⊹ ࣪ ˖🐾₊˚ I DON'T PURR : 709 WRDS

INSPIRED BY @cloudbug08 ‘s CG LOGAN HEADCANONS ; DRABBLE |🐾| A/N : No one will ever stop me from making CG!/Dad!Logan fics. At all. Ever.

You’ve been regressed all day. Yesterday was a busy, stressful, overwhelming day, and now you’re coping with the stress. Logan is by your side, caring for you as usual. You lay on the living room floor’s carpet, tummy pressed to the ground, legs kicking up in the air. You breathe contently as you carefully color the page Logan printed out for you.

You could hear him in the bathroom down the corridor near the stairs. He was carefully grooming his hair while humming a tune that sounded a little too familiar. A soft smile crept onto your lips once you recognized it, it was the sound of your favorite cartoon’s intro. “I know that song,” you chirp, gaining a soft chuckle from the man. “You sure do, kiddo. So much that you’ve got me hummin’ it myself,” he replied. He set down the comb before letting out a soft sigh. The sound of his boots slightly clacking against the hardwood floor made you turn your head and giggle out of excitement when you see him. “Kitty hair! Kitty hair,” you exclaim. “Not kitty hair,” he corrected while shaking his head.

“Kitty hair” is what you’d call Logan’s hair any time he had it brushed up like little animal ears. As much as he denied that they were meant to be ears to represent any animal, he never truly cared that you called it kitty hair. He found it pretty cute and grew fond of the term.

“Can I pretty please play with it,” you plead, clasping your hands together. Logan shrugs in response. “I dunno, bubs,” he drags out playfully. “Pretty please? I promise I’ll get that one spot behind your ears that you really like,” you add in an attempt to get him to accept your request. He looks down at you sweetly, hands on his hips, one eyebrow cocked. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” he groans dramatically, feigning annoyance. “But you gotta clean up all that arts and crafts stuff you got going on.”

Without hesitation, you nod in agreement. You start to clean up your crayons and coloring pages with haste. Within minutes, you’re done putting everything up, now sat on the couch waiting for Logan to come lay his head on your lap. You stretch your hands out to him grasping the air between you two. “Calm down, kiddo. I’m coming,” he assures you. He walks closer to you, leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, slips off his boots, and lays his head in your lap. He shifts a bit to get more comfortable by putting one leg on top of the other and crossing his arms against his chest. “There you go, bubs,” he hums with a deep exhale. You squeal with excitement as you gently begin to play with his hair. You run your fingers through the strands, scratch his scalp, and when you scratch behind his ears, you hear something. Purring. He always purrs when you play with his hair for long enough.

“You purr,” you exclaim with a giggle and a huge grin on your face. Logan sighs in return. He shakes his head in denial “You’ve got it all wrong, kid. I don’t purr. Wolverines don’t purr. You’re making things up,” he protests against your previous claim.

You felt his throat vibrate softly against one of your thighs and listened closely. As you told him, he was purring.

“You purr like a kitty, then,” you chirp back. Another deep sigh. He’s not even annoyed with your claim. He knows you’re right. He just doesn’t want to admit to his kiddo that he purrs. “I don’t purr. I didn’t purr,” he states firmly. “It’s not right to lie to your papa,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle. “But you did! I promise,” you pout to him. “I’ll prove it,” you say before beginning to scratch at his scalp again.

Sure as hell, he purrs. He grumbles softly to interrupt his purrs in protest. You know you’ve won once you hear a soft sigh fall from his lips as you scratch right behind his ears. More purring. “Guess you’re right, bubs,” he chuckles softly while closing his eyes. “Just keep scratching. It feels nice,” he adds with a smile creeping onto his lips.

TAG LIST : @saronics

[fanged-fanfics]

Helllooo! I'd like to order up a request with corrupted pure vanilla with the reader. The reader is desperate to bring the positive pure vanilla they fell in love with back,,but he says something extremely cruel in an attempt to drive them away from him?

Have a lovely day! <3/platonic

☆ Sweet Turned Sour — Truthless Recluse x Reader ☆

Genre: Angst || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: Now with a part two

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

"Vanilla-" you began desperately, the new darkened form of your love keeping himself facing away from you. His once bright robes had faded to an inky black, soulless blues accompanying the new shades. "Don't call me that" the Recluse said flatly "That's no longer my name". You got confused, stepping closer to him "PV, please. You're starting to scare me" you said. Despite your best effort, your tone wavered. The truthless recluse seemed to stiffen, half-turning to fix you with a gaze that held none of the usual kindness.

"Don't you tire of calling for a name now lost?" He asked. You felt irritation flare, immediately suffocated with fearful grief. "We need to talk" you said desperately "I don't know what's gotten into you, but this isn't you". "Finally caught on, have you?" He said in response. You let out a scoff "Pure Vanilla Cookie-"

"That's enough." The Cookie said, turning around all at once. His robes billowed while he approached you, only stopping a few feet from your face. "Quiet your whining at once. The Cookie you seek isn't here. The more you cry for that Healer, the more my nerves reach their limit" he said, all in a low and vengeful tone that sounded nothing like the man you'd come to love. You took a few steps back from him, too bewildered and hurt to speak. The Recluse let out a deep sigh, turning away "I can't stand to have you in my sight"

It felt like you'd been speared right through your chest. Pure Vanilla— your Pure Vanilla— wasn't anywhere to be found. There was only this cold, heartless husk, glaring at you with contemtp. You fixed a glare on your face, whipping around to storm off. The now lonely Cookie gave a deep sigh. There was a hidden layer of his souljam that twinged painfully when remembering the look that had crossed your face. He didn't know why he'd done that, it all just spilled out. Words that weren't his own, a visceral anger that he couldn't hold back. An unfamiliar wetness came to his eyes as his expression remained stern.

It was safer this way. He couldn't bring you down with him. He needed you to hate him, to keep yourself from getting wrapped up in this mental sinkhole he'd found himself in. He took a steadying breath, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. He gripped his staff tighter while beginning to walk off in the opposite direction. 'Forgive me, my dove, but this isn't a plan you should be anywhere near' he thought to himself 'Maybe someday, I'll recall that voice with mire clarity'

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Chasing The Calm

Summary: Tyler Owens x fe!Reader -> A moment of peace for you and Tyler in between the chases.

Disclaimer: Mostly a fluffy short, tornado wrangler family, dog adoption, relaxing on the porch vibes, etc.

You’d both had a long day. 

You’d been storm chasing with Tyler for almost five years. It had started out as a favour – you had a break off work for a few weeks in the summer and he needed a data reader. So, after some persuading, you agreed. 

And you’d been chasing ever since. 

The day’s chasing started at five in the morning. Lily had set an alert on her phone which meant any tornados worth chasing for footage would be sent directly to her phone. Even if that meant getting your asses into gear to drive into the middle of an unused field. 

Finally, around three p.m, Tyler had called a break for everyone. Boone was starting to lose energy and the others were ready for food and an early night. And since strolling back into your shared home, you and Tyler had been laying on the porch swing watching the sun slowly set across the acres of land. 

Not too long after Tyler had helped you up before slotting you in between his legs, the Wrangler rescue came and slotted herself in the small gap left by yours and Tyler’s legs as you lay on him. 

Every now and again you could hear Dexter making tea in the kitchen. The kettle whistled for a few seconds before he pulled it from the stove. 

Tyler’s heartbeat was steady in his chest as he lightly drew his fingers up and down your back, his eyes looking across the fields at the golden hue that had been cast across the wheat. 

Compared to the humidity and winds you’d all been experiencing since five a.m, the soft breeze that blew through the porch and across both of you was a kind welcome. 

From the other end of the porch swing, Hay-Bail shifted her position before sighing as she lay back down. 

You’d found Hay-Bail almost two years ago. 

A tornado had ripped through a small town, but not before hitting one of the local farms. Its wind had sent plenty of hay bails flying through the air, one landing by Tyler’s truck. You’d all spent close to two hours helping out where you could before leaving and getting cleaned up yourselves. 

Only, as you stood by Tyler, you heard a small whimper. At first, you thought your ears had tricked you. But once Dexter and Lily had pulled away in their cars, along with Dani, Javi, Kate and Boone, you heard it again. 

“Ty, wait.”

Tyler watched you as you slowly crouched towards the hay bail and for a moment he wondered what you were doing. Then he heard it himself. 

Hurrying forward, you’d looked all around it. From under Tyler’s truck to the stay piles on the ground. But nothing. Till you looked inside the bail of hay. 

With straw scratched away, a puppy no older than two months emerged. Covered in hay, the poor thing wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“Hey, hey, come here. Oh, Ty, she’s shaking like a leaf.”

Holding her carefully in your arms, Tyler checked her over. She wasn’t bleeding, but she was shaking. “She must have hid when the tornado came.”

“Tyler, her heart’s racing.”

Holding her carefully against your chest, you petted and soothed her head. 

“There should be an emergency vet a town over. Come on.”

And so you were off. Three and a half hours later, the puppy had been checked out at the vet. You’d helped calm her, but she was calmest against Tyler. Namely, whilst she was trying to climb into one of his shirt pockets. 

The vet had also informed both you and Tyler that the farmer she belonged to said to keep her. He’d been trying to sell his puppies for months and she was the last one. He didn’t even know she’d gotten out of her pen until the vet called. 

If you and Tyler didn’t take her home, she would have been abandoned. And neither of you could have that. Plus, she seemed rather taken with Tyler. 

From that day on, Hay-Bail became a certified member of the Tornado Wrangler family. You’d been meaning to give her an actual name but until you found one, she was just known as Hay-Bail and it stuck. But it suited her. To this day, if she was ever missing, she was in the shed playing in the hay. 

As your eyes took in the landscape around you, you smiled in contentment. 

You loved your job, you loved that you got to go out almost every day and chase. That almost every day, you lived in the moment and got to capture memories to last a lifetime. 

But you also loved moments like this. 

Laying with Tyler, and Hay-Bail, just listening to the sounds of the house and the surrounding fields. All the while, the sun slowly started to make its descent so the moon could rise up into its place. 

It was in moments like this you were glad you accepted Tyler’s offer to join him for the summer all those years ago. 

You and Tyler had met in college on the same course. You’d never really been close, but you’d done plenty of late night study sessions in the library together, testing each other on the facts in order to be prepared for the next pop quiz your professor decided to throw at you. 

After college, you’d both taken widely different routes, though you still kept in touch. Every now and again, Tyler would send you a storm article or if he was in town, you’d meet up for coffee. 

And whilst Tyler had found fame and success in Tornado chasing, you’d become a community college science teacher. You had enjoyed it for a while, but being in the field, chasing tornadoes, collecting the data, teaching others about the weather as well as the science behind it…that was your calling. 

But, just as you got settled into your new career and life with the Tornado Wranglers, another change was made eighteen months later when you and Tyler started dating. 

It took you both a while to figure it out considering you’d been friends for a long time and you’d be working together for the foreseeable future. But after a long talk from Dexter and a quick anecdote from Boone, Tyler and yourself had come to a conclusion. 

Whatever was going to happen, would happen. But it would be better together than apart. 

From his chest, you looked up at him and he immediately looked back, the same soft smile on his face. 

Leaning up, you kissed him and he kissed back lightly as his hand came to the back of your head. 

Neither of you had to say anything, because it was all said in the kiss. 

You lay back down as Tyler’s fingers started to brush through your hair. However, just as you both started to doze off, an alert came through on your phone. 

Reaching into your back pocket, Tyler pulled your phone out for you and handed it to you. 

Gently taking it from him, you pressed the power button and you read the alert. 

“There’s a storm North-East of us; numbers are looking good. Looks like it’s gonna be heading…” You flipped your phone. “West. Not much there other than wind turbines and overgrown pasture.”

Tyler smiled as he watched you and when you looked back at him, neither of you had to say anything. You’d be chasing it. 

“Hey! Guys! I think I’ve got one!” Lily yelled from somewhere inside the house. 

Kneeling up, Tyler sat up underneath you before you both jumped onto your feet and slipped your shoes back on. Hay-Bail was already up and following Tyler into the barn to collect Kate and Javi. 

Within minutes, everyone was in a vehicle and were driving North-East and into another tornado. 

[hananan2]

Hi! You wrote that you are accepting requests, so.... Can I get some cute silly stuff with Rook? I don't have a specific idea, sorry, I just want something I can smile silly while reading😔 And I really like your fanfic with Ace!!!!

YES OFC!! Thank you, you’re so sweet!!!🫶🏽🫶🏽 we I’m very happy, I’m sorry if this is Ooc, I don’t really indulge in rook content💔 But I hope you enjoy!💕

Silly moments with Rook<3

Summary: Silly little moments with Rook where he is charming and not terrifying ❤️

Characters: Rook Hunt

Info: Romantic, Gn!reader, fluff, short fic!

Cw: French (jk nothing!)

—Pomfiere Dressing Room

There you sat in a puffy chair in the Pomfiere dressing room, surrounded by mirrors and fabrics that cost more than your life. You felt the creamy, soft scarlet lipstick dab your lips gently, so gently like you were a statue being sculpted, a little roughness and he would leave a dent.

that he was your charming boyfriend, sitting across you with the chair pumped a little lower to match your height. You were eying all the Pomfiere makeup because DAMN it’s a lot, and Rook it as you wanted a make-over done by his lovely hands, and hey, who are you to say no?

He looked focused while he applied every product, but the loving look in his eyes still carried his true feelings. “You have beautiful yuex mon ange.” He remarked fondly, his tone matching his eyes.

“you have beautiful eyes my angel?” you repeated, but in full English, tilting your head. You were so used to being around you that you started learning a new language, and he loved every second of it.

“Haha yes, so smart Mon Ange..” his loving look faltered for a second “oh dear…” he looked concerned, you looked at the mirror to your left to see what was up…oh your lipstick smeared, that happened when you tilted your head, that was your fault.

“I’m so sorry love, I knew you were trying really hard to do my makeup… let me repay with…c’mere let me tell you a secret…” you ushered him to move closer, and so he did. “Oh I’d like to hear this secret” he chuckled very cheekily.

His chair was moved closer to him while his hair was basically grazing your top lip, they were a bit red. Yea no, there is no secret Rook doesn’t knew, and he knows your playing too, which lead to you pulling on his collars and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he gasped!

“Mon Ange! How scandaleuse!” He exclaimed, putting his hand on his mouth, but you knew he was enjoying this, his cheeks matching the pigment of the lipstick smeared on both your faces now.

His arm pulls your chair closer, coming down at you, shock gone, like it was ever there. “What a mess you are, and have made me. oh comme je t'aime. Don’t keep me waiting.” He grinned, and with that you wrapped you arms around his neck and gave him more smears, his arms wrapping around you innocently and just full of love. Giggles could be heard from the dressing rooms.

“I love you too!”

—

— Your room - Ramschakle

you sat on your bed, looking up ways to make money quick, Grim watching some cartoons you put on the TV for him down stairs. You th-

“Bonjour Mon Ange~! Aussi belle que toujours!“ the bob cut man was inside your room after claiming in through your window (took 2 seconds)

“Hi love!” You loved at him lovingly, no you don’t question him breaking in, he broke in with love, your used to it. “I have a surprise dearest.” He stated cheerfully, you take it as a good thing. “Oh I see! What is it?” You exclaimed with the same amount of glee.

suddenly we whips out the most adorable little bunny from behind his back, the little bunny pure white, if seemed very tame in his hands, softly scratching its own face. Adorable, your gonna explode and die.

“Awwww! Oh my gosh! where did you find em? Can I hold? Can I hold?” You squealed with delight, eyes full of spirit as you held your hands out, which he placed the little bunny in who was still chill as hell, his hand going up instead and patting your head, with these reactions, he’ll just have to buy you a petting zoo to see that sparkle in your eyes.

“I found this little creature down in the woods abandoned, but still determined to nibble on the grasses to survive, which reminds me of you, Mon Ange, toujours aussi fort et plein de motivation, tu es la raison pour laquelle mon moral n'a pas beaucoup dérivé...” his kissed your forehead passionately, hand massaging your scalp and sitting you down so you were more comfortable.

“let’s raise it together okay? Well at least till it can live a lone, then we’ll set them free!” You looked down at the microscopic bunny, patting it with your index finger gently.

“of course, it’s got the best parents then.” He replied, curling your hair with his finger.

“Now for a nice French name…”

His name ideas are atrocious, but his love never is.

—

— Rook’s Room • Pomfiere

“Rook I have a bone to pick!” You declared with a voice muffled by Rook’s chest, looking up to him seriously. He looked amused and pat you back, urging you to continue, “Oh do say Mon Ange.”

You rolled back a bit so you guys were face to face and grabbed his shoulders “Your always calling me, ‘Mon Ange’ but your the true angel in this relationship! Its wrong! I should call you that!” You stated angrily, he looked entertained to the fullest and his eyes shimmered.

“mon ange, si doux et inconscient, you flatter me.” He finding bursted out, bring your hand on his shoulders to his cheek, just feeling your soft, warm hands made him joyous.

“But I think you have forgotten something…” he whispered mysteriously, “come out and say i-! Ahahaha!!!” Your breath got cut short as you felt Rook tickle your sides and pinching your cheeks, his smile peaked in out between your squinted eyes.”

“your so evil! Ahhh stop!!” You bursted between giggles.

“I’m not as pure as you think, je peux te faire rire et pieurer.” he said a little smug. And hey that was true, he after you couldn’t breath he tightened his hold and you and you kicked his legs

”le bonheur est si réel” you like your own French? Okay no no, Happiness is so amazing and appears everyday for you.

Rook knew his days were counted without you, so he held you tighter in fear and love, his nose breathing your scent in.

—

A/N: BROO I MESSED TUP I HATE THIS, I kept re-using the same song in so sorry, I really tried my best I hope you are okay with this💔