#short Fic

[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.

[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.

[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'

[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

[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. 

[defire]

"He's scared."

[sidekick pov, gang, prisoner, humiliation]

"What do you mean he's scared, sir? he just flipped you off."

Boss smirked and walked toward the victim, nodding as their captive tensed and glared up at him.

The boss gave it a few seconds, then quickly lifted his hand and snapped his fingers beside the captive's cheek.

The prisoner flinched so hard he actually grunted in the expectation of an impact. Then again, Sidekick couldn't fault him for being wise enough to expect boss to slap him. The kid had been slapped plenty of times already in the last hour.

"See?" Boss said. "He expects me to beat him. But he doesn't even move to defend himself."

Far from it, Sidekick realized. The captive had a death grip on his own belt loops like he was trying to strangle the fight right out of his thumbs.

"And he doesn't defend himself because he's scared." Boss said. "Aren't you, boy?"

"Fuck you," the prisoner started.

This time boss did slap him, soft enough to be indecent rather than cruel. The boy flushed and bent nearly halfway down.

Boss gave sidekick a look. It meant,

Cross me and you'll get the same.

[angelbitezzz]

Softies

(short fic under the cut)

It wasn't noticeable at first. Sans wasn't even sure when he'd become aware of it, the distant sound of some kind of thumping. It was rhythmic and steady, unchanging in its tone or speed, barely heard above the breaths of the human he was nearly draped over. He roused slightly, drowsily opening his eyesockets.

"hey." His voice was low and rumbly from sleep. "what's that sound? listenin' to some weird music or something?"

"Eh? Sound? Nah, I'm not listening to anything." Angel responded, glancing away from her phone to look down at his head. "What is it that you're hearing?"

Well, that woke him up a little more. He raised a browbone, incredulity leaking into his voice.

"what, seriously? y'don't hear that thumping sound?"

"No?? Trust me, I'd tell you if I did."

"then what the hell—"

He cut himself off when the motion of lifting his head cut the sound off. He paused. Thought about it for a second, and realized something.

"wait."

"Mhm?"

"can i—can i check something?"

Sans shifted around, shuffling to face her better and grabbing her by the arms to move her around, his mind already three steps ahead and way past caring about personal space.

"Whoa, what're you—"

Angel's words were cut off as he pressed the side of his skull to her chest, heedless of the fact that he essentially just pushed his face into her boobs. Her back abruptly went straight, a shudder working through her system as she nearly dropped the phone in her hands.

"Uhhh," Her mind blanked out, her pulse increasing from the proximity. "Sans?"

"shut up, testing hypothesis."

She would've snapped at him for being a rude shit if it weren't for the fact that he was hit with some kind of understanding about a second later. His eyesockets opened wide, dim pupils sparking a bright white she'd never seen before from him. His default was that single red eye, but lately she'd seen him with dull gray pupils whenever they were alone. This was different, though, it was... almost friendly-looking? It was the best way to describe the sudden softening of his features.

"that's— that's coming from—" He sounded so softly awestruck that fondness struck her heart, his grip tightening on her. "is that you? what—"

Ohhh. She understood now. She pulled away softly so she could look at him properly, though he didn't seem to want to let her get too far, keeping his hold on her arms.

"W-well, uh, that's my heart, dude! Y'know, it keeps me alive!"

At some point a red flush had spread along Sans's cheeks, matching the one currently warming Angel's face. His pupils shuddered in his sockets, splitting into round white ovals that felt oddly sincere? Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

"but it's so—" he struggled to find the words. "small? that's so loud for something so fragile!"

"Welcome to the human experience, I guess...?"

"you just...make that sound?"

"....Yeah?"

Sans stared at her for a moment longer before he seemed to remember himself, lowering his head slightly as his pupils began to dim back to grey. Hesitance peppered his voice as he spoke again.

"uh. can i, um." He paused. "actually, nevermind, i'll just—"

"You wanna lay and listen to it but you don't know how to ask without sounding like a creep?"

Sans deflated a little, shooting her a particularly resigned sort of look. Haha, gottem.

"...yeah."

"Okay. Come on."

Angel reached over and gathering him slightly, shuffling awkwardly to get both her legs on the couch. In a moment, she'd patted his skull right back down against her chest. He went down with more hesitance now, but soon was nothing more than a warm, heavy pile of bones on her person, both hands keeping a tight grip on her waist like she was going anywhere.

Sans dozed, soon relaxing into a real sleep, lulled by the steady sound of her heart. That pulse—the consistent thumping that thrummed through his skull—was just an easy, grounding reminder that she was alive and present with him. Soothing in a way he'd never be able to explain.

She didn't know why he seemed to like the sound of her heartbeat so much. He wouldn't explain it to her.

[opiopal]

levi is always expecting Mc to suddenly turn and start hating him and begin calling him names, he’s always ready for the day they finally realize how gross and weird he is. so as a result he’s always caught off guard by Mc lovingly calling him things like sweet and cute, which effectively turns him into a bright red blushing mess every single time. and heaven forbid mc holds his hand or face while sweetly praising him, because he may just pass away at that exact moment. The rush of emotion sometimes causes parts of his demon form to pop out, making scales appear on his face or making his horns pop out or even making his tail suddenly flop out onto the ground. Every time he panics and assumes the praise will end with Mc suddenly becoming disgusted and realizing how weird he truly is… only for Mc to take a pause before continuing to verbalize their affection.

eventually he gets… kinda used to it, really he just learns to accept mc’s love, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t get flustered anymore though. But he’s much more prepared for it whenever it’s just him and mc together.

[egrettacaerulea]

The trope where everyone in the batfam is extra protective to whoever Tim's suitor is--he's the CEO of WE, leader of Young Justice, so he got a lot of suitors whether they are masked or civilians.

Tim is a little pissed, because, "Why not Cass? I can defend myself just fine!" but none of the fam is hearing any of Tim's complaints. Because Tim might be the best detective, but he can be very oblivious to any flirtings. As in he would let it go for so long and eventually lead someone on even though he didn't realize he was doing it. So the batfam is actually just doing the public some favor and not having their heart broken by Gotham's most eligible bachelor.

Though Tim is also a little flattered actually that his family cares so much about him.

Not Jason though. Jason is fighting all possible suitors because he wants Tim for himself and he has been dropping hints for ages but Tim doesn't get it.

The whole family knows.

Dick especially, always gets amused whenever Jason is Trying™ and it goes over Tim's head.

"You're the only suitor we're not actively fighting, but we aren't helping you either. Good luck, Little Wing."

And Jason will definitely keep trying.

(Don't worry. Tim will get it though. Eventually.)

[victorrv]

THERE IS A MAN AT YOUR DOOR. 

He is neither tall nor imposing, but the large, feathery hat sitting atop of his head casts a grim shadow over his face. His expression is pleasant otherwise, a serene smile among his features. You know exactly who he is.

The hunter.

You open the door, half-expecting him to say something out of pocket again, or perhaps for him to just stare at you for a moment before giving you what he intended. Knowing him, though, he probably won’t do either. Instead, he smiles wider, and you can’t determine whether he’s smiling at you or at something else. You never could exactly tell what was going on inside that head of his. You doubted anyone could.

“My, my, you look as beautiful as ever, mon ami!” He exclaims, the compliment rolling off of his tongue so smoothly that you could easily accuse him of being fake. But you’ve known him long enough to know that it is the complete opposite. 

“Hunter.” You greet shortly. “How was your last catch?” 

You can swear that his green eyes shine with something you can’t quite place. 

“Absolutely thrilling!” He starts, and you brace yourself for another one of his lengthy tangents. “Why, the chase was positively exhilarating! Le cerf was merveilleux—”

“You can tell me about it inside.” You cut him off, opening the door a margin wider, putting him at a full stop in his tracks. You can’t recall if you’ve ever seen him so surprised before, but you’re too occupied to do so either way.

The hunter’s lips pull upwards in another smile, but you don’t know why it sends a chill up your spine. 

                                    ***

“It’s always a pleasure to visit your fine shop, mon cher boucher.” The blonde hums, looking around the interior of your makeshift store like it was eye candy. It was no luxury retreat; just a simple butchery a little ways into the woods. But the hunter was really keen on making it seem like one. 

It’s only the two of you inside. You don’t get too many customers, but that’s what you like about this place. It’s quiet, homey, even. It doesn’t leave you with a burning headache after clocking out, nor does it make you dread waking up every day. It was the perfect place for you to do your own thing. 

You lead him into the back of the shop, winding through the familiar path with a practiced pace. You’ve done this enough to start forming a habit or two. Taking the hunter to the back of your butchery as he discussed his latest game, then exchanging his catch for your money, before finally watching him walk back into the woods. Disappearing for the next period of time — be it days or even weeks — before showing up and starting the whole process all over again. 

You can clearly remember the first time, though. The first time he’d popped up in your bushes, an encounter of which only lead you to strike up a deal with the eccentric hunter. The rare game he hunted in exchange for a quick buck, and maybe a conversation too, if he was careful with his words. That was the only reason your relationship existed in the first place. Because of a deal.

But with how he’d been looking at you, you were starting to question that.