Tabatha

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[tabathastan]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ tabatha ⟡ tia ⟡ thea ‧₊˚ ┊she/her 22

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cabin 20 | scorpio | slythren 💋ྀིྀི

masterlist • rules •

[tabathastan]

could you do a Abel x reader fic where the reader is a sinner but is nice and he asks or wants and tries to ask them out. Also if you could add in husk as like a father/parental figure and being protective of the reader,

If you can, thanks 🩷

The Happy Hotel was, against all odds, having a peaceful afternoon. (Y/N), was the kind of sinner Hell rarely produced: relentlessly kind, cheerfully optimistic, and prone to baking far too many treats. You were currently humming, carefully frosting a batch of red velvet cupcakes in the hotel kitchen.

Behind the bar in the next room, Husk was polishing a glass, his eyes fixed on the kitchen entrance. His usual gruff demeanor was reserved for anyone but you. Ever since you arrived at the hotel, quietly patching up stray demons and bringing him the good whiskey, he'd adopted a fiercely protective, if unspoken, parental role.

The bell to the lobby chimed. Husk's ears twitched as he saw who entered: Abel, the tall, pale demon with the perpetually nervous expression and a habit of dropping things. Abel was nice enough, unfailingly polite, even but he was also always staring at (Y/N).

Abel clutched a small, wrapped bouquet of wilted, black-and-purple Hell flowers and nervously approached the bar.

“H-h-hello, Mr. Husk,” Abel stammered, avoiding eye contact.

Husk set the glass down with a heavy clink. “What do you want, kid?”

“I… I was wondering if… if (Y/N) was around?” Abel managed, wringing his hands.

Husk narrowed his yellow eyes. “She’s busy. Baking. Why? Planning on interrupting her work with whatever you’re fiddling with?” He gestured dismissively toward the pathetic bouquet.

Abel flinched. “Oh, no! Absolutely not! I just… I have something I wanted to ask her. It’s… it’s a very important question, actually.”

Husk leaned forward, resting his chin on his paw. “Look, kid. I know you got a thing for (Y/N). Everyone with working eyeballs does. She’s nice. But she doesn’t need someone stressing her out. She’s got enough of that just living here. What exactly is this ‘important question’?”

Abel swallowed hard, already sweating. “I… I wanted to know if she would… if she would perhaps… join me for a meal. Outside. At a restaurant. A date, sir.”

Husk’s frown deepened. “A date? You plan on taking my kid out? What are your intentions?”

“H-honorable ones, sir! Completely! I promise! I just think she’s… she’s the nicest person in all of Hell, and she smells like cinnamon and happiness, and I just… I want to spend more time with her,” Abel finished in a rush, his face flushed.

Husk studied him for a long moment, noticing the genuine panic and sincerity. He sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Fine. Get in there, but you’ve got approximately thirty seconds, and don’t you dare make her drop a single cupcake. If she says no, you leave without a fuss. Understand?”

“Yes, sir! Completely!” Abel squeaked, hurrying toward the kitchen, the black bouquet drooping even further.

In the kitchen, (Y/N) was meticulously piping a swirl of cream cheese onto the final cupcake.

“Oh! Hi, Abel!” you greeted cheerfully, turning when you heard his awkward shuffling. “I didn’t hear you come in. How are you doing today? Stressful demon bothering you again?”

Abel nearly dropped the flowers. Your immediate concern for him wiped his planned speech right out of his head.

“N-no! I mean, yes! I mean, I’m fine! You are! You’re… you’re very nice!” he stammered, holding the bouquet out like a peace offering.

You took the sad, dark flowers gently. “Oh, thank you, Abel! That’s so sweet. I love the color combination.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to refocus. The question. Ask the question.

“Listen, (Y/N),” he started, his voice barely a whisper. “I… you’re always so kind. Like, unbelievably kind. Even when someone is rude, you just… you help them. You’re the best person I’ve ever met down here, and you deserve… you deserve something nice.”

You smiled, genuinely touched by the earnestness in his eyes. “That’s such a lovely thing to say, Abel.”

He felt the heavy weight of Husk’s stare from the bar entrance. Husk was visibly sipping a whiskey and looking directly at him over the rim. Thirty seconds.

"So! I was wondering if… if you maybe… perhaps… needed help carrying those cupcakes anywhere later this week?" he blurted out, completely losing the thread.

You blinked. "Carrying the cupcakes? Oh, sure, I’d love an extra set of hands! I was planning on taking a batch over to Angel Dust and Cherri tomorrow afternoon. That would be great, Abel!"

Abel’s face fell. He had failed. He hadn't asked the date question.

“A-actually, I was thinking… later than that,” he stammered, trying to rally. “I mean… later than carrying the cupcakes. Like… out. Like we’d leave the hotel. To eat. Together. On a date.”

He finally managed to say the words, but they came out in a rush, the stress overwhelming. He braced himself for rejection. You laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made the tension drain from his shoulders instantly.

“Oh! You mean an actual date? Why didn’t you just say so?” you teased gently. You set the flowers down and stepped closer. “Yes, Abel. I’d love to go on a date with you. You’re sweet, you’re polite, and you’re actually one of the calmer demons in this whole place. That sounds wonderful.”

Abel’s entire body seemed to deflate in shock and relief. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “Y-you… you do? Really?”

“Absolutely! Just tell me when and where,” you confirmed, giving his arm a gentle, encouraging squeeze.

Abel, feeling an unprecedented rush of success, finally smiled. “It’s a date! Tomorrow evening! I’ll arrange everything!”

He turned, practically floating out of the kitchen, forgetting entirely about the pressure of the moment. He walked right past Husk, a dazed, delighted expression on his face.

Husk simply watched him go, then slowly turned his gaze back to the kitchen, where you were still beaming.

“You’re really going out with that spaz?” Husk grumbled, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

“He’s not a spaz, Husk. He’s just nervous,” you replied, picking up a cupcake. You walked over to the bar and offered it to him. “And yes, I am. You approve, old man?”

Husk looked at the perfectly frosted cupcake, then at your expectant face, and finally took a large, careful bite.

“He seemed mostly harmless,” Husk admitted grudgingly after a chew. “But you tell me the time and location. I’m waiting outside the minute you leave, and I’m parked across the street until you’re back. If he so much as makes you doubt yourself for a second, I’m vaporizing him and his stupid little flowers. Got it?”

You leaned over the bar and gave his velvety cheek a quick, warm kiss. “Got it, Dad. But I think he’ll be fine.”

Husk just sighed, but his ears twitched with something akin to satisfaction. He took another, smaller bite of the cupcake. “Yeah, yeah. Just be careful, kid.”

[tabathastan]

Rookie! Leon x Reader

He is painfully awkward at first. Rookie Leon already feels out of his depth being thrown into the Raccoon City disaster, so meeting someone he cares about makes him even more nervous.

He tries to act confident and heroic, but he trips over his words a lot. If Reader compliments him, his brain completely short-circuits.

Protective instincts kick in immediately. Leon places himself between Reader and danger without thinking. Even if Reader is capable, he still checks constantly.

“Are you hurt? Did that thing scratch you?”

He feels responsible for everyone’s safety, but Reader especially.

The dorky side of Leon shows, Rookie Leon makes dumb jokes during stressful moments just to lighten the mood. Half the time the jokes are terrible, but Reader laughs anyway, which makes him smile.

He secretly feels proud if he can make Reader laugh in such a terrifying situation.

Surviving Raccoon City together creates a bond very fast. Leon begins relying on Reader’s opinions and instincts during decisions. If he’s scared or overwhelmed, Reader is one of the few people he admits it to.

During brief safe moments (like hiding in a room at the RPD station), they talk softly to pass time. Leon asks about Reader’s life before everything happened. He listens very carefully, like hearing about normal life reminds him what he’s fighting for.

Leon gives Reader his spare jacket or gloves if they’re cold. He always walks slightly behind or beside them, watching the hallway for danger. If Reader gets injured, he gets extremely serious and focused until they’re safe.

At first Leon thinks he just wants to protect Reader because it’s “his job.” Eventually he realizes he worries about them in a way that feels, different. After the nightmare ends, he would probably be shy about admitting those feelings.

Leon would check in constantly to make sure Reader is okay mentally and physically. He might suggest simple things like getting food together or walking somewhere quiet. Even after everything they survived, he still acts like a slightly nervous rookie around them.

Rookie! Leon is the type who would practice what he wants to say before talking to Y/n and then forget half of it the moment they actually show up.

[tabathastan]

do you write for guzma? (pokemon)

yes

[hpdamechan]

it makes me so mad that people act like personality disordered people will never be able to have healthy or stable relationships. It may be harder or different for them, but it’s completely ableist to go around saying stuff like “BPDs will never be able to fully love someone” or “NPDs only get into relationships to use people.” People w/pds are people too. We can do things everyone else can, even if it sometimes it is harder for us. We are not non-human. We are not demonic beings. We are equals with everyone else.

[tabathastan]

Chuuya Nakahara x BPD! Scarlet Witch! Reader

Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t exactly new to chaos. Port Mafia life was chaos, blood, orders, violence, betrayals dressed up as loyalty. He could handle rage. He could handle destruction. He could even handle people losing control. What he didn’t expect was how personal it would feel when it was you.

You weren’t just powerful. You were reality-bending, grief-twisting, emotion-fueled power wrapped in human skin. When your feelings surged, the world listened. Glass trembled when you spiraled. Lights flickered when your thoughts got too loud. Sometimes even space itself seemed to hesitate around you—like it wasn’t sure whether to obey or run and Chuuya, Chuuya stayed anyway.

Not because it was easy. Because it was you. The first time it really happened between you, it wasn’t a fight so much as a fracture.

A misunderstanding, too many stressors, too little sleep, a tone that landed wrong and echoed in your head until it became something else entirely. Something sharper. Something personal.

“You don’t mean it,” you said, voice too steady in a way that wasn’t calm at all.

Chuuya frowned slightly. “Mean what?”

“You saying you’ll stay.”

That made him pause. Not because he didn’t understand you, but because he did and he hated that you were hurting enough to believe it.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, hands in his pockets, posture loose but grounded. “I do mean it.”

You shook your head like that was impossible math. Like love had to be conditional to be real.

“People always say that,” you muttered. “Until I’m too much.”

Chuuya’s expression shifted, something sharper flickering under the surface, not anger at you, but at the idea itself.

“Don’t lump me in with ‘people,’” he said flatly.

That stopped you. Not fully. Not instantly. But enough to listen. He stepped closer, not invading, not cornering, just there, like an anchor dropped into rough water.

“You think you’re too much?” he asked.

Your laugh was brittle. “Aren’t I?”

Chuuya exhaled slowly through his nose, like he was deciding how honest he could afford to be without making it worse.

Then: “You’re a damn storm.”

Your breath caught slightly. He continued anyway.

“And yeah, storms are loud. Unpredictable. They wreck things if you get too close without knowing what you’re doing.”

A pause. Then his voice dropped, quieter but firmer.

“But nobody looks at a storm and says it shouldn’t exist.”

That landed harder than anything else. Because it didn’t erase your intensity. It didn’t demand you shrink. It just refused to call it wrong.

Later, when things got worse, because they sometimes did, you’d pull away first. Not because you wanted to leave. Because your mind had already written the ending and was trying to survive it early. Chuuya hated that part. Not you. The distance. He’d find you anyway. Always.

Sometimes outside, under dim streetlights, where your powers hummed too close to the surface. Sometimes inside, curled in silence like you were trying to take up less space in the world.

He never approached like you were fragile. But he never acted like you were dangerous to him either. He just sat nearby. Waiting.

“You’re doing it again,” he said once, not accusing. Just observing.

You didn’t look at him. “Doing what?”

“Running the worst version of the conversation in your head and deciding it’s real.”

Silence. That was answer enough. Chuuya leaned back slightly, gaze angled toward the sky instead of you.

“You don’t have to believe every thought you get,” he added after a moment.

Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to. “It feels real.”

“I know,” he said immediately.

No argument. No dismissal. Just recognition. Then, after a pause.

“But feelings aren’t verdicts.”

That made something in you shift—not disappear, not heal instantly, but loosen, like pressure easing off a cracked surface. There were still moments where your emotions surged too fast to catch.

Moments where power flickered around you like it had a mind of its own. Moments where guilt followed like a shadow afterward, convincing you you’d gone too far, said too much, ruined everything and every time, Chuuya stayed close enough to be real.

Not controlling you. Not fixing you. Just steady. One night, after everything had finally gone quiet again, you muttered, almost embarrassed.

“Why don’t you leave when I get like that?”

Chuuya didn’t even hesitate.

“Because I’m not scared of you,” he said.

A beat. Then, softer, but still him:

“And I’m not stupid enough to think you mean any of it when you’re spiraling.”

You blinked at that. He glanced at you briefly, then added, like it was obvious:

“I know the difference between you and the storm.”

And somehow, that became the thing that mattered most. Not perfection. Not calm. Not never breaking. Just someone who could look at the chaos inside you and still say, without flinching. You’re still you in there.

[tabathastan]

pregnant with there kid - Nod-Krai Men

illuga

illuga didn’t react at first.Not because he didn’t care, because his brain genuinely stalled. Then he slowly looked up at you, like he was recalculating his entire future.

“Say that again.”

You repeated it. Silence. Then he stood up so fast his chair scraped the floor.

“We need to prepare,” he said immediately, already in full planning mode. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything. Or walking too far. Or—”

“illuga.”

He stopped. Looked at you. And suddenly his voice softened.

“I’m happy,” he admitted quietly. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

After that, illuga became extremely careful with you. Not controlling — just constantly thinking three steps ahead. He’d check everything before you did it, fix anything even slightly unsafe, and always keep a steady hand near you without making you feel fragile. And at night, when he thought you were asleep, he’d rest his palm over your stomach and just breathe for a moment like he was grounding himself. Because loving you this much scared him a little. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Flins

Flins reacted with immediate excitement. Like, dangerously immediate excitement.

“You’re pregnant?! That’s amazing— wait, are you okay? Are YOU okay? I should sit down— no YOU should sit down—”

He was already panicking and celebrating at the same time. Once he calmed down (barely), Flins became incredibly affectionate. Constantly checking on you, constantly smiling at your stomach like he could already picture the baby, constantly talking about the future in the most hopeful way possible.

He also got emotional at random times. Like when you mentioned baby names casually and he suddenly went quiet.

“We’re really building a family,” he said softly.

And then immediately hugged you like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Flins is the type to fall more in love with you every single day of your pregnancy.

Especially when the baby kicks and he gets this completely awestruck expression like his whole world just shifted.

“Hey,” he whispers to your stomach, grinning. “I’m your dad. Try not to be cooler than me, okay?”

[tabathastan]

Mello dating hcs.. 👀👀

• Very Possessive (but not in a controlling way) Mello is naturally territorial. If someone flirts with you, his first reaction is to glare at them from across the room. He doesn’t like people getting too close to what he considers his person.

• Surprisingly Protective

Even though he can be reckless, he becomes extremely careful when it comes to you. If you’re in danger, he will not hesitate to step in immediately.

• Chocolate Sharing (a big deal)

Mello almost never shares his chocolate with anyone. If he offers you some from his bar without you asking, it means he really cares about you.

• Secretly Loves Physical Affection

He acts tough, but he enjoys small moments like:

• You leaning against him

• Playing with his hair

• Quietly sitting beside him while he works

He’d pretend to be annoyed, but never actually move away.

• Jealous of Near Sometimes

If you ever mention Near or compare them, Mello gets irritated instantly. He wants to be the one who impresses you.

• Late Night Conversations

Mello often stays up late planning things, so a lot of your bonding happens at night. Sometimes he’ll suddenly ask deep questions like:

• “Why do you even like someone like me?”

• “You know I’m not exactly a good person… right?”

He doesn’t say it, but he wants reassurance.

• Would Teach You Self-Defense

Dating Mello means learning how to protect yourself. He insists on teaching you how to fight or escape dangerous situations.

• Gets Soft When You Patch Him Up

If he gets injured, he’ll try to brush it off. But if you gently clean his wounds or bandage him, he becomes quiet and a little embarrassed.

• Rare Smiles

Mello doesn’t smile often. But when he does around you, it’s real and it makes everyone else in the room surprised.

Someone insults you. Before you can even respond, Mello is already stepping forward.

“Say that again.”

He’s calm, but that calm is dangerous. When the person backs down, he just scoffs and takes another bite of chocolate like nothing happened. Then quietly mutters to you:

“Don’t listen to idiots like that.”

[tabathastan]

pregnant with there kid - Sumeru Men

Sethos

Sethos reacted to your pregnancy with complete shock for about five seconds. Then immediate excitement.

“You’re serious? We’re actually having a baby?”

The grin on his face afterward was impossible to forget. Sethos became incredibly energetic about the entire thing, constantly talking to your stomach, making jokes about teaching the baby archery way too early, and proudly telling everyone he trusted. But there were softer moments too.

Late at night, when everything was quiet, he’d hold you carefully and rest his head against your stomach with this awed expression. Like he still couldn’t believe someone he loved was carrying a piece of him. And every time the baby kicked? He looked personally victorious.

“That’s definitely my child.”

Kaveh

Kaveh cried. Immediately. No hesitation. You barely finished telling him before he already had tears in his eyes.

“This is a happy cry,” he insisted while actively sobbing.

Your pregnancy turned Kaveh into the most emotionally devoted partner imaginable. He became obsessed with designing the perfect nursery, sketching ideas constantly and asking your opinion on everything.

Unfortunately, this also meant he stressed himself out trying to make everything “perfect.”

You eventually had to drag him away from measuring furniture at three in the morning. But beneath all the chaos, Kaveh loved you so deeply it was overwhelming. Sometimes he’d kiss your stomach gently and whisper apologies to the baby in advance for “having him as a father.”

You always corrected him immediately. Because your child was going to be lucky to have someone who loved so openly.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham reacted with suspicious calmness. Too calm. You told him you were pregnant and he simply blinked once before closing his book.

“I see.”

“…That’s it?”

“What reaction were you expecting?”

You were fully prepared to accuse him of not caring until later that night when you woke up and found him silently researching parenting methods. Three separate books. Detailed notes. Annotated sections.

Alhaitham approached your pregnancy logically on the surface, but emotionally? You noticed it in quieter ways. How his hand lingered against your stomach absentmindedly while reading. How he subtly adjusted your environment to make you more comfortable.

How he immediately became irritated whenever someone caused you stress. He loved you both deeply. He just expressed it differently.

Wanderer

Wanderer was horrified. Not because he didn’t want the baby. Because he genuinely believed he would ruin them somehow.

“You deserve someone better than me,” he muttered bitterly one night.

You shut that down immediately. Your pregnancy forced him to confront something terrifying. The possibility of being loved permanently. And despite all his fear, Wanderer became fiercely attached to both you and the baby. He acted annoyed whenever you caught him talking softly to your stomach.

“I wasn’t talking to them.”

“You literally asked if they preferred sweet food.”

“…Mind your business.”

But the truth was obvious. He adored your child already. Especially because every little kick reminded him this family was real. That he finally belonged somewhere.

Cyno

Cyno handled your pregnancy with surprising gentleness. Very serious gentleness. He researched everything carefully because he wanted to support you properly.

Unfortunately, he also thought this was the perfect time for dad jokes.

“The baby kicked.”

“Yes, Cyno.”

“I suppose they found my joke moving.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Cyno looked completely proud of himself. But despite the jokes, he was incredibly attentive.

Always checking if you needed rest, food, water, or comfort. And one evening, while his hand rested over your stomach feeling the baby move, his expression softened completely.

“…I will protect both of you,” he said quietly.

Simple. Certain. Like a vow.

Tighnari

Tighnari became the definition of caring efficiency during your pregnancy. You had a symptom? He already had a solution.

He monitored your health carefully without becoming overbearing, always making sure you were eating properly and resting enough.

Though admittedly, He got very annoyed whenever you ignored his advice.

“You need to stop overexerting yourself.”

“I walked down stairs.”

“Exactly.”

Still, Tighnari absolutely melted whenever the baby reacted to his voice. His ears would twitch every single time. And during quieter moments, he’d gently lay beside you with one hand over your stomach, listening carefully to every movement with this impossibly soft expression. Because despite how composed he usually seemed. He was completely in love with the future the two of you were building together.

[tabathastan]

Hii, I was wondering if you could do a fanfic on noctis and it be like a vampire reader idk and we are childhood friends with him but due to our kingdoms not getting along we got separated but you end up saving him while he gets attacked with his friends.

And you can like turn into a swarm of bats and shred things. Idk.. something like that😭

Noctis x Vampire!Reader

The forest outside the road to Lestallum was too quiet. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Noctis Lucis Caelum pushed a hand through his dark hair as he walked alongside Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, and Prompto Argentum.

“Anyone else feel like something’s watching us?” Prompto whispered.

Gladio snorted. “You feel that everywhere.”

But Ignis’s gaze had sharpened. Something was wrong. The shadows between the trees shiften, then erupted. Daemons. Claws scraped stone and bark as twisted creatures lunged from the darkness. Noctis summoned his blade in a flash of royal light.

“Here we go.”

Steel clashed against fangs. Prompto fired wildly. Gladio’s greatsword cleaved through two monsters at once, but there were too many.

More poured from the forest, snarling and crawling over one another like a living nightmare. A daemon tackled Noctis, slamming him into the dirt. Its claws raked toward his throat and suddenly the air filled with wings.

A deafening storm of fluttering shadows exploded through the clearing. Bats. Hundreds of them. Thousands. They poured from the darkness like black smoke, their tiny bodies spiraling together into a violent cyclone.

The daemon screeched as the swarm engulfed it. The bats tore at it, claws, teeth, wings, until the creature collapsed into shredded darkness. Prompto stared.

“Okay—what the hell was that?!”

The swarm spun once in the air. Then it condensed. Bats twisted together into a single shape… limbs forming, wings dissolving into fabric and shadow until a person stood where the storm had been.

You. Moonlight touched your pale skin and dark cloak as the last bat vanished into drifting sparks.

Your crimson eyes lifted. They landed on Noctis. For a moment, neither of you moved.

“…Noct?” you breathed softly.

His sword lowered halfway.

“…Y/N?”

Gladio glanced between you both. “You two know each other?”

But Noctis barely heard him, because suddenly he wasn’t standing in a haunted forest. He was eight years old again. Running through the palace gardens. Laughing as you climbed the stone walls like it was nothing.

You had always been strange. Cold hands. Sharp smile. Eyes that gleamed red when the sun set. But you had also been his best friend. Until the night your kingdom declared war. Until the day you disappeared.

“I thought…” Noctis’s voice caught slightly. “I thought you were gone.”

You smiled faintly.

“Not gone.”

Your gaze drifted toward the corpses of the daemons scattered across the clearing.

“Just… not allowed near Lucis anymore.”

Ignis stepped forward carefully.

“I assume you are responsible for our rescue.”

You gave a polite nod.

“Those creatures were tracking him.”

Your eyes flicked back to Noctis.

“Tracking the king.”

Prompto leaned closer to Gladio and whispered loudly, “Why is his mysterious friend also terrifying?”

Gladio muttered, “Because she turned into a tornado of bats, genius.”

Noctis took a few slow steps toward you.

“You’ve changed.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“So have you.”

For a second, the tension softened. Then your smile faded.

“My kingdom would kill me for helping you.”

“And Lucis would probably try to kill me too.”

Noctis frowned. “I wouldn’t let them.”

Your red eyes softened at that.

“You used to say that when we were kids too.”

He stopped only a step away now. The moonlight made your eyes glow faintly.

“You saved me,” he said quietly.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual.

“You were always getting into trouble.”

“Hey—” Prompto protested in the background.

But Noctis didn’t look away from you.

“You didn’t have to come back.”

Your gaze dropped briefly.

“…I know.”

Silence hung between you. Then the wind shifted. You stiffened. Your head snapped toward the forest. More daemons. Dozens. Your expression hardened instantly.

“Get behind me.”

Gladio raised a brow. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

But before anyone could argue, Your body shattered into bats again. The swarm erupted outward like a living storm. Black wings filled the clearing as the creatures surged into the approaching daemons. Screeches filled the air.

Claws slashed. The bats moved like a single mind, tearing through monsters with terrifying speed. From the center of the storm, your voice echoed faintly.

“Run!”

But Noctis didn’t run. He warped into the fight instead. Steel flashed beside the living swarm as he fought through the remaining daemons.

When the last creature finally fell. The bats gathered again. You reformed slowly in the moonlight. Your cloak fluttered as you landed lightly on your feet. Noctis looked at you. Breathing hard.

“…Still saving me.”

You smirked faintly.

“Still needing it.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he said quietly.

“You don’t have to disappear again.”

Your eyes widened slightly.

“My kingdom—“

“Let them hate me,” he said.

Your voice dropped to a whisper.

“They already do.”

Noctis stepped closer anyway.

“So stay.”

Your red eyes searched his face. The prince you once knew had grown into a king. But the stubborn warmth in his gaze was exactly the same. Slowly… you smiled.

“…You always were terrible at political diplomacy.”

He shrugged.

“Good thing I’ve got Ignis.”

Behind him Ignis sighed. But you laughed softly. And for the first time in years, You didn’t vanish into the night.

[tabathastan]

pregnant with there kid - Khaenri'ah Men

Dainsleif

Dainsleif didn’t react immediately when you told him. Not because he didn’t care, because the idea itself seemed to hit something deep and complicated inside him.

“Are you certain?” he asked quietly.

When you nodded, his gaze softened in a way most people would never witness.

“I see.”

After that, Dainsleif became extremely careful with you, not out of fear, but out of devotion. He stayed close more often than usual, watching the world around you with that constant, quiet vigilance he never turned off.

But now there was something different beneath it. Whenever you rested, he’d sit nearby in silence, sometimes letting his hand rest lightly over your stomach as if grounding himself to the fact that you were safe, and the life you carried was real.

He didn’t speak about the future often. But when he did, his voice was lower. More uncertain than usual.

“If I could give you a world untouched by what I’ve seen,” he murmured once, “I would.”

And for someone like Dainsleif, that was a promise carved deeper than words.

Rerir

Rerir stared at you for a long moment after you told him. Then he laughed. Low. Almost disbelieving.

“So that’s what this feeling is.”

You frowned slightly. “What feeling?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, slower than usual and looked at you like you were something entirely new to him. Your pregnancy changed something in him immediately. Not in a soft, domestic way. In a grounding way. Like something chaotic finally had direction.

Rerir became more watchful of you, more present, always nearby without needing to be asked. When he placed a hand over your stomach for the first time, his expression shifted slightly, not gentle, not harsh, just focused.

“Alive,” he said quietly.

Then, after a pause.

“Good.”

He didn’t say much after that. But he didn’t leave your side either. And for Rerir, that was the closest thing to devotion he could offer.

[tabathastan]

Nightwing x Reader

(inspired by the version from the Gotham Knights — a little more serious but still playful Dick Grayson)

“You Stayed”

Rain dripped from the rooftops of Gotham, turning the neon lights below into blurred streaks of color. Tonight had been rough.

You leaned against the ledge of the Belfry’s balcony, knuckles scraped and jacket torn from the patrol gone wrong. The city hummed below, but your head felt too loud to enjoy the quiet. Footsteps landed softly behind you.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Nightwing stepped beside you, pulling off his domino mask. Damp black hair stuck slightly to his forehead, but he still somehow looked annoyingly put together.

“You disappeared after patrol,” he said gently. “That usually means you’re brooding.”

“I don’t brood.”

Dick raised an eyebrow.

“You’re staring dramatically into Gotham’s skyline in the rain.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Brooding with extra steps.”

Despite yourself, you huffed a quiet laugh. For a moment neither of you spoke. Gotham stretched endlessly beneath the clouds. Finally you sighed.

“I messed up tonight.”

Dick’s expression softened immediately.

“That’s not what I saw.”

“I froze,” you admitted quietly. “When the explosion went off… I couldn’t move.”

Your hands tightened on the ledge.

“If you hadn’t shown up—”

“Hey.” His voice cut in softly but firmly.

You felt warm fingers gently pull your hand away from the ledge. Dick turned you toward him, blue eyes steady.

“You didn’t mess up. You’re still here.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t fail.”

Nightwing shook his head.

“Failure is quitting.” He shrugged slightly. “Or becoming a supervillain. Gotham’s got plenty of those.”

You snorted.

“Comforting.”

He smiled.

“But you?” he continued. “You got back up. You kept fighting.”

There was a pause before he added quietly.

“And you stayed.”

His hand was still holding yours. Warm. Steady. Your heartbeat sped up slightly.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Guess I did.”

Dick’s smile softened into something more vulnerable.

“You know, staying isn’t easy in this life.”

The wind tugged at both of your jackets.

“But I’m really glad you did.”

Your eyes met his. For once, the usually confident Nightwing looked a little nervous.

“So…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “hypothetically speaking, after patrol, maybe we grab food? Somewhere that isn’t the Belfry fridge?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“You’re asking me out in the middle of Gotham’s most dramatic rooftop?”

“Look, I’m working with the atmosphere.”

You laughed.

“Fine, Grayson.”

His grin returned instantly.

“Does that mean yes?”

You squeezed his hand.

“Yeah. It means yes.”

Dick leaned against the ledge beside you again, shoulders brushing yours.

“Good,” he said.

“Because I already told Tim you’d say yes.”

You blinked.

“You WHAT—”

Nightwing just laughed into the rain.

[tabathastan]

Four years after leaving the Port Mafia, you had learned how to stop expecting ghosts in crowded places. At least, that’s what you told yourself. Until you saw her.

Kouyou Ozaki stood across the street like she had always belonged to that exact moment, elegant, composed, untouched by time in a way that made your chest tighten instantly.

For a second, your brain refused to process it. Because Kouyou wasn’t just “someone from the Mafia.” She was the closest thing you ever had to a mother in a place that didn’t believe in softness. And you were still that version of yourself, standing in front of her in memory even if your body had changed.

You stopped walking. So did she. No one else mattered in the street noise around you. Only that silence stretching between the two of you like something fragile and dangerous. Then Kouyou stepped forward first. Slow. Measured. Like she was approaching a wounded animal that might still bite out of instinct.

“You’ve grown,” she said softly.

Her voice hadn’t changed. That alone almost broke you. You tried to respond normally, but your throat tightened before anything came out properly.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you admitted.

A small pause. Kouyou’s gaze flickered over you, quick, sharp, and painfully familiar in how much it noticed without needing explanation. The posture. The tension in your shoulders. The way you instinctively checked surroundings even here, even now.

“You are not where you used to be,” she said gently.

It wasn’t a question. It was an observation. And somehow it hurt more than anything accusatory could have. Because she was right.

You weren’t the same person she had once quietly corrected in etiquette, bandaged after missions she pretended not to worry about, or pulled aside when you were too exhausted to stand properly. But you also weren’t gone. Just changed. Your hands curled slightly at your sides.

“I’m alive,” you said carefully, like it might still be taken away from you if said too loudly.

Something softened in her expression at that. Just slightly.

“That much I can see.”

A pause. Then quieter.

“I was told you left.”

You nodded.

“I did.”

Kouyou looked away for a moment, as if collecting something she didn’t want to show.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentler than anything you remembered from the Mafia.

“I hoped you would survive it.”

Not I expected. Not I assumed. Hoped. That word landed heavily between you. Because it meant she had thought about you after you left. Even if she couldn’t follow. Even if the Mafia didn’t allow attachments like that to be spoken aloud. Your chest ached.

“I did,” you said again, softer this time. “I’m… still here.”

Kouyou stepped closer then. Close enough that you could see the subtle emotion she always hid so well. And for a second, she raised her hand like she might touch your hair the way she used to when you were younger. But she stopped just before making contact.

Like she remembered you were no longer someone she was allowed to hold onto so freely. Instead, she lowered her hand slowly.

“Good,” she said.

Simple. But real. A pause stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t empty. It was full of everything neither of you could safely say. Then, quietly.

“You are not hers to lose anymore,” Kouyou added, almost like she was speaking to herself.

You blinked.

“What?”

But she only gave a faint, composed smile.

“Nothing important.”

A beat. Then, softer.

“Take care of yourself.”

It wasn’t an order. It was something closer to what she had never been able to say before you left. Care. Permission. Release. And as she turned slightly to leave, you realized something that made your throat tighten all over again.

Kouyou Ozaki had never stopped being someone who cared about you. She had just been forced to love you from a distance where she could not keep you safe. And now, finally, she was letting you go properly. Not because she stopped caring. But because she finally believed you could survive without her watching over you.

[tabathastan]

Hi, I saw that you wanted pokemon requests :) Is it fine to get date headcanons with N?

Love feels “new” to him, N doesn’t really understand romance the way most people do at first. He’s more used to observing emotions than participating in them, so when he starts liking you, it confuses him deeply.

He’ll stare at you like he’s trying to “decode” what he’s feeling, then just quietly sit next to you anyway.

Slow-burn EVERYTHING, He doesn’t rush into anything. Even holding hands feels like a big step for him.

But once he’s comfortable? He’ll naturally just… stay close to you. Sitting beside you becomes second nature. Walking slightly behind you turns into walking with you.

Pokémon talk is love language, He absolutely shows affection by talking to your Pokémon (and his) like they’re people.

If your Pokémon likes him, he’ll get this rare, soft little smile like:

“They trust you… that’s good.”

That approval means everything to him.

He struggles with jealousy (but hides it badly), N doesn’t get loud or possessive. Instead, he gets quiet.

He’ll go distant for a bit, standing near a window or letting Zoroark linger closer than usual. If you notice and ask, he’ll just say:

“It’s nothing. I’m thinking.”

But really, he’s trying to understand why it bothers him so much.

Dates are simple, but meaningful. N doesn’t do flashy dates. He prefers. Walking through forests, Sitting by rivers, Watching wild Pokémon together, Quiet train rides where neither of you have to talk

If he trusts you deeply, he might even take you to one of his hidden safe places.

He notices EVERYTHING about you, The way you react to Pokémon. The tone of your voice when you’re tired. The exact moment you stop pretending you’re okay.

He doesn’t always know how to respond, but he always notices.

He’s awkward with affection, but sincere. If you hold his hand first, he freezes for a second like his brain bluescreens. But he won’t pull away. Eventually, he’ll squeeze your hand back, carefully, like he’s afraid of breaking the moment.

He thinks about you a lot when you’re apart. Even when he’s traveling, he’ll find himself wondering:

“Would they like this place?”

“Would they understand how the Pokémon here feel?”

And sometimes, he’ll send you small messages or leave notes instead of speaking directly.

Falling in love changes him slowly. He doesn’t suddenly become “different,” but he becomes softer, less distant, less convinced he understands everything.

Because you quietly prove to him that people and Pokémon aren’t something to just observe they’re something to share life with.

[tabathastan]

hi!! this is my first time requesting 😅 for kpop dh, i was thinking about a love triangle between reader, jinu and rumi. basically jinu and reader have a thing for each other?? and then rumi just came in the picture 😓💔 idk forgive me i cant think of anything 😭 my reader self just wants a lot of angst !!! 🙏 TYSM!!

(K-pop Demon Hunters AU vibe)

Jinu x Reader x Rumi

The first time you realized something was wrong was when Jinu stopped finishing your sentences. It used to be a little game between you.

You’d start humming a melody while leaning over the studio console and Jinu would slide in beside you, adding the harmony like it had always belonged there. Your fingers would brush on the keyboard, both of you pretending not to notice.

It wasn’t official. But it was something. Everyone could see it. Everyone except, apparently, Rumi. Or maybe she saw it too well.

You noticed the change slowly. Jinu started laughing more when she was around. At first you didn’t mind. Rumi was bright and warm, the kind of person who filled a room with light. She teased Jinu in ways you never dared to, bumping his shoulder, stealing his headphones, leaning close when she talked.

You told yourself it was nothing. But then one night in the practice room, everything cracked. You had come back to grab your jacket. The lights were dim. Music was still playing faintly from the speakers and Jinu was standing there with Rumi.

Too close. Your hand froze on the door handle when you heard her voice.

“You look at them differently,” Rumi said quietly.

Jinu rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Silence stretched between them. Your heart was already pounding. Then Jinu sighed.

“…It’s complicated.”

The words hit harder than anything else. Rumi tilted her head.

“Is it?” she asked gently. “Or are you just scared to admit you like them?”

Your breath caught. For a moment you thought he’d say your name. Instead, Jinu laughed softly, the kind of laugh that meant he was cornered.

“You’re reading too much into it.”

“Oh?” Rumi stepped closer.

“You don’t stare at people like that unless you care.”

Your fingers tightened around the door. You should leave. But your feet wouldn’t move. Then Jinu said something that made your chest twist.

“…Even if I did,” he murmured, “it wouldn’t matter.”

Your heart dropped.

Rumi frowned. “Why not?”

Jinu hesitated and in that tiny pause, you felt everything shatter. Because when he finally answered, his voice was quiet.

“…Because things change.”

Silence. Rumi searched his face.

“Do they?” she asked softly.

Jinu didn’t answer. But he didn’t step away from her either and that told you everything. Your chest felt hollow. You finally pushed the door open. Both of them jumped.

“Sorry,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Jinu’s expression immediately shifted.

“Hey— I thought you went home.”

“Forgot my jacket,” you said lightly.

You grabbed it from the chair. Rumi looked between the two of you, something unreadable in her gaze. Jinu took a step toward you.

“Wait, I—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said quickly.

Your voice stayed steady. You were proud of that. Because the second you turned around and left the room, the hallway lights blurred through the tears in your eyes. Behind you, Jinu didn’t follow and somehow that hurt the most.

[tabathastan]

hello i saw this post of yours asking for ben tennyson x reader requests, idk if it's a long time back or not or if you have stopped receiving requests for benjamin.

but if you're still accepting then may i please get a Benjamin x fem! reader, where Ben is protective over the reader although the reader is fully capable of fending for herself, and there's a specific scenario where reader gets into a near-death situation and Ben later behind closed doors is clinging to her more than usual and he genuinely showers her with kisses and long hugs. If that all makes sense. Thank you!

The mission had been routine, supposed to be, anyway. An alien weapons deal going down near the docks, some shady Plumber defectors involved, nothing you and Ben hadn’t handled before. You’d split up briefly to flank the group, taking down your side cleanly. But as fate always had it, things went sideways.

One of the smugglers detonated a device, high-impact, unstable, and way too close to you.

Ben didn’t see the explosion, but he felt it. Through the smoke, his heart stopped as he saw your body hit the pavement, limp, unmoving for a terrifying moment. He turned into XLR8 without thinking, speeding to your side. You were alive, dazed, bruised, coughing, but alive.

And capable, of course, because before he could even lift you, you were already pushing yourself up, muttering something about how “next time, they’re not getting the jump on me.”

You always bounced back like that. Like you were unbreakable.

But even after the mission ended, even when the Plumbers cleared the area and the sun had started to rise. Ben never really let go of what almost happened.

That night, in your shared room at the base, the moment you sat on the bed and tugged off your boots, you noticed Ben hovering in the doorway. Arms crossed, shoulders stiff. Eyes on you, but quiet.

You blinked. “Ben?”

He didn’t say anything right away. Just walked toward you like a storm cloud, slow and heavy.

And then suddenly, he was there, arms wrapping tightly around you before you could even react.

“Ben, I’m okay,” you said softly, laughing a little as you brought a hand up to stroke his back. “You know I can handle myself.”

“I know,” he whispered, but his voice cracked. “I know you can. That’s the thing. You shouldn’t have had to.”

He leaned his head against your shoulder, breathing you in like he was afraid you’d vanish. His grip didn’t ease. In fact, it tightened.

“I watched you hit the ground and I—” He pulled back just enough to cup your cheeks. His green eyes searched yours like he was checking for cracks. “Y/N… I thought I was gonna lose you. And the worst part? I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything.”

Your heart squeezed. “Ben, that’s not fair to yourself. You saved people. You were doing your job.”

“You’re more than my job,” he said quietly, and you saw his expression falter, something raw behind his usual confident grin. “You’re… you’re my world, okay? I need you to stay safe. I need you to stay.”

You opened your mouth to reassure him, but he was already pulling you in again, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your forehead, your cheek, your jaw. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your arms wrapping around his waist, holding him just as tightly now. “I’m right here.”

“I know. Just… let me hold you a while, yeah?”

You nodded, resting your head against his chest. “Take all the time you need.”

Ben didn’t let you go that night. Not for a second. Not until the morning sun lit the room, and even then, he kept a hand wrapped around yours like a silent promise.

[tabathastan]

HII!! I saw you are looking for requests for certain Hazbin Hotel characters!

I was wondering if we could get like a singer!reader, like similar to Sabrina carpenter, (reader works for Val, but she didn't sell her soul to him) and she like does shows, and similar to the Juno arrest, she arrests him and he's a little awkward (she doesn't show him on the big screen obv cuz he doesn't like being recorded) but he's happy about it and like after Juno like Angel is like a backup dancer for her (Val kinda half forced him and Angel and reader are like best friends, inside and outside of work) and Angel was teasing her after the show and at the hotel and him and Alastor kinda made jokes together at the bar area with husk and husk is like "omg stfu" and you can like decide how it endss

I've had this stuck in my head for a while, and I love your writing so muchh have a good day/night

The neon glow of Imp City was usually dull and depressing, but tonight, the massive marquee of Val's newest, gaudiest venue was a blinding spectacle of pink and gold. It read, in enormous, glittering letters: (Y/N) - SOLD OUT.

Backstage, the air was thick with hairspray, cheap cologne, and a nervous energy that (Y/N) had long learned to channel.

“You’re going to kill it, sweet pea,” Angel Dust chirped, adjusting the elaborate feathered boa around her neck. He was decked out in a shimmering, silver-sequined ensemble that Valentino had mandated for all "background aesthetic." He hated it, but he put up with it for her.

(Y/N) shot him a tired but affectionate look. “Easy for you to say, you’re just dancing. I have to sing a whole set about heartbreak and betrayal while pretending Val’s slimy face isn’t in the VIP box.”

“Hey, at least you only owe him a few shows a month, not your eternal soul,” Angel muttered, his many eyes briefly flicking toward the entrance. “Besides, think of it as practice. You’re singing about betrayal while actively betraying him.”

(Y/N) grinned, the energy instantly snapping into place. “Exactly. Tonight's performance is brought to you by the word: Juno.”

Angel’s eyes widened happily. “Ooh, this is going to be good. Remember the signal.”

The show was, as always, a huge success. (Y/N)’s voice was a powerful, crystal-clear blend of pop star sweetness and raw, rock-edged emotion. Her movements were sharp, confident, and every bit the performance of a true star.

For the final song, a catchy, biting track about a man who thought he owned the world, (Y/N) stepped out from behind the mic stand and walked to the center of the stage. The music dropped out, leaving a single, dramatic spotlight.

She spoke, her voice carrying easily over the silenced crowd. "You know, this song is for anyone who's ever been made to feel small, or like they didn't have a choice. It's for the people who deserve to be free."

She locked eyes with the VIP box, where Valentino was lounging with a proprietary smirk. Angel was already positioned behind her, feigning a dramatic pose. (Y/N) gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Angel didn't miss a beat. He smoothly sidestepped, dropping his silver boa and retrieving a pair of glittery, neon-pink handcuffs from his inner coat pocket, Valentino's brand colors, naturally.

As the lights suddenly flared to full, blinding white, (Y/N) pointed directly at Valentino.

“Valentino! You are under arrest for repeated, documented violations of our verbal contract, obstruction of performance duties, and generally being a super pathetic, predatory demon!”

The crowd gasped, then erupted into confused cheers. Valentino froze, his feathers drooping slightly in shock. He hated being put on the spot, and he loathed being visible in a non-controlled setting. The massive stage lights felt like they were burning his film-sensitive eyes. He was too stunned and too vain to put up a fight that would ruin his pristine jacket in front of thousands.

“Arrest? What are you—?” he stammered.

Angel, grinning ear-to-ear, nimbly climbed over the stage barrier and up to the box, slapping the pink cuffs securely around Val's wrists before the Overlord could fully react.

"Sorry, Val! You broke your parole agreement with (Y/N)," Angel said brightly, pulling him up by the elbow. "Time to go. No need for a big scene, you know how you hate being seen on the screens!"

(Y/N) watched from the stage as Angel escorted a surprisingly flustered and awkward Valentino off to the side exit. He kept his face tilted down and tried to cover his cuffs with his sleeve, clearly mortified by the unwanted, unscheduled attention.

As Val disappeared, (Y/N) gave a celebratory yell into the mic. “Show’s over, folks! Time to celebrate not being owned!”

Back at the Happy Hotel, (Y/N) was peeling off her stage makeup in the mirror while Angel recounted the exit in excruciating detail.

“He was sweating! He kept trying to hide behind the security guard, who, by the way, was totally loving it,” Angel snickered. “I think he was more upset about the lack of soft lighting than the actual cuffs.”

“I’ll take that as a victory,” (Y/N) said, pulling off a sticky lash. “Thanks for being my backup dancer and my getaway driver, Angel.”

“Anytime, doll. That’s what best friends are for. Now, come on, you need a drink.”

They headed downstairs to the small bar area. Husk was wiping down the counter with the usual disgruntled frown. Alastor was perched on a stool, nursing a glass of something dark and likely poisonous, looking far too pleased with himself. Angel wasted no time, spinning onto the stool next to Alastor.

“Guess who just helped arrest a Vee in front of a sold-out crowd?”

Alastor’s static-laced laugh crackled softly. “Ah, yes. News travels swiftly in this particular circle of Hell. I must say, (Y/N), it was a rather theatrical exit. Very showbiz.”

(Y/N) smiled, sliding onto a stool next to Husk. “I learned from the best—the best being Angel, who convinced me the pink cuffs were ‘tasteful.’”

“They were! They’re his signature color!” Angel defended, swatting Alastor’s arm playfully.

“Indeed. One might say it was a performance piece titled: ‘The Pimp in Pink Penitentiary,’” Alastor drawled, leaning back.

Angel snorted, leaning into the joke. “Ooh! Or ‘50 Shades of Flustered!’ He was so awkward. I swear, he was secretly happy someone finally paid that much attention to him without a camera.”

“Wait, wait, I have one,” (Y/N) chimed in. “‘The Moth and the Moment of Public Humiliation.’”

Husk, who had been listening to the cheerful banter while mixing (Y/N)'s drink, slammed the glass onto the coaster. His ears were flat.

“Oh my God, stfu all of you,” Husk groaned, pushing the drink toward her. “I just want five minutes of quiet that isn’t Razzle Dazzle or cheap pop music.”

Angel threw an arm around Husk's shoulders. “Aww, come on, Husker-doo! Don’t you know a truly happy, celebratory evening requires at least three demons cracking terrible jokes?”

“Angel, my dear,” Alastor agreed with a malicious grin. “Husk simply doesn’t understand the finer art of revelry. He is a creature of low-frequency suffering.”

Husk just flipped them both off, a small, tired smile twitching on his lips.

(Y/N) took a grateful sip of her drink, the stress of the evening melting away. She looked at her best friend, who was actively annoying the grumpy bartender, and the ancient overlord who was finding it all highly amusing. This chaos, this weird, dysfunctional family, was infinitely better than the controlled glamour of Val's studio.

"You know," (Y/N) sighed contentedly, "Maybe I should arrest him more often."

Angel gasped dramatically. “Oh, we should turn it into a bit! A different outrageous arrest every show! We can start a running gag! ‘Where is Valentino tonight?!’”