Tabatha

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[tabathastan]

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

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

masterlist • rules •

[tabathastan]

Could you make headcanons about Reader being the Tennysons' childhood best friend? Like, what was it like growing up with them and stuff, preferably she was also there on Summer vacation when Ben found the omnitrix

Tennysons’ Childhood Best Friend! Reader Headcanons

You basically became an unofficial member of the family before you even realized it.

Grandma Max treated you like a “bonus grandkid” from day one, no questions asked, just acceptance and mild suspicion of anything suspicious (including you sneaking extra dessert).

You spent so much time at their place that your own family just started calling the Tennyson house “your second home.”

Ben and Gwen arguing? You were either, the referee, the third participant or already outside avoiding it entirely

You and Ben had chaotic sibling energy immediately.

He would absolutely try to impress you constantly (and fail in increasingly dramatic ways).

You were one of the only people who could call him out without him getting defensive mostly.

He dragged you into every dumb idea:

“We should totally climb that!”

“We should NOT climb that.”

You were there for his ego phases, his annoying phases, and his “I swear I’m not annoying” phases and you stayed anyway.

Gwen lowkey trusted you faster than she trusted Ben.

You became the “logic backup” when Ben got too Ben.

Study sessions with Gwen often turned into:

Gwen teaching you

Ben trying to interrupt

You silently threatening Ben with a pencil

Gwen would quietly include you in plans without saying it outright, it just became assumed you were part of things.

That summer felt… normal at first.

Too normal.

Heatwaves, road trips, snacks in the RV, Ben complaining about everything, Gwen reading while pretending she wasn’t listening.

You didn’t know anything big was coming. No one did. You were there. Of course you were, because you were always there.

You saw the crash.

You saw Ben run toward it before anyone could stop him.

You followed immediately, yelling at him the whole time like that would somehow make him safer.

“Ben, do NOT touch that—!”

Too late.

You were the first person Ben looked at after transforming and neither of you had words for it.

Gwen immediately went into “WHAT IS THAT” mode.

You went into, shock, denial

“this is a hallucination”

and then immediate acceptance because apparently your life was like this now

Nothing felt normal again, but you stayed anyway.

You helped cover for Ben’s alien mishaps more than you probably should have.

You were the “grounding presence” when things got chaotic.

Ben trusted you in a way he didn’t fully understand yet, like instinct, not logic.

You got very good at, running, improvising excuses, yelling at aliens (it never helped, but emotionally it did)

Gwen would sometimes look at you like “why are you still here” and you’d just shrug like “no idea honestly.”

Grandpa Max respected you immediately because you didn’t ask unnecessary questions, you just adapted.

You were the reminder that Ben was still just Ben underneath everything and for you, he was the first person who made chaos feel survivable.

Gwen was stability.

Max was protection.

But you and Ben? You were history. Shared growing pains. Childhood shaped side by side.

Ben still tries to impress you even as an adult.

Gwen secretly checks if you’re okay in dangerous situations before she checks on Ben.

Max always saves you a seat without asking.

You have way too many inside jokes that make no sense to anyone else.

[tabathastan]

Dating Satoru Gojo as Nerd!Gojo Would Include…

Stealing his hoodies constantly because they smell like coffee, laundry detergent, and whatever cologne he forgot he was wearing. Sitting beside him during late-night study sessions while he explains topics dramatically like he’s teaching a TED Talk. Even simple things become theatrical.

“Observe, sweetheart. The professor is wrong again.”

Him pretending you distract him while actively dragging you into his lap every five minutes. Falling asleep in his dorm while his monitor light glows softly in the background. You wake up wrapped in a blanket because he noticed you got cold hours ago.

Nerdjo getting irrationally excited whenever you show interest in his hobbies. Mention gaming once? Now he’s building multiplayer worlds specifically for you. Compliment his coding? He spends the next week making you tiny custom programs “for fun.”

He absolutely wears glasses low on his nose while studying just to ruin your sanity unintentionally. Competitive flirting.

“Bet I can finish this assignment before you.”

“Gojo, you literally started three hours earlier.”

“Details.”

Him sending you walls of messages at 2 AM because he got hyperfocused on something. Half of them make no sense. You still read every single one. Nerdjo’s affection is quieter than people expect. Fixing things for you automatically. Charging your devices. Remembering your deadlines better than you do. You becoming his favorite study break. He’ll dramatically collapse against you like.

“My brain is melting. Hold me immediately.”

Wearing his oversized sweaters while he stares at you like he’s experiencing emotional damage. He secretly loves when you play with his hair while he works. Man goes completely silent. Buffering. Nerdjo getting possessive over you sitting in his chair.

“That’s my gaming chair.”

“You’re literally sitting on me right now.”

“Still mine.”

He acts cocky constantly, but sincere praise affects him deeply. Tell him you’re proud of him and suddenly this man cannot function normally for the rest of the day. Loving Nerdjo means loving, sleepy voice calls at 4 AM, glasses slipping down his nose, messy dark hair after all-nighters, hands constantly warm from typing, accidental emotional vulnerability when he’s exhausted,being loved through effort, consistency, and tiny thoughtful details.

[tabathastan]

Rachel Amber x Reader

The first time you met Rachel Amber, she looked at you like she already knew you. Not in a creepy way. More like she had spent her whole life waiting for something interesting to happen in Arcadia Bay, and somehow, unbelievably, you walked into Blackwell Academy carrying exactly the kind of chaos she liked.

Rachel was magnetic. Everyone knew it. Teachers gave her second chances. Students turned their heads when she walked by. She could smile at someone once and they’d spend the next week thinking about it. But with you, it was different. Because you never treated her like she was untouchable.

“You know everyone here is obsessed with you, right?” you asked one afternoon while sitting on the junkyard truck beside her.

Rachel smirked around the cigarette between her fingers. “And you aren’t?”

You shrugged. “I think you’re annoying.”

That made her laugh so hard she nearly dropped the lighter. From then on, she kept finding excuses to be around you.

Dragging you to the beach at midnight because she “needed to hear the ocean.”

Sneaking into the theater after hours just to dance dramatically across the stage while you watched from the audience.

Showing up at your window without warning because home felt too loud again. Most people only saw Rachel Amber the star. You saw the girl underneath. The restless pacing. The anger she buried behind charm. The way her voice cracked whenever she talked about leaving Arcadia Bay someday.

“You ever feel trapped?” she asked quietly one night.

The two of you were lying in the junkyard, staring up at the stars.

“All the time,” you admitted.

Rachel turned her head toward you. For once, there was no performance in her expression. No mask. Just her.

“That’s why I like you,” she whispered. “You get it.”

And maybe that was the problem. Because loving Rachel Amber felt like trying to hold fire in your hands. Beautiful. Warm. Dangerous. She’d pull you into spontaneous road trip plans at 2 a.m., then disappear emotionally for days afterward. She’d kiss your cheek dramatically in public just to make you flustered, then later sit beside you in silence when the world got too heavy.

But every time you thought she might leave for good, she came back. Usually with some ridiculous grin.

“C’mon,” she’d say, grabbing your hand. “Let’s go make bad decisions.”

And honestly? You always followed her.

[tabathastan]

Lost Records: Bloom & Rage

Kat Mikaelsen

Swann Holloway

Nora Malakian

Autumn Lockhart

Dylan Mikaelsen

[tabathastan]

Could you please make some headcanons about what it would be like to be Kevin's (Ben 10) younger sibling (Who likes motorcycles more than cars)? (Or any of the main ones)

Kevin x Younger Sibling Reader (Motorcycle-obsessed)

Kevin does NOT know what to do with you at first.

He’s used to surviving alone, not “being responsible for a kid who talks back and also somehow knows how to hotwire things.”

You immediately clock him as “cool older brother potential” and he hates that it works.

He tries to act indifferent, but you’re persistent in a way he can’t easily intimidate out of existence.

You love motorcycles way more than cars, and Kevin is both, impressed, concerned.

You absolutely try to modify anything you can get your hands on.

Kevin catches you trying to “improve” a bike once and just stands there like.

“That is… not how physics works.”

You respond with: “Skill issue.”

He doesn’t know whether to ground you or be proud.

At first, he acts like he doesn’t care where you are.

Then he starts unconsciously checking.

Then he starts fixing things you broke without saying anything about it.

Then suddenly he’s, teaching you how engines actually work, making sure your helmet fits properly, threatening people who “accidentally” try to mess with your bike

He refuses to call it caring.

It is absolutely caring.

“Don’t ride alone.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“If you crash that thing I’m not fixing it—” (he will fix it immediately)

He pretends it’s about “efficiency” or “logistics,” but it’s just concern in a leather jacket.

You’re one of the first people who sticks around without being scared of him.

You don’t treat him like a monster or a project.

Just your annoying older brother who smells like motor oil and bad decisions.

That messes with him emotionally more than any villain ever could.

Late-night garage fixes where you both don’t talk much, just work.

He lets you “help,” but secretly double-checks everything.

Riding together is his way of saying “I trust you” without words.

You’re the only person allowed to sit on his bike without him yelling.

Kevin goes from 0 to “quietly terrifying” in seconds.

He doesn’t raise his voice.

He just shows up and suddenly the problem is gone.

You don’t ask questions.

He doesn’t explain.

That’s just how it is.

Ben Tennyson

Thinks your motorcycle obsession is the coolest thing ever.

Absolutely tries to race you using alien forms.

You both cause chaos. Kevin regrets all of it.

Gwen Tennyson

Immediately identifies you as “trouble but in a competent way.”

Tries to lecture you about safety.

Gives up and just starts carrying extra bandages.

Grandpa Max

Supports your motorcycle hobby unironically.

Gives you advice like:

“Always check your tires. And always trust your instincts.”

Secretly proud of you and Kevin’s weird sibling bond.

[tabathastan]

Hey can you please do a Lucinda x gndrd reader (sorry if I spelt it wrong) where there was a mishap with the potion and she tried to make a love potion but then the reader would trip or something and splash it on each other but turns out it wasn’t even done but they just actually had crushes on each other. (If your not taking requests that’s fine) have a nice day thanks for reading and considering even for a moment

Lucinda x GN!Reader — “It Wasn’t Finished”

The potion room always smelled like something slightly illegal. Not dangerous, just questionable. Glass bottles lined the shelves in careful chaos, labels half-written, half-burned, and entirely Lucinda. Lucinda was leaning over her cauldron with the kind of focus that usually meant one of two things:

1. She was about to create something incredible

2. Or something was about to explode

You were hoping for option one.

“Okay,” she muttered, stirring the liquid slowly, “this should just bind emotional resonance to the target’s nearest compatible energy signature—”

You blinked. “That sounds normal and not terrifying at all.”

Lucinda didn’t look up.

“That’s because you don’t understand science.”

“I understand fear.”

“Same thing.”

You were about to respond when the floor betrayed you. A loose bottle. A rogue step. A perfectly timed disaster.

“Wait—” you started.

Lucinda turned. You slipped. And the entire cauldron tipped. There was a moment of silence. Then.

SHHHHHPLOOSH.

The potion hit both of you. Completely. Perfectly. Unavoidably. Lucinda froze. You froze. The room froze. Then slowly, in sync.

“Oh no,” you both said.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Lucinda checked her notes immediately.

“It wasn’t finished yet,” she said quickly. “It shouldn’t have activated properly—”

“Good,” you said, brushing potion off your sleeve. “So we’re fine.”

A beat. Then she looked at you. You looked back. And suddenly, everything felt too loud. Not sound. Something else. Like awareness. Like attention pulling tight between the two of you in a way that didn’t make sense. Lucinda blinked.

“Why are you glowing slightly in my peripheral vision?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

You frowned. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It is not a—”

She stopped mid-sentence. Because you were suddenly a lot closer than you had been a second ago. Not moving. Just noticeable.

“Oh,” Lucinda said slowly.

“Oh no.”

You tilted your head. “What?”

“I think the potion did activate.”

“It wasn’t finished.”

“Yes,” she said, voice tightening, “I noticed.”

Silence. Then you both spoke at the same time

“This is a love potion.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s— wait—”

Lucinda grabbed her book. Flipped pages rapidly. Then froze again.

“It’s incomplete.”

You exhaled. “Okay, so we’re fine.”

“But,” she added slowly, “it still reacts to existing emotional compatibility.”

That made you pause.

“Meaning?”

Lucinda didn’t look at you when she answered.

“It only amplifies feelings that are already there.”

Silence. Longer this time. The potion shimmered faintly on your clothes. Lucinda’s ears were slightly pink. You noticed that. You always noticed that.

“So,” you said carefully, “if it’s reacting then it’s not creating feelings?”

“No.”

Another beat.

“Just exposing them,” she finished.

The room got very quiet after that. Too quiet. Lucinda closed her book slowly.

“This is highly inconvenient,” she said.

“You think?”

“I do not like losing control of variables.”

You glanced at her.

“You’re not in control of me either.”

That made her pause. Finally, she looked at you properly and the weird thing was, she didn’t look surprised. Just caught. Like she already suspected something and was annoyed it turned out correct.

“No,” she admitted quietly. “I suppose I am not.”

The potion started fading after a while. But the silence between you didn’t. Finally, you spoke.

“So what happens when it wears off?”

Lucinda hesitated. Then shrugged a little too casually.

“Nothing changes what’s already true.”

You blinked.

“That sounded suspiciously like a confession.”

“It was a statement.”

“A very emotional statement.”

“I am a scientist.”

“You’re also blushing.”

“I am not—”

She stopped again. Looked away.

“This potion is defective.”

You smiled slightly.

“Sure.”

Lucinda glanced back at you.

“You’re very calm about this.”

You shrugged.

“I think I already knew.”

That made her go quiet again. Then, softer.

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. You stepped a little closer this time. Not forced. Not potion-driven. Just choice.

“I just didn’t know you did too.”

Lucinda didn’t answer right away. Then finally, quietly.

“I did not intend to find out like this.”

You hummed.

“Still counts.”

That earned the smallest, reluctant smile from her.

“Unfortunately.”

And somehow, after all the chaos, that was the beginning. Not a magical accident anymore. Just two people finally acknowledging what had been sitting between them the entire time.

[tabathastan]

Hiii! Could you write a one-shot or headcanons of Abel with a gender-neutral s/o who's REALLY touch-starved and nervous to initiate anything?

I think he'd be so sweet about it

Abel x Gender-Neutral Touch-Starved Reader HCs

Abel picks up on it fast, but doesn’t call it out immediately. It’s in the way you hover just a little too long near people you trust.

The way you sit close to him, but not quite close enough to actually touch. He notices you flinch at sudden contact, then overcompensate by acting like you’re fine.

He doesn’t push. He just quietly adjusts. The first time he initiates touch, it’s casual on purpose. A hand briefly on your shoulder when passing by. Sitting a little closer than usual “by accident.”

He watches your reaction like he’s reading fine print. When you don’t pull away, he remembers that and starts doing it more. Not all at once. Just consistently.

You want to initiate, but your hands always hesitate halfway. You overthink everything.

“Is this too much?”

“Do they want this right now?”

Abel never reacts like you’re “too much,” which confuses you at first. Instead, he just quietly meets you where you stop. Like he’s been waiting for you to arrive the whole time.

Abel is very gentle with physical affection, never sudden, never overwhelming. He always gives you a second to move away if you want to (even when you never do). Once he realizes you like touch, he becomes more intentional, resting his hand near yours, letting your shoulders bump and staying there, offering his arm without saying anything. He doesn’t announce affection. He just makes space for it.

When you’re anxious or overwhelmed, he doesn’t immediately talk. He just sits closer first. Then asks softly:

“Is it okay if I stay here?”

And if you nod even slightly, he relaxes like that was the correct answer. He learns quickly that touch helps you ground yourself. So he becomes your anchor.

He never teases you for needing reassurance. Never makes you feel “clingy” or “too sensitive.” If anything, he treats it like something important he’s trusted with.

It started, as most things with Abel did, quietly. You were sitting beside him, close, but not touching. That familiar almost-distance you always kept like it was safer that way. Your fingers twitched in your lap. You wanted to reach out. You didn’t.

Abel glanced at you, then looked away again like he hadn’t noticed. But his hand shifted slightly on the table. Closer to yours. Not touching. Just closer.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said softly.

You stiffened. “What thing?”

“Thinking too hard before you move.”

That made your chest tighten a little. You didn’t answer. Silence stretched, comfortable but heavy with everything you weren’t saying. Then Abel did something simple. He turned his hand palm-up beside yours. Not forcing anything. Just offering. Your breath caught.

“Is that okay?” you asked quietly.

He looked at you then, properly. Like you were something worth focusing on.

“It’s always okay,” he said.

That didn’t fix everything. But it loosened something in you anyway. Slowly, carefully, your fingers brushed his. Then settled and Abel didn’t move like he was afraid you’d change your mind. He just stayed there. Like he’d been waiting for your hand to arrive all along.

[tabathastan]

Hypnosis Mic

Ichiro Yamada

Ramuda Amemura

Dice Arisugawa

Hifumi Izanami

Doppo Kannonzaka

Samatoki Aohitsugi

Jyushi Aimono

Nemu Aohitsugi

[tabathastan]

Sakamoto Days

Yoichi Nagumo

Kei Uzuki

Gaku

[tabathastan]

Being the daughter of Catherine in The Great meant growing up in a palace full of brilliance, chaos, and danger. Your mother loved loudly. Not always traditionally, she was too ambitious, too busy trying to drag Russia into the future for that, but fiercely enough that nobody ever questioned it.

Catherine would absolutely be the kind of mother who forgot minor details like where she left official state documents, while somehow remembering every single thing about you. Your favorite books. Which desserts you hated. The exact expression you made when upset but pretending not to be. She’d interrupt political meetings just because she heard you were sick.

“Cancel the council.”

“Your Majesty, the economy—”

“My child has a fever.”

“Yes, but—”

“The economy can wait.”

You inherited her stubbornness unfortunately, which meant arguments between the two of you became legendary throughout the palace.

Especially as you got older. You challenged her constantly.

“You cannot solve every problem with speeches.”

“And you cannot solve them with glaring.”

“It is effective glaring.”

Meanwhile, Peter III would find your relationship hysterical because you were basically a smaller, more sarcastic version of Catherine.

“You made another one of yourself,” he once told her proudly.

“I did not make her sarcastic.”

You, from across the room.

“Yes you did.”

Peter adored it. Honestly, your childhood would be strange but weirdly warm despite the court politics surrounding your family. You’d grow up around philosophers, generals, nobles, and complete lunatics while Catherine tried her best to give you some sense of normalcy.

Which is difficult when your mother is literally ruling an empire. She’d read with you late at night whenever she could. Take you through the palace gardens to explain her dreams for Russia. Encourage you to question everything instead of blindly obeying authority.

“You should never stop learning,” she’d tell you.

“Even if it makes people uncomfortable.”

And because this is The Great, there would also be absolute chaos constantly. You accidentally sitting in on coup discussions as a child because nobody realized you were under the table. Catherine trying to shield you from palace violence while forgetting half the court commits crimes recreationally. Peter teaching you objectively terrible lessons just to annoy Catherine.

“Today I teach her sword fighting.”

“She is eight.”

“Prime sword age.”

“She cannot lift the sword.”

“She must learn ambition.”

Despite everything, Catherine would become softer around you in ways nobody else ever got to see. The court knew her as intimidating, intelligent, and determined. You knew the version who fell asleep at her desk. Who worried constantly about failing people. Who sometimes held you too tightly after assassination attempts or political unrest because losing you terrified her more than losing the throne ever could. And as you got older, people would start realizing something important.

You were becoming just like her. Sharp-minded. Charismatic. Dangerously compassionate. Catherine would notice it too, usually while watching you command a room without even trying. There’d be this quiet moment of realization where she smiles to herself and thinks. Russia may survive me after all.

[tabathastan]

“The Strongest’s Sister” | Naoya Zenin x Gojo Sister!Reader

Everyone in the jujutsu world knew one thing. If Satoru Gojo was the strongest sorcerer alive. Then his sister was the last person anyone wanted to provoke. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Naoya Zenin had never been known for good decisions.

The Zenin estate courtyard buzzed with quiet tension as the clan members watched from the wooden walkways above. Because today, standing in the center of their training grounds, was a Gojo. You stretched lazily, rolling your shoulders as if you were about to start a casual workout instead of sparring with one of the most dangerous members of the Zenin clan.

Across from you stood Naoya Zenin, arms folded, expression sharp with irritation.

“You’re late,” he said.

You glanced at the sky.

“It’s been five minutes.”

“Five minutes too long.”

You smiled lazily.

“You Zenins are so dramatic.”

His eye twitched.

“You’re standing in the Zenin estate.”

“And?”

“And you’re acting like you own the place.”

You shrugged.

“Well… if my brother showed up, he probably would.”

The watching Zenin members shifted nervously. Because everyone knew what you meant. If Satoru Gojo decided to walk into the estate, there was very little anyone could do about it. Naoya scoffed.

“You think hiding behind your brother makes you impressive?”

Your smile widened.

“Oh?”

You lifted your hand slightly.

“I don’t need to hide behind him.”

The air shifted. Naoya moved instantly. His cursed technique activated as he dashed forward with blinding speed and stopped. Right in front of you. Like he’d hit an invisible wall. You hadn’t even moved. The space between you and him warped softly, your Limitless technique keeping him exactly where he was. You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand.

“Done already?”

Naoya’s jaw tightened.

“You’re annoying.”

“You came to fight me.”

“I came to prove a point.”

“Oh?” you hummed.

“And what point is that?”

Naoya suddenly moved again, circling you with incredible speed, trying to break through your defense. But every attack stopped inches away. Effortlessly. You sighed dramatically.

“You know… if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked.”

That did it. Naoya stopped moving. Slowly, he walked closer until the barrier stopped him again. His eyes narrowed as he studied you.

“You’re not even trying.”

You tilted your head.

“Should I be?”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The courtyard was completely silent. Then Naoya laughed quietly. A low, amused sound.

“You’re just like him.”

“Like my brother?”

“Annoyingly confident.”

You grinned.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Naoya leaned slightly closer to the invisible space between you.

“You know everyone expects you to live in his shadow.”

“Do they?”

“They think you’re only strong because you’re a Gojo.”

Your expression softened, but not in anger. More like amusement.

“So?”

Naoya blinked.

“So?”

You shrugged casually.

“If they underestimate me, that’s their problem.”

For a moment Naoya just stared. Then he smirked.

“Yeah… you’re definitely his sister.”

You smiled.

“Good.”

Then suddenly, You dropped the barrier. Naoya stumbled forward half a step before catching himself. You were standing much closer now. Close enough that he could see the faint glow of cursed energy in your eyes.

“You wanted to fight me,” you said calmly.

“Well?”

Naoya stared down at you. Then scoffed.

“Maybe another time.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Backing down?”

“No.”

His smirk widened slightly.

“I just realized something.”

“Oh?”

“You’re way more interesting than the rumors said.”

You laughed softly.

“Careful, Zenin.”

“Why?”

“You almost sound like you like me.”

Naoya turned and started walking away. But before leaving the courtyard he paused and glanced back at you. A small, amused smile tugging at his lips.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You called after him lazily.

“See you next time, Naoya.”

He scoffed. But he didn’t deny it. And from the balcony above, the Zenin clan could only watch in disbelief. Because somehow. The most arrogant Zenin and the strongest sorcerer’s sister had just become very interested in each other.

[tabathastan]

Dating Miguel O’Hara would be.

Miguel is basically married to responsibility first, you second (but very close second). He forgets to sleep, forgets to eat, and you’re the one reminding him he’s not a machine. If you show up in his lab, he’ll act like:

“I’m fine. I’ve been fine. I don’t need—”

while visibly running on 2% energy.

Conversations with him are never boring. He’ll explain science, multiverse theories, or tech upgrades like it’s casual small talk. You quickly become the only person who can interrupt him mid-monologue and he’ll actually stop.

He acts stern in public, but around you he slowly melts. If you touch his face or fix his collar, he goes still like he doesn’t know what to do with affection. He pretends he doesn’t like physical affection, but he absolutely does.

Miguel doesn’t “get jealous”, he gets quiet and observant. If someone makes you uncomfortable, they don’t get a warning twice. He won’t be overly controlling, but he’s always positioned where he can reach you instantly if needed.

He struggles to talk about feelings. Instead of saying “I’m stressed,” he’ll just work himself to exhaustion. You learn to read him: jaw tension = bad day, silence = worse day. But when he finally opens up? It’s rare, honest, and very serious.

Fixing something of yours without telling you. Quietly adjusting your safety gear before you leave. Bringing you food and pretending it’s “extra.” Watching over you from a distance when he thinks you’re not safe. He’ll always say.

“I was just making sure nothing happened.”

But he was absolutely watching.

Miguel doesn’t joke often, but when he does, it catches you off guard. Dry humor. Very dry. Occasionally unintentionally funny. If you tease him first, he’ll stare at you like you committed a crime… then smirk slightly.

You’ll find him working at ridiculous hours. Sometimes you just sit nearby so he doesn’t spiral into overwork mode. If he gets too quiet, you’ll feel him lean his head against you for a second before pretending it didn’t happen.

He doesn’t say “I love you” often. Instead you get.

“Text me when you get there.”

“Don’t go alone.”

“I’m coming with you.”

And somehow, that’s his version of devotion. When he finally lets his guard down. He gets quieter. Closer. More honest than you expect.

He might admit.

“I don’t trust many things. But I trust you.”

And he means it completely.

Dating Miguel O’Hara is loving someone who is always fighting against chaos and slowly becoming the one place where he allows himself to stop fighting.

[crowttore]

Gepard being on duty not stopping you from pulling him into an alley to kiss him silly. Let him stagger out of there with flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and disheveled hair. All his men thinking he got his dick sucked and laughing and patting his shoulder, congratulating him on finally loosening up and having a little fun (which only gets him more flustered and frustrated when he's trying to explain that that's not what happened). But no, their captain just can't handle a simple kiss, a soft spoken 'I love you', and a hand running through and tugging on his hair.

[tabathastan]

Angst – Azure Witch Reader x the Batfamily

(set in the world of Gotham Knights)

The Belfry was quiet. Too quiet. The rain tapped softly against the tall windows, the only sound in the room.

You sat alone on the floor near the computers, knees pulled to your chest. Faint chaos magic flickered weakly around your fingers like dying stars.

Usually your power burned bright. Tonight it barely existed. Your voice came out small.

“I could have saved him.”

The words echoed through the empty room.

“I have power. Real power. I can bend reality, stop bullets, rip apart buildings…” Your hands trembled as blue light sparked and faded. “And I wasn’t there.”

The door to the Belfry opened. Bootsteps approached quietly. You didn’t look up.

“I should have been there when he needed me.”

A shadow stopped in front of you.

“Hey.”

The voice was gentle. You looked up to see Nightwing. Dick crouched down so he was eye level with you. His mask was off, his expression tired but soft.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do.” Your magic flickered violently for a moment. “You, Jason, Tim, Barbara… none of you have powers. You fight with training and courage.”

Your voice cracked.

“I had the one thing that could’ve changed everything.”

Dick didn’t argue. He simply sat beside you on the floor.

“That’s not how this works.”

Another heavy pair of footsteps approached.

Red Hood leaned against the nearby wall, arms crossed.

“You think Bruce wanted someone saving him?” Jason muttered.

You frowned.

“What?”

Jason shrugged.

“That man jumped into impossible fights every night of his life.”

His voice wasn’t harsh, just honest.

“He didn’t raise us to rely on miracles.”

Behind the computers, Batgirl slowly rolled her chair closer. Barbara studied you carefully, her eyes full of empathy.

“You’re assuming something impossible,” she said gently.

“That if you had been there, everything would have been different.”

Your hands clenched.

“It could have been.”

Barbara shook her head softly.

“Bruce chose to face that fight alone.”

Her voice wavered slightly.

“He always did.”

The last footsteps were lighter. Robin walked over quietly, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. Tim sat on the floor across from you.

“You know what Bruce used to say about power?” he asked.

You shook your head weakly.

“He said power isn’t what makes someone a hero.”

Tim looked around the room.

“It’s choosing to keep going after loss.”

Your magic pulsed suddenly. Chaos energy spread across the floor in fragile cracks of light.

“But I could have helped him,” you whispered. “I could have stopped it.”

Dick gently reached out and closed his hand over yours. Your magic flickered, then steadied.

“Maybe,” he said softly.

“But Bruce didn’t build this family because of power.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“He built it because he believed we’d stand back up when he couldn’t.”

You looked at all of them. Dick beside you. Jason leaning against the wall. Barbara watching quietly. Tim sitting across from you. None of them had powers and yet they were still here. Still fighting. Still standing. Your voice trembled.

“I feel like I failed him.”

Jason scoffed quietly.

“You think Bruce would look at you right now and see failure?”

He pushed off the wall and stepped closer.

“You’re still here. Still fighting Gotham’s monsters.”

He pointed at your glowing hands.

“That power of yours? It didn’t fail him.”

Barbara smiled softly.

“You’re part of this family now.”

Tim nodded.

“And families don’t carry guilt alone.”

Dick leaned his forehead gently against yours. The faint glow of your magic reflected in his blue eyes.

“You didn’t lose Bruce alone,” he whispered.

“And you’re not carrying this alone either.”

Your magic slowly brightened again, soft and steady like distant stars. For the first time since hearing about Bruce’s death. You didn’t feel completely alone and none of them let go of you.

[danijaci]

dog tricks ft. phainon

so uhh this is not exactly a comic, just a short fun vid inspired by that tiktok audio heheheh wnjoy

[tabathastan]

Protective Nightwing x Reader Headcanons

Dick isn’t the overly controlling type. Instead, he protects you in quiet ways you don’t always notice.

He memorizes your patrol routes, favorite rooftops, and even the shortcuts you take through Gotham so he always knows where to find you if something goes wrong.

Anytime a fight breaks out, he automatically shifts half a step in front of you. It’s instinct from years of protecting people.

If you try to move around him he’ll give you a look like:

“Just humor me, okay?”

The second patrol ends he’s doing a quick check.

“Hold still.”

“Dick, it’s just a scratch.”

“Yeah, and that scratch is bleeding through your sleeve.”

He’s surprisingly gentle while cleaning cuts or wrapping your hands.

If you slip on a rooftop edge or misjudge a jump, Dick catches you instantly.

One arm around your waist, flipping both of you safely onto the next roof like it’s nothing. Then he gives you that crooked grin.

“Careful. Gotham doesn’t have safety rails.”

Usually Dick is joking, teasing, playful. But the second someone actually threatens you, his voice drops into full leader mode.

“Back away from them.”

It’s the same commanding tone he used as Robin when leading the Titans. Even if the team splits up during patrol, Dick keeps your comm channel open longer than everyone else’s. If it goes quiet for too long he checks in.

“You still with me?”

If someone like Jason Todd or Tim Drake jumps in to help you during a fight, Dick appreciates it, but later he mutters:

“I had that handled.”

After rough missions he insists on escorting you back to the Belfry or your apartment.

Gotham at night is dangerous, and Dick refuses to leave you alone on the streets.

When something really scary happens (an explosion, ambush, etc.) he pulls you into a quick tight hug afterward. Not long. Just enough to confirm you’re alive. Then he clears his throat like it never happened.

Dick secretly has contingency plans if something happens to you. Emergency contacts, safe houses, medical kits already stocked. He learned that habit from Bruce Wayne.

Late nights at the Belfry, when patrol is over, Dick rests his forehead against yours and quietly says:

“Gotham takes a lot from people.”

“But I’m not letting it take you.”