#love that he embraces the puns

[filmfactors]

Since I'm on the topic, something I think about Turbo is that the nervous giggles he does when stressed/upset, etc isn't faked- I really like to believe he's always had that or adapted it during those years alone.

Or at least it wasn't as intense as a full body reaction, if he's always done that. [gestures at that one King Candy storyboard.]

[nostalgia-tblr]

I watched Avengers: Age of Ultron (apart from I skipped some overly long action sequences) and I am not sure so can someone tell me whether or not Tony Stark was the baddy in that film? Because about halfway through I was sure he was but then it was maybe just an evil robot after all and I am confused because either this film was surprisingly subversive or it was about robots hitting each other.

[amortxt]

⠀ㅤ⠀ ⠀𖥻⠀ㅤ⠀﹫⠀toji⠀fushiguro.

ㅤㅤⓘㅤㅤfluff, reader and toji have an estab relationship + reader is mamaguro. not proof-read so excuse any issues ^_^.

toji had conked out on the couch after promising you and your son a movie night. you have to give him props, he made it through the first 44 minutes and that was honestly a new record. your son giggled as you dragged the sharpie across his face, drawing all sorts of silly things on the man.

"mama, i wanna draw somethin'!" megumi tugged at your top, trying to get your attention. you took him on your lap and he uncapped the bright blue sharpie and went straight for his dads arm.

he drew an assortment of flowers and clouds. a little landscape on his fathers muscles. you couldn't hold it in and just burst out with laughter, megumi following suit.

it was all the more funnier hearing his snores, knowing he was dead asleep whilst his beloved son and wife drew atrocities ( little hearts and sparkles) all over his exposed skin.

"he looks beautiful, mama." megumi looked at you with bright, happy eyes. you took him into an embrace and squeezed him, cuteness aggression flooding you. you squealed and he groaned, and you both fell on top of your husband, successfully waking him up.

you two both looked at him with wide eyes and a dropped mouth. he made a lopsided, tired smile at you as he brought his untouched hand to rub his eyes. megumi made a cheeky smile back at him and you pursed your lips.

toji grumbled and yawned, still tired and just slightly humoured with his wife and son's antics. if only he had known the full picture. (pun intended). "whatcha lookin' at me like that for?"

"nothin' baby. you just look so pretty." the smile that was plastered on your face was incredulous. you couldn't wipe it off. not when your monster-hunk, tough guy of a man had bright sharpie and sparkly glitter all over his face and body. poor guy was probably still too tired to even notice it. you'd almost feel bad.

almost.

megumi could barely hold in his chortle and just let it all out. toji looked at him funny and you shrugged it off. kids. he seemed satisfied with your answer. and you made a loving grin.

you turned off the TV and sent toji off to bed, megumi holding your index finger and dragging you to his bedroom so you could go and tuck him in.

as you were sitting on megumi's bed, he began to chat. "mama.?" "yes sweetie?" "can i draw on you too?"

you looked at him and chewed the inside of your cheek. "uhm.. oh i don't know about that…"

"i do." you turned around you to see the hulking shadow the loomed at the doorway. you stared with eyes that seemed less serious when there was pink marker around them. in his hand he held some other permanent markers. all bright and all glittery. he had a strangely dangerous smirk on his face.

"and you're gettin' it tonight, ma."

⠀ㅤ⠀⠀©⠀all work written by ﹫amortxt. do not repost.

[dollypopup]

"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth like Anthony. Anthony watched his father die, watched his mum turn into a ghost of a person, and didn't want that for his wife"

Bestie. . .they have. . .the same dad???? They have the same mum???? Literally all of the Bridgerton children except Hyacinth watched Edmund die? They all experienced Violet's immense sorrow? He and Violet obviously have a very close connection and so of course he saw her wilting (plant pun, if you were wondering) or at least knew about it and has responded with being particularly gentle with her?

Trauma shaped all the Bridgertons. Colin was a young boy when his dad passed and everyone in the family experienced an immense grief and, unlike his brothers, Colin was twelve, he wasn't the heir, he wasn't the spare, and had no responsibility but to go to school (sent off elsewhere after his dad passed away, thus disconnected from his circle of support and family) and figure out how to be a man from strangers and rakes. Literally no one had space for his grief and sensitivity? He even cries alone in his bedroom in Season 1 and stops talking about his travels after he gets made fun of in Season 2 and claims that hardly anyone replied to his letters in Season 3 like what do you mean he has no trauma related to love?

Colin was right there on the steps watching his father cradled in his mother's arms as she wept over his sudden passing. Of course he has trauma related to love? Colin's entire arc was about how he only felt he could be cared about if he was pleasing the people around him or being useful in some way and putting on a mask and a persona so he wouldn't be hurt by how much no one else wanted the real, messy, authentic him around? His mum and dad lived a love story and Colin watched it fall to pieces just as all the Bridgertons did, he just internalized it differently. His entire family was grieving so he decided to be useful by offering levity where he could, especially as the brother raised predominately with his sisters, Eloise and Daphne.

And yet despite the fact that this was such a huge tragedy of his childhood, Colin still is incredibly emotionally available and as soon as he realized what he felt for Penelope was romantic, he takes initiative and he cuts into her dance with Debling and he chases after her carriage so he can confess that he can't stop thinking about her and he's not at all angry at her, she doesn't vex him, it isn't frustration at her- it's torture because he is so damn besotted with her that he dreams of her and the kiss they shared haunts him but it's torture he embraces because he's a romantic soul who is incredibly emotionally brave and he cares about Penelope more than he cares about his ego or image or past hurts.

Give my man his flowers.

[robo-writing]

I’m so naughty for this 😻😻 literally nobody can match my freak rn

What if… fluff fanfic of Logan and Reader where he is sleeping at normal times to fall asleep, and he wakes up to cocoa to warm him and Reader up in the cold near winter fall. Huddled up in a blanket together, giggling like teenagers over dumb puns.

literally the freakiest I can be rn 🐺⁉️⁉️

Anon this is OBSCENE, LEWD EVEN…..I like your style 👀

The smell of hot cocoa is what arouses him from his sleep—the familiar smell of chocolate and marshmallows wafting from the kitchen. Warm vanilla and rich cocoa moving through the air.

What makes him get out of bed however, is the distinct lack of you. He knows from the lack of your perfume that you're not at his side, but he still reaches a hand out to feel your empty spot—still warm. It doesn't take long for him to put two and two together, bare feet padding against the floor to find you in the kitchen. Hair messy, clothes tossled with the dredges of sleep still faintly visible in your eyes when you look up at him from the stove. "Mmm, mornin' baby," you whisper, voice deep with sleep. "I didn't wake you, did I?" "You expect me to stay in bed when my girl ain't there with me?" He says, coming behind to rest his face against your neck. A pleased hum escapes you, exposing more of your neck as he inhales your scent, lets his head fall further into you while he embraces you. The scruff of his beard tickles, and you make a mental note to ask him to trim it in the morning, but for now this is good enough. His voice is low when he speaks. "Smells good, what're you makin'?" "Hot chocolate," you answer, eyes darting towards the counter. "Saved you a mug." The bright red cup draws his attention, but not enough to pull him away from you right now. He leaves a small kiss against your exposed skin as gratitude, nuzzling up and down your face like a dog does to it's favorite human. "God, I love you. Have I told you that before?" You love it when he's like this, at peace. Too long he's forced to be someone he's not, and it makes your heart swell to know that you're the only one that can turn this beast of a man into a puppy. "You might have mentioned it once or twice." you laugh. "Would you love me more if I told you there's a blanket in the living room with our names on it?" His groan makes your spine tingle, large palms squeezing at your sides. "Marry me." "We're already married Logan," you smile, only to be interrupted with another groan. "Marry me again honey—I'll buy you two rings this time."

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

But do you love me?

a/n this just came out of nowhere. Had a little break and my brain said Azriel. So, I said yes in return.

summary: Azriel and oc having silly conversations before falling asleep. Or more like Azriel dealing with a slight sleep deprived lover.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was late, and Azriel was more than thankful that he had a chance to slip away from his family and spend the night on the outskirts of Velaris, tangled up in his lover's embrace. The relationship was fairly new. Azriel had fought his heart and feelings as if it were a battle of survival for a handful of months. He denied the fuzzy feelings until he was blue. He crushed the delicate butterflies every chance that he got. Waiting for you to leave. To come to your senses and realize that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

But you stayed. Stayed and fought back. Not letting him fully push you out. Always showing up. Always remember the little things that Azriel enjoyed. From knitted sweaters to lavender tea. From slightly open windows at night to lemon sugar cookies. You let him set the pace with almost everything. Physical touch was a touchy subject, no pun intended, for the spymaster, so you let him make the first move. Get familiar with what he liked. Yet Azriel was convinced that he was never going to forget the smile on your face when he finally reached to hold your hand after your tenth date. The sky might have been full of stars that night, but your eyes shone brighter then the brightest start in the sky ever could.

Now the spymaster let out a content sigh at the feeling of you pressing against his chest. The hour was rather late, but since both of you had no plans, neither of you cared about it. But it did feel heavenly to finally lay between plush sheets after a long day. Azriel was a step from slipping into blissful sleep when he felt you turning in his embrace. Your palms pressed into his bare chest as you moved to hover over him slightly.

The shadowsinger opened one of his eyes lazily. You were biting your lip. A sign that something was still brewing in your head. Azriel tried to suppress his smile at the sight of you like that, slowly reaching to push some loose strands of hair behind your air.

“Out with it, my love," he muttered softly, watching as your eyes landed on him, instantly sparking way brighter. “This is serious, by the way," you warned him instantly, making Azriel frown slightly. “I never said that it wasn’t. What’s keeping you up?" He shifted his body slightly as well, wanting to have a good look at your face.

You watched him for a heartbeat before muttering, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Azriel stilled for a moment, letting your words sink in. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had heard you wrong, but the determination on your face washed that thought away.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would still love you," he reassured you, but you shook your head, muttering, “No, don’t think about me as in me; think about me as a worm," you added in a serious tone. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think you would make a pretty cute worm." He nodded his head, making sure to keep his face straight.

“What about if I was a dust bunny?", you practically cut into Azriel’s last statement, making the male let out a low chuckle, but since your mind was working faster than Azriel could pull himself to answer, your palms hit his chest in excitement as you muttered, "No, I have a better question; do you think butterflies are intelligent?”.

That sent Azriel into a full-body laugh. He simply couldn’t contain his laugh anymore. It’s not so much that he found it silly and pointless. It’s the way you were determined to get an answer as if it determined the most important part of your life.

“I'm serious, Azriel," you groaned, clearly not as pleased with your boyfriend’s reaction. Azriel nodded his head, still smiling. "Yes, I think they are." You nodded alongside him, "But... Why?”. Azriel bit his lip, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles as he muttered, “Go to sleep, baby." Tugging at your arm, Azriel hoped to get you closer to him once more. But you had other plans and turned to flop down on your back next to him instead. "No, how will I sleep now?", you huffed, raising your hands in frustration.

"Love," Azriel pleaded. It was entertaining to watch you in your slightly sleep-deprived form. Not to mention that it got him thinking about how a night after Rita’s would look if this was how your brain worked when you were tired. “Where do they fit their brain?", You tapped your finger against your forehead, frowning slightly. “Oh, Mother, please," Azriel growled, turning to flop right onto your chest. Aware of his size and weight, but enough to keep you in one place. And most importantly, to keep you close to him. Azriel gently nuzzled against your neck, opting to leave a kiss or two as he went. And was more than happy to feel your hands slowly moving to scratch the back of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"But..." you muttered after a moment. “Do you love me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," Azriel muttered again, pulling back to brush his nose against yours before leaning closer to capture your lips in a kiss. He knew that, for the most part, you had been anxious to date him too. And even if this was all fun and games, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if, in a way, this was your nagging doubts needing that extra reassurance.

“But do you?", your delicate gaze searched him. Azriel crooked his head to the side. “I just said yes. My answer hasn't changed, love," his fingers gently brushed against your cheek. “But you said it without you knowing..." Your voice died down as you searched for the right words. A slight frown paints your face. “Without what?", Azriel smiled at you, waiting patiently for you to pick up your battle in your head.

“Without the bedazzle," you crinkled your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “A what?", Azriel was left frowning once more. “The umpf," you urged, making tiny expressions with your hands. Azriel let out a low sigh. “You are losing the plot,” He moved one of his arms around your middle, pulling your body closer to him as he turned to lay back on his back. “Go to sleep," he muttered against your ear.

But your peaceful stillness lasted no longer than a heartbeat. “That was mean," you pouted at your boyfriend. "Love", Azriel grunted as you pushed against his chest to sit up. His fingers tried to hold you back, but you batted his hands away. “Naah, now I don't want to sleep facing you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Trying to keep a serious face even if the look on Azriel’s face was worthy of a chuckle. You watched as he calculated his next answer before muttering,

“Are you about to start your cycle?”, the moment a gasp left your lips, Azriel knew that he shouldn’t have. Both his and Rhys’s mothers had drilled it into their heads that one should never ask females questions regarding their cycles, especially ones that imply their behavior being affected by it.

“Azriel, I will suffocate you in your sleep”, you scrunched up your nose right as Azriel leaned over to tackle you into the plush sheets, once again wrapping you in his warmth. You, however, didn’t give up the fight, wiggling in his embrace. I tried to huff and puff, but soon the sounds turned into laughter. “Stop moving around," Azriel chimed as his fingers danced along your ribcage. “You are squishing me," you wheezed, your eyes filling up with tears. Happy tears. Azriel kissed them away one by one. “Give up the fight, darling," he mussed, “and just go to sleep, please." Azriel chuckled as you tapped against his chest, taking in deep breaths to catch your breath.

“But do you love me?", you bit your lip, trying to suppress yet another chuckle when Azriel dropped his head back with a growl. Exposing his toned neck. Making his ink-covered muscles flex. Before he narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, yes, and yes," he stated. “Even if you were a worm, a slug, a bird, a boat, or a sticky bun," Azriel listed one thing after another. “I love you now and most definitely will love you in another lifetime." His hazel eyes were full of affection as he spoke. "Screw that," he huffed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, “I will love you in all the universes, all the worlds." The shadow singer watched as you bit your lip, trying to suppress the wobble in your chin. “Even if you’re a wildflower in the field and I’m the morning breeze passing through, I will still love you”, Azriel’s words were met with a shaky exhale. And then both your legs and arms were messily wrapped around him as you pulled him closer. “Careful, or I will crush you," Azriel chuckled, trying to keep some of his weight off you, but you didn’t seem to mind. “You are the sweetest, most precious male I have ever met," you muttered into his embrace. “Doubt that..." Azriel had begun to object to the fact that you had called him precious, but your finger had found his lips before he could say anything else. “I love you, and to me, you will always be just Azriel," you said, “My Azriel with a heart of gold."

[spctrsgf]

morning banter

summary: something about you and marc? he wakes up early, and you most certainly do not.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: language, my shitty spanish (i’m trying okay)

a/n: took a quick break from b+h for a lil marc spector drabble!!! hope you all enjoy

Es tan temprano para esta mierda, Marc. Jake’s annoyed Spanish drawl smacks into the side of Marc's head. The combination of his drowsy, slow mind and that Marc knew next to no spanish caused the said man’s eyebrows to crinkle. “What the fuck did you just say?” He can barely hear his own voice, but he knows Jake can.

Don’t worry about it.

“Jake.”

Marc. Only Jake would pitch up his name in a high voice: it’s a mimic.

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.”

Yeah you do.

“No, I don’t! Back me up, Steven.”

Don’t bring me into this. 

C’mon, Stevie— Jake cuts off abruptly, probably the doing of Steven.

“Jake,” Marc resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just tell me what you said.”

Go to sleep, puta.

“Okay, I know that one,” Marc hisses, toiling you in closer to him. “Rude.”

You deserved it.

“You wanna know what you deserve?”

Oh, yeah, Jake taunts. What’s that?

“A fucking pun–”

His voice goes legato as soon as he senses you moving, causing him to fall silent. You curl tighter into a ball, spiraling the covers more into your fists and tucking them again beneath your chin. Jake, by some miracle, also goes quiet, as if somehow his words could expel themselves out of Marc’s mouth and to your ears. 

But, the soft exhales are the only noise you left out, and if you heard them, you didn’t show it. Marc’s shoulders roll back from where they were hunched, surely Steven’s gentle gesture to the position he hadn’t even realized he’d been in. 

Would it kill the two of you to just be nice to each other? The Brit muses. 

Absolutely. Jake’s response is automatic.

“One hundred percent true.” Marc chimes in.

HAH! Steven ejects the exclamation in triumph. Now I got the two of you agreeing.

“Sure, whatever.”

Only time we agree is when you finesse us into it, hermano.

Marc slides his arm out from where it was wrapped around your waist to give the two a thumbs up in agreement with Jake, reluctantly.

Or, he tried to.

“Noooooo…” You groan groggily, tightening your hold. 

Marc freezes. “Baby?”

“Mmmmm?” 

“I- I didn’t know you were aware.”

“Well,” you snuggle closer into his chest, his warm embrace. “You ‘n Steven ‘n Jake aren’t exactly quiet when you argue.”

He sighs, guilt pooling in his stomach. “Listen, ‘m sorry. You know how we can be.”

“Yeah, I do. And I love you all,” you reach back, squeezing his bicep reassuringly. “But I also love my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need to sleep to be beautiful.” He ducks his head to place a featherlight kiss to your neck, savoring the sigh you let out in return.

“You’re sweet, but we both know that’s not true.”

“Do we?”

“Mhm,” you turn, nudging Marc’s arms off of you as you face him. “‘M a menace without it.”

“That’s true,” he chuckles when you slap his arm, letting out an effortlessly beautiful smile. “But it’s nothing a cup of nice, warm coffee can’t solve.”

You giggle softly. “That’s true.”

“C’mon, sleepyhead,” He moves to slide you both out from under the covers. “Let’s get going.”

“Nope.” You let him go, rolling to burrito yourself in the covers again. 

“Nope?” He inquires, rounding the bed to stand over you.

“Nope.”

His shadow covers your shut eyelids and you know he’s bent over your face. “I’ll make you coffee to apologize for waking you up, baby, I promise.” You scrunch your nose. “Tempting, but no.”

“Not even because I’m asking you?”

“Not even if you were on your knees and begging.”

“Oh?” The sentence your half asleep brain had kindled clearly took him by surprise. 

You huff, flipping over in the bed dramatically. “Go away, I’m tired.”

“What’s so great about this bed that I can’t give you, huh?”

“Well,” You take a deep breath, and some small, rational part of your brain tells you that maybe the spew of words about to come out of your mouth is what he wanted to happen all along. “The bed is warm. It’s cozy. The covers are just the right heaviness and just the right thickness to provide optimal warmth and the right amount of pressure to keep me sleeping like a bear in hibernation. ‘Nd my pillow is the right firmness, but has my desired amount of sink to put me out as soon as you turn off the light and wrap your arms around me. Even though that only happens sometimes.”

Marc huffs in frustration. “Hey!”

“Yeah, Marc, my bed is always here on time. It never goes anywhere, and the only life it’s saving is your sorry ass right now.”

“Uncalled for.” He runs a hand through his hair. 

“Thought you liked a bit of banter.”

“I like a kick or two,” He leans over and pulls your shoulders to level on the bed and your eyes to meet his own. “But not at eight in the fucking morning.”

“Neither do I,” You reach up, pulling his face in for a kiss.

He gives in almost immediately, setting a knee on either side of your legs and scooping his arms underneath your body to pull you up.

“Nuh uh,” you pull away and unwrap his arms, flopping back onto the bed. “Sleepy. Time to sleep.”

“You can't leave me hanging like that!”

You yawn, pulling the covers up to your chin again. “I can and I did.”

For a second, a naive, small second, you think he’s going to leave you be. Your brain relaxes, you feel yourself on the precipice of sleep, the hypnotic, rich swirl of unconsciousness sucking you deeper into its whirlpool. But then you feel the covers lift, and Marc’s— frighteningly cold— fingers are dancing along your sides to a tune you illustrate with laughs. You slap his hands away, reaching out towards the lure of sleep that now sneaks away to taint another victim.

“You ready to get out of bed now, sweets?”

You groan, turning to face him in defeat. “You fucker.”

He throws his arms mockingly. “What’d I do?”

“You manipulated me! I hate you.”

“I did no such thing. What are these accusations?”

“You knew I would get worked up,” you sit up in the bed now, and Marc shrinks ever so slightly under the weight of your deadly stare. “You knew that would wake me up.”

“Hey, let’s calm down–”

“You knew that if you pushed the right buttons, you would get what you wanted.”

Marc’s face is ghastly, and he looks two steps away from summoning his suit and flying away.

“I warned you earlier about this, Marc, were you listening?”

He nods frantically. “Of course–”

“I’m a menace when I get woken up early.” You launch off the bed, and you might as well be Moon Knight yourself with your accuracy.

The takeaway from this event? For Marc, it’s to never try waking you up before you’ve recharged fully, or to have some coffee made ahead of when he was to attempt it. For you, though?

It’s that Marc shrieks like a little girl. 

translations (HELP I FORGOT):

es tan temprano para esta mierda - it’s too early for this shit

puta - bitch

i felt very fancy using these

[inmoonsblood]

a dying fire - tim drake

tim drake x reader, 1.4k words, mentions of weed, vigilante!reader

synopsis: smoking and making out with your best friend is totally normal, mom!

note: early post because i got excited! this is quite literally just a thousand words of me yapping about tim semi-coherently. contains mentions of smoking, it isn't fluffy at all, but i tried really hard and this is the best i could do, i'm so sorry sweet anon </3. i love the characterisation of tim done by @glamourscat so much and i've (attempted) to base my tim off theirs because it's??? so??? good???

Tim Drake was a man of several talents. He was the smartest person alive (according to you, and you were never wrong), he could skateboard with a hand tied behind his back, hell, Ra’s Al Ghul had complimented him (covertly, of course, Mr. I-am-a-supreme-leader would never compliment anyone to their faces), and of course, he was the best partner to have on the field. 

Of course, you weren’t biased at all, how could you be when you were one of the only people who could testify that claim (aside from Brucey, Steph and Dick—maybe—but you were the coolest. Steph was a close second, of course). The fact that he was your best friend, your ride-or-die (bi or die, if you would), both in and out of costume all added to the fact that you were the best person to decide this. Period. 

One of these several talents included rolling the finest blunt seen to mankind, second only to the man who rolled it in terms of sexiness, and lifting your mood up with little kisses along your shoulders whenever you were tense after a bad mission. Think of it like a ritual of sorts: missions go bad, you get yelled at, smoke a blunt from Tim’s hand. A holy trinity if you will and your favourite, especially when it ended up with Tim kissing from your shoulder all the way up to right under your ear before nibbling on that spot till you gasped. Last week, That turned into making out till you both eventually passed out, limbs tangled and his head resting on your chest. 

You two never spoke about it after it happened, but that didn’t stop the both of you from repeating it.  Why would it? There was no downside to this aside from ‘elevating’ the both of you and your moods (because as much as Tim claimed to do it just for you, you knew that wasn’t the whole truth, not with the way his shoulders relaxed or with the way his face lit up when you came to his apartment. He carried the burden of bad missions just as much as you did, if not more, he just never showed it out loud). And so, this became a ritual even if there wasn’t a bad mission or a bad patrol, just something you did with your best friend forever: smoke, makeout, and then fall asleep tangled in each other’s embrace. Slowly, (for the sake of both your healths), smoking was replaced with video games and this became a weekly ritual, where Tim would fight god if he had to for making take for this. Luckily he never had to because Alfred took the joy of Tim taking regular (weekly) breaks where he slept through the night, and never let Tim opt out of it.

Perfect for you, honestly.

And still, there are days when the old ritual came back, and it was back to: missions go bad, you get yelled at, smoke a blunt from Tim’s hand. An optimist would hope those days were rare and preferably not existent during the #holidayszn, however, a Gothamite would know that Gotham gets worse around Christmas, because just like Mariah Carey, Mr. Freeze wakes up. Unlike Mariah Carey, Mr. Freeze does not bring karaoke and laughter with Tim, he brings curses and god-awful puns while terrorizing you, specifically you. 

Now, the thing about being partners with Tim was that missions with him rarely went wrong, because everything was planned to a T with multiple explosions and Batman not being able to say much about him because what, would he ground you? (Timothy ‘I’m an adult’ Drake and you, never his child in the first place) and they always technically follow his rules. Patrol, however, is a different story, especially with you and Tim’s patrol routes being forcefully torn apart during the holidays by Batman (he who is allergic to songs and had Mariah Carey blasted in his ear after he had just fallen asleep as a consequence of his actions) after you two were karaoking christmas songs to Calendar Man. 

And unfortunately, as much as you were good in your own right, Mr. Freeze hates you a little too much. Enough to ambush your patrol route with his very own version of your Christmas Gift, which led to a one-sided bicker contest, while you taunted him and Mr. Freeze kept hitting you time and time again. He had decided to do this at the end of what you called the longest patrol of your life, with you already somewhat injured and exhausted, because of course he had! You were his favourite one in Gotham. Unable to land any hits on him—listen, it was his new fancy ice device, okay? That thing did not let you get near him at all, plus you didn’t want to take him solo while already sporting a few injuries—you just continued to play a game of taunt and dodge while requesting Oracle for back up.

And just as you slipped on the ice, Mr. Freeze screamed in a pitch that made you wonder if Mariah Carey was just him facetuned. Looking up from your position, you saw Tim as Red Robin, absolutely kicking his ass. The look on his face was feral, and in all seriousness, kind of scared you because just for a moment there, Tim looked like he was out for blood. Things progressed in a blur after that, and you remained unable to get that look of his out of your head. Even as Bruce reprimanded you for being reckless earlier, even as Alfred checks you for a concussion, Tim’s face just stays there. The man himself can tell something is wrong, of course he can, he’s Tim Drake and he’s been standing next to you since you got back. You reckon he also knows you won’t tell him what’s genuinely wrong since it’s you and you never do, so he does the best he can and silently motions for you to follow him back home for your original ritual. It’s the best he can do because the only thing he wants to do right now is get that frown off your face, and anything works, as long as you’re smiling and okay. 

The hesitation that precedes your agreement isn’t lost on him, but Tim decides that he can delve on it when you two aren’t together and all he has in front of him is the memory of your arms around his body. 

There’s something largely different about that night, you realise, as you snuggle into his blanket at his apartment. The fireplace is lit up for the first time in years, your stocking is up right besides Tim’s and he’s not gone to roll a blunt, but you collect the hot chocolate you two ordered. Your hair is wet from the shower earlier and the open window definitely doesn’t scream no sickness, but the fire is keeping you warm as you desperately try to push that image out of your brain. You’re not sure why you’re so fixated on it: you’ve known Tim is a little scoundrel all your life, you’ve known he’s dangerous and smart, but that fight was different. It marked the first time you felt afraid of him. Maybe that’s how Tim looks when he’s mad, maybe that’s the look on his face Ra’s saw when the league had kidnapped you. Maybe he’s always been like that, but you were too lovesick to notice.

Despite that, however, you remind yourself that he’s the same as the Tim that fell down when he tried teaching you how to skate because you tripped on him, the same one that wordlessly ordered hot chocolate for you while lighting up the fireplace for the first time since he bought the apartment. Tim’s as full of love as he is of contempt and gods, you feel stupid for not noticing it sooner. 

You are swiftly pulled out of your overthinking with Tim pulling you into his arms and nuzzling into your neck. There’s two cups of hot chocolate in front of you and Mariah Carey’s music videos que-ed to start as the clock strikes midnight: Christmas Day. With a soft smile, you relax into his arms before flicking his forehead, Tim laughs before kissing along your neck before he gets to your face, littering it with kisses. 

Tomorrow, you will deal with whatever you felt back then. Tomorrow, Tim will analyze the situation head to toe, but tonight? You have hot chocolate and Mariah Carey to fall asleep to whilst he holds you (fully knowing that somewhere in the night, you two will end up switching with his head on your chest). 

Late at night, as the fire finally dies out, you no longer feel cold.

[whxtedreams]

In pain and heartache. In comfort and love.

A Jackson!Joel x f!reader oneshot

Summary: They were so desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags: Jackson!joel, mentions of ellie and her AMAZING puns, Tommy providing comfort, pain, heartache, fear, anxiety, love, apologies, kissing, desperation. reader has she/her pronouns as i write in third person POV, reader has hair Joel can play with, reader has no other descriptions- photos for aesthetic purpose only.

Main masterlist

With pain and heartache, she watched him live without her. 

Her eyes watched every move he made. Every step he took. Every smile he blessed those around him with.

It was an aching reminder of what could have been. The weight of their unresolved past seemed only visible to her. Every breath she took a battle in the heaviness in her chest.

She longed to reach out, to bridge that gap between them she did not realize had begun to form until it was too late.

But the fear of making what little they had left worse held her back. So, she stood in silent agony, her heart breaking as she watched Joel from across the bar.

Tommy had found his way to her, a smile of sympathy and drink in hand. His eyes filled with sadness and understanding, a silent acknowledgment to the suffering.

He knew, after all. Knew how prone his brother was at breaking those he cared for. Tommy had been broken too. 

He held the drink out to her. “Thought you could use this,” he said softly. His voice was gentle like a comforting embrace. 

Her eyes slowly pulled away from Joel as she accepted the drink. She watched the liquid within swirl around in the glass and she found herself hypnotized by its movement. The memory of Joel's drunken state when he pushed her away resurfaced, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. The sight of the drink in her hand now felt like a cruel reminder of his harsh rejection.

“He’ll come around, always does,” Tommy said, his hand gently placed on her shoulder.

The words were meant to comfort her, but they felt hollow and insincere. She knew the truth, deep down. This time it felt different, a finality to Joel’s actions.

His absence stung, like an open wound that wouldn’t heal. She forced a small nod, struggling to feign optimism. "He said he could never love me." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Tommy sighed. His hand fell from her shoulder. He cast a glance at Joel, then back at her, conflict and concern etched across his face.

Her eyes trailed back to Joel, drawn by Tommy's gaze. There he was, laughing heartily at Ellie, her pun book in hand as she hunched over in laughter.

The sight of him happy and carefree, the sound of his laughter filling the air, made her heart ache. She tried to hold back the pain, to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help but yearn for the past.

"He's scared of losing you," Tommy said.

The words hung heavy in the air, echoing the silent weight that rested on her shoulders. She knew he was right, that fear had been a driving force behind Joel's actions. But it didn't make it any easier to bear the hurt and disappointment his fear had caused. She nodded silently, her gaze fixed on Joel and Ellie, their joyful exchange a bittersweet contrast to her own internal turmoil.

Her eyes left Joel and locked onto Tommy's. "If he's so scared of losing me, then why did he push me away?" she asked, her voice quivered as tears threatened to escape her eyes. The desperation and confusion in her voice hung in the air, seeking an answer that she knew might never come.

Tommy's expression softened as he looked at her, compassion in his eyes.

 "He's lost a lot, I suppose he'd rather push you away on his terms than let fate do it for him.”

The pain of Joel’s past losses echoed through her mind. She knew the weight of his pain had shaped him, had forced him to build walls around himself. He'd rather sever ties than risk the hurt of losing someone he let himself love, even if it meant losing them in the process.

Her eyes slowly returned to Joel and as their gazes locked, she saw the intensity in his eyes. It was clear he had been watching her, their gazes drawn to each other like magnets. There was something different in his eyes, a vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze for a moment, questioning the thoughts and emotions that flickered across his face.

Did he regret it? she thought, her mind filled with uncertainty. Did he miss her like she missed him?

Did he still lie in bed, reaching for her in the early hours of the morning? Like he had on those nights under the stars during their journey to Jackson.

Did he still clench his fists by his side or fidget with the watch on his wrist when he didn't know what to say? Did he miss her taking his hand in hers to distract him?

Did he wish that he loved her?

Or did he regret it all?

"It might not seem like it anymore, but he cares for you," Tommy said, his voice steady and reassuring. "I saw it when he carried you in, see it now." She turned to him, searching his face for any sign of deception, but there was none.

Only honesty and concern reflected on her.

Her gaze returned to Joel, drawn by his movement as he stood from the table.

His eyes were on her, only her.

“I can’t do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration as she handed the glass back to Tommy. Ignoring his call for her, she turned and walked out of the bar, desperately needing some fresh air and space to collect her thoughts.

The night air hit her as she stepped outside, cold and crisp, and it provided a respite from the oppressive atmosphere inside. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart and tumultuous emotions.

Oh fuck, she thought. She fucking missed him.

And as if her heart seemed to call for him, she heard the door open once more. She turned to see Joel step out, the soft light of the moon bathing them in a silvery glow. It was as if the night itself tried to bring them together.

She looked at him from behind watery eyes, her emotions threatening to overflow. In turn, he watched her with eyes that mirrored her own pain, a reflection of the suffering that had come between them. They stood there under the night sky, silent and yet speaking volumes, each knowing the depth of the other's heartache.

Only difference was, he had caused all of this.

The unfairness of it all, the weight of the isolation and pain he had inflicted upon her, pressed down on her like his own heavy hand. He stood there, the cause of her heartache, while she endured his consequences alone. The anger and anguish in her heart flared, but it couldn't overpower the deep love and longing she still carried within her.

Joel didn't utter a word, and she didn't expect him to. Instead, he closed the space between them, pulling her into a tight embrace. His hand rested on her head, his touch gentle and comforting as he cradled her against his chest. His nose to her hair. Her hands trembled as they clutched onto the fabric of his jacket, holding him tightly, as if she was afraid he might disappear.

He pulled back slightly and lifted her face gently. His fingers traced her cheek as if his touch would break her. Their gaze met, and she saw the well of pain reflected in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a hushed whisper that hung in the night like a fragile thread.

From anyone else, the apology may have felt hollow, meaningless. But from Joel's lips, it held a weight and significance that she understood. For an apology from him was rare and precious, like discovering clean, fresh water in the middle of a vast wasteland. The impact of his words, simple as they were, struck a chord deep within her heart. She could feel the significance of each syllable, was a lifeline in her sea of despair. A flicker of hope in the darkness that had enveloped her heart.

"I should never have told you to leave." He spoke again, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes never left hers.

The words hung heavily in the air, a confession of regret that cut deep. A single tear slipped down his face, a testament to the depth of his remorse. It was a crack in the stoic facade he often wore, a glimpse into the depths of his own hurt and guilt.

She had never seen him cry.

The tear, a crystalline droplet that glistened on his cheek.

"Why did you push me away, then? As if I never meant anything to you," she said, her heart shattered by his own hands.

Joel shut his eyes, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm on her face. His other hand clenched tightly at the fabric of her waist, while the one holding her face remained gentle and tender, a stark contrast to his tense grip.

His voice trembled as he spoke, each word laden with truth. "I'm so scared I'll let you in, only for you to die on me," he confessed. "I can't lose you too."

His fingers trembled against her skin. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, bringing it to rest over her heart. It beat a steady rhythm under his palm, a silent reassurance that she was there, alive and breathing.

“You are losing me Joel.”

Joel opened his eyes, so full of pain as he took in her words.

“I’m sorry.” His apology was a mere whisper against her lips. And then, a breathless moment.

His lips delicately touched hers, a whisper-soft kiss filled with tenderness and vulnerability, as fragile as a butterfly's wing. It was as if he were afraid to press too hard, to cause her any more harm than he already had.

As quick as it began, it was over. He pulled away, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead before he tucked her head back into his chest. His fingers played with her hair as he looked up at the starry night sky and she could feel his body relaxing as he held her close.

"If the Lord gave me another chance, I would go back and make things right," he said as his heartbeat quickened beneath her ear. Her hand found its way to his chest as it laid over his heart soothingly, if only to calm the anxiety that had taken root within him.

"All I do is miss you. I can’t sleep, can’t eat. I was so stupid to push you away," he confessed, his chest shuddered with a soft sob. She pulled back slightly, only to witness a torrent of tears streaming down his face. The single tear had multiplied as it turned to a river of sorrow that spoke louder than any words could.

She gently wiped the tears from his face as her own fell silently in tandem.

His bottom lip trembled, and without a second thought, she did what came naturally to her. Her lips found his in a tender kiss and she could feel the tension in him slowly melt away as he released a shuddering breath.

His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss. He poured months of pent-up emotions into the kiss, a mix of regret, yearning, and a love so powerful it threatened to consume them both. Teeth scrapped against teeth, a primal collision of passion and desperation. It was a moment of intense connection, a release of the feelings that had been locked away for far too long.

Her back shoved against the hard surface of the wall. His hands roamed over her body in a desperate attempt to re-familiarize himself with every contour, every dip and curve. It was as if he was trying to memorize her all over again, as if he were afraid she would disappear from his grasp once more.

The pain she had carried with her began to fade away under the onslaught of his lips against hers, his touch hungry and urgent. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fingers clenching the fabric tightly as if she was afraid to let go. Afraid that if she did, he too would slip through her grasp once more.

Their mouths explored each other fiercely, the taste, the feel, the essence of each other an intoxicating drug that they had been deprived of for too long.

So desperate to hold each other after tasting life without one another.

The sound of the bar doors opening shattered the intimate bubble that had enveloped them. Noise spilled into the night air from inside as they hastily tore themselves away from each other. Their gazes locked with Tommy's as he stood frozen in the doorway, surprise etched across his face.

Tommy's eyes flicked down to where Joel's thigh had found its way between hers. "Jesus Christ, can you two make up somewhere else?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Joel's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he chuckled, out of breath. His calloused hands held her face tenderly; the rough pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks. He looked down at her with tenderness and amusement, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Tommy mumbled under his breath as he walked back inside.

“What do you say, come home?” he asked. A hint of hopefulness in his voice, tempered by the fear that shone in his eyes.

“Do you love me?” She asked.

“I want to try.” He said without a beat.

“I think I can live with that.”

The night was quiet, the silence only broken by the soft whisper of the wind as it blew in through the open window. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of the stars outside, their light danced through the gaps in the curtain that fluttered in the breeze.

Joel's face was buried in the crook of her neck, his body wrapped tightly around hers. He inhaled deeply; his breath warm against her neck. His arms encircled her, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid to let go. He was seeking comfort in her presence, finding solace in her warmth and familiarity.

She was too afraid to sleep. Worried that when she woke, he would be gone once more.

As the first light of day crept through the window, her eyes slowly opened and she expected to find an empty space beside her. However, his grip on her remained firm as he pulled her closer into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as he slept peacefully, forever reaching for her. A wave of relief washed over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She made a silent vow to herself as she felt the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. No matter how far he tried to push her away, no matter how much pain spilled from him and to her, she would never let go of him again. She would fight, crawl, and struggle with every ounce of her being to get back to him.

With comfort and love, she watched him sleep by her. 

Notes

this was meant to be around 0.5k but it just kept going??? also Flora writes about kissing as someone who’s never been kissed so as always, take it with a grain of salt as i have no idea what i’m talking about lol - should honestly be a warning itself had a yucky day so here's some hurt & comfort also the starting line and ending line match and im proud of that lol.

[ginxyy]

Catching Flights & Feelings

A man who travels a lot falls in love with a flight attendant he always sees.

Every time the airplane doors slid shut and the familiar hum of the engines filled the cabin, a flutter of excitement ignited within you. There, among the rows of seats and the soft murmur of passengers settling in, you found your rhythm. You had mastered the art of the skies, weaving through clouds with an elegance that could only be embraced by those who belonged to this world. But this time was different, and you felt it in every fiber of your being.

As you prepared for the safety demonstration, a familiar figure settled into his seat. Seungcheol, the charming man from Seventeen, had taken a spot in your section yet again. You had seen him countless times on your flights, flashing his twinkling smile and reverberating with an unmistakable aura that made him a beacon of warmth in a bustling, often chaotic environment. His fame was undeniable—his name echoed in the whispers of your colleagues and the excited chatter of fans during layovers but to you, he was just Seungcheol.

You grinned, feeling a spark of mischief dance behind your eyes. “Ready for takeoff, Mr. Celebrity?” you teased, your playful tone slicing through the air like a gentle breeze. You leaned in, letting a hint of flirtation lace your words, and watched as his cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that would put roses to shame.

“Only if you’re serving the drinks today,” he responded, winking at you with that disarming charm. His eyes held a twinkle that made your heart thump louder than the engines’ roar.

You resumed your duties, but not before braving a last glance at him. In that fleeting moment, you imagined the unexplored depths beneath his public persona and what it would be like to peel back the layers, uncovering the man hidden behind the celebrated façade. Unbeknownst to you, he was just as enamored with you as you were with him.

The days turned into weeks, and each flight became a cherished ritual. You found yourself counting down the hours until you could see him again. The more you spoke, the more a comfortable rhythm developed between you a playful banter that ignited during each in-flight encounter. You joked about turbulence, made puns about jet lag, and learned how to flirt through simple glances. If someone had told you that you could fall so hard over high altitudes and the scent of recycled air, you would have laughed. But here you were, caught in the spell of this endearing connection.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day filled with delays and turbulence, you were surprised to see Seungcheol waiting at the gate, a bright smile illuminating his face. He was flanked by a small group of fans, yet his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made the world around you blur.

“Want to grab drinks after the flight?” he asked innocently, as if it were the most natural of propositions.

“Are we really going to discuss drinks? It’s the third time this week you’ve asked me out on a flight my heart can only take so much of the turbulence,” you teased, unable to suppress the way your smile widened.

He chuckled, the sound bubbling up like champagne. “So you admit you like it. I’m getting somewhere, then. What’ll it be? A flight to nowhere? I promise I’m an excellent co-pilot.”

“Just as long as I’m in the captain’s seat,” you flirted back, feeling the thrill of anticipation tingle through your stomach.

Following that, a spontaneous series of adventures unfolded between you both, hidden from the prying eyes of the world. Late-night conversations in airport lounges turned into coffee breaks in the bustling streets of Tokyo, and you found joy in navigating cities while flirting like teenagers. Seungcheol relished the simple pleasures, basking in the joy of being with someone who viewed him through a lens unclouded by fame.

“Do you know what I like most about you?” he asked one afternoon as the spring breeze whispered through the cherry blossoms around you.

“What’s that?” you replied, leaning in, curious and utterly engaged. His handsome features softened, and the earnestness written on his face made your heart skip.

“You treat me like a person, not just some idol. You’re refreshing like a breath of fresh air after a long flight.” His gaze held yours, desire and sincerity entwined. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Growing bold, you decided to take a leap of faith. “Maybe you should stop flying around so much and spend more time on the ground with me. I can introduce you to all the best coffee spots,” you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Seungcheol smirked, the corners of his mouth curling up with delight. “And I can promise to be your co-pilot on all your adventures. What do you say?”

You both spent countless afternoons rearranging schedules, mastering detours, and making memories amongst the thrumming heart of life. The world was a blur of new places and experiences, but what truly grounded you was the thrill of being together.

As weeks turned into months, the scenery shifted around you both, more vibrant and tantalizing than you’d ever envisioned. Cozy dinners after long flights, sneaking kisses behind the airport terminal… It was all a concoction of magic and spontaneity, and you thrived on it. In that whirlwind of romance, Seungcheol somehow managed to nestle himself firmly in your heart, becoming more than a fleeting passenger on your journeys.

One fateful evening, while stared into the pulsating city lights from your hotel balcony, you realized that your whirlwind romance fuelled by chance encounters and flirtatious exchanges had grounded itself into something deeper, more meaningful.

Leaning against the railing and looking out at the horizon, you felt him step up behind you, a presence that made the night warmer. “Are you going to share a drink with your co-pilot or just stare into the distance and dream?”

Smiling to yourself, your heart hummed the answer. “Only if it’s a romantic dinner under the stars.”

Underneath the vast expanse, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you both discovered that romance could blossom not just in the clouds but in every heartbeat you shared on Earth.

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 | 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄

— cozytober masterlist !

summary: you and matt go to an apple orchard for a fall date.

warnings: sweet (no pun intended) fluff, lil tiny kiss

word count: 0.84k

notes: first remps fic! also first fic of cozytober, hope you guys like it!

It’s the perfect fall day in New York, the kind of day that begs you to pull on your coziest sweater and admire the blaze of color lighting up the trees. The air is crisp, carrying a sweetness from the apple trees, but the sun still lingers, casting a golden glow over the orchard. It feels like the kind of day where everything slows down like time itself is in no rush.

"You ready to fill this bag to the brim?" you ask with a grin, holding up the empty apple bag. It sways a little in the breeze, and Matt smiles back, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your heart skip.

“Of course, lead the way,” he says, slipping his left hand casually into your back pocket, the simple touch sending a soft flutter through your heart. Apple picking is just one of the many fall-themed dates you’ve convinced him to do, and he’s never complained. In fact, he’s embraced it, surprising you in the best way. You’ve never seen anyone so willing to dive into your love of the season, but here he is, playing along like it’s his tradition too.

You start down one of the rows of apple trees, finding a few with bright red apples still clinging to their branches. Handing Matt the bag, you reach up and tug a couple of apples from the lower branches, their skins shiny in the warm light. But as you move along, you notice the easier-to-reach apples are becoming sparse.

“I think all the easy ones are gone,” you say, scanning the higher branches with a mock pout. You turn to Matt with a hopeful smile. “Any chance you could grab a few from up there?”

He arches a brow, a playful glint in his eyes, before handing you the bag. “I knew my height would come in handy today,” he quips, reaching up effortlessly to pluck a couple of perfect apples from the upper branches.

You smirk, adjusting the bag as he drops the apples in. “This is why you were invited. Gotta have someone with some vertical skills.”

He feigns offense, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. “Is that all I’m good for? Reaching apples?”

You laugh, leaning into him for a second before moving toward another tree. “No, you’re also here to carry the bag when it’s too heavy for me. Obviously.”

Matt shakes his head, his laugh deep and genuine, as he plucks more apples and hands them to you. Before long, the bag was nearly full and heavier than you had anticipated. You were no longer able to hold the bag by the handles, instead cradling the bag in your arms.

“We might’ve gone overboard,” you admit, shifting the bag to keep a few apples from tumbling out.

Matt eyes the bulging bag, then shoots you a knowing look. “Yeah, you think?”

You glance down at your purse, biting back a grin. “I mean, I could always start stuffing them in here. We can’t just leave them.”

Matt lets out a chuckle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “That’s stealing, you know.”

“We’re not paying by the pound… so I don’t see an issue with throwing a few in here.”

His eyes twinkle with amusement as he steps closer. “Pretty sure it’s still stealing,” he says, his voice low but playful.

You roll your eyes but can’t help laughing along with him. “Fine, I’ll be law-abiding and just stack them in this bag.”

Matt grins, but before he says anything, he reaches out and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is soft and careful, but it sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the sun. His hand lingers for just a beat longer than necessary, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he murmurs, his gaze holding yours for just a moment longer than usual. “But I love it.”

For a moment, the world around you stills. The distant laughter of families, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, everything fades. It’s just the two of you, standing in the golden light of the orchard. Slowly, Matt leans in, his eyes never leaving yours. The space between you narrows, and before you even realize it, his lips are on yours—soft, warm, and impossibly gentle. The kiss is sweet, like the apples around you, slow and tender, as if time itself had paused just to let this moment linger.

When you pulled back, matching smiles formed on both your lips, admiring how the mid-afternoon sun hit your faces. Matt snaked an arm around your waist, giving your hip a comforting squeeze. “Now, come on—let’s get these apples back before you start a crime spree.”

You smile up at him, the teasing light in his eyes making you feel warm despite the chill in the air. The day couldn’t be more perfect—just you, Matt, and a bag full of apples. And maybe a few that almost ended up in your purse.

[vixstarria]

My Fanfiction Master List

All fics can also be found on my AO3.

The following have accidentally turned into a series, although each can be read as a standalone.

It began as mostly Astarion x female Tav, with appearances from other companions, though it's all ultimately about my Tav Asmodea. My earlier fics are written in 2nd person and later switch to 3rd.

To summarise: a take on Astarion's relationship progression with a hectic, unhinged bardlock Tav. Mostly humour and banter, fluff with light angst. And then there's the smut.

Ongoing series

Bloodbang Chronicles - post-game continuation of my bardlock series (see below), Astarion x f!OC - Astarion and Asmodea are running a cabaret. Shit goes down, hilarity ensues. The horrors persist, but so do they.

Masterlist | chapter 1 of 13 (so far) - start here

One-shot series:

Fluff etc

In chronological order, as they would take place in-game:

Where my nice, simple plan fell apart - scenes of Astarion x Tav relationship progression in Act 1 generally

Another Gift - Tav tries to comfort or distract a brooding Astarion, reflections on vampirism / Astarion's past

Mark me as yours (Astarion POV) - takes place the morning after 'Missionary with the lights off' (filed below under smut) - a day of pining in camp in the life of Astarion

Down by the river (alternating POV) - 18+, takes place immediately after 'Mark me as yours' - Astarion and Tav spend a night by the river, away from camp

Ignorance and bliss - Two idiots who are definitely not falling for each other lie in each other's arms pretending to be asleep [Most recently posted oneshot]

Something real (Astarion POV) - An evening in camp, Astarion and Tav are finally alone

Are you mine? (Astaion POV) - just flirty pillow talk and comfort

Gentle Warding Bond - short & sweet, Astarion finds the "true love's caress" and "true love's embrace" rings in the Shadow-Cursed lands and makes a decision

Admit that you love me - Act 2, Gale fucks around and finds out, Lae'zel becomes poetic and Astarion most certainly does not tell you that he loves you

Confession (Astarion POV) - title self-explanatory, love confession, tooth-rotting sweetness

The Morning After - short fic, follow-up to 'Confession', morning in camp - banter, humour, etc

Intimacy - Astarion's struggle with sex and intimacy, includes some fairly softcore smut

Communication - It has been nice, but it's time Tav and Astarion actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next

A night at the inn (part 1) - the gang gets a chance to let loose for a while. Humour, banter, and a lead-up to something smutty to come [Parts 2 & 3 under smut]

Smut

Also part of series.

Missionary with the lights off - Uh. Some really mindblowing sex here. No, really. Porn with plot, fluff to smut

Seeing stars - Astarion is jealous. What's more, he's eager to prove that no one could possibly compete with him.

A remedy for sleeplessness - porn no plot, Tav can't sleep and Astarion takes matters into his own hands

What do you want to do with it? - porn no plot, dirty talk, 'use your words', oral sex (male receiving) (kinda)

A night at the inn (part 2) - porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, dirty talk, oral sex, PIV and more

A night at the inn (part 3) - continuation of porn, Astarion x Halsin x F!Tav/Reader, vampire bites as an aphrodisiac edition

Sweat - porn with plot. Astarion, Halsin and Tav become a triad after the fall of the Netherbrain. This is a story of how it begins, progresses, and eventually ends.

The Sheath of Frontiers - Wyll's never been with a man. Astarion and Tav decide this must be rectified. (and yes that was an anal pun)

Challenges, shorts and misc

2024 Kinktober masterlist - a ficlet following a different prompt for each day of October 2024

'Erotic Misadventures' - my entry for the BG3 April Foolishness challenge: 'write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts'. Reader beware.

Apples - Very important questions are asked and answered about vampires, their warped sense of taste, and pussy

Untitled - Ask reply HC, Astarion accidentally attacks Tav during a nightmare

A cut - Tav accidentally cuts themselves, and Astarion scampers over like a cat to a can of tuna

Untitled - Ask reply, bonus scene following Seeing Stars - jealous giddy Astarion enacts revenge on Wyll after his failed awkward dance seduction attempt

'Gentle Warding Bond' should rightfully be here also, but it's too relevant to the 'plot' if you can call it that

Other / not my Tav

I thought I lost you - Written for a Valentine's Day exchange for astarioffsimpmain - Astarion x plus-sized Tav / Reader - angst with happy ending, mild smut

The Witching Hour - Written for an autumn / Halloween exchange for tragedybunny, Astarion x Sera - light angst, hurt/comfort

Asmodea - my OC bardlock headcanons etc

(the lady in all the above fics)

Commission - Asmodea and Astarion in Bloodbang Chronicles

Commission - Asmodea and Astarion post-game

Gifted art from Valentine's Day exchange

Gifted art from Halloween exchange

Some screenshots, also here and here

Asmodea x Astarion kinky NSFW alphabet

OC Questionnaire

OC more in-depth questionnaire

Another 'get to know your Tav' post

OC songs and outfits

Why my Tav fell for Astarion

Why Astarion fell for my Tav

OC (i.e. Asmodea's, not mine) MBTI results for shits and giggles

Wow the tumblr search function really sucks, can't find jack shit through it. Anyway.

P.S. I am a whore for comments, and nothing sparks joy and feeds further inspiration quite like a simple "HHHNNNNNG ASFKJAGJLKSJF" in comments or reblog tags. And no fic is too old to receive comments on - they are ALWAYS a joy.

P.P.S Feel free to leave a comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist. :) And if so, do let me know if there are any categories you would prefer to be excluded from.

[noneorother]

The puns are never ending : Aziraphale's miraculous "visable" bullet.

Aside from this closeup diagram of how to perform the bullet catch being objectively hilarious, it's also got a pretty fascinating *spelling mistake*.

If you look closely at the part of the pamphlet in red, you'll see that the bullet should be hidden in the mouth where it won't be visable. Not "not visible". Not visable. Seems innocuous enough right? But of course, the layers are never ending.

"Visable" is actually a Middle English word, *not* a modern English one. The last time it was used was before the printing press was invented, so pretty old. Here's a little background :

What's really fascinating though, is that just like the expression "dark horse", the word has two meanings : one is "Capable of good judgement, prudent" the other is "Tractable and docile".

There are also only two examples of the word in context that I can find, and they really should be sending you into orbit :

The first one is actually from Henry Lovelich's translation of the French epic poem "The Romance of Merlin" also known as the first English treatment of the Arthurian legends. It's modernized as "He was a worthy knight, valiant and visable in every fight." Which uses the "good judgment" meaning and sounds... a lot like Aziraphale in his role of guardian and protector.

Why do we care? They are standing literally in front of Excalibur, Arthur's sword.

The other one is from "Ipomadon", another middle English epic poem about a hidden identity romance between a beautiful but proud heiress, and her dark knight in disguise. "She was... visable and virtuous, meak and mild, and marvellous." Which clearly uses the "tractable and docile" meaning, but also... kinda sounds like Aziraphale in his damsel in his distress mode, which:

Ahahahah fuck off. But wait, there's more!

I originally twigged to this error because if you, like me, also happen to speak the language of la plume de ma tante, you know there's a reason why the uses happen in epic poems that originated in France: it's a loan word from old French, and still exists today in modern French, but it doesn't mean tractable and docile...

For the non-french speaking among you, it's a derivation of the verb "viser" :

Verb 1 To aim 1.To aim, to carefully direct one's gaze or a weapon towards a goal to throw something at it.

And so, if you happen to be, oh I don't know, a demon and have been alive for thousands of years and can definitely speak all the languages on earth and happen to have participated in the Arthurian age in England, when you read that pamphlet really carefully because someone is making you do a crazy stunt and there's a miracle blocker on, you could *conceivably* have read the instructions as:

"IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT YOU LOVE, DO NOT SHOOT AZIRAPHALE IN THE FACE." ________________________________________________________ Thanks to @thebluestgreen and @embracing-the-ineffable as always.

[biblicallyaccuratecrow]

in stars and time "method actor" au braindump

the people have spoken! welcome to the method actor au! in which i took the theatre themes of isat and stretched them to their absolute limit!

the premise is that instead of saving vaugarde, the party + major side characters (the king and euphrasie) are an acting troop! and they're telling the story of the saviors through a play. Siffrin is playing The Traveller, and over time in rehearsals has really grown to like his castmates (even the one playing the king- he's actually quite sweet!).

it's the opening night! they're more than prepared for the show!

... until they aren't.

All it takes is a faulty prop from the fly tower, and suddenly siffrin is right back where they started the day before, waking up from a nap in the greenroom before the last rehearsal.

they're back at the beginning. they get a second chance.

after all, you only get one opening night, and siffrin is determined to make it perfect.

...all they need to do is make sure the show goes smoothly!

no stage hazards,

no missed lines,

no injuries,

no deaths,

no mistakes.

and if they have to play the hero to do it?

if the lines between them and their character have to blur so that their parts are perfect?

so be it.

the show must go on.

[notes below the cut!]

[spoilers for isat below!]

so yeah, siffrin takes the term "method acting" way too seriously. out of necessity, though. this is a performance, after all! they have to keep it together for the show, and the best way to do that for them is to embrace their role.

setting

still takes place in vaugarde! except yknow. the king isn't actually happening (yet), so instead of a group of saviors we have the acting group playing the saviors! a bit meta, but it works.

craft and the island still are a thing, and play a major part in the overarching story! this is still a time loop, after all!

all of this is taking place on a stage within dormont's house of change! Euphrasie sponsors, and was more than happy to be included for her very short role! The theatre there has been out of use for decades, but Euphrasie sees it fit to resurrect it just for this show!

The party:

Mirabelle is the playwright, having dreamed up a story like the books she loves to read but for the longest time being too afraid to put it down. Euphrasie encouraged her to go through with it, and they've been building the show ever since! she thinks she isn't a good actor, but she's actually very empathetic as the heroine, since she (secretly) based it off herself.

Isabeau was actually the first to audition- and the only one, at least in the first round. He came in last-minute, and after delivering a solid monologue (with a few puns slipped in), Mirabelle was eager to cast him! He actually loves costume design, but he doesn't dare to reveal this to the party, even if he occasionally spends hours in the House's storage room looking through pieces from older performances.

Odile was a surprising addition to the cast. She was interested in Vaugardian tradition, and figured the best way to learn was through the epicenter of vaugardian culture, at a house. She reccomended some plays to mirabelle from her travels, and after giving some pointers on mirabelle's early scripts decided to join in for the hell of it. She likes horror productions in particular, and contributed a lot to the concept of the king's time craft.

Siffrin was visiting the house, and came to see one of the plays... but got the time wrong and came in during a live-reading of the scripts early draft. he stood and watched for a bit before mirabelle noticed, and after a LOT of fumbling and apologies admitted that he loves theatre. Mirabelle practically dragged him in after that. Given that he didn't have anything else to do, he agreed. Despite claiming he's not much of an actor, much preferring to work on the set design, he's actually uncannily good...

The King is... just a guy, actually! very quiet, very reclusive, but after seeing one of mirabelle's casting calls came in and absolutely smashed the audition. he's been with the group ever since! he's pretty busy outside of the production, but he puts his all into his work! He and siffrin have a kind of kinship, given their shared elusive background and... white hair, i guess.

Bonnie is the younger sister of Nille, who worked on trade classes at dormonts house after the two left Bambouche together. Mirabelle needed someone to help make the sets, and Nille volunteered early on in the production, so long as she could bring Bonnie along. Initially Bonnie wasn't all that interested, but after hanging around the cast a bit grew curious. Siffrin caught them reading through one of the scripts and acting out the various parts on their own. After that, Mirabelle made the time to write in The Kid for Bonnie to have a role thats easiest for them! Fun fact- a lot of The Kid's lines are actually ad libs from Bonnie throughout the production. Mirabelle kept writing them into the script as a sort of inside joke.

Euphrasie is mostly the same! As the head housemaiden, she's had a bit of experience with public speaking and acting, and after seeing Mirabelle having such fun she allowed herself to be roped into a small role as The Head Housemaiden in the production.

the story...

Siffrin's first death is actually to a prop rock falling on top of them. When they wake up, they're back in the green room, waking up from a nap. Isa is out by the favor tree as usual, odile is buying food for the cast party, mira is pouring over her dating profiles disguised as her script, and bonnie is hanging out in the auditorium.

Of course, at the favor tree after the first death is loop. They immediately cast siffrin as the "new director", and from there basically acts much the same as in canon, though a lot of the "memories" are slight improvements to siffrin's acting or the set props.

so, despite all their preparation, the performance keeps getting interrupted in increasingly more and more bizarre ways. A strange array of stage accidents, usually resulting in siffrin's death. They initially suspect that the show is cursed (theyre not that far off), and start to dig into how that could happen. this is where the idea of wishcraft gets introduced. The King seems the most likely to be highjacking the show, but siffrin doesn't want to believe it.

As siffrin performs show after show, things start to get... weirder, somehow. Like the performance is becoming more real with each passing loop. This doesn't just extend to the set, but also to siffrin themself. The line between them and the traveller blurs. As they learn more about wishcraft and the forgotten island, they project this into the story and their performances, and even off set will take mannerisms from the traveller role and use them to brush off the party's concerns.

in later acts, the rest of the cast begins to blur with their own respective characters, to the point that siffrin starts to become irrationally aggressive towards the king, somehow believing him to be responsible. Loop does their best to keep siffrin's handle on reality in tact, but by act 4 they're essentially living out the play. there is no distinction between reality and mirabelle's script- it's all one thing. And the wish makes that true during the performances as well, in ways that even the party can notice- ghosts on the stage, reality warping because of props, even randomly improved sets and staging. The further siffrin descends, the stronger the wish's influence over the performance and their reality grows. by act 5, the wishcraft has transformed the house to reflect that of the play, and everyone to be their characters- or be frozen, as a captive audience. the rest happens similarly to how it does in canon.

the real crux of the issue, like in canon, is that siffrin made a wish. They love their cast, and they love their performance. They want it to stay like that. They want to stay with them. And so they wish at Dormont's favor tree. And it comes true, in the best way the universe can manage- by making it so that the performance never ends. The actual hazards of the set are real- Dormont's theatre is borderline decrepit- but once the wish craft begins to influence things, they become more serious.

i initially had the idea that maybe during the first loop the story becomes real, like what we see in canon, and siffrin is reacting to the actual characters as a literal actor, but i like the idea of the party playing their SASASA counterparts as more base/easily digestible protagonist versions of themselves more. plus like, the idea of it all being literally on a stage is too fun for me

the hilarious thing is, in my mind... the audience wouldn't know that wasnt the intention for the play. in their pov they saw this shit being acted out and not the absolute wacked out acid trip the party saw while on stage. it's an instant success, though the entire party agrees to never put on the show again.

thats about all i got so far? dunno if i'll actually write anything for this, and if i do it'll probably be a one shot or two. but if youre interested in more info abt the au, or just wanna chat about it, feel free!

until next time!

[thempregsimmer]

When Alex first found out he was pregnant, it was a surprise, to say the least. He never imagined that he'd be carrying his husband’s child, but the modern world had its share of twists, and he was ready to embrace the journey. One thing he hadn’t considered, though, was how much his lifestyle would need to change to accommodate the growing life inside him. His old car just wasn’t cutting it anymore. The cramped seats, the bumpy rides, the lack of storage for all the things he needed as a soon-to-be father—none of it felt right.

“I wasn’t just buying a car,” Alex explained, “I was buying peace of mind.” The spacious, supportive seats offered him comfort during his increasingly frequent trips to the doctor, and the adjustable ride height made it easier for him to get in and out as his belly grew larger.

“But it’s the smooth ride that really sold me,” he said, rubbing his stomach with a smile. “The new car handles the road like a dream. Every bump, every uneven surface—it smooths them all out. It’s exactly what I needed, especially during the last trimester when comfort is everything.”

And as Alex prepared for fatherhood, the vehicle proved to be more than just a mode of transportation. Its spacious back made carrying supplies—everything from strollers to baby bags—effortless. “This car is really for families,” he added. “I guess, in a way, I’m starting my family a little earlier than expected.”

He chuckled, standing tall next to his car on the beach. It had become more than just a car to him; it was a partner in his journey. “I wouldn’t want to be driving anything else right now,” Alex said. “It’s kept me calm, comfortable, and ready for whatever comes next.”

---

Jordan had always been an adventurer. He loved long drives along rugged coastlines, hiking trips, and spontaneous road trips with friends. But when he found out he was pregnant, he knew his trusty old car wasn’t going to cut it anymore. The baby growing inside him meant his priorities were changing, and he needed a car that could handle both the road and the responsibilities that came with this new chapter in his life.

“I never thought I’d be saying this, but being pregnant has totally shifted how I look at cars,” Jordan said, resting a hand on his growing belly. “I needed something that wasn’t just tough but comfortable too. A new car was the answer.”

Jordan appreciated the space it offered. As his body changed, he found himself needing more room—both for comfort and for all the stuff he was now carrying around. “It’s surprising how much space a guy with a baby bump needs,” he laughed. “But with this car, it’s like I have my own little cocoon. The seats are adjustable, and the back has more than enough room for all the gear I need.”

He pointed to the SUV's off-road tires, grinning. “And don’t get me started on the off-roading capabilities. I might be pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped exploring. This thing has taken me to some of the most beautiful, remote places where I can relax and connect with nature. It’s like I haven’t missed a beat.”

But the biggest surprise for Jordan was how much the car helped with the emotional side of his pregnancy. “Honestly, it’s been a crazy ride—pun intended,” he admitted. “But being in this car makes me feel strong and in control, even when my body is doing its own thing. This pregnancy wasn’t at all planned, it’s a result of one of those passionate dinners that come with breakfast in bed afterwards. However, I’m glad it happened, and that I’m carrying my son inside me now. He’s taking up a lot of space, both in my belly, and in my head. Sometimes I feel like I’m loosing control over my life and body, and I know it’s worth it, but it’s a feeling I have never had before.”

As Jordan leaned against his SUV, he looked out at the horizon. “I know it might sound strange, but this car has given me a sense of freedom. Even with the changes happening in my life, I can still be me. And when my baby comes, I know this car will help us have so many adventures together.”

For Jordan, the car was more than just a vehicle. It was a lifeline to his independence, helping him navigate both the literal and metaphorical roads of pregnancy and beyond.

[thesassypadawan]

Halloween Costumes (Hayden x FemReader) *Headcanon*

Summary: A certain moose decides to help you celebrate your favorite night of the year right.  By fulfilling one of your corniest horniest dreams.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut.  Lightsaber play, cute couple’s costume, bad puns, and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy Kinktober all you, lovelies! 🖤🧡

*Cutesy Scary, SFW*

- Let’s start off with the fact that although Halloween might not be Hay’s absolute favorite holiday (to be fair, he’s more of Christmas man).  But that won’t stop him from full-on embracing the spooky season, all for the sake of you.  Because nothing make’s dadcula more happy than seeing his little witch get all giddy, smiley…not threatening to put the curse of the dry spell on him.

- The moment you suggest doing a certain ‘star-crossed lovers’ for your couple’s costume…the man is all over it.  Finding and ordering you the best ‘aggressive negotiations senator’ dress he comes across, while pulling his own ‘fallen space wizard’ robes from storage.  He’ll even go as far as letting that mullet grow out a bit, all because you said you want things to be more fangtastic.

- When the big day finally rolls around, you’re like a stupid teenager again.  Sitting on the edge of your bed; legs swinging, giggling.  Grinning at his reflection in the mirror; watching him meticulously put on each piece, ruffling his curls to fall just perfectly.  Practically jumping his bones when he asks you so sweetly…  “Mind helping an old Skyguy draw on his scar?”

- At the party, the two of you are pretty much inseparable.  Being that sickeningly cute pair, who’s glued to one another.  With you holding onto, pressed into his side.  Nails scratching gently at his back, sending shivers down his spine.  And Hayden with his arm lazily wrapped around your waist; big, gloved hand resting on your hip.  Leather clad fingers giving your handle the occasional squeeze, sometimes slipping a bit lower when he thought no one was looking….causing you to let out some small ‘eeks’.

- Towards the end of the night, after one too many potions.  He’ll press a kiss to your rosy cheek, ghost his lips over the shell of your ear…hot breath fanning, goosebumps forming and spreading across your skin.  “What do you say?  Head back to our haunted house, see if I can make you wail like a banshee?”

*Spooky Scary, NSFW*

- You can definitely feel all of those bubbly potions you downed working their magic.  Hell fire burning your cheeks, pooling between your thighs.  Making you hastily shed all those heavy layers, tossing them carelessly into a haphazard pile at the foot of your bed.  Along with lowering your inhibitions, emboldening you…and him.

- Shoving you against the sheets; tugging at your waist, you obediently raise your hips.  Hayden roughly yanks, rips those cute ghosty panties right off your booty.  His groans, the soft clinks of his utility belt echo from behind.  His long fingers slipping into your needy cunny, roughly and rapidly pumping three.  Cool metal brushing your skin; running lazily, ominously up and down your leg.  “Babe…babe?  What are y-you-”

- “Ssssh, relax…”  Pushing those dripping, soaked digits past your lips; forcing you to taste, gag slightly on your own sweet juices.  While he prods, teases your clit with the cylindrical object.  Sending jolts of pleasure through, body trembling and thrumming with anticipation.  Trails of slick trickling out from your empty hole.  “This is where the fun begins…”

- A loud whine mixed with a moan bubbles out from your throat as the tip of his lightsaber hilt sinks in, invades your heat.  Gummy walls burn, struggle to stretch.  The ruff, smooth texture of it scrapes…scratches.  Tears of pain and pleasure form, sting at the corners of your eyes.  As you suck weakly on his fingertips, reveling in the array of overwhelming sensations…basking in the way he praises you.  “Look at you, all spread out for me.  Taking my saber so well.  Such a good ghoul.”

- Plunging further, thrusting faster.  Your breaths grow shallower, come out in ragged gasps.  Hips rock back unconsciously, nipples drag across the mattress.  Seeking out more friction.  Building and hurtling yourself closer and closer towards what was easily going to be a truly frightful orgasm.  “Trick or Treat.  Gimme something good to…”   And right before you tip completely over the edge, he pulls the new toy from your depths.

- Strangled cry escapes you when his mouth meets your drenched folds.  Big hands holding you open for him; devouring, lapping at your sensitive bud.  Until you burst all over Hay’s tongue, mewling when he groans into your core.  Deep voice rumbling, sending aftershocks through your spent form.  “…eat.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey