Fluff Fic - Blog Posts

i am in dire need of dad!matt content so i decided to draw a little daddy - baby photograph moment AND NOW IM SQUEALING AT MY OWN ART AKSHSKHDJSHDKSHD

also please do ignore the abnormal hand, i cannot draw hands for the life of me

also the baby's face bcs i cannot draw faces asf

i haven't written in so long but i have this fic idea of matt x y/n which they went ice skating with foggy and karen so does anyone wanna write that or maybe someone already has? pls it would be so cute 😭

Perfection | Jan Rozmanowski/Jan

Pairing: Jan Rozmanowski/Jann x plus size!reader

Summary: Once Jan and you reveal your two years of relationship, you get hate comments and feel very insecure. However, Jan isn't having that.

Warning/s: mentions of hate comments, crying, mental breakdown, insecurity and just fluff, possible grammar and spelling mistakes (I'm sorry)

Author's note: So I kind of fucked up. This was the request. That I, somehow, accidentally deleted after I wrote it. So I'm so sorry about it. Anyhow, thank you so much for a beautiful request, darling! I am so sorry if I didn't live up to the expectations. I know this one is very short and I'm so sorry for it. I do hope that you will enjoy this. Thank you and have a nice day/night, too!❤️

You truly felt like shit. Of course, it wasn't the first time. It happens to everyone through life, but right now... you were feeling as shitty as it can possibly get.

Jan and you started dating two years ago after meeting randomly at your favorite caffe place that somehow ended up being his favorite caffe place, too. It was safe to say that you immediately kicked. You had the same taste in music, in drinks, you both loved to do pretty much same stuff and you truly felt happy that you met him. At first you were just friends, but it quickly became something else.

You realized that you loved him a few days after he did. The moment he realized, he came in barging into your apartment with a bouquet of flowers and a love confession. It was so cliché, but you loved every possible second of it. Sometimes, even now, you liked to tease him about how cheesy and cliché it was just so you could make him blush as he starts to deny it all.

Jan and you wanted to keep your relationship privet of a little while. You enjoyed the privacy. You enjoyed the secrecy. You loved it, in fact. But after a while, you decided that it was probably time to tell everyone because, after a while, after two years, you got tired of seeking around every time you went out while worrying if somebody was going to see you or not. So Jan and you decided to post about it.

So here you were now. Crying in your room after reading a bunch of hate comments that just made you more insecure about yourself. You knew that the comments shouldn't be getting to you as much as they did, but somehow it still bugged you so much. You got very upset. However, telling Jan about it was out of the question for you because you didn't want him to think that you were being just overly sensitive and just plainly, unnecessarily dramatic.

However, you could just go ahead and kiss that decision of your goodbye. You were so upset, so deep in your mental breakdown that you didn't hear the door open. You didn't hear him calling your name. You didn't even hear him opening the door of your room until you felt a pair of familiar arms wrapping around you.

You got startled a little bit, but soon kind of relaxed knowing that it was Jan who was hugging you.

He was drowning you in questions about what happened, but you didn't answer him for a while. So instead he just let you cry your eyes out as he held you until you told him what happened.

"I don't want to hear you talk about yourself in that way!" He was telling you as he held you, showering you in love and affection. "You are the most beautiful, gorgeous person in the whole wide world. So don't let anyone convince you otherwise. You are my person. I want to share all the good and the bad stuff, I want to share the tears and the joy of life with you. I want to have a future with you because I simply can't see one without you in it. You are perfect. You are perfect for me. Don't tell yourself otherwise. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

After that painful night, Jan posted a post on Instagram saying how important you are to him and how much he loved you and didn't care about the haters because if they hated you it meant that they hated him, too.

The hate was still there, but it was toned down a notch. But it didn't matter to you anymore. You were in love and you were perfect for each other. That's the only thing that truly matters.

I just read this fic and HOLY SHIT GOOD LORD ITS AMAZING

Poolverine marriage proposal fic?

Wade ducks his head into the crook of Logan’s neck, breaths long and deep. It’s warm in the space here, and his nightmare riddled, sleep-plagued mind thinks he’d quite like to move in. “Marry me?” He murmurs, lips pressed to the skin. Logan sighs. “Ask me properly.” - The one where Wade asks five times for Logan to marry him, and the one time Logan says yes.

here u go anon! soz it took a while and its a lil short but i hope u like it :)

Road Trip

fluffy short fic!

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

characters: Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo

warnings: none!

"Oi, Suguru. How much longer?"

"A few more hours."

"How many?"

"My phone says three."

"Ughh! Fine..."

"You're gonna throw up if you keep eating those gummy bears, Satoru. I know about your car sickness."

"So boring. I might just die if you keep boring me."

A hand pats Gojo's head.

"I love you, my whiny baby."

"Hey! I'm not whiny!"

"Mhm..."

A hand pats Suguru's head in return.

"I love you too, my little ball swallower~"

"Please keep it PG."

"Huh?! Er- you know what I meant!"

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created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

do not repost without permission, reblogs are okay

pocketful of sunshine, s. reid

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

in which, spencer valiantly defends your honor. as best as he can, at least. it's cute, i promise.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

trope: whimsy!reader x spencer, coworkers/friends

warnings: no smut, fluff, comfort, honorable mention of spencer's hands, defensive spencer, asshole cop wc: 2.34k

summary: The BAU cases are always dark, but you're like a little pocket of wonder in the chaos — always carrying odd little trinkets for good luck, quoting poetry at random, and doodling stars in the margins of case files. Spencer tries to act unaffected, but he starts picking up the habits too: absentmindedly quoting literature back, carrying a lucky coin you gave him, and smiling when he sees your sketches. Of course, being a glowing pillar of light in most rooms has its downs.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

You like the concept of tarot cards. It gives you a good sense of control, of stability in a job that tends to try and make things tumble out of their place, a way to have hopes for destiny. If you believe in that sort of sentiment. It stops the books from flying off the shelf. The awakening engine of the jet snaps you out of your thoughts as you raise your attention from the tarot cards sitting untouched in your palm. It's only a bit jarring, as always; planes startle you a bit. Emily sits across from you, book in hand, although you can tell she's not reading it. She's already falling asleep, the absent hum in the background serving as white noise for her napping. You flip through the tarot cards, brow furrowed in concentration as you turn three of the top ones over. The Lovers, the Fool, and The Hermit. The Fool's upside down. Hopefully that's not a bad thing. You slip the cards back into their respective places in the deck and pop up to get a coffee, careful not to bump Emily as you shuffle down the aisle. It's getting humid outside--condensation creeping up on the windows and clinging for dear life--you don't doubt it'll start raining soon.You're just about to pour your steaming hot black coffee when Spencer materializes behind you, and you almost spill all of it on yourself. "Crap! Spencer, what're you doing?"

He smiles apologetically, sheepishly. "Sorry, I--um, I was just wondering if we had any sugar." He holds up his own coffee mug, a black one with a cat on the front.

You sigh, handing him the mini sugar packet. "Don't apologise, some people just tread lightly. Scarily so, apparently." You smile back reassuringly. He nods, not moving away as you stir your coffee. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head. "So..." Oh, no, I've said the dreaded conversation opener. Don't panic, your charm will save you. If I even have any. He watches you intently, taking a sip from his coffee. He looks just about as if he'll hang onto your every word. It's making you nervous, and maybe it's making your face hot too, but you hope the lights are dim enough for it to be unnoticeable.

"What're the details of the case?" You finish up the coffee combo, turning so you're leaned against the back of the wooden counter.

He jumps into action, the awkwardness easing up as he shares details. "Looks like a 30-year old female victim, 27 year old male, about 23 stab wounds to the chest, arms and abdomen."

"Wow. That sounds...angry. Rage induced, I mean." You correct yourself, wincing mentally at the wording. You're smart, really smart, you just tend to forget technological terms in front of him.

"It looks like it." He hums as you both head back to the seats, sinking down across from one another in the leather. "The MO wasn't vehemently consistent, except for one thing." He pauses for dramatic effect. You nod, prompting him to go on as you cup your coffee mug in your hands.

"Crows."

You blink, tilting your head inquisitively. "...crows?" He nods rapidly. "Yeah, crows, carved in by the stabbing. As far as I've deduced, it matches up with an old poem about the meanings of amounts of crows. One for sorrow, one for birth, and so on.""Huh." Shuffling the tarot cards, you cross your legs. "So our unsub's intelligent. Maybe he thinks of himself like a poet?"

Spencer's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "It's too early to tell. It's a message, that's for sure." That sentence catches you a little off guard. Usually Spencer's determined to figure things out, determined to do everything he can to work out a puzzle as baffling as this one. But for some reason, he's quieter. More sullen, in a way.

You're not one for frowning, but one crosses your features anyways. "You okay?" He looks as if he's been caught, raising his brows and making a soft, dismissive noise. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't slept too much."

Of course he'd say that. You're still worried, but nonetheless exhausted from the day. It's always a good idea to catch a nap on the jet.

"You should just sleep through the flight. We both should, catch some Z's."

That wording just about makes you pinch yourself in frustration. You keep saying stupid things around him, and you're still not sure why to this day. All you know is that it annoys you severely. As you both drift off into a half-awake half-asleep state, you're too delirious to note the almost frivolous, unnoticeable detail of Spencer holding your lucky coin between his fingers as you fall asleep.

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ When the jet hits Georgia, it apparently wants to hit you too. You're woken from the peaceful slumber by the turbulence, disoriented and bleary as you peek out the window. God, it's sunny. Too sunny for sensitive morning eyes. Nonetheless, a sense of your usual hope fills you as you peek out the window, think of a short sacrament to the sun and let her continue her slow burning of the Earth.

Spencer wakes up across from you as well, his expression adorably confused as he blinks. You observe. Wonder how his under eyes always stay the same hue of dark grey, then you go back to pedantically staring out the window. Apparently you two (with the exception of Hotch--does he ever sleep?) are early birds. The team's still dozing. Your eyes wander back over to him eventually, spotting the coin in his hand. "Hey, you kept it." He tucks his hair back behind his ear then smiles, just a little. "Oh. Yeah, I did. I don't usually believe in luck, but it's kept me safe so far." The words make something grossly warm and sticky build up in your chest and you snort, putting on your best 'newsperson' voice. "Rare sighting. A man of science carries a lucky coin." Spencer laughs. God, that's a pleasant sound. It's about just as sweet as he takes his coffee. There's a comfortable silence for a little period of time, just the two of you sitting there. Unsure of what to do or say. As you sit there, you end up watching the movement of his fingers around the coin. Flip. Flip again. You've always been somewhat aware of his dexterity, but just silently watching him now brings heat to your face. Nimble fingers, neat fingernails and ridges between his knuckles that you just want to trace with your own touch. Of course, said silence is eventually broken by Garcia's chirping tone. "Good morning, good morning, my loves, I am souped up on five coffees and feeling amazing." There's a collective groan between JJ and Morgan. Derek rubs his forehead, sitting up from the visually uncomfortable-looking position he'd taken on the couch as they start to land. "Babygirl, there are better ways to wake us up than singing in our ears." "Derek Morgan, if we were alone right now, I can assure you I'd be waking you up differently." Garcia jokes in her usual sultry tone, their casual friendly flirting making both you and Spencer roll your eyes. It's another three minutes before the others come to, and another five before they've drunk enough coffee for them to be able to profile efficiently. The little TV lights up with Garcia's face again, and she smiles. "I return, bearing less of a zapped, coffee-fuelled mind. Let's get into it." After you all go over the details of the case, discussing patterns in the signature and the whole crow thing Spencer mentioned before, you get off the jet with your go-bags. "It's bright." Is the first thing you can muster, cupping your hand above your eyes to avoid the harsh glare of the sun.

"Really bright." Reid adds on, frowns on both your faces. You get a little pouch out of your bag, picking out the gem of the day. Alexandrite. Brings balance, and luck. Also, it's pretty. The greeny-purple hues glimmer a bit in the sunlight as you turn it over.

"Let's get moving." Hotch says firmly, the rest of the team tagging behind albeit in a fatigued manner. It's going to be a long drive. `✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ The station is quiet, it's the first thing you notice. Except for the papers rustling about, the typing, and scattered talking, it's not as busy as you'd expect it to be in a place that's currently rampant with serial killings. Spencer looks mildly horrified at the state of some of the officer's desks. "Do they not sanitize? There are at least over 10 million bacteria on a standard office desk." "Spence, I don't even think they sanitize their hands." You comment, noting the intern in the corner eating his takeout and typing. The expression on the genius' face after seeing it is comical. You almost want to laugh, but you're reminded it genuinely disturbs him, so you're just left giving him a brief, reassuring shoulder pat.

Ah, yes, the shoulder pat. The one form of human bodily communication cue your hand just itches to choose in pretty much any conversation. It's a problem, frankly. He doesn't seem to mind too much, anyways. Your hand drops from the fabric of his cardigan as you enter the tiny briefing room they have set up. It's a little more accommodating; a nicer table. "Okay, what do we know?" Hotch crosses his arms, letting the team file things away in their heads. You squint and focus on every aspect of the photos propped up on the board, your mind sharpening. Crows. Your thoughts fall down that rabbit-hole again, the interest peaking a bit. On this particular body, there are six. Six for gold. You can't understand the sentiments of the act at the moment, or at least, not the connections that the unsub was thinking of when he carved specifically six. If that was the intention, that is. "The MO isn't consistent with that of an organized killer but he's still careful enough not to leave behind DNA or anything obvious. Just obvious things on the bodies." Spencer pipes up, explaining his crow theory to the group a little excitedly. It's cute to watch from a different perspective.

A burly man--who you assume is the higher-up here--approaches Hotch with a firm handshake and a nod. A very, very quick moment passes between the two. A silent sharing of thoughts, if you will, and you just notice it before it's gone as if it was never there at all. Then introductions, and when Hotchner gets to you, the old man looks a bit...baffled? Maybe the better term is nonplussed. Flummoxed. Either way, he's looking at you like you're a different species. Your way of dressing, the trinkets and odd bits n' bobs pinned to your pants. It's not like you're unused to this sort of reaction. He's just sort of...pushing it. Making a hyperbole out of something that's not even a sentence at all. Then again, he seems like the type of guy to get annoyed with someone for licking an envelope wrong, so you just give him a blank stare back. "You're a bit...unorthodox." The officer raises a brow. You squint, unsure of how to reply. You're usually loquacious, but when it comes to backhanded insults you sort of just...shut up. The team seems stumped as well, but not pleased either way. "She's a valuable asset to the team." Hotch says stoically, tone flat. You just stand there. You're sick of this. Not the comments, but the wasting time. What if someone else is being murdered right now? And this station is what, sitting around eating Thai food and waiting for a saint to show up and fix their problems? It doesn't work like that, not in your head. The officer seems to like talking. "Well, I know, she probably is, but does the FBI really let its agents dress like that?" He makes a gesture to you with his hand. You eventually take a brief look over at Spencer, and it puts you into a state of momentary shock when you see he's bristling, jaw wound tight and frown creasing his brow. "She's good at her job, how she dresses isn't relevant, I think you'll find." The usually socially aversive doctor doesn't hesitate to shut down the chief's observations, brushing past him so he can get to the pin board. "I think we should review the crime scene instead of talking about things that aren't important at all." You raise both eyebrows. Okay, this is weird. Spencer's still going over the board, but it's obvious enough that he's not pleased. His mind is racing about two million miles a second as he tries to take his mind off that idiot who thought it'd be okay to try put you down, even mildly. Eventually when things have calmed down a bit, you sidle up next to him, peeking up at the board and pointing out a few small things. He lets out a huff of air, relaxing a bit at your presence. More pointing, then two or three infodumps later, he turns to you. "Are you alright?" He peers into your eyes with his own brown ones. They're like actual melted chocolate, so inviting and addicting. Like little chestnut pools of dopamine. You snap out of it so you can answer his question. "Oh, right. I'm fine. Little peeved, but fine." His brow furrows further as he observes, analysing your micro-expressions to judge whether you're actually okay or not. "You're sure?" You nod gently, leaning against the round wooden table propped in the middle of the room. "I'm sure, I'm fine." His hand hesitantly, very, very, hesitantly touches yours, another smile on his face, this one more embarrassed and trying to gauge your reaction so he'd doesn't mess up. "I need just one more confirmation to be sure. Think of it like a three-step verification, in a way." You sigh, little, pleasant pins and needles flickering up your arm in the form of goosebumps when he touches you. "I'm fine. There's number three." You take his lucky coin out of his pocket and hold it in front of him, your fingers intertwining with his in your free hand. "And, this can count as a number four." You're not sure what you mean or whether it makes sense, but Spencer can take that up with the universe later. "Sounds good to me." `✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴ a/n: PLEASE DONT HARRASS ME I WROTE THIS AT 1AM ON MY PERIOD WITH NO RELIEF I KNOW IT MIGHT NOT BE GOOD

`✦ ִֶˑ ִֶ𓂃⊹જ⁀➴

Hello hello! I've created a new fanfiction!

Walls of Gold is its title and it is centric on Prussia x Russian Empire at the time of their Russo-Prussian alliance.

Other nations make an appearance/mention in the fic as well, such as, Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Duchy of Prussia, Austrian Empire, Kingdom of Hungary, Austria-Hungary, German Empire, and Soviet

This fic does involve, child neglect, war, injury, angst, trauma/abuse mostly in the form of flashbacks or mentions, character death, bad father son relationships but also fluff and a slow burn (aqquaintances -> friends -> lovers).

click here for the fic <3

I did try to make this fanfiction as historically accurate as possible. There may be some innacuracies but I will do my research and only sacrifice accuracy for story flow/quality.

Walls of Gold has its own tag -> #Walls.Of.Gold

💓Toasty🫗

Fontaine x blackfemreader

In which you and Fontaine just...chill.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking/smoking, fluffy mainly, long fic, sensual themes, soft!taine

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The kitchen was filled with the scent of baking sugar. Fontaine pulled down the oven door for a proper check of the ‘experimental’ mixed-berry pound cake he spent the late afternoon preparing.

Satisfied, he gave you a kiss before venturing out into the cold winds for another round of salting and shoveling as you watched from the window. Once Fontaine was nearly done, you got an idea.

You gathered your ingredients. Honey, lemon, black tea, and whisky. It was a small token for Fontaine after all of the hard work he’s been doing around the house since the snowstorm hit. 

Running a bath was just you being extra. 

Time ticked by slowly as if stalled by the cold temperature, the tub filling and being scented to your liking. You lit a few of the candles and readied the robe you would be slipping into after your soak. The sound of Fontaine coming back inside, “it’s colder than a bitch out there!”, you called out to him as you lowered yourself into the water. 

“It’s warmer in here, baby!”

“I’m coming, I’m comin’--mhn, that’s what I like to see.”

You had lifted a leg out of the water when Fontaine squeezed himself into the room, keeping in precious steam. You wiggled your toes in the direction of Fontaine’s toddy before resting them on the faucet head.

“Care to join me?”

Fontaine retrieved his drink and came closer to stand over you in the steaming tub. His gaze slid along your form and golden teeth bit down into his own lip. Your locs were held by a claw clip with a few nearly reaching down into the water. Bubbles and suds decorated your shining brown skin perfectly–

HIs eyes then caught onto the steady steam rising from the tub. Then you watched the suspicion bleed into Fontaine’s face as he remembered in real time the last time tried joining you for a shower.

You flicked water at him from your fingertips, “Is that a ‘no’ ?”

“Yeeeah, nah. Imma tell you what though–here…

Fontaine squeezed back out of the door before he was squeezing back in with a blunt coming at you. He took the burning candle balanced on the high window sill for you to spark up. You inhaled as he sat up against the tub, taking another sip with a wink at you.

The smoke and steam turned the bathroom hazy. Fontaine’s head lolled back onto the tub’s rim as he indulged. You watched his throat bob and his lips roll on the taste. So soft and kissable as they always were. In your mind as it floated higher and higher, you were a rescued mermaid being courted by a roguish pirate.

The image made you clench with a suppressed laugh. At Fontaine’s inquisitive stare, you waved it off as nothing. Fontaine shook his head but that smile remained.

Even the silence between the two of you felt like love. You didn’t feel the need to perform, to be sure to cater so that you wouldn’t lose your ‘spot’. When you fell into that void where there weren't enough words to express, when you were too overwhelmed to do anything– Fontaine would only tell you ‘don’t worry, baby’. 

You were sure this was the first time you’ve felt truly cherished. 

It could be a twice-shoveled driveway, a gas tank never waning, or even a delicious experiment in your oven. Fontaine never had to say much to convey to you his devotion.  He's only ever made you feel like the person he's always wants to see, no matter what that may be.

Even now. There, on the bathroom floor, he looked at you as if you showed him something special by being nothing but naked in the tub. You wondered if it was bad that you wanted it to stay that way–that you always wanted to have that special part of his heart dedicated to you only.

The two of you traded blunt for cup, back and forth until Fontaine was on his knees with his fingers searching amongst the shrinking bubbles for a bit of our skin. The two of you shared kisses between falling ashes, lingering lemon and you were sure you haven’t been this warm since the last summer month–

Fontaine pulled away and you made an offended noise, a hand buried in his hair still. Why was he stopping–

The oven’s timer, seemingly annoyed, called again and Fontaine hurried to his feet with a panicked noise.

“Shit!”

From the way Fontaine said it, they should have been spinach puffs for the Kronk energy he put into the word. As he fled the bathroom to save his cake you laughed and laughed.

It was when you were reaching for the last of the tea when you felt an unexpected breeze…

“Aww–booo! You let out all my steeeeam!”

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✨ending notes:✨just a little something-something!🫣 I honestly missed our soft 'taine so I had to give him some love🥰 but don't worry, his cake didn't burn not one but. think i'm craving some warm cuddles right now, lol! thank you so much for reading and please tell me what you think 💕💜✨

💕taglist:💞 @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful

@8ttached @soft-persephone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile

@ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93 @sageispunk @hunnishive

@notapradagurl7 @mcondance @miyuhpapayuh @mogul93

@kindofaintrovert @blowmymbackout @kindofanenigma @harmshake

- BatBoys × Civilian Reader.

SCENARIO: pecking them on the cheek after they saved you from danger.

- DICK GRAYSON.

Dick had ran inside the burning building after he realised that you were still inside, he discard all the training and ran for you.

He didn't have time to think the moment he heard your name his body move on its on, like he was chasing oxygen.

He was not going to lose someone he loves dearly again, this time he would protect you and be your boyfriend someday.

He had been secretly consuming videos on how to be the best boyfriend in the world and he haven't even got to try that. Bullshit, even if he had to fight death itself he will. No one is going to take you away this time... Not when he's still breathing.

When you peck him on the cheek he froze, the adrenaline rushing back in, his eyes wide shock and still holding your hands.

He just wanted to hold you in his arms and comfort himself and you but holding the edge of your fingers was the best he would do for now.

" That's not my lips tho "

he commented, managing to weild his brain back to the right direction but not without some complications.

" Huh? "

You looked at him confuse.

His hands still clinging onto yours desperately trying to remember the feeling of your hands on his.

" You accidentally kissed me on my cheek and not my lips "

Activity trying to gaslight you and himself.

What he wanted to say was ' Please just do me a favour and open the gate of heaven by kissing me already, I cannot go another day without your lips on mine... '.

How much he yearn to hold you and kiss you infront of everybody, kissing you so hard that he forgot his own name and could only remember the taste of your lips.

" Kiss me Alr- "

Before he could spill his desire Batman drag him away frowning and kept looking at you and Batman.

- Jason Todd.

He saved you from thief's and you kiss him on the cheek. He's in another planet the moment your lips touches his skin.

Goosebumps all over his body, an electric charge sent down his spine and his heart about to explode from the unexpected affection. God, what kind of grip did you had on him?

Hes utterly surprised in a good way, he didn't knew all it took was some expensive costume and doing the right thing.

Unfortunately for you he's hooked. His shoulder relaxing and his once prideful stance turns into one that reminds you of a puppy wishing for more pats.

The scene playing inside his head over and over dissecting everything into pieces. His face didn't turn that red just his whole posture and language did change tho.

Now, he demands kiss for everytime he did and not leaving until you gave him that kiss he was so addicted to.

" Where's my kiss? "

He asked, turning to look at you. His face plastered with that cunning smirk he had whenever he knew he won.

" Kiss? eh "

You look at him confuse, you were just standing there watching him do his heroic deed. Whereas, he suddenly turns with the most idiotic smile and demand a kiss.

" Yeah, my reward. For being a good hero "

Silence.

" You saved a kitten from the tree and you want a kiss? It's not even my kitten "

"... Contribute to society by motivating me through kisses"

He was serious, tho you trapped yourself in this case... Kissing him and thinking he won't take advantage of it. He's smart when it comes to his needs.

He cannot wait until he gets to actually collide his lips with yours... Maybe in the possible future he would get a kiss on the lips for every good deeds.

- Tim Drake.

He's confusion. Staring at you while holding onto the place where you kissed him, he couldn't tell if he was hallucinating because he was sleep deprived or you did kiss him.

His face flush red as his entire body turns warm, even tho it was during the middle of winter he couldn't feel anything else but warmth.

His ears were red as well, he totally forgot about the fact that there were gour people he had tied near the pole watching in silence.

" I- Why would you do that? "

He didn't mean to sound so mad or upset, infact his brain had probably melted by the thought of you kissing him.

" Im not complaining just... I Didn't even have time to process that "

He could clearly hear ever time his heart was beating against his rips, his hands going stiff and extremely warm... Even his eyes were betraying him.

He began, not only didn't he had time to process the pleasure of your touch he did not have time to remember it, how was he supposed to deal with that?

Tho, Tim was the boss of trying to play cool and feeling cool but in reality he's a blushing mess with a smile that scream 'im a pathetic loser inlove'.

" Do you want me to kiss you again? "

You asked, and Tim was over the moon with such opportunity handed to him on a random Tuesday night.

" Yeah, let's do that again... I'll be ready this time "

He might try to make you kiss him again by creating some excuses only he could think of.

- Damian Wayne.

He's happy and not at the same time. His mind is racing itself to see which one will make him restless.

He should be happy that you were so willing to kiss him on the cheek but you kissed him without knowing who he was under that domino!

You didn't kiss him as Damian Wayne, you kissed him as Robin... Batman blood son.

Now there was two thing keeping him sane and insane, one the precious kiss you had given me to him and the fact that you kissed him without knowing it's him...

Should he focus on the positive and be delusional like his older brother...No, he's full of questions and you'll hear them all.

And the fact that you kissed him so easily for just stopping someone for stealing from you? He's going to lecture you as Damian Wayne.

Well, he did like about the fact that you smelled like perfection and your soft lips pressed on his cheek with the cutest smile.

This felt like a shoujo manga, but if his institution is correct the guy would grab the girl by her face (gently) and roughly or gently kissed her infront of everybody.

Tho he's still not happy with you for kissing him for being a decent human being... Your standard are low.

" You're ridiculous for kissing me without any reason "

He fold his arms, the redness in his ears still visible. He doesnt like the way his heart was pounding at him to stop being delusional. Maybe he was consuming too much manga.

" You do realise not everyone should be kissed because they save you "

Yes, tho you should kiss Damian Wayne Instead of Robin... That way he would be able to smile about it in the dark.

" If I see you kissing random I wil- "

You hurried away before Damian could start teaching you on what he will and will not tolerate.

You should only kiss him and he is the only one privilege enough to call your lips his... He's definitely going to lecture you nonstop for kissing people as a gratitude.

He absolutely love's the kiss but he hate that you won't kiss him as Damian Wayne...

- Half asleep and do not know what i wrote I'll fix em tomorrow.

✨🐟TUNA-TOBER FIC DETECTED 🐟✨

✨🐟CALCULATING... CALCULATING... 🐟✨

✨🐟PROMPT FILLED: READING TO EACH OTHER 🐟✨

✨🐟Find the rest of the Tuna-Tober prompts here, and remember to follow to see what other prompt fics these writers might drop this October!🐟 ✨

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!