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fanishjuli · 5 years

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so well,, we were talking in discord and this happend,,, which btw it was 100% because of and for @erja-stark-strange so, here it is. also, I may at some point come back to this, re write it properly and post it formally on AO3, but rn I'm tired lol. also @musiusi

tony wakes up at night. fucking late o'clock. he's in bed alone. the other half of the bed is cold, so Stephen must've gotten up a while ago. he gets up looking for him and funds him sitting in the kitchen, coffee in hand, looking sadly out the window. he has both hands pressed hard against his chest and he's trembling badly. tony knows what this means; nightmare. possibly about the crash. so, he approaches him slowly, trying not to startle him, and places a hand on his arm/shoulder. Stephen looks a bit startled but he doesn't jump nor moves away from the touch. without saying a word tony wraps his arms around him, hugging him. it's a tad bit uncomfortable bc of the position; Stephen is sitting and tony is standing next to him, but regardless, Stephen moves into the touch, resting his head in Tony's stomach. Tony slowly runs his hands through his hair and back, lovely soft touches. Stephen melts into the touch. they stay like that for a while, in the kitchen, in silence, just hugging eachother, until tony speaks softly "lets go to bed, my legs are cramping". Stephen nods against his belly. after a few moments Stephen finally feels like he can move, he places a soft kiss on Tony's belly and moves back, looking up to face him. tony notices he's been crying. he moves down to place a soft oh so soft kiss on his lips and Stephen smiles sadly. he gets up and hugs tony, properly this time. "c'mon, let's get you to bed" tony murmurs against his skin. they get back to bed and Stephen wraps himself around tony as if his life depended on it. maybe, in that moment, it felt like it did. tony manages to free his arms and wraps then around him, making soft circles on his back, grounding him. they don't fall asleep soon, not really. tony closes his eyes and spends the next hour or so placing soft kisses on whatever patch of skin is near his mouth, mostly Stephen arm and shoulder, a bit of his chest, and saying soft words, singing a bit on Italian maybe. Stephen just holds onto Tony, breathing in his smell, nose pressed against his hair, it's almost like drowning, but in a good way. long after tony feel back asleep, Stephen stays awake, but it doesn't matter, because tony is there, and that's all he needs.

#mcu #tony stark #fic #stephen strange #my fic #mine #doctor strange #my writing #ironstrange #dr strange #cuddlefic #dr. strange #ironman #hc

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maryellencarter · 6 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu/Wes Janson/Derek "Hobbie" Klivian Characters: Wedge Antilles, Tycho Celchu, Wes Janson, Derek "Hobbie" Klivian Additional Tags: Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Naked Cuddling, Morning Cuddles, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Morning Kisses, OT4, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, Reunions, Quarantine, Sharing a Bed Summary:

Prompt from a cuddlefic meme: "OT4, just waking up". Post-Distna quarantine.

@corelliaxdreaming, I finally got your prompt written! :D 525 words, for some reason the auto-crossposter doesn’t seem to put that in among all that stuff.

@polyshipprompts, this is for the prompt about sharing a bed that’s too small for all of them, but I can’t get the link right now.

#star wars #rogue squadron #wes janson #wedge antilles #tycho celchu #hobbie klivian #derek hobbie klivian #my writing #cuddlefic #askbox meme #i writed #polyshipweek #polyshipweek fluff

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scribefindegil · 7 years

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They Don’t Let Go

[Ao3]

Cuddlefic prompt from @bpdtaak0 : starblaster crew together again post world-saving.

It’s later. The world didn’t end.

Lucretia picks her way across what was once the central quad of the Bureau of Balance, and is now just . . . remnants. Cracked cobblestones. Scorched grass.

She doesn’t need to run away or build this rubble up into another shield. Doesn’t need to agonize over the fate of the world. For the first time in one hundred and eleven years, she’s free.

And she has no idea what to do. She reaches out her hand for a staff that isn’t there and almost stumbles. She scans the sky and knows, for the first time in so long, that there’s nothing coming, and she feels empty.

Her feet take her towards her office. What’s left of it. Most of the central dome is still standing. Not all the other buildings were so lucky.

And then she hears the song.

The duet.

It floats through the ruins of the moon base, slow and resonant like whale song through the oceans, and Lucretia brings a hand up to her mouth. The deepest of the voices seems to catch at something in her sternum, her whole body vibrating in time with the notes. The higher voice dances overhead playfully, a descant running up and down and around the melody.

They sound happy.

She feels selfish even for listening to it, but she heads towards the sound. A twinge of pain shoots through her right arm as she walks. Just a sprained wrist. A small price to pay for surviving yet another apocalypse.

She can find a healer if she goes planetside. Maybe that’s better. She’s not sure she can face the rest of the crew—her family—now that they know what she did to them. Now that they know how everything went wrong. She’s already spent a decade alone—what’s a few more years?

With a goal in mind her steps are steadier as she heads towards the hanger. The glass orbs have probably all been shattered, but she’s been surprised before. If not, she has enough magic left in her for Feather Fall.

She’s crossing an empty space between two domes when she sees them and freezes in her tracks. Nearly everyone is there. They must have been called by the song of the Voidfish, like she was. For a moment she fears that they’re hurt, and then she sees Carey shift and throw an arm tighter around Killian, and she realizes they’re only on the floor because they’ve chosen to be.

Magnus is the epicenter just like he always is, almost hidden behind everyone else despite his bulk. He and Killian sit shoulder to shoulder, leaning companionably against each other with Carey curled into the triangle between their bodies. The dragonborn clutches at her girlfriend’s arm, wrapping it tight in her own as if she’s trying to turn herself into a shield, and her forehead rests on Killian’s bicep. The bandages are gone—the wound healed up without even a scar for Carey’s fingers to trace.

Their third teammate sits behind them, huge and solid, with her one humanoid arm draped across Killian’s other shoulder and her conduit casting a steadfast blue glow into the dimness of the lunar twilight. A stray spark shoots from the exposed circuits on her gun arm—sliced open by another soldier of the Hunger before she blasted it back out of existence.

Angus is asleep on Magnus’s lap, snoring gently. His skinned knees almost make him look like an ordinary child who’d taken a tumble during play, but his tattered clothes and the snapped feather that dangles pathetically from his cap remind her of everything he’s been through. Nothing a child should ever have to experience.

Nothing a child will have to experience again. They won. Part of her still doesn’t believe it, and part of her—the part that was forged during her first year of loneliness, the part as strong and unyielding as steel—clings to their victory as proof that she had been right, that everything she’d done had been justified if it led to this. The Hunger had been defeated. The world was still there. She clings to the thought as tightly as Carey clung to Killian’s arm, anchoring herself as best she could in the maelstrom of guilt that swirled through her chest.

She watches Magnus, whose happy ending had crumbled with the rocks of the Craftsman’s Corridor, squish close to Killian on one side and then to Taako on the other. She watches Merle, who had run from his family and grown embittered by his faith, stretch out his tree arm and snuggle deeper into the nest he’s made between the other two Reclaimers. She watches Davenport, restored to his eloquent, brilliant self, sitting slightly away from everyone else with his back to her. She watches Taako . . .

She’d barely been able to bring herself to look at the lefthand side of the group where Lup’s spectral lich form floats between Taako and Barry, her robe rippling with unseen astral breezes. They’d find some way to restore her to her mortal form eventually. Lucretia is sure of that. But for now she’s insubstantial. Ephemeral. Untouchable. Taako’s hand twitches next to his sister’s, his fingers reaching for something he can’t feel.

Then his hand moves in a familiar pattern and he mutters something, and Lucretia gasps as a glowing blue shape appears next to him, a hand of shimmering spectral force encasing his own. The Mage Hand reaches for Lup, flipping up the hood of her robe before closing around her skeletal fingers. Like her, it’s made of magic. She laughs when it connects, and she squeezes back.

Lucretia watches until the Mage Hand blinks out. Taako re-casts it. Lup keeps holding her brother’s hand.

The certainly that Lucretia had held onto for the past decade dissolves away. There’s no way they’ll ever forgive her. She wouldn’t expect them to.

Behind and above the group Fisher floats in the air, dancing and singing, and the singing is more joyful than anything she’s heard in years. The baby Voidfish loops around its parent, weaving through its tendrils and singing its own melody. Somehow, Magnus has already given it a duck.

She’d only meant to look for a moment, long enough to fix the scene in her memory. It wasn’t something she’d ever dare to paint, but perhaps a sketch to carry with her. Perhaps a reminder that her family would be all right without her.

But she lingers too long, and only realizes it when one of the baby Voidfish’s playful orbits takes it over Magnus’s head, ruffling his hair. He looks up, laughing, and his eyes meet Lucretia’s. She sees the shock in them. The recognition that she’d missed so much and that hurts so much now that she has it. She turns to flee.

“Lucretia!” he calls. “Wait!”

She does. Squeezes her eyes shut to steel herself, and then turns back.

They’re all watching her, but Magnus is the only one who’s moved. He’s halfway upright, gently handing Angus off to Killian, and then he’s walking towards her. Lucretia just stands there and waits—for the tirade, for the blow, for whatever she has coming. But when he speaks, it’s the last words she ever thought she would hear.

“Thank you.”

And he hugs her, his big arms closing around her back and knocking the breath out of her lungs. Everyone else looks as surprised as she is. Taako’s face twists into a sneer. Angus rubs his eyes and blinks at them, bewildered.

Slowly, she lets her arms fall until they’re resting tentatively on the soft fabric of Magnus’s shirt. He hasn’t let go, but he raises his head from her shoulder so that she can see his face.

“Thank you,” he says again. “For Raven’s Roost.”

It’s like a knife in her heart and she stiffens and shakes her head. “No. No, don’t . . . I’m sorry, I couldn’t . . .”

When Magnus speaks again, his voice is shaking. “Don’t get me wrong. What you did was . . . stupid, and wrong, and . . . I know we’re probably going to spend a lot of time talking about how it was stupid and wrong. But . . . with Raven’s Roost, with Julia . . . I was happy. I was so damn happy and I would never have had that without you, so . . . thank you.”

He’s crying properly by the time he finishes, big sloppy tears that run down his face and plop onto Lucretia’s robe. He doesn’t even try to wipe them away.

Lucretia doesn’t know how to respond. There’s nothing she can say that will convey all the grief and the regret and the sorrow and the gratitude that are bubbling through her, so she doesn’t try. She just leans forward and throws her arms around her friend, clutching at his shoulders and feeling the warmth of his body, his heartbeat, the moisture of his tears on her neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, over and over until he stops crying. “I’m sorry. I love you. I never wanted . . .”

“I know,” he chokes out.

Lucretia feels a drop run down the side of her nose and realizes that she’s crying too.

Eventually, Magnus draws back. He doesn’t wipe his eyes, just shakes his head like a dog and lets out a shaky little laugh.

“I don’t . . . know how to feel,” he says. “In general. There’s so much to talk about. There’s so much to figure out. But do you think . . .” He pauses, looking over his shoulder at Taako. “Do you think we can do that later?”

Taako looks from Magnus to Lup and finally up at Lucretia. “I’m not forgiving you,” he says.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“I . . . don’t know yet,” says Barry. “But I think we’ve probably had enough fighting for today.”

Slowly, everyone nods.

“All right,” says Lucretia. “I . . . won’t leave. When you’re ready to talk . . .”

Magnus takes her hand and pulls her back towards the group. “No,” he says. “Stay.”

“But . . . why?”

“We’re your family, idiot,” says Lup, and Merle and Angus nod. Magnus sits, and Carey and Killian and Angus cuddle back up to him, but he doesn’t let go of Lucretia’s hand.

With everything she wants to say thrumming in her throat, with tears on her cheeks and an ache in her chest, Lucretia kneels, and then as a sob rises through her she curls up like the frightened girl she’d been when the Starblaster first began its voyage and slumps against Magnus’s chest. He holds her. And he doesn’t let go. Angus lays a tentative hand on her upper arm, and Carey and Killian are holding the boy on their laps with their hands clasped around his waist, and Noelle is holding onto the two of them. And they don’t let go. Merle moves closer, holding Davenport’s hand with his tree arm, and claps his flesh-and-blood hand onto Magnus’s shoulder. And they don’t let go.

A glow of magic flares as Barry casts Mage Hand and reaches up to caress Lup’s cheek. She takes the spectral hand gently, and on her other side Taako’s fingers, enveloped in blue light, are entwined with hers. And they don’t let go. Fisher and its baby float towards the group, still singing. The grown-up Voidfish wraps two of its tendrils around its baby and one around the duck it’s carrying and one around Magnus, who hums softly back to it. And they don’t let go.

None of them let go.

Our capacity for love increases with each person we cross paths with throughout our lives and with each moment we spend with those people. Across a hundred worlds and a hundred years the Starblaster crew crossed paths with countless individuals. And on every world, despite themselves, they always found something and somebody to love, even knowing as they did that they would have to turn and flee when the Hunger arrived and drained the color from the sky.

But all capacities have their limits. As much love as they saw, they also saw pain and sorrow and heartbreak beyond what anyone should have to bear. Finally, it was their very love for each other and the universe around them that tore them apart and set them adrift. Lucretia’s love for this Plane that made her vow to save it, and her love for her friends that led her to make the foolish, terrible choice to heap their combined suffering onto her own shoulders.

Our capacity for forgiveness does not grow linearly. Lucretia knows this. She has known this since before she made her choice, but she made it anyway. At the very point that her friends remembered how much they loved her, she expected to lose them.

And perhaps she still would, at least some of them. She would accept it. But for the moment she feels her friends around her, feels hope that they can be free now, that the time they have left won’t be overshadowed by tragedy the way their past was. She feels love burning in her chest as sharp and bright as the Light of Creation.

She spreads her arms as far as she can, embracing everyone she can reach.

And she doesn’t let go.

#the adventure zone #taz #cuddlefic #araxie writes #Magnus rushes in!#i thought this was going to be shameless fluff but then everyone cried #story of my life

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sylvermyth · 7 years

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to keep it

*sidles up* So, it’s been...quite a rough few months for me, in general, but also writing-wise. I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for MONTHS. It’s been awful, because I LOVE writing, and I couldn’t get anything to come out that I actually enjoyed writing.

UNTIL NOW.

I finished FFXV two days ago and I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS, AND I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY, OKAY. So, my first offer to the fandom, an incredibly indulgent, Prompto/Noctis fic. It can be read as platonic or as early slash, takes place around Brotherhood times. If you’d be so kind as to comment and reblob if you like it, I would appreciate it!

to keep it (also on AO3)

Prompto couldn't sleep.

It wasn't unusual. Sometimes it was a restless, anxious energy that he couldn't shake, nerves alight and waiting for-he wasn't sure what, but it was like something hard-wired into him, to be ready to react at a moment's notice.

Other times, it was nightmares, the ones that made him claustrophobic and panicky, and caused him to start awake. He didn't remember much of those, except that they made his stomach clench, and in their aftermath he always clasped his left hand over his right wrist, inexplicably terrified that someone would notice the mark there, that he would be snatched away, to never escape a hell he only had vague impressions of.

Sometimes, if he was alone, and certain he was alone, he would be filled with a morbid fascination with the lines etched into his wrist, even and precise, a tiny series of numbers just below the bar code, spending the small hours of the morning studying them, unable to return to sleep. The tattoo had something to do with the restlessness and the nightmares. He was sure of it, somehow. Instinct, maybe, or a forgotten memory.

It was the nightmares, tonight, the shock of thunder from outside pulling him from his fitful sleep, and, once awake, the flashes of lightening, dark interspersed with light, almost sending him into a panic until he'd turned to the window to see rain pelting at the glass. Just a storm.

It was just a storm.

Prompto sighed, and, giving up sleep as a lost cause, moved to the window that made up one wall of the room. He was at Noct's; crashing on his couch was becoming a common occurrence—ostensibly because he kept missing the last train home when they got too caught up in a video game or a movie, losing track of time, but truthfully, Prompto found himself dreading the return to his own apartment. There would be no one there when he got back, the empty quiet deafening and unbearable now that he'd become accustomed to a different kind of silence—that of quiet companionship.

Prompto worried the band over his wrist, making sure it was covered, as he looked out over the city spread before him. It was little more than indistinct lights twinkling in the rain beyond the glass, but it was beautiful nonetheless. It only took a couple steps to retrieve his camera and bring it to the window, fiddle with the settings until he'd captured a few passable shots. It wasn't something a camera could quite do justice, but he'd be satisfied in capturing the feeling of it.

Returning the camera, Prompto snagged his blanket and pulled it around his shoulders. Noctis was asleep in the other room, and that was a comfort, knowing he wasn't the only soul in the apartment. Even so, he tiptoed to Noct's room to confirm it, nudging the door open just enough to catch sight of a sleeping form and a tuft of black hair. It made him smile, a little; Noct looked so peaceful. Prompto envied him his ability to sleep seemingly anywhere and any time, but he was glad for it, glad that Noct wasn't disturbed by his own restlessness. Prompto watched over him for a few minutes, finding the gentle rise-and-fall from Noct's breathing calming, and it was probably a little weird, to watch his best friend sleep, so Prompto turned and moved back to the window in the lounge, instead.

It was a little easier to shake the malaise from the nightmares when he wasn't alone, even if Noct was asleep, and Prompto didn't think he'd ever stop being grateful for Noct's friendship. Because a part of him knew that Noct knew he'd rather be here than home, and that Prompto wasn't the only one who conveniently lost track of time.

Or maybe Noct was lonely, too. Prompto might've found that difficult to imagine—after all, Noct had Iggy and Gladio and a father—but he'd seen that look in his friend's eyes, the one that was familiar because it was one he'd seen so often in the mirror, and if Prompto's company helped, who was he to refuse? Prompto couldn't bear to see Noct anything but happy, even if it meant plastering on a smile when he was courting a panic attack.

A sound behind him made him tense so hard it hurt, the fear from his nightmare returning with its sharpened nerves.

But it was just Noct. That was all it could be, the soft shuffle of bare feet against the floor, and Prompto took a breath, forcing himself to relax, and then Noct came to a stop next to him, leaning his head on Prompto's shoulder, banishing the tension with the simple action.

"Hey." Noct's voice was gruff with sleep, and Prompto was surprised he was awake enough to walk and talk—the same Noctis who took ages to climb out of bed in the morning, and he wondered if Noct had actually been asleep, after all. It was sometimes hard to tell, with him.

"Hey." Prompto tried not to dwell on the possibility that he'd been caught watching Noct sleep.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"The storm woke me up." It wasn't a lie, not entirely. He didn't want Noct to worry, or worse, to inquire after his nightmares—not that he could give any kind of accurate account of them, anyway, but he'd rather just put it behind him.

Noct hummed a response, his hair tickling Prompto's cheek.

"I've probably said this before," and yeah, he was about to babble, but that was okay; Noct never seemed to mind, "but you've got a great view up here." Prompto gestured down at the lights sprawled below them, twinkling. "I got a couple shots, you know, the rain and the lights and everything, it looks really cool through the window." Abruptly, he realized Noct would ask to see them—he usually did—and he'd be happy to, later, but just now, he didn't want to give up this comforting closeness, so he changed tack. "Hey, but what about you? Can't you like, sleep through an earthquake or something? How come you're awake?"

Noct shrugged. "Dunno." He shifted, wrapping an arm around Prompto and effectively snuggling into him; it took a conscious effort not to glance down at his wristband to make sure it was still in place, and instead just let himself relax more into the embrace, but it was a worthwhile effort.

Prompto tilted his head until it bumped Noct's. This kind of affectionate contact was still new between them—in fact, Prompto couldn't remember ever being this close to someone else—but it was nice, welcome. It made him full and warm and happy, and he wanted it to last forever, so he fished his phone out of his pocket—it wasn't worth disturbing them to retrieve his camera—and snapped a selfie. The lighting wasn't great, but there was enough ambient light from outside to capture the shapes of their faces, hair both light and dark mingling together.

Noct made a sound of amusement when Prompto angled the screen toward him. "Your hair is a mess, Prom, you sure you wanna keep that one?"

"Nooooct!" Prompto jabbed him with his elbow half-heartedly, and slipped the phone back in his pocket. He gave an exaggerated sniff. "I don't expect you to understand the true art of photography."

"Yeah, okay." A yawn cut off Noct's low chuckle.

"You should go back to bed," Prompto murmured. "Iggy'll have a fit if you doze off tomorrow." He reluctantly started disengaging himself from Noct's hold, but Noct only tightened his grip, a small, disappointed sound in his throat. "Uhm, Noct?"

And when he shifted enough to see his friend's face, Prompto pursed his lips. Noct's expression was carefully guarded, but Prompto was experienced in reading that look, the one that said don't leave me alone—as if Prompto could!—and the hand clutching Prompto's arm that underlined the sentiment. So he just smiled and leaned into Noct.

"Alright, but if you fall asleep on me, I'm not carrying you back to bed! You know I'm not strong like Gladio."

Noct rolled his eyes, something like mischief quirking his lips. "That's not a problem if we're already in bed." And when Prompto said he wasn't strong like Gladio, he meant he wasn't really strong at all, not even as strong as Noct, who was tugging him back towards his room with maybe a little more force than necessary, considering Prompto wasn't inclined to resist.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Prompto wasn't exactly sure what this situation would entail, but he would probably follow Noctis to the end of the world if he had to, so following him in the safety of Noct's apartment was a small matter. When Noct practically tackled him onto the bed, and they collapsed in a pile of laughter, he changed his mind—this was no small matter.

It was everything.

It took a few minutes, to figure out how to arrange their limbs so they were both comfortable, but once they did, it was perfect. Warm and soft, and Prompto was pretty sure it was as close to heaven as someone could get, and that he'd never been happier, his nightmares and restless energy forgotten as he melted into the bed with Noct.

"Bed's more comfy than the couch," Noct mumbled, voice already thick with sleep.

"Yeah." Prompto smiled. It never took Noct long to fall back asleep. "Very comfy."

Noct nuzzled closer—Prompto hadn't thought it possible, but he was being proved wrong—and Prompto thought his heart would burst at Noct's next words: "I'm here, Prom. I'm here for you."

It never failed to surprise him, when Noctis had these little moments: moments of perfect perception (or maybe Noct was saying what he wanted to hear from Prompto, but the two of them were alike, in many ways, in tune with each other as only the closest friends could be) that set the world to rights even as Prompto was trying to hide that anything was wrong at all. Prompto felt his eyes stinging with unshed tears as he pressed his face into Noct's hair.

"Me too, Noct," and even though he was whispering, his voice felt too loud in the quiet of the room. "I'm here for you, too." Noct's arms tightened around him in a hug.

Noct's breathing evened out after only a few more minutes, and Prompto pressed an affectionate kiss into his dark hair.

No photos would ever be able to capture this, but that was okay, because Prompto would hold onto it in his heart for as long as he lived, held onto it even as he drifted off to sleep, finally; peaceful, safe.

Loved.

#ffxv #noctis x prompto #promptis #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writing #fluff #hurt/comfort #some angst #LOTS OF FEELINGS #cuddles #snuggling #cuddlefic #affection

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scattered-winter · 2 years

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it's BATFAM FIC REC TIME!! feat. my very correct commentary

these are organized roughly by character, but some of them involve multiple members of the Batfam so that's its own category as well. these are all the fics in my bookmarks, but if anyone has any they'd like to contribute, hit me up!

bruce-centric

Nature and Nurture by lurkinglurkerwholurks

this fic. THIS FIC. staying up all night crying, screaming into the pillow, etc etc. lots of good feels, lots of angst, each character gets a moment to shine. 11/10 age regression fic

The Once and Future Batman by Electrons

another age regression fic! as always, Electrons doesn't MISS. humor, angst, and fluff all packed together, giving special attention to the nuances of crime fighting. I am COMPELLED

dick-centric

Fear by Electrons

Young Justice (TV) universe. fear toxin fic feat. Good Dad!Bruce

do as I say (not as I do) by daringyounggrayson

blood and fluff, with a side of Bruce being a good dad for the soul

i trust no one else by wingedgrace

I am. not normal about this fic. and I simply never will be. IMPECCABLE batfam feels with a straight shot of pure angst (and some softer sibling stuff to break it up a bit. I'm not a masochist). it DOES contain implied torture from the antagonist and some implied abuse from Bruce, so be mindful and read the tags before diving in; but I personally thought it was all beautifully handled, and it's one of the few fics with Bad Dad!Bruce that I will accept because of that. all in all, it's one of those fics that tore my heart into pieces and stitched it back together at the end <3

wings and other broken things by wingedgrace

Talon!Dick AUs always make me INSANE and this is no exception. it kept me up for hours because I had to take frequent scream-into-the-pillow breaks. lots of angst and mild whump, but also so many soft cuddle scenes that I am FED AND WATERED HALLELUJAH AMEN

jason-centric

White Lighters / Afterglow by lurkinglurkerwholurks

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP ETC

tim-centric

Boys Don't Cry by TimDrakeIsMyPatronus

angst with some good sibling vibes! mind the tags though <3

is anyone getting this? by Batshit_Bogs

HOOOOOLY FUCK OWWWWWW ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST /pos

Plummeting by TimDrakeIsMyPatronus

more Tim whump! some Good Dad!Bruce too :]

I See Dead People by Sohotthateveryonedied

ok listen. LISTEN.

I'm soooo normal about this fic

*narrator voice* no the fuck they aren't

damian-centric

Notoriously Hard to Kill by Batshit_Bogs

angst and some batfam feels (featuring my favorite trope: arena battles)

Help, I Accidentally Almost Killed the Neighbor by Batshit_Bogs

this author never MISSES with Damian I swear to god. soft and fluffy beekeeper au with a smidgen of DamiJon for spice

Paint Cans and Sneaking Out by Batshit_Bogs

screaming crying throwing up etc <3 Damian as a graffiti artist isn't what I thought I needed, but boy is it a need

duke-centric

Strange Bedfellows by snackbaskets

a short lil cuddlefic that I love more than my own family /j

batfam

Frightening, But Not Afraid by snackbaskets

FEAR TOXIN WINGFIC WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANNNNT?!?!?! angst but more importantly, FLUFFY WING CUDDLES

Bats of a Feather by Batshit_Bogs

MORE WINGFICS!!! frothing at the mouth feral over these <3 angst, fluff, and humor (feat. Dick and Damian as Batman and Robin!)

Watch This by snackbaskets

a cocaine shot of pure fluff. Good Dad!Bruce with a side of mischievous childe Robin and HalBarry as a treat

Kidding Around With the Bats by bewaretheboojum, njw, Silver_Snow_77, and vellaphoria

half the batfam gets deaged. shenanigans ensue. fluff and humor with a dash of angst for flavor

The Robin Protocol by snackbaskets

*holds this fic close to my chest* it's just..........so so so important to me ok

Cling-On by Bjurnberg

Dick as Robin, sneaking into a JL meeting. fluff and humor and BAM SURPRISE ANGST

Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople by Batshit_Bogs

this series lives in my brain rent-free. makes me insane /pos. mind the tags though babes <3

We'll Be Carrying Each Other by Sohotthateveryonedied

*deep inhale* AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH

Gotham by Gaslight AU. makes me insane.

Through the Mirror by Batshit_Bogs

holy. FUCKING shit. definitely my favorite Reverse Robins au to date. makes me insane. froth at the mouth, if you will. I wish I could eat this series. warning: don't read it all in one sitting because the angst overload probably rewired my brain when I did that👍

go forth and give these authors some love!!!

#winter speaks #batfam fic recs #tw cocaine #i just mentioned it but just in case #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #nightwing #damian wayne #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #duke thomas #the signal #tim drake #red robin #lemme know if any of the links are broken!!

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