#look at the beautiful colors in their clothes!

[fear-is-truth]

omg could u pls do a how bruce wayne does casual dominance in everyday life (for example: picking what you wear, telling you what nail color to get, what perfume, etc) pls!!! i love how u write bruce 😭😭 WE LITERALLY SHARE THE SAME VISION!!! i love ur blog sm 💞💞💞

ACTS OF CASUAL DOMINANCE

─── BRUCE WAYNE x f! reader. . . headcanons .ᐟ

a/n: tysm anon !! love how we imagined bruce the same way :)

bruce, who is every inch the gentleman when he’s out with you—always placing his hand on the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd or escorting you to his car, a subtle but firm gesture that says, you’re mine, and i’m looking after you. he opens doors for you without fail, pulls out your chair at restaurants, and always walks on the street side of the sidewalk, even if it means switching places mid-walk. if you’re wearing heels, he keeps a steadying hand at your waist when you go down stairs.

bruce, who loves leaving subtle marks of his presence on you, whether it’s adjusting your scarf or brushing a thumb over your lip to fix your lipstick. when you’re out together, his hand is always on you—the small of your back, your hip, or wrapped around your fingers. not quite overbearing, but just enough to let everyone know who you belong to.

bruce, who doesn’t outright dictate what you wear, but his influence on your fashion choices is undeniable. he’ll casually leave a dress hanging in your closet or comment on how much he likes seeing you in a particular shade or fabric. “you should wear that blue one tonight,” he’ll suggest. his approval becomes something you crave, and the smouldering way his gaze lingers on you when you follow his preferences is its own reward.

bruce, who will always shrug off his coat and drape it over your shoulders if you’re cold or if the evening turns brisk unexpectedly.

bruce, who has an unspoken authority that makes you want to listen. if you reach for just coffee in the morning, he’ll gently push a plate of fresh fruit or eggs your way. “you’ll need more than that today,” he says, and it doesn’t just leave there—he’ll sit with you, sipping his own coffee as if to make sure you actually eat.

bruce, who has a knack for choosing the perfect jewelry to complement your beauty. when you’re torn between options, standing indecisively by your vanity, he’ll step in without hesitation. his fingers will hover briefly over the collection before selecting a bracelet. “this one,” he says, gently fastening it around your wrist.

bruce, who has a weakness for lingerie, and he spares no expense when it comes to choosing pieces for you. he has a habit of surprising you with carefully chosen lingerie from brands like la perla or agent provocateur—luxurious silk and lace in colours he knows will complement your skin. sometimes, you’ll find it laid out on the bed with a note in his distinct handwriting: wear this for me. other times, he hands you the box himself, sitting on the edge of the bed as you untie the ribbon. his demeanour is completely calm, but judging from the hunger in his eyes, it’s clear he’s already calculating how quickly he could rip it from your body.

bruce, who has a refined sense of smell, and takes pride in choosing a perfume that is uniquely you. when he catches the scent lingering on your neck or wrist, his lips will brush against your skin as he breathes it in, murmuring, “that suits you.” he loves how the fragrance becomes a signature of sorts, clinging to his clothes or the bedsheets.

bruce, who never misses a chance to come to your rescue when you’re struggling with a zipper or clasp. standing behind you, his hands are deft as they glide up the zipper with ease. but he doesn’t step away immediately—instead, his fingers linger at the nape of your neck, grazing your skin as though he’s savouring the excuse to touch you. he leans in slowly, inhaling your scent before he presses a kiss to the delicate curve of your shoulder blade.

bruce, who shares intimate evening rituals with you. he’ll sit on the edge of the bed, his suit jacket already discarded, watching you with an almost meditative calm as you remove your makeup or adjust your hair. sometimes he’ll step in, undoing your necklace or offering to brush your hair for you.

bruce, who has a way of subtly steering you toward better habits without making you feel lectured. bruce doesn’t argue or insist—he just closes your phone or pulls the book from your hands, setting them aside before cupping your face. “that’s enough. you’ll thank me in the morning,”

bruce, who ensures your needs are met before you even realise them. when you’re tired, he’ll guide you to sit, bringing you a glass of water or pressing a kiss to your temple. his dominance is very subtle, woven into these small, everyday acts, making you feel both cherished and completely under his care.

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[morikosa]

Not sure if I sent this already, but can I get teacher Gojo comforting a chubby student reader because she thinks she's unattractive and so he fucks her until she's convinced she's pretty?

Today was your day off, and Gojo wanted to take you shopping and out to spend time. The food part wasn't bad, of course, but you hated the clothes part.

You weren't very fat, of course, you were just a little chubby and insecure about it. Why was he with you when there were so many beautiful girls around?

It was a nightmare for you. You've been to many stores, but you really couldn't find an outfit that looks good on you or fits you perfectly. God, you wanted to cry. You chose a pair of lingerie for your last try. It was a blue color piece.

Gojo was sitting on the seat in front of the trial cabin, waiting for you with a smile on his face.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and your eyes filled with tears. This one wasn't too bad, but it was tight. You wiped your tears with one hand, and you walked out of the cabin with a deep, shaky breath. You wrapped your arms around your body

''W-what do you think?''

His eyes dilated under the blindfold. God, did you have to be this hot? He was hard the moment you walked out of the trial cabin in that outfit… and you don't think you're beautiful.

God, he could fuck you right now.

And he will.

''What do I think, hmm?… How about I show you this, baby?''

He stood up and pushed you into the trial cabin, closing the curtain behind him, and pressed you against the wall of the cramped trial cabin, his muscular body pinning your soft, plump one. One large hand cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense, lust-filled gaze.

"God, you are so sexy…" he purred, thumb brushing over your plump bottom lip. "No more of those sad tears, understand? You look fucking stunning in this lingerie. Like a goddamn wet dream come to life."

His other hand slid down to grope your plush ass, squeezing the supple flesh and pulling your hips flush against his straining erection.

"Feel what you do to me, princess? Feel how hard you make your sensei?" he said, grinding his clothed cock against you. 

"I'm not going anywhere until I've had my fill of this sexy little body. Now be a good girl and let sensei fuck you real good, yeah?"

''B-But we are in the-mph-!''

Without waiting for a response, he crashed his lips against yours in a deep kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim every inch of you. His hands roamed your curves greedily, groping and squeezing your soft tits, your ass, anywhere he could reach as he rutted against you like an animal in heat.

His intense blue gaze raked over your trembling form as he advanced on you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Nowhere to run now, princess," he purred darkly, backing you up against the wall until she was trapped between the cold surface and his hard, muscular body. "Sensei is going to take real good care of you in here.''

His large, calloused hands slid up your bare thighs, pushing up the short skirt of the lingerie. They dipped beneath the lacy fabric to grope the soft, plush flesh of your ass, squeezing and kneading the supple cheeks.

"Fuck, this ass is perfect," he groaned, giving it a sharp smack. "Gonna leave handprints all over this sexy bubble butt."

One hand moved around to slip between your legs, thick fingers pushing your panties aside to rub at your dripping slit. He could feel how wet she already was, how your pussy clenched and fluttered around his invading touch.

''A-ah~ S-sensei, please s-stop-nh~ Someone might see us~'' Gojo just chuckled darkly at your nervous protest, fingers still pumping steadily in and out of your soaked, gripping cunt. He leaned in close, breath hot against your ear as he growled,

"Who gives a fuck what anyone sees?."

To emphasize his point, he grabbed your plush thigh and lifted it to wrap around his hip, opening you up even more to his hungry touch. His other hand slid under your top to roughly grope and squeeze your tits, tweaking your hardened nipples between his fingers.

He captured your lips in another kiss, swallowing down your cute, needy whimpers and cries. Breaking away, he demanded loudly enough to be heard through the thin walls,

"Just take what sensei gonna give you, little girl. Gonna ruin this tight cunt so good~."

He grinned wickedly and undid his belt and shoved his pants down just enough to pull out his massive, throbbing cock. The thick head flared against your small entrance as he notched himself in position, the fat crown already drooling pre-cum onto your folds. Without wasting time, he shoves his cock to the hilt. You wrap your arms around the neck.

''Ah~hah~''

Gojo held you close as he rocked into you again and again, his strong arms gently cradling your soft curves. He bowed his head to nuzzle into your delicate neck, lips brushing against your racing pulse as he panted hotly in your ear.

"What a good girl you are" he praised, voice a low, approving rumble. "You're being such a good little girl for your daddy, taking this big cock so well. Fuck, your hungry little cunt feels incredible squeezing me like this."

He rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, the thick length of him stretching and filling you in a way that had you seeing stars. One hand slid down to rub slow circles over your sensitive clit, making your petite body clench and shudder.

"That's it, baby, fucking moan for me. Wanna hear those sexy noises while I breed this prime little pussy. Gonna pump you so full of cum, watch this flat tummy swell up with my baby."

Gojo pulled back a bit to admire your small body as it bounced gently with each forceful thrust. His intense blue gaze raked over your big tits, the way the lingerie had ridden up to put them on lewd display. He licked his lips hungrily.

"Look at these tits, baby, fuck. Perfect handfuls. Like a stress ball." He leaned down to capture one rosy peak between his teeth, suckling greedily as he continued his relentless pistoning into your clutching heat. The wet sounds of their coupling filled the small space, punctuated by Gojo's grunts and groans of pleasure.

Gojo grunted and shuddered as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, painting your clenching walls white with his thick, hot seed. He held you close, arms tightening around your small, quivering from

Your legs still around his waist and your arms around his neck. His cock is still throbbing inside you. After a few minutes, you ask nervously

''D-do you really think I'm beautiful, sensei…?''

Gojo leaned back to cup your face in his large hands. His intense blue gaze roamed over your flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and glazed with satisfaction. A slow, wicked grin spread across his handsome face as he murmured,

"Beautiful? Baby girl, you're a goddamn vision. The most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on."

Nudging your nose with his own, Gojo captured your puffy lips in a deep, sensual kiss, pouring all his lust and desire into the intimate embrace.

''I love you more than anything, my dear. You are my everything.'' After breaking the kiss, he whispers breathlessly.

You were drowned with emotions… your lips were shaking. ''*hic* I-I love you too, 'Toru-sensei… You are so-''

Your eyes widened when you heard footsteps approaching. Unlike you, he grinned and giggled, shaking his head when he heard those voices. ''I guess we need to get dressed now, don't we, baby girl~?

[bloomzone]

50 things that make life beautiful

1. Watching the sunrise after a long night.

2. The smell of freshly baked bread.

3. Finding a song that feels like it was written for you.

4. Hugs from someone you love.

5. Laughing so hard your cheeks hurt.

6. The sound of rain hitting your window.

7. Warm socks on a cold day.

8. The first sip of coffee or tea in the morning.

9. A compliment from a stranger.

10. Seeing your favorite flower bloom.

11. Listening to waves crash on the shore.

12. Receiving a thoughtful text.

13. Achieving a goal you worked hard for.

14. The feeling of clean sheets on your bed.

15. A long walk on a sunny day.

16. Holding hands with someone special.

17. Taking a picture of a moment you want to remember forever.

18. The smell of a new book.

19. Rewatching your favorite childhood movie.

20. A deep, meaningful conversation.

21. Waking up and realizing it’s the weekend.

22. Learning something new about yourself.

23. The feeling after completing a workout.

24. Looking at old photos and smiling at the memories.

25. The soft glow of candles in a dark room.

26. Watching the stars on a clear night.

27. Trying a new hobby and loving it.

28. Hearing your favorite artist perform live.

29. Cooking a meal and having it turn out perfectly.

30. Watching children laugh and play.

31. Making someone else smile.

32. The scent of your favorite perfume or cologne.

33. A random act of kindness from a stranger.

34. Dancing like no one’s watching.

35. The quiet moments in the early morning.

36. Seeing your reflection and feeling proud of yourself.

37. A handwritten letter or note.

38. The feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket.

39. Seeing the first snow of the season.

40. Discovering a hidden gem in your city.

41. Finishing a book you couldn’t put down.

42. Running into an old friend unexpectedly.

43. Helping someone and feeling appreciated.

44. A beautiful sunset that takes your breath away.

45. The excitement of planning your next adventure.

46. Seeing the trees change color in the fall.

47. Finding a piece of clothing that makes you feel confident.

48. Celebrating your small wins.

49. Hearing the words “I’m proud of you.”

50. Knowing that every day is a chance to start fresh.

@bloomzone ✒️

[mimiii-3]

Yooooo I thought of this Idea and can’t stop thinking bout it.

What if darling found out that Batsib kept sabotaging them and for revenge she fed Batfam new yandere obsession of Batsib and now that batsib moved on they hate the new attention. They were finally happy and now ripped away from there happy life and smothered by their family who never acknowledged them before. And even better the attempts batsib tries to escape now darling exposes and darling revels in the betrayal and fear on batsib eyes.

I like this idea!

…

Saboteur: Pity Party

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, kidnapping, mentions of death (not literal)

…

What if batsib gets a taste of their own medicine…

🦇 - you had left about a year ago

🦇 - you were tired of being second fiddle to Darling. Second to them in absolutely everything

🦇 - you weren’t as sweet or funny or talented as their precious Darling

🦇 - so you left

🦇 - you packed a few bags and headed to Bludhaven. It was better living than Gotham but much more affordable than other nearby cities

🦇 - you’re life is simple but at least you live it on your own terms

🦇 - you drive your own car, pay your own bills, and put food on your own table

🦇 - the freedom was beautiful. So of course it didn’t last long

…

It feels like your brain is melting. The eggshell white walls spin as you try and lift yourself off of the mysterious plush surface.

Your head pulses and you writhe in pain. Where are you?

The fluorescent lights blur your vision and you roll onto your stomach. You look down and see that you’re laying on a cushioned floor.

As you wriggle against the padded floor, the red light of the camera in the corner of the ceiling blinks ominously.

You itch at the sleeve of your baggy shirt. Wait…these aren’t your clothes.

You’re wearing a crème-colored pajama set that hangs loosely on your figure. A nervous shudder runs through you at the thought of someone changing your clothes.

You gather enough strength to sit up and survey the room. It’s bleak. There’s not a bit of personality or anything that could reveal the nature of your situation.

You attempt to crawl over to the white door but stop at the clinking sound behind you. There’s a chain secured to your ankle. The chain link disappears into the ground and you wonder just how far it goes.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the doorknob being turned. You back yourself against the wall farthest from the door and prepare yourself.

Nothing could have readied you for the person that would walk through the door.

Bruce, your father, steps into the room. He looks at you with a strange gaze. Almost like he’s looking at you with fatherly love for the first time. Like his parental instincts have kicked in (far too late).

There’s Dick, smiling like a lunatic as he balances a tray of milk and cookies. Tim and Damian stand behind him. It’s the most timid you’ve ever seen them.

Then there’s the last person in the world you’d expect. Darling stands behind the group with their hands folded. The look they shoot you is nothing but nefarious.

Your blood runs cold. This can’t be happening.

Bruce crouches down and stretches his hand to you, “We’re so relieved to have you back home.”

Bruce holds your shaking hand and presses a loving kiss against your knuckles.

It’s a kiss of death. Death to your freedom, the life you made yourself, and your humanity.

The family closes in on you as you mourn the freedom you once knew.

…

Extra Notes: kidnapping batsib was inevitable for the saboteur universe

@jjsmeowthie @shawty-a-lil-baddie @butratherbutrather @shirp-collector-of-fixations @stove-top96 @yaoizee @bellethesleepypotato @salfishers @eli-mayhaveatencats @wisefuncherryblossom @c4xcocoa

[mutifandomkid]

Happy Anniversary

Paring: Buckyxreader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, self comparison, implied car accident??

Word count: 1.7k

****************

Bucky and I had been in a relationship for three years now. Tomorrow was our anniversary. I had already picked out some black lingerie, and made reservations at one of Bucky’s favorite restaurants.

It was a small hole in the wall, Italian. The inside of the venue was beautiful, black and white marble walls. Ivy vines trailing up and down the walls, and the black open fences out on the balcony. It was fancy for a small hole in the wall, but the food was amazing, and each time we ate there, we always left with full bellies with smiles on our faces.

“Alright I have one table set for two, scheduled for tomorrow night at 7 pm, underneath the name of Mr. Barnes?” The woman asked.

“Yes, that’s correct, thank you.” I said, to which she smiled at me, and said I was go to go.

I headed from the restaurant to hailed a taxi, climbing in a heading to Stark’s tower. In which he already knew of my arrival, letting me up. He had me try on two different dresses. His designer looking them over and making small adjustments before having me model them again.

“Looks good, you and iceman will look great tonight, firecracker.” Tony smiled, admiring the dress on my body. “Perfect for the party tonight.”

The dress itself was a white dress, that faded into an ombré on yellow, orange and red at the bottom, the flow of the dress and mover of colors appearing as if it was flames.

Stark grabbed my hand and spun me around, the designer admiring it from afar. Tony gave another look of approval before sending me on my way to try on the other dress.

It was a simply black halter top. Tony had his designer design the dresses, one for the party he was throwing tonight in honor of defeating Loki a few weeks ago. And the other he threw in courteously once he found out about my anniversary with Bucky. His designer even went as far as designing two matching suits for Bucky, who would try them on once he returned from his mission later today.

“If Barnes didn’t have such a possessive streak on you, I’d snatch you up.” Tony smirked as he saw me in the floor length black halter top. His designer smiled in approval as she slid the previous dress and shoes into a dress bag.

“Careful Tony, talk like that will get you killed.” I laughed, doing a little spin.

“Good thing iceman isn’t here then.” Tony responded, nodding as I spun. He took in each angle. “Barnes better appreciate you the way you deserve, princess.”

“He does,” I smiled. He had for the past three years, why would now be any different. “You know he has.”

Tony nodded, smiling, but his body language didn’t match his happy expression. “Right, well firecracker, you have to get ready for the party tonight. Barnes tell you he’d meet you here?”

“No, he didn’t.” I said, walking back to the dressing room to dress in normal clothes. “M’sure just slipped his mind.”

“I’ll send a driver for you tonight at 8?” Tony offered.

“You don’t have to, but you know I can’t say no.” I chuckled, stepping back out in my jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. Handing his designer the black dress.

“How much do I owe you?” I asked, reaching for my wallet.

“Don’t worry about it princess, you’re a part of this team. I’ll cover it.” Tony waved me off. “Off you go, get ready for tonight.”

I smiled and thanked him before heading back out of his building and back to my apartment, hailing a taxi to get back to Brooklyn.

_____________

“Hey Bucky, can’t wait to see you tonight!”

I sent the text over two hours ago. Was he okay? Did something go wrong on the mission? Did Sam know where he was?

The thoughts swirled in my head in a frenzied panic. I took a deep breath, counting to ten before exhausting, and then forced myself to calm down. He was probably fine, maybe just taking a nap.

I shot Sam a quick text, after all, they went on the mission together. If I couldn’t reach Bucky, then maybe Sam could.

“You guys make it back okay?”

It was a good few minutes before I got a reply. So while I waited, I busied myself with my make up for the night. Black eyeliner, orange eyeshadow with a touch of gold glitter, and dark ember lip.

“Yeah, we got back a few hours ago. Why?”

I read the text, frowning slightly. Normally Bucky was so quick to respond or call when he got back.

“Is Bucky okay?”

I went back to doing my makeup, finishing the look with the highlighter, and it accentuated the contour.

“Yeah, he’s in a great mood.”

I again frowned at Sam’s response, typing out a quick ‘okay’ and then putting my phone down. Why hadn’t he called? Brushing it off my shoulders and figuring he had his reasons, I moved onto my hair.

I did a light curl, then did it half up and half down, with a few strands framing my face. I then slipped on the dress, the white ombré one. I checked the time, Tony’s driver would be here any minute now.

I slipped on the matching white ombré shoes, and grabbed a small, white purse wallet, quickly shoving the few belongings I’d need while at the party. Before putting my phone in, I checked Bucky’s message log.

Seen.

________

As soon as I walked back into the tower, it was extravagant. Tony never faltered when it came to parties. Strobe lights, a live band, Dj stepping in when the band needed a break. People crowding the floor, the music blaring loudly. Drinks clattering, laughter and conversation filling the empty space.

Sam beckoned me over to him. He stood next to Natasha, both of which wearing black, although while Sam wore a classy suit, Natasha stood in a floor length slit black glitter dress, long gloves to match, as hell as glitter heels.

“Hey girl, where’ve you been?” Natasha smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Don’t tell me Bucky’s been keeping you all to himself. Always so selfish when it comes to you.”

I laughed at Natsha’s comment and hugged Sam when Natasha let me go. “Actually I haven’t seen him.” I smiled.

“Still?” Sam asked, handing me a cocktail he grabbed from a passing server’s plate. “Really thought he would’ve messaged you by now.”

I frowned. “Something happen on the mission?”

“No, not that I know of.” Sam answered.

“Odd, that’s not like Barnes.” Natasha mused. “No matter for now, we’re here to have fun. So let’s have some fun!”

Natasha smiled deviously before grabbing the cocktail from my hand and handing it to Sam. She then pulled me out to the dance floor, in which we both laughed and danced for a bit. For a minute it was just like old times.

And it was then I saw him.

There he was, in the suit that had matched mine. White with the same red, orange and yellow ombré, the colors clashing with his eyes. Courtesy of Tony.

I stopped dancing. Natasha noticed, and stopped and followed my gaze. It was then she saw it too, then grabbed my hand and physically dragged me off the dance floor.

There Bucky was, speaking softly to Sharon. He had her caged against the wall, her hands pressed against his chest, a flirtatious smile on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked when Natasha dragged my back to Sam by the bar.

“Apparently nothing is wrong with Bucky.” Natasha snapped, gesturing over to him.

Meanwhile I stood, taking my cocktail from Sam and taking small sips. Forcing the tears to stay at bay. I felt like my head was under water, and I was swimming in a pool that had no walls to grab onto.

I barely registered when Sam looked over, Bucky’s lips were locked with Sharon’s. Sam scowled, his expression a firm grimace.

“Let’s get you some air babe.” Sam said, walking with me towards the balcony outside. It was quieter there, less commotion, and not nearly as many people.

Natasha busied herself with shoving everyone else inside, then closing the balcony door and standing inside to prevent anyone from interrupting.

I was quiet, sipping my cocktail and willing the tears to stay, not allowing myself to cry.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Sam said softly.

“Doesn’t make it hurt any less.” I whispered.

“I know.” Sam was quiet for a long moment. “But he doesn’t, not with how well you treated him.”

“You’re not helping.” I whispered, shying away.

Sam sighed. “I’m sorry.” He said, his voice soft.

I knew he was trying to be comforting, to help. But the only thing I could feel, see, was Bucky. Arms around her, kissing her, treating her like how he treated me. At least how he used to treat me.

I glanced back inside. He was still with her. Sharon, god she was beautiful. Blonde hair, skinny, perfectly sculpted eyebrows, thin nose, brown comforting eyes. I looked away, feeling sick- no, disgusted with myself.

What did she have that I didn’t?

“I think I’m just going to go home Sam.” I whispered softly.

He sighed softly, before pulling me into a tight hug. It was suffocating.

“Call me if you need anything.” Sam whispered, pressing a light kiss to the top of my forehead before letting me go.

I nodded, then went back inside, Natasha giving me a pitiful look as I walked out of the party. I made my way down to the garage, the damn finally breaking when I remembered I didn’t drive here.

I took off my heels and began walking outside of the tower, the tears now falling down my face. It was late out on the streets of New York, and here I was in a gorgeous dress, crying, arms wrapped tightly around myself the day before my anniversary.

I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything. I felt like I was underwater, drowning in my own sorrows and pity.

What was so special about her? What did she have that I didn’t? Had he slept with her? Was she better in bed? Did he think about her when he was with me? How long had this been going on?

I didn’t see the car barreling towards me when I went to cross the road.

***********

I apologize in advance.

[thesongoficeandfir3]

The wine, the nameday and the drunk wife

A gift for @venusbyline / @venusthedreamer

Who’s birthday was yesterday!!! Sweet birthday babyyyy ❤️❤️❤️ I’m not an Aemond girlie but I had to for you!

P.s Anyone can read, no description for y/n is used just reader is fem

Warnings: sex alluded, drunk reader

Prompt: Reader indulges a bit too much alcohol on her nameday and needs her always level headed husband to take care of her

You let out a high pitched laugh as you were being spun around to the rhythm of the music, constantly switching partners getting a chance to dance with every lord and lady who decided to partake. As the music sped up so did the dancing you thought you’d throw up at this point, but you didn’t care because you felt like you were having the time of your life.

Aemond sat by himself at the high table, his mother and sister retiring to bed ages ago. He peered down at the dance floor, a very faint ghost like smile on his face as he looked at how happy you were. Aemond hated celebrations, the mixture of hate coming from how his brother always forced him to go , they were too loud and he hated alcohol since it rid him of his senses. All in all if it were anyone else’s nameday even his own family he’d be in his chamber head in a book trying to expand his already impressive intellect. Since it was your nameday however, his precious, beautiful wife he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Once the song ended your face felt flushed and hot, your head pounding and your feet throbbing yet the strong effects of arbor red made it feel like nothing. You made your way over or rather walked like a fawn learning how to walk for the first time to Aemond. Tripping over your own feet and the dress Helaena designed and gifted, a long beautiful gown of your favorite color with your favorite animals (her own stitch work ) embroidered to the skirt of the dress, didn’t make walking any easier.

You finally made it over to your husband but then the dress finally caught up to you and you were about to head face first to the floor, but Aemond was swift and alert. He quickly got to his feet his strong arms reaching out firmly yet gently gripping your biceps stopping you from falling. He then guided you to sit his hands still holding onto you only letting go when he was sure you were stable.

Despite coming seconds to rearranging your face your reaction to it all was to laugh loudly.

“My those Tyrells know how to party don’t they?” You giggled out, hand on your cheek feeling how hot you were getting.

Aemond took the pitcher of water from the table and a cloth, pouring the contents onto it and ringing out the excess water. He then placed it on your head which caused you to flinch from the sudden frigidness but relaxed once it felt cooling.

“Mayhaps we shall retire to our chambers mhm?” His deep voice smooth and gentle, not trying to sound like he was forcing you but rather recommending it.

“Nooo” you whined out “look around tis barely the hour of the wolf!” You say as you dramatically throw your hands in the air.

When Aemond looked around he was met with nobles either starting to spill out, asleep or laughing their heads off completely out of it. Hells even Aegon was slouched over a table dead asleep, his cup of wine spilled all over the table which said a lot.

Aemond was not a controlling partner to you, he was more so afraid you’d get more drunk and he would turn his back for just a second and something would happen to you. The lengths he would go and the lines he would cross if anything happened to you. So he had to be a little more insistent that he normally was, placing his hands under your armpits he began to hoist you up, not too surprised he was met with a little resistance but was still able to get you on your feet. He wrapped an arm around your waist to act as a pillar and walked you two out the throne room.

“My feet hurt” you whine.

“No one told you to dance with no breaks in between” he lightly scolded.

You just whine in response and make it as though your bones were made of liquid, so he was practically dragging you at this point.

Aemond sighed your bed chambers was still a good walk from here, he had half the mind to keep dragging you since you wanted to act childish but the other half didn’t. He decided to pick you up, carrying you bridal style and you immediately snuggled into his warmth not knowing how badly you wanted to sleep till now.

When you enter your chamber it was a difficult path to the bed due to the stacks and stacks of coffers containing the many gifts he got you. He made a mental note to have the maids move them somewhere else the morrow. Once at the bed he gently lays you onto it and gets to work to reduce you to your small clothes so you may sleep comfortably. Once the dress slid off and pooled to the ground he heard a giggle.

“You little wench, you already gave me that gift soon as I woke up,” Aemond frowns and lightly pinched your hip his way of telling you behave but you just giggled and began to straddle him in a heartbeat. “ but I’m not

complaining.”

His eye widen and face pink as you got to work to unbutton his doublet rolling your hips against him simultaneously which immediately caused a certain reaction. Even though you two were married he still did not want to take advantage of you in this state, but when he was about to take you off. You got up and dashed to the balcony immediately throwing up all what you had throughout the night over the rails.

You felt the gentle touch of Aemond on the small of your back and him pulling back your hair so you wouldn’t throw up on it.

“I’m so disgusting.” You groaned out.

“A little.” He quipped wiping your mouth then giving you some water to rinse and drink.

“To bed?” You groggily said out alas ready to end the night.

“To bed.” he smiles as he helps you back, already knowing how he’d have a field day tomorrow reminding you of what you did.

[synthetickitsune]

Jeonghan (SVT) | Photograph angst | 0.6k | gn!reader A/N: loosely inspired by my beloved, my everything, my precious, my treasured, my adored, my cherished invitation-verse by @jeonghunny (aka bibi's magnum opus imho) <3 and 'i had a dream about you' by richard silken

You’re smiling.

The sun is setting behind you, the sky is a mixture of pastel pinks and peach oranges, the ocean waves sparkle and mirror the soft colors above them, yet it all fades in comparison to your smile. Your eyes are almost closed. He caught you off guard - he’s there too, his lips pressed against your cheek. It was warm, he remembers, so warm and soft. Jeonghan’s hand raises to his face, fingers brush against his lips carefully, gently, as if they were butterfly wings and the kiss lingered as their dust.

The sand is golden and he can feel it warming the soles of his bare feet. The honey color also fades against the photo in his hand. As if it should crumble, he holds it like a precious treasure. He feels his throat closing painfully. It’s getting hard to breathe.

“What are you standing there for, come on! The water’s warm!” your siren’s call almost makes him move. But he can’t. He keeps staring at the picture. He’s smiling there too. His cheeks hurt. You’re both so young and nothing happened yet. His hand rests on your waist there, pulling you closer. Nobody’s around to see it except the clouds and the birds and the last rays of the sun. Jeonghan doesn’t care - the world needs to know you’re his. 

His jaw clenches. His throat hurts, his own body is choking him. His eyes burn. It’s the sun. Just the sun and the thousand little sparks dancing on the waves. You’re so beautiful. Breathtaking, perfect, his. He never wants this moment to end. He just wants to stay here, with the ocean and your laughter in his ears, gentle breeze on his skin, clothes fluttering in the wind, the sun staining everything it touches with the golden filter of nostalgia.

His free hand curls into a fist. Your hand fits perfectly into his, the feeling of your fingers slipping between his makes shiver run down his spine and it doesn’t matter how many times you do it. He hates how empty it feels without you to hold onto. 

And despite the sun, the summer, the heated sand, he’s empty and cold, and his hands tremble and he’s scared he’ll drop the photo and the wind will carry it away. Yet he wishes for it to happen. He can’t stand it. He can’t stand looking at you, you and him, his hand on your waist and his lips on your cheek. Your smile, your eyes - his smile, his foolish, carefree attitude. If the wind picked up the photo, would everything be different? Would the ending change? You’d say that the wind will one day blow it at his door should that happen, and he’d hate it. He does hate it.

“Thank you for taking us here,” your voice in his ear, barely above whisper. Your hands around his waist. Your chin on his shoulder. “I love you.”

Jeonghan jerks so violently that he feels the cold floor under his feet again. The photo in his hand is faded. The room is bright, the walls are white and bare. The boxes are packed and he only needs to carry them to his car. Everything gives off a cold and abandoned feeling that gnaws on his bones. 

It’s no longer summer, you’re not as young as you used to be, and everything happened. He’s only crying because it hurts to breathe. He only protects the photo from his tears because wet paper is harder to burn. He still holds it tenderly. As if it had the power to change things or turn back time.

[sweatyracoon]

Savior with Fins

Notes: credit for the beautiful dividers by @cafekitsune <3

I know this isn't my best but I just really loved the idea

Warnings: language, mentions of drowning, passing out, sharks, angst

You often went fishing on your own. It was one of your favorite pass times, seeing as you grew up on an island.

It was a small but loving community, and you found solace in it's silence.

You never killed something on purpose, always throwing your catches back into the water.

There was a group of guys swarming around the rent a boat business you came to once a week, and you found yourself scoffing when you were placed on a larger rent a boat with the group.

"Sorry, y/n. Your boat is in the shop. A hole was found in the bottom. But this way, it's a lot cheaper for you,"

John said, awkwardly scratching at his nape.

You rolled your eyes, getting on the boat. The guys mostly kept their distance, too busy playing around with their rods, getting the hook stuck in one of their hoods.

They were immature, and extremely loud and lewd.

Ad the boat drifted into deeper territory, they all started shoving one another, making the vessel shake. Your balance faltered, and you nearly dropped your rod into the water.

"Hey! Do you mind? You scared off my catch, you pricks," you yelled at them, pacing towards the blonde haired boy.

"What are you gonna do about it, princess? If you didn't want to have fun, you should have gotten on a different boat,"

You scoffed.

"Fishing is me having fun, asshole. Your the ones preventing me from doing so," you turned, about to stride towards your side of the vessel when suddenly you felt your shoulders caged.

"If you wanna catch fish so bad, go fetch," you heard the voice say behind you.

Suddenly, the strong grip led you towards the edge, a strong shove sending you overboard.

You yelled as you felt the cold water nip at your skin, the tide engulfing you as you thrashed.

Your head bobbed above water, and you heard the sickening laughs of the teens above you.

The boat drifted off, leaving you stranded in the depths of the sea.

It was miles from the island, you wouldn't make it if you attempted swimming.

Still, despicable knowing that, your survival instincts made you swim, struggle with the push of the waves.

You pushed yourself for what felt like hours, your vision blurring as you inhaled salt water, the burn keeping you alert. Your limbs felt as if they were on fire despite the freezing water surrounding you.

You felt your eyes closing against your will, your body stilling as you floated, exhausted. Black was all you saw as you felt your brain turning to mush, a large crash of the sea slamming itself onto your body, pushing you below the surface.

You woke up, startled, coughing aggressively. You felt the water swishing in your lungs. You lunged forward, feeling it creep up your esophagus, spitting it out. The salt made it burn.

After you were done hacking up bits of the sea, your eyes adjusted to your unfamiliar surroundings.

It was almost like a nook, the ones you would see in the movies behind a waterfall. The rocks were moist and glistening, and a soft sound of water hitting water filled your ears. There was also a pit filled with water a few feet from you.

Your clothes were damp, and your back ached from laying on stone. You weren't sure for how long.

Wait. How did you end up here?

You looked around again, noticing no other life than you and a few bugs.

Splash!

You whipped your head back to the body of water, noticing a large fin smacking back down, the stray water hitting your exposed legs.

You got up to sit on your knees, glancing into the water.

What you saw frightened you.

Despite the large tail you just saw, when you peered at the figure, you saw a human-like form.

It was blurry from the waves, but you saw a pale skinned boy with light blonde hair, his figure shaking with the tide. His pale body seemed to end near his waist, the color darkening immediately to a dark gray.

But that wasn't what scared you.

It was his eyes. They glowed yellow underneath the water.

You jolted back when he appeared to be rising to the surface, your breath quickening.

You scuffed your knee against the jagged rocks that made up the ground you sat on. You winced, eyes drifting immediately to your fresh wound.

Your mind was still fuzzy from the pressure of the water and new found pain on your leg that you didn't notice the creature coming out of the water.

"Hey! Careful, you could really do some damage," you heard the voice say.

His voice was deep. And had a thick accent to it, compared to the people in town.

You were so surprised. Surely, his top half looked human, but you didn't expect him to be able to communicate.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked again.

When you finally looked at him, you saw he was plopped at the edge of the rock where it met the water.

There was no shallow parts there, just a straight dive into the deep.

"What?" You were still confused about the whole situation, suddenly wondering if you were dreaming.

"Are you alright? Do you know your name?" His gaze turned into concern, looking around for what? You didn't know.

"I'm fine, I think...I'm y/n," you stutter, suddenly feeling cold.

"Ah. A pretty name. I'm Felix. You look hungry," he observed, bringing his finger out to poke your knee.

You flinched, pulling back.

"Sorry...I've just never seen a person so up close," he muttered, pushing his body back into the water, his head still above the surface.

"You eat fish?" He asked.

"Yes, I do,"

Without another word, he left.

You were stuck in this dome like cave with very little lighting, since the sun was going down. You took it upon yourself to look around, and was surprised to find some dead plants.

You brought it all to one corner, grabbing some jagged rocks. You scraped them together aggressively, and eventually, you had a small fire.

You hoped it would last.

When he came back, there was a torn net holding at least twelve fish, and you chuckled as he hurled himself up the ledge, sighing dramatically.

"Wasn't sure how much people eat so I got extra!" He grinned.

You noticed his sharp, jagged teeth, but for some reason, it didn't bother you as much as it should have.

"What are you?"

It came out before you could stop yourself. It was weighing on your mind for a while, giving you time to ponder while he was gone.

His smile faltered before he hid it quickly.

"I'm a shark," he said simply with a grin, opening the net of fish.

He grabbed a stick next to him before spearing the aquatic animal onto it.

"Are you sure? Sharks don't really...talk?" You took the stick from him, holding it over your small fire.

"I don't know? Me and my friends are all like this. I mean- they aren't sharks, but we can all talk? My dad called us hybrids,"

"Hybrids? So your half human?"

"I think? I mean I kinda look like you, but then the other half doesn't-"

He proceeded to keep handing you fish to cook, and you continued to while speaking with him.

"So your friends? You said they aren't sharks?"

His eyes sparkled at the mentions of his friends, his posture straightening.

"Nope! We're all different. I mean, one is a dolphin, the other is a squid, another a sea horse. We all couldn't be more different."

You nodded.

"So they aren't scared of you? Your a predator hybrid," you say, curious.

His eyes widened.

"Oh god, no! I have never hurt them or anyone. Honestly we're fearful of Minho, but I'm a playful way. He's the dolphin,"

You smile.

"I hear dolphins are the most dangerous animal out there,"

You both laughed.

"You might be right,"

It became silent suddenly, but it was a comfortable silence. The fish we're all cooked, so now you both ate.

"Do you remember how you got here?" Felix asked after cleaning the mess up.

You stilled, forgetting completely that you don't belong here. But he made you so comfortable, it feels like you had known him for years.

"Uhh, I fell off a boat? I was fishing I think." Your brain once again turned into mush.

"Two boys pushed you off the boat, y/n. I was lucky I got to you in time. The currents were harsh."

His eyes filled with sadness, his arm reaching up to rest on your calf.

You looked back at him, gauging his words. You remember yelling at the boys, but not being pushed off.

"I forgot," was all you could say.

"Listen, maybe you need some rest. It was a stressful day, after all. I can take you back to the island in the morning?" He tilted his head, his sharp teeth flicking through his lips.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. What about you?"

"I don't sleep much. I can keep the fire going, and go to find something for you to use on the water. If I don't, you'd probably get hypothermia," he grinned, his fin flicking against the water.

You smiled.

"The fire won't hurt you, will it?"

"No. As long as I get back to the water afterwards," he shrugged, scooting over to tend to the fire. "See?"

"Thank you Felix," you laughed, suddenly feeling insanely tired.

The last thing you saw was a heartwarming smile from him before it went dark.

You woke up to the sound of splashing, and fought the sun to open your eyes.

"Y/n? You ready to go?"

Your eyes Open to a cute, wet Felix. Behind him was a floating piece of wood, one that would be able to carry your weight.

"Yeah,"

He led you onto the platform, gently caressing your waist.

"Comfortable?" He asked, his hands hooked onto the sides.

"Yes, Felix I'm okay," you pat his head, watching his face contort into many emotions.

Confusion, denial, acceptance, enjoyment, happinesses.

He liked it.

"Alright, I'll be under the water this entire time, pulling from a rope okay?"

He almost looked like he didn't want to leave you out of his sight. It was endearing.

Wat you didn't know, however, was that he watched you sleep for hours. Not in a creepy way, but he knew it was cold, and didn't want you getting sick or anything. He admired you and your form. He would kill to have legs, and everything else that you do. Life underwater was harsh, even for him. It didn't matter if he was a shark hybrid or not. His caring and empathetic nature wouldn't let him be the predator he should be.

After making sure you were settled, he led you back home.

It took around thirty five minutes before you saw the big piece of floating land, but when you did, you felt your speed slowing down.

"Felix?" You asked, since he didn't come out of the water yet.

The water here compared to the cave was a lot darker. Why? You didn't know. But you were worried the rope cut loose and he didn't know.

It wasn't until you heard water from behind you that you started to worry.

"Felix. What's wrong? Did the rope snap?" You asked, bring your hand up to his wet hair.

He almost looked as if he were going to cry.

"Are you gonna forget about me, y/n?" He choked.

Your heart nearly broke.

"Of course not, Felix. Why would you think that?" You continued petting his head, watching his eyes roll back.

"You'll never see me again,"

"Woah woah woah. Says who? I can still see you, can't I?" You stop him, cursing yourself.

You hadn't even thought that far ahead.

"How would you? We are two different worlds, y/n,"

His eyes were large and shiny with emotion, making you swoon.

"I fish once a week. When I'm on the boat, you come find me, yeah?"

His eyes lit up suddenly, his demeanor changing.

"Really? You'd let me see you?"

"Of course, Felix. You saved my life!" You both laughed.

His light chuckle filled the air, despite being in the middle of the ocean.

"Alright, let's get you home,"

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part two

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

It only took minutes to get you into the operating room, Rafe had made sure of that – doctors on stand by as you were rolled quickly inside. He continued compressions as his colleagues worked around you, attaching a ventilator quickly to your lungs and cords and wires to your chest as your beautiful satin pale blue dress was cut away from your body and its arch nemesis cerulean blue surgical garb was draped over the different sections of your body that you were bleeding from. Rafe darted from the scene, rushing into the scrub room. He washed his hands quickly, but dutifully in his pursuit to get back to you. Jenni, his favorite nurse, helped him into his surgical clothes quickly, sliding his arms through the long blue sleeves and tying the back of it. It was funny, really, the way it resembled the structure of a hospital gown; one in the same with his patients in that way. As he made his way beside you, his gloved hand found its home against your hair and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“You hold on for me, sweetheart, okay? I’m going to make it all better. I just need you to fight a little bit.” 

He said softly as he stood back upright and watched Jenni work the portable x-ray machine across you in search of any cracks amidst the shell of your body. 

“What are we looking at Cameron?” 

Dr. Richardson, Rafe’s long time friend and colleague asked as he looked over Jenni’s shoulders at the x-rays on the computer. 

“Extensive bone damage to the left side, specifically the femur, pelvis, and kneecap. She’ll need more than one surgery. I need to stabilize her leg for now. There’s possible soft tissue damage, she’ll need an MRI later to be sure.” 

He replied and Richardson nodded in his direction, understanding that Rafe meant you’d need more treatment if and when they could get you safely out of the woods. 

—

Some time later, Rafe stood over your body – cold, sterile, medical instruments in his hands as he dutifully worked to put your broken bones back together. He had watched on for hours as his colleagues repaired the internal bleeding in your abdomen and your brain. His body still remained canopied in seafoam colored scrubs underneath the blue surgical garb that he was required to wear in the operating room and his feet adorned in the best tennis shoes money could buy. He had a routine for surgery and over the last two years it had become a sort of safe haven for him – it was the only place that he didn’t think about her. The routine – simple in principle – his feet viciously traveling the white floors speckled with dots of gray as he rushed patient after patient in, the dressings, the blood, the practice of the procedures he performed – it all grounded him, down to the very essence of washing the remnants from his body when the performance was over. Wash, rinse, repeat, wash, rinse, repeat – he melodically spoke over himself after every discontinuation of the processes, whether the outcome was good or bad. He whispered reassurances to every person – the same ones he had whispered to you – though he never knew which way it would go. They went into the operating room, never knowing if they’d come out. The routine of it all had saved him, but all of that was washed away, like water under the bridge, as your blood trickled off of his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered if the outcome would be the same, if after all his efforts, would you end up just like she did. Would he be unable to save you, just like he couldn’t save her? 

“Paddles now! She’s crashing!” 

Dr. Richardson yelled, as he stood across from Rafe who was tending to the fractures you had sustained from the accident. 

“Charge to 350. Clear!” 

The shock sent electricity through your body, making your back arch off of the table, but still you continued to flatline. He did it again, your body responding in the same way – jerking off the table – yet, still, you flatlined and for Rafe it was visceral. The sound of the machine echoing that horrible constant beep, signaling that there was no life connected to it – it gutted him. 

“It may be time to call it, guys.” 

Dr. Richardson muttered in defeat to which Rafe found repulsive. 

“Absolutely not!” 

Rafe’s voice boomed across your body, as he took over. No one seemed to notice the crack in it as he did his best to keep his tears at bay. Dr. Richardson simply stepped aside, he knew your injuries were too bad, there was no way you were going to survive. But, he also knew that Rafe had to feel like he did everything he possibly could. He had to know that history didn’t repeat itself because of him this time. 

“Charge to 400! Clear!” 

Rafe was the one to send the electricity through your body this time and as he waited for your heart to start, the way that he knew it would, the seconds felt like hours and just when he was about to give up — the miniscule beat sent a series of beeps across the screen. 

“There you go, pretty girl. I knew you could do it.” 

He whispered above you, before getting back to his position and continuing his work on your bones, giving Dr. Richardson room to patch up the bleeding of your internal organs. 

-

Rafe stood outside of your hospital room, looking in on you every so often, he was pretending to do his nightly charting at the nurses station and every time he put his pen to the paper something stopped him. You were all he could think about, the way your eyes pleaded for his help in the emergency department, the way you said his name when you asked him if you were going to die, and where in the hell your family must be – didn’t they care? He finished off the chart he was doing and when he opened up the next file folder, your name appeared. Y/N Y/L/N. ‘Pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he thought. He wasn’t distracted as he listed your injuries, described the incident, and signed off on the surgery he had completed. He wasn’t distracted because this was about you. 

“How’s she doing?” 

Rafe looked up from your chart to the voice of his scrub nurse, Jennifer, who had helped operate on you. Everyone in the operating room knew that Rafe had grown attached to you, though, unsure why, he had never met you before, when he looked into your eyes, something was just different. Jenni knew if he didn’t save you he wouldn’t live with himself, he couldn’t live himself. So, she was really asking more for his sake than her own. 

“She’s doing okay, right now. Not out of the woods yet. We’ll know more when she wakes up. Did you find any family?” 

He questioned, never removing his eyes from the document held within the folder that he was writing on. 

“Mother in Georgia, but can’t come up because of ‘business obligations’. Real mom of the year type.”

Jenni said, rolling her eyes. 

“Her daughter could die and she’s worried about business obligations?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“You know the type well, Rafe.” 

He scoffed at the thought of his father doing the exact same thing if it were him who was in this situation. 

“I don’t know, Rafe. Nothing surprises me anymore. So, give me a run down.”

She replied. 

“Broken ribs, torn acl, whiplash, shattered kneecap, broken pelvis, concussion, broken femur, internal bleeding, brain bleed – you name it, she’s got it. We’ve got her in a medically induced coma to give her body some time to repair itself and if she wakes up, we’ll go back in and do more surgery. Truth be told – she’s a fighter, I don't know how she’s survived this long.” 

He said with an exasperated sigh, knowing the inevitable was coming, simply preparing himself for it. Your injuries – they were a lot to heal from and he knew that firsthand.  

“I believe she has Dr. Rafe Cameron to thank for that.” 

She gave him a soft smile and he returned it. 

“You’re a good friend, Jenni and you’re way too kind.” 

He reached out, placing his palm on her shoulder and gave her a pat on her back.

“I mean it, Rafe. They would’ve called time of death if you hadn’t spoken up. You should go in there and sit with her, it won’t hurt anything.” 

She nodded her head toward the door of your room and he shrugged. 

“It’s not really my place.” 

He spoke, but it came out barely audible, almost a whisper. She heard him and she knew what he meant. 

“Maybe not, but she has nobody coming for her and I know you feel connected to her. Don’t try to fight it to protect yourself. If she dies, it’ll hurt and it’ll be sad. But, if she doesn't, do you really want to live with the fact that you could’ve been holding her hand when she woke up? Do you really want her to wake up to no one being there? She’s not Molly, Rafe and I know you better than that.” 

Jenni left Rafe to think about what she had said while she tended to another patient. She came out of the room to find Rafe, evidently making a decision and she watched him from afar as he gingerly entered the threshold of your room, sitting down in the plastic chair next to you. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was in deep, deeper than even he was aware of. 

—

masterlist:

as always, if you'd like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please shoot me an ask or comment on this post so i can keep track <3

@maybankslover @inthelibrarybtw @luvrcndy @silkylovey @yagirlwrites @obxbabygirl @rafeecameronsbitch @klutzy-kay24 @roseczbalt @akobx @allsmilesreally7 @wtfdudesblog

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

In A Moonlit Garden

AKA A Blood Bag side story (The DC vs Vampires AU) It didn't really fit within the flow of the main story, but the night where it all became too much, weeks before the fated ball, you tried to run. You didn't get very far. ~2k words

There's a weight on your back. It's heavy. Unyielding. Pushing you down. Down. Down. Something sharp rests at the base of your throat. It threatens to puncture your skin. You can't see it– you can't see anything really, but you know you're in danger. It presses you down harder, suffocates you with terror and it's steady pressure. The sharpness at the base of your throat pricks at you harder, nearly breaking into your flesh. 

Then there's nothing. You turn, you shouldn't, but you do. You turn and there's nothing there at all. You turn again. You can't stop yourself from doing it, a prisoner in your own body, even if you know what's coming.  

And then there's pain. Blinding pain in your chest that steals all the air in your lungs. You shouldn't look down, but you do. A familiar gloved hand holds your beating heart in its grasp, thrust out of your chest. It pounds once. It pounds twice. And then it goes still. 

A gasp leaves your lips as you're startled awake. It's the same dream. The same one that's been haunting you for weeks, ever since you saw what happens to Blood Bags that don't follow orders. The shocked face of the unfortunate, doomed Blood Bag is still seared into your mind, The Vampire King's gleeful laugh still rings in your ears, but it's never his hand that snaps you awake from your haunting nightmares.

You push yourself off the bed, groggy, exhausted, still drained and weak from the last time Jason– no, Red Hood fed on you. It's almost morning. Or maybe it's just past sunset. It's hard to tell. You've been sleeping a lot, locking yourself away in your room for a false sense of safety in this forsaken crypt. 

The sun isn't visible over the horizon, but streaks of orange and pink still linger in the sky. It's beautiful, too beautiful for the horrid world it's gracing. If you had any tears left to cry over it, maybe you would. But you're tired of mourning the end of the world, tired of the sting of betrayal that comes every time The General is in your presence. 

You have nothing, no one, besides memories now, and even those are fleeting when your nightmares hang heavy over your waking and sleeping hours. You linger by the window, eyes locked on the colors and light that paint the clouds. They're all that seem familiar, sometimes. 

Your room, even with its views of the well tended gardens and ever changing skies, does nothing to help you forget that you're a prisoner. No matter how soft your sheets are, no matter how fancy the clothes they dress you in are, no matter how high above everything your balcony seats you– it is all just part of a play. Set pieces that come and go at The Vampire King's whim, and, if he sees fit, Red Hood's. 

The thought only makes you more miserable. Jason– Red Hood. Red Hood hasn't said a word to you since you were taken to the fortress. He only comes to your room to feed, and only sees you outside of it on the rare occasion he drags you to a ball or festivity at court. 

It's all just so suffocating. You miss talking to him people. You miss wearing whatever you wanted to and going wherever you felt like. You don't have that in this death-filled castle. You don't have a thing but the few measly privileges that belonging to Red Hood offers you. 

The sky starts to darken. Sunset. It means the halls will fill with laughter and music and the sharp, rotting smell of blood. It makes your chin wobble. Even your room– furthest from the ground, stowed away in a wing where no one dares to go without permission– cannot keep the sounds and smells at bay. 

You want to scream. To tear everything apart. To climb up on the railings and stones of the fortress and wail as the sky fades from clear blue to shimmering stars against black. But you can do none of this. It would only lead to some form of punishment, after all. 

Your skin starts to itch at the thought. The bites that litter your skin suddenly feel all too fresh and raw. You don't think, just turn from your window and start to run. You don't have a plan, you just need to go.

Another second in this hell, another moment faking smiles and watching sharp nails split open warm wrists, you just can't take it. You run, run until your heart is in your throat and dirt and grass push between your toes.

The garden. The only place that seems to have any solace for you. But it's not right. It's too dark and the last of the sun is disappearing behind the cold, stone wall. You can't let that happen. You need its light, need it to keep away the monsters that creep in the dark.

You know that it doesn't make sense, that your thoughts are frayed and scrambled and far too stressed to be rational, but you just need a break from it all. One more moment in the sun.

You dart for the wall. Maybe if you climb high enough you'll never lose the light. Maybe if you're fast enough, you can chase the sunbeams forever, always out of reach of the night.

And then fingers curl around your wrist, and you're pulled to a stop, mere feet away from the garden wall. The last of the twilight fades, and the moon takes its place, its once soothing light now eerie among the flowers and bushes. 

You whirl around, you don't know who– or what you want it to be. But it's Red Hood. (It's always him) He doesn't say a word– he never does anymore– he just stares at you, almost bored, from under the crimson hood that used to actually mean something. His eyes glow unnaturally as he tightens and loosens his hold on your wrist, as if he's debating what to do. 

It's silent except for the sound of your breathing. And your hopelessness– your desire to just be free– melts into anger. "Let me go," you snap, tugging your wrist from his grasp. 

He lets you go without a fight, eyes sharp and calculating as he watches you. His gaze makes you feel like a cornered animal, and maybe that's all you are now. Maybe you are nothing more than a prized Blood Bag to be pranced around like some sort of show dog.

"How could you do this to me," you snap, voice catching and venomous all at once. He doesn't ask for you to elaborate, doesn't even tilt his head to indicate for you to do so. Why would he need to? The scars and fresh puncture wounds that mark up your skin so visibly are enough of an accusation alone.

His lack of words– lack of anything– reignites your fury all over again. Your face wobbles and you step forward, thoughtless, and hit your fist against his chest, "How. Could you. Do this. To me," you ask again, nearly begging for an answer, an explanation for everything that's happened, every horror you've witnessed under The Vampire King's roof.

He doesn't say anything, doesn't even move, just lets you bang your fists against his chest again and again until you feel like they're going to bruise.

"Jason! How could you–" But then he tenses, cuts you off by catching your wrists. There's a flash of something dark behind him. You don't quite get a look at it, too distracted by the way one of his hands grabs at your waist to pull you closer.. He tugs at your clothes, exposing your shoulder to the night. Goosebumps rise over your skin at the cold air. It's all the warning you get before he bites.

Sharp fangs pierce your flesh, pain shoots down your shoulder from where he sinks his fangs. His hands dig into your waist, the back of your head, keeping you still as he drinks. You feel warmth dripping down your skin, small trails of blood pooling into the fabric of your clothes. 

He shudders, and pulls you all the more closer. You want to keep hitting him, want to shout and fight and make him regret ever choosing this for you. But you're tired. So tired again. Your eyes find the pale white light of the moon. It blurs, as Red Hood continues to drink from your life blood. But it's pretty, almost numbing.

You fixate on it, lost to its false light, in the desire to just close your eyes and drift away, you don't register the shadows that seem to close in around you, only kept at bay the threatening, glowing pair of eyes hovering over your skin.

You're The Vampire King's favorite Blood Bag. Not for the same reasons as his favoured general, of course. But because you're so, so stupid. All the answers are right there at your fingertips. Everything you could want is laid out right in front of you, but you're too blind to see it. You tried to run from it instead. Dick could tell you, of course, in honor of the vague friendship you used to share. But that would spoil it all. 

He has to bite back the giggle that wells in his throat as he watches his little brother drink from your veins. He can almost feel the disgust, the self hatred and loathing permeating from him. But you don't pick up a thing. And that is so, so funny! It's the most entertained he's ever been, watching the soap opera that is Red Hood and his Blood Bag.

Dick knows Jason would do anything for you, but watching him corrupt himself from the inside out, seeing him truly become the most capable vampire in his court, all for the cause of keeping you safe? It's sweeter than any blood The Vampire King has ever spilled. And it's all the more delicious that you just. Don't. Know.

You don't know what his general has done. You don't see the mask for what it is. But Dick does. He knows Jason is just playing his part, that he doesn't mean any of it. It's not an issue yet. But The Vampire King hates loose ends. 

Soon enough, though, he's sure his finest general will forget that it's a mask, that the role was never truly real. Red Hood will learn to love what he's become, embrace every malicious bite and deadly scratch he delivers to his foes. Dick will have to use you to do it, of course, but you should be honored to serve a part in his plans.

He watches you both for a moment more, watches the way Red Hood keeps his claws from breaking the skin of your waist (always so careful with you, his general is, even when you've been given completely to him). He listens to the weakening whimpers that escape your throat as Jason licks away the path of blood from your skin, soothes the sting of his bite with his tongue. It's so falsely romantic, and almost sickening if he wasn't partially invested in his brother's love life. 

The Vampire King turns to leave, once your consciousness seems to fail you. He wouldn't want to overindulge in his favorite little comedy, after all, and it's hardly interesting now that you've stopped fighting. 

Besides, he has rebels to execute, parties to throw, punishments to deliver to his more unworthy spawn. He allows himself one last glance, vaguely wondering if his smile is too borderline sadistic when he's supposed to be cheerful. He's pleasantly surprised to meet Jason's gaze, and The Vampire King flicks his gaze down to where you're cradled in his generals arms. 

Dick nods to him, ever impressed at the show Red Hood continues to perform so flawlessly. It's nice, he decides as he walks away and leaves Jason to his own devices, to have someone so capable of delivering exactly what he wants without the need for words.

Entertainment, unfortunately, is so hard to come by once you've taken over the world, and you and Red Hood really are the most interesting toys he has. 

[cayleeuhithinknott]

❛ INSANE ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉…your boyfriends are quite the exhibitionists.

cw: SMUT, fingering, use of pet names, exhibitionism obviously, NO INCEST SHIT. blue bow divider: @bernardsbendystraws

you step into the dimly lit victoria's secret store, hand-in-hand with chris. the scent of perfume and the soft hum of music greet you as you wander through the aisles, filled with delicate lace and satin. chris has promised you a special treat today, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement.

"i wanna spoil you, angel," he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. "let's find something that'll look beautiful for matt and i, hm?”

you blush at his words. matt and chris had a particular taste for exhibitionism, and you've come to embrace the thrill of being desired by more than one man. both of which you desire anyway.

as you browse the racks, chris's eyes light up when he spots a stunning blue lingerie set. it's a delicate baby blue, with sheer lace and satin ribbons. the bra is a demi-cup style, would barely cover your nipples, and the matching panties are a cheeky thong, leaving little to the imagination.

"oh, baby, this is perfect," he murmurs, his fingers gently caressing the fabric.

you smile, feeling a rush of desire as you imagine matt's reaction. you know he has a soft spot for you in blue, and the thought of wearing something so revealing for him sends a shiver down your spine.

chris takes the set and leads you to a fitting room, his excitement palpable. as you step inside, he locks the door, his eyes never leaving your body.

"let's see how it looks on you, sweetheart," he says, his voice hoarse with anticipation. you eagerly oblige, slipping out of your clothes and sliding into the lingerie. the fabric feels like a second skin, hugging your curves and accentuating your breasts and hips. you glance in the mirror, admiring the way the color brings out the devious sparkle in your eyes.

"fuck, you're gorgeous," chris breathes, his eyes darkening with desire. he steps closer, his hands running along your sides, tracing the lace. "matt is going to lose his mind when he sees you like this."

you sit on the bed, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. you and chris were now home, waiting for matt to get home and see you in this set.

chris's fingers find the straps of your panties, slowly sliding them down your hips, exposing your bare pussy. "i want to make sure you're ready for us, sweetheart” he whispers, his fingers gently stroking your clit.

as his fingers tease your sensitive folds, you can't help but whine, your body responding to his touch. you lean back against the pillows, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure washes over you.

"that's it, pretty girl," chris encourages, his fingers working faster. "imagine matt's reaction when he walks in and sees you like this."

you whimper, your mind painting a vivid picture of matt's surprise and desire. you can almost feel his gaze on your barely covered body, his breath catching in his throat.

chris' fingers delve deeper, slipping inside your wetness, and you gasp, your hips thrusting forward, seeking more.

"you're so fucking wet, baby," he growls, his voice thick with arousal. "i want matt to see how good you feel.”

as if on cue, the bedroom door swings open, and there stands matt, his eyes wide with shock and desire. he takes in the scene before him—your naked body, chris's fingers buried knuckles deep inside you, and the panties to the blue lingerie set discarded on the floor. at least you were still in the bra..

"oh, fuck," matt breathes, his eyes flickering between focusing on your face and your exposed pussy. "you look incredible, sweetheart."

you feel a rush of pleasure at his words, your body on fire. you reach out, your hand trembling, and grab matt's wrist, pulling him closer. you want him to touch you, to feel the same pleasure chris is giving you. chris glances between you and matt with a menacing grin.

“you look like you’re driving poor matt insane, sweetheart…”

chris smiles, his fingers working their magic for a second more before pulling them out and sucking them clean. "she's all yours, matt. she's been waiting for you all day. haven’t you, angel?”

you nod in response as matt steps forward, his eyes never leaving yours. he leans down, his lips brushing against yours, and you kiss him hungrily, your tongues dancing in a passionate embrace. his hands cup your lace-adorned breasts, squeezing gently, and you moan into his mouth.

"you're so fucking beautiful," matt whispers against your lips.

as he speaks, his fingers replace chris', sliding effortlessly into your warm wetness. you gasp at the sensation, your body trembling as he begins to stroke you, his touch firm and deliberate.

"that's it, sweet girl," chris encourages, his voice thick with arousal as he watches. "let matt make you feel good."

matt's fingers curl inside you, finding your sweet spot, and you cry out, your hips bucking against his hand. he increases the pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in perfect rhythm.

"you're so close, aren't you, baby?" chris asks, his voice a low purr.

you nod frantically, your breath coming in gasps as matt's fingers work their magic. you can feel your orgasm building, an intense pressure coiling deep within.

"that's it, cum for us, sweetheart," matt urges, his voice hoarse with desire.

as his fingers move faster, you feel the climax rushing towards you, an overwhelming wave of pleasure. you cry out, your body convulsing as you surrender to the intense release.

"fuck, yeah, baby," matt groans, his fingers still buried inside you as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

chris watches with a satisfied smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. "you're incredible, baby.“

may the damn truth be told, you could always drive them absolutely insane.

a/n: HEY i finally wrote the chratt smut i said i’d write in TWENTY TWENTY FUCKING FOUR. sorry about that!🙂‍↕️ yall voted on this being first so here we are!

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @strnilolover @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris

[somnus-lucis-caelum]

He would have to learn more about the Cetran heritage, especially now. Sure, he had gotten his fair share of education and lessons on neighbouring kingdoms and their customs. But it would be entirely different now… if all these talks went through, then he would have a wife of Cetran blood. It was the bare minimum respect to know her culture by heart then. And with how Aerith was… it did not seem like work now anymore.

She was kind. She was strong. She was smart. She had wit. She was undeniably beautiful. And… she seemed to like what he could do.

 Watching her interact with his magic, how she commented on it and complimented him… it stroked his ego, of course. But it also made something in his chest feel… warmer. As if a vessel was filled with that warm milk and honey she seemed to favour so much.

He was not powerful. And neither was he popular. One day she would notice. But at the moment, she seemed to think he was both. And the way she looked at him…

Somnus turned to her fully. The sword in his hand vanishing alongside all the circling weapons so only a blue shimmering hue was remaining in the air around them, swirling like the tendrils of her Lifestream.

Aerith asked a question that… he was not prepared to answer. Not fully. There were so many things happening at once in the past two days. Less than that, if he was being honest.

 As royals, of course an arranged marriage had been at the horizon. But Somnus had thought he would have more time. And maybe a little luck like her parents had. That was rare, though. Marriage was political in their standings. And while there surely were a lot of loveless and barely tolerable marriages among the rulers of this world… maybe, just maybe they both could have had it worse.

So far she had given him no reason to dread a future with her. Not at all… quite the opposite.

The little amused noise coming from him was a gentle one. Softer than his usual demeanour, mustering her with a tilted head and a smile playing around one corner of his mouth.

“I would.”

It was that simple, wasn’t it?

Could he imagine them? Standing there, in the circle of many others. With a priest at their side. They would both wear finer clothes than even last evening’s attire. But quite simple in their own way. Pure whites and the colors of their lands. Surely Aerith would weave flowers into her hair and wear golden bracelets. He would have a wreath of his own, made from the olive twigs of Lucis’ gardens.

He could imagine taking her hands and saying yes.

But that fantasy seemed so unreal still. And so far away. A little too hopefully maybe. And a little too dreamy. This was an arranged marriage, right? So he should handle it with the demanded respect and care. The futures of two lands depended on that.

“… listen, Aerith. I know you hoped for something different. You told me, that you hoped you could marry out of love like your mother did. The talks that now happen without us present, the decisions that were made yesterday did not happen like you wished. Even before that, you came here to marry a stranger man. Now it is not my brother, but me. I hope that is not too much of a disappointment. And I do not know what the future brings… maybe I can not offer you that marriage proposal coming from a secret lover after months of knowing and loving each other. But I will do my best to ensure you have a good life. And I hope one filled with happiness. That I can swear.”

Aerith visibly perked up at his question. Few ever made the connection, so her nod was a rather excited one. "Something like that! I mean..." she gestured to him. "It comes down to your beliefs. What came first, your God, the crystal, or were they completely separate and became entwined with one another?"

She then swept her hand to rest on her own chest. "The Cetra believe that the Lifestream came first. That we draw our power from it. Yet we also believe that Minerva is the Goddess of the Lifestream. She is the voice of our Planet, and its protector. There is a lot of debate among our scholars about when the Goddess appeared, but it is widely accepted that she became one with the Lifestream when a star fell from the sky. It was a tale that always fascinated me, I must admit."

Her mother never grew tired of telling her the story, perhaps because she knew her daughter would one day outgrow asking for the tale.

It took more will power than she would care to admit for her to remain as she was. There was a small pull, where Aerith wished to step forward to close the distance.

That need for space became abundantly clear when Somnus summoned a greatsword from thin air. She gasped a sharp breath at the sight — that was the magic! The one that had danced along her arm. It felt cool, because it was... crystal shards. Fine, blue little specks.

Aerith couldn't even give voice to a tease. She could have pointed out 'that's not a shield you're holding', and good thing she kept that silent. Unable to keep her hand to herself, she immediately reached out, curious about the shift of magic in front of herself — a shield, existing faintly, pulled from the crystal?

His comment drew her attention to him again, if briefly. "Whoa!" she reacted, her mouth dropped open. A laugh bubbled up as she half-circled him, admiring the spectacle that was his whole armoury on display.

"This is amazing! Are you sure you aren't a god?!" she practically crowed, testing her luck as she reached for the shield. It altered its gentle path, and she was allowed to 'hold' it long enough to witness the pulse of more detail. Letting it go again she watched it easily drift back onto its path circling around Somnus.

Like a child chasing a wave, she challenged the circle by stepping through when lesser-sharp weapons were in front of her, and they parted harmlessly, no sharp edges ever coming close to touching so much as a hair on her.

"When we're standing at an altar, and some ancient priest asks whether you will marry me — would you consider saying yes?" she smiled to him a little hopelessly. Honestly. He was the hidden gem of the Lucis kingdom.

[remeberm3]

canvas | k.m

⎯⎯“Have you ever painted me?”

warnings: fluff

Klaus had always loved the quiet moments. He’d never admit it, of course—his pride wouldn’t allow it—but there was a certain kind of peace that came with solitude. Or at least, there had been before you. Before you burst into his life like sunlight through a storm, scattering shadows he’d carried for centuries.

It started innocently enough. You’d wandered into his studio one evening, curiosity pulling you toward the faint glow of candlelight spilling from the half-open door. Klaus didn’t notice you at first, his focus entirely on the canvas before him. His brush moved with precision, adding sharp lines and soft edges to a piece that seemed caught between chaos and beauty.

You stood there for a moment, watching him work, before finally speaking. “You paint?”

He turned sharply, his eyes narrowing in surprise before softening when he saw you. “And here I thought the art of observation was lost on you.”

You smirked, stepping further into the room. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t peg you as the brooding-artist type.”

“And what type did you peg me as?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oh, I don’t know. The arrogant, dangerous, too-full-of-himself type?”

Klaus chuckled, a sound that was low and warm, and set your nerves alight. “Well, love, I’ll have you know I contain multitudes.”

“Clearly,” you replied, glancing at the painting. It was stunning, a mix of light and shadow that seemed almost alive. But there was something familiar about it, something that made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain. “It’s beautiful.”

His expression softened further, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. “Thank you,” he said quietly, setting his brush aside. “Though I suspect you’re not here to critique my work.”

You shrugged. “I was bored. You disappeared. I followed.”

“Like a moth to a flame,” he murmured, his voice teasing but gentle.

“More like a cat to something shiny,” you shot back, grinning.

He laughed again, the sound filling the room and settling in your chest like a warm weight. You liked this side of him, the one that wasn’t consumed by anger or vengeance. The one that let you see the man beneath the myth.

“Do you ever paint people?” you asked after a moment, gesturing toward the blank canvases stacked against the wall.

“On occasion,” he said, his tone careful.

“Have you ever painted me?”

The question hung in the air, heavier than you’d intended. Klaus didn’t answer right away, his gaze drifting back to the canvas.

“I have,” he admitted finally, his voice soft.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you said immediately, your curiosity burning brighter now.

He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room to a tall cabinet in the corner. From it, he pulled a canvas, carefully wrapped in cloth. He brought it over to you, unwrapping it with a reverence that made your heart flutter.

When he turned it around, your breath caught.

It was you. Not just your face, though that was rendered with stunning accuracy, but your essence. The way you tilted your head when you were deep in thought, the light in your eyes when you laughed, the softness in your expression when you looked at him. It was all there, captured in strokes of paint and bursts of color.

“You did this?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He nodded, watching you closely. “I started it the night we met,” he admitted. “I didn’t know why at the time. I just… had to.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you understood the depth of his feelings for you. It wasn’t just in the painting. It was in the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered. Like you were his muse, his sanctuary, his world.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “You make me look—”

“Like yourself,” he finished for you, his voice firm. “Because you are beautiful.”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand over your face. “You’re too good at this, you know. Making a girl swoon.”

“And yet, you’re still standing,” he teased, stepping closer.

“Barely,” you shot back, smiling through your tears.

Klaus reached for you then, his hands settling on your waist. He pulled you closer, his touch gentle but unyielding. “You do that to me too, you know,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours. “Make me weak.”

“Good,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It’s only fair.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you. It was soft at first, a brush of lips that made your heart race. But then it deepened, and you felt everything he couldn’t say in words. His love, his devotion, his need for you—it was all there, wrapped up in that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling in the space between you. “You know,” you said softly, “you should paint more.”

“Oh?” he asked, his tone amused. “And why is that?”

“Because,” you said, running your fingers through his hair, “you’re really, really good at it. Almost as good as you are at kissing.”

“Almost?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

You grinned. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Too late,” he murmured, kissing you again.

And in that quiet studio, surrounded by the scent of paint and the soft glow of candlelight, you realized that this was what love felt like. Not grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but small, intimate moments that felt like coming home.

short and sweet

[rom-e-o]

Do we have any information about what Emmrich's parents looked/were like? Personally, until I hear otherwise, I'm hcing Em has his father's height, overall looks, coloring, and lively, joyful spirit, but his mother's slender build, natural poise and grace, smile, and laugh.

I don't think we have any information on Emm's parents, aside from their names, their jobs (butcher and cook) and some mementos they left behind (his father's knife and ring, his mother's teapot and torte recipe).

Awwww, these are amazing! HCs absolutely accepted. I can so imagine Rupert also being a tall, gentlemanly man. He's a butcher by day, but if you put him in noble's attire, he's look stately enough to pass at court easily. Maybe he's the one that taught Emmrich to have such a jovial outlook and how to find joy in everything? Seriously, Emmrich LOVES most things.

He tries pineapple for the first time from Neve? It's delicious! "Such a sun-bright yellow!"

If Rook is a Grey Warden? "I've heard stories! Oh, you simply must tell me of your adventures!"

Harding is from Ferelden? Let's go camping! Lucanis makes coffee? Emmrich always has a cup, because it's the best he's had! His mas has such an endless passion and zest for everything, it's so adorable. His father influencing that would be delightful. And his mother having that cheerful laugh, willowy frame and graceful movements? Oh, it's so perfect. I can also see Ellanora maybe being the one to teach him about the 'finer things'. They can only afford one teapot, so they have a beautiful one, and take care of it. They can't buy cake, but she has the ingredients to make the most delicious torte you could imagine. They don't have a ton of clothes, so be sure to choose pieces you like, and take care of them!

Jewelry is a luxury, so take care of the gold you have. Treasure it.

He sees her keep her composure and calm even while juggling tons of orders from hectic, rude customers. He learns patience and poise, and how far it goes. He admires her grace, and how precise she is with her movements. I see Emmrich being one of those boys that likes to sit with his mother while she gets ready for the day. From a young age, he observes how she takes care of her skin and hair, and it teaches him the importance of doing the same.

He watches his father shave too, which delights his mother. She knows at that point her boy is going to grow into a fine man who takes care of himself.

"Remember when you're older, dear, a gentleman is never without a brush and a razor," she tells him, poking his nose playfully.

[slowcatsisland]

Black Leg Sanji; Physical Characteristics Headcanons

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

His hair was naturally straight but over the course of his time of his Baratie, Zeff has noticed that his hair is more fluffier and wavier than when he first met Sanji.

Some of the small baby hairs he has at the back of his neck curl specifically to his right.

When he’s missing Zeff he’ll put small braids in his hair. They are normally on the side of his head with his eye covered more in the back. He normally does this but once Robin offered to help him and he blushed so hard he couldn’t even respond- he just nodded his head with a smile.

His natural smell is something like cleaning supplies if that makes sense? Like, it’s very faint, it smells clean or like a type of alternative spring water? It stems from the mutations in his DNA.

He also doesn’t have a strong natural musk smell either, you can only smell his armpits and his feet..if ur close enough that is

His scent now though is primarily cigarettes and his cologne. His cologne is rather strong because he gets worried that the cigarette smell isn’t attractive to women (He carries mints bc of this). His cologne smells woody and lavender ish. (He got it from Zeff) BUT he also smells like whatever he cooked that day, especially if the prep took a long time.

His eyes are a grey blue and the blue pops out more when he cries

He’s tried shaving the swirl of his eyebrows, it doesn’t work

His nose is kinda prominent in his face (kinda like his LA Taz Skylar but different) . It looks like what you call a ‘greek nose’. His bridge used to be very straight and it could still be considered straight but it’s been broken by his siblings before so it’s a little larger than it used to be yk? Sora used to kiss up his nose bridge when he would cry around her

His bottom lip is actually pretty full, and he has a habit of chewing on it that swells it slightly and darkens the color too. His lips curls really easily into a smirky, snazzy smile yk? Like-

Dimple on his cheek……dimple….

He generally has good posture until he’s by himself and he hunches and slouches his shoulders horribly when he relaxes. His good posture stems from Germa, Zeff, and his desire to attract women. When he’s scared because his past (nightmares, talk of Germa, etc) his posture worsens.

He has a good amount of scars from his childhood but his skin fades very easily.

His worst scars are from lightning (Niji, Enel)

His body is more of a vertical rectangle shape. More toned. His legs are the most ripped part of him (obvi) so it sets him up nicely in clothes because his frame never becomes imposing.

I’m looking this stuff up and I think his body would classify as a ‘mesomorph’ type. ?

I’ve read a theory before that all the Germa kids have the ‘6’ tattooed on their thighs.

I’ve also read a fic before about Sanji having the number 3 tattooed/engraved in his skin that he didn’t know about bc it was on his back or smth until I think Chopper told him

Just thought I’d put that out there..

His hands are literally beautiful. His nails are almost always as short as they can be (bc chef) but they don’t have any scarring at all. He’s also one of those ppl with longer fingers and it helps a lot when he’s cooking’s

He has hips trust!! Yes he uses a belt but only bc it looks good I swear he doesn’t need it he has hips (crying emoji)

His leg muscles are terrifying to look at like they are sooo defined. And big. Def has a clear line that separates his thigh muscles from his quad yk? He can also flex his calve muscles really well.

Bro also has a pretty booty. But it’s all hard and all muscle so not much giggling happens back there lolll

He has ugly feet. I mean the structure is good and if they got broke/bunion they go back to how they were (Germa genes)

He doesn’t take care of them at all. Not even after fighting unless they hurt really, really badly/got injured. Everyday tasks also put stress on his feet because of his dress shoes but he doesn’t prioritize it at all. He’s got lots of blisters and red sore spots.

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I might make this a series this was fun

Mwah 😽

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

HELLO, dearest @illumiera tagged me in a new Sujamma Sundas where we help our beloved nix-hound see our blorbos better and so make new friends!

So, I'm also going to heavily describe the appearance of my Last Dragonborn, Jia, and her Miraak, since as dragons they, too, secretly crave more friends so they can do more tinvaak...🥰

Jia:

Jia is a half-Nord, half-Imperial with features that lean more Imperial. She stands at 165cm (5'5") with a lean but muscular build, especially strong legs. Her body is marked by various scars she hasn't bothered to heal properly, the most prominent being: Alduin's claws from her collarbone and shoulder down her left arm and across her breast to her navel; her back with criss-crossed flogging scars; her fingers with indications of heavy skin-picking. Her left shoulder never fully healed—it causes her chronic pain until today and remains slightly uneven.

Her hair is a wild, bushy mass of orange-red curls that rarely stay in place. Her eyebrows and lashes share the same reddish tone. Jia's golden eyes are her most dragon-like feature, too big for her face and glowing like tiny suns with amber circling the edges. They're a bit of a contrast to the softer, fox-like elements of her face: a small nose and mouth, and cheeks full of freckles (basically, her whole body is a constellation of freckles). She isn't conventionally pretty—some see her as beautiful, others as weird. She has a bit of a goofy smile because her front teeth have a not-so-small gap between them.

As for her clothes, Jia prefers wearing black leather armor usually with a cowl—I imagine it like Yennefer's from The Witcher. At the safety of her home, she likes wearing frolic dresses in autumn tones (e.g. yellow, orange, reddish-brown), often with a headband in these colors too—pretty much like this! You won't see her wearing shoes ever (at least in Heljarchen Hall) and, strangely, she also doesn't wear any jewelry; she keeps it in her basement because she likes to hoard it, but the sensation on her annoys her.

in her dragon aspect form, she has a vitiligo mark on her cheek and a tuft of purely white hair For Reasons...

Miraak:

Miraak is a half-Atmoran, half-Snow Elf, a perfect blend of both races as he has traits from both. He's 208 cm (6'10"), with a lean and graceful physique that exudes elegance as well as a certain strength. His tall stature, long limbs, and strikingly pale, almost marble-like skin give him a fairly statuesque appearance. He has his fair share of scars, but the most prominent are those on his wrists and deep beneath his ribcage...

His hair is silver-white, pin-straight, and smooth like silk falling long down his waist. He ties it rather simply, half of it in a braid (unless Jia plaits it, of course, and creates an intricate dragon-scaled pattern). His sharp brows and light lashes are also white and his eyes are dark indigo, the color of lightning. Miraak, thanks to his elven blood, has prominent cheekbones, a nose with a smooth line but pointed tip, well-shaped a bit thin lips, and a strong jawline—his chin has a dimple, too. His ears look mostly human, but if you touch their tips and observe them a bit more carefully, you'll see that they are a bit tapered. His appearance is quite witchy and ethereal—people are either terrified of him or find him gorgeous. Nothing in between; especially, since, when he's out of Apocrypha he's also corrupted with black veins sprawling around his eyes (and all over his body, honestly...) and completely black sclerae, pretty much like Geralt of Rivia in Witcher potions.

You can see him dressed in a sapphirine color palette, often robes, but he wears heavy armor with an impressive dragon-horned helmet when in battle. Like Jia, one can often see him walking around barefoot, and although a dragon, Miraak is more of an artifact kind of dragon-hoarder and less than a jewelry one.

in his dragon aspect form, he also has a vitiligo mark on the inside of his palm all over his hand till his knuckles, like the wings of a barn owl...

I always struggle a lot with who to tag in these games, so absolutely no pressure tags here: @hircines-hunter, @skyrim-forever, @oblivions-dawn, @pocket-vvardvark, @aureli-us, and @prettytamagnii