#the scars he'd have on his chest and his shoulders but also... his sides... his thighs....

[meownotgood]

scarred aki + kissing all of his scars UGHHH

[yvvxs]

Physical Touch...‎ ‎

‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng & imbibitor lunae. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. luka. luocha. sampo. sunday. welt.

Argenti brushing your hair, making sure to gently undo any knots found in it. He would help you clean up any dirt from your skin and clothes, making sure you looked even more beautiful than you already were. You were his beloved, and he'd make sure to make you feel like it was so all the time through soft moments just like these.

Being in the infirmary with Arlan, who bandages up any wounds you got. He places soft kisses over small band-aids or bigger scars, making sure to help you feel better. He wouldn't want to let you hurt any longer than you already did. He promises that it'll be all better with him by your side.

Aventurine would hold you close to himself as you both roam the casino. Winning every single game he played, as always. Letting every other patron there know that you were the only one allowed to be so close to the luckiest man in the building. No one would be able to catch his heart just as you have with him as he places a kiss on your forehead, silently reminding you with a smile.

In between missions, Blade would hold you close to his chest, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing soothing patterns into your back. Elio hadn't assigned him to the next thing in the script yet, so he still had time to be with you, to give you some attention before he has to set off for whatever dangers he'd be going through next.

Despite not being able to feel much, Boothill gives you so much love. An arm wrapped around your waist, tight hugs which brings you closer to himself. Whenever he feels like he wants to feel your touch, he just nuzzles his face into you, chuckling gently with a smirk on his face. Knowing you're too good for someone like him.

Caelus clinging onto you while the Crew watches a horror movie together in the Astral Express. He yelps at the smallest thing, holding you close to himself for dear life. Despite going through life-threatening things, he still was a little scaredy-cat underneath all of that, your little raccoon boyfriend would never change, not like you'd want him to.

Laying your head on Dan Heng's shoulder as he types out something on the Data Bank after your last mission. All of you were tired from what you had experienced, but he diligently writes more information for everybody. Also, gently caressing Imbibitor Lunae's horns, placing soft kisses on them as his tail wraps around your hips, silently trying to pull you closer to himself.

Bathing with Dr. Ratio, he thoroughly washes your body, touching you in places only he can. The bubbly sensation relaxing the two of you as you clean up together. Enjoying the soft, alone time, just for the both of you. With no other people to pry or disturb either of you.

Gallagher guiding your hands as you two work at the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Making sure to help you find the correct ingredients to serve to your different customers. Handing you something he was previously using, your fingers grazing over one another's and feeling the small and short touches that you two share every now and then.

Sitting in the Silvermane Restricted Zone with Gepard, as he lets you bandage his wounds he got from the battles with the Fragmentum. He wasn't fully invincible, and him getting hurt would be inevitable. He knew that his job was dangerous, but letting you at least know he was okay, and that you can make him feel better would make himself feel better.

Jing Yuan letting you sit on his lap as he works. His work was usually boring most of the time, but when you were there with him, it made it so much more interesting. He nuzzled into your neck every now and then, smirking against your skin as he inhaled your scent. He could never get sick of these times with you, and no one could take you away from him, not even the Master Diviner.

Cuddles with Luka after he wins his last match at the Fight Club. It's his little reward from you that he always looked forward to. Even if he did lose, which we all know would barely actually happen, he would always be spoiled like this. He would always love having your warmth and comfort after hard work put into his fights.

Luocha's fingers intertwined with yours as the two of you go through the Luofu together. He wasn't anyone else other than your lover when he was with you, and he'd make sure you know it. Kisses on the back of your hand or playing with your hair when the two of you were alone, or even when there was a man secretly watching from behind the scenes.

Holding Sampo's face in your hands as you gently scold him for conning another person. He just wanted to get money for you, but that didn't mean he had to get it through means like this. You remind him not to do that again, though we both know that he would do it again, all for you.

You were the only one who was loved enough by Sunday to be able to touch his soft wings, other than his own sister. He would let you clean them up, touch them up and even preen any loose feathers that stuck out from the rest. Normally, he'd do it himself, but if it made you happy to help, then he'd let you do what you want.

Laying down with Welt on the couch in the Astral Express' Parlor Car, cuddling with him after a long day of missions at your current stop. He would brush his fingers through your hair. Your head on his chest, his other arm wrapped loosely around your body. Resting for the next day that would be full of exciting adventures for the two of you.

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

[kaeyas-beloved]

a moment too late

Characters: Ayato, Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Wriothesley, Zhongli

— your husband doesn't make it to you in time...

CW: ANGST w/ very little to no comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), scars (Diluc), blood (Diluc, Childe, Cyno, Zhongli), death (all except Cyno and Diluc), kidnapping (Cyno), minor Fontaine Act 1 + 4 spoilers (Primordial Sea Water - iykyk), spoilers for Childe’s real name

val's no sympathy novemeber masterlist

I don't know if I can take a month of hurting my boys....

Thinking about them not making it in time...

Ayato, who had been in an important meeting.

He'd given strict instructions to all his retainers and the Shuumatsuban to not interrupt under any circumstance. So, when one of the newer helpers knocked on the door, the commissioner was less than pleased. Without letting the young man get a word out, Ayato cuts him off, a sharp smile on his face. "Please, wait outside. I'll deal with the matter after this."

When the retainer tried again, a feeble "but, my lord-!" sputtering over his twisted tongue, the change in Ayato's tone couldn't be missed, and it left no room for interjections.

When a second knock echoed through the room some minutes later, it took everything in the clan head not to sigh out loud in front of all the powerful politicians and businessmen. This time, however, when it was the familiar face of Thoma that stepped in, a scarily straight face as his expression, something shifted in the male. It didn't help that the pyro user didn't stop his advancement toward him, even at the call of his name.

It was like the whole world shattered the moment the blond leaned by his ear, the news that you'd been placed in the nearest hospital plummetting his heart into his stomach.

There's this inner struggle that takes over, the role of a leader and your husband fighting against one another - he can't just leave so abruptly, but he also feels like he might crumble if he isn't by your side in the next ten seconds.

It's the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder that breaks him away from his thoughts. Following the arm he meets the slight smile of Thoma, "I have this handled, my lord. Go, be with them."

He's up and out of the room in an instant, briskly walking in the direction of the hospital. When he gets there he borderline demands the receptionist to tell him your room number, off again the moment she gets the last syllable out. Just as he reaches the curtain separating you from him, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, a doctor steps out.

"Lord Kamisato..." his tone is grave as he blocks the entrance with his body. Despite the obvious attempt to stop the young lord from entering, your husband tries to sidestep him. He's stopped by a simple raise of the hand and he feels a mix of disdain and unsettlement swirl within.

"Please, let me speak with them," Ayato nothing but begs, something he never does. He's known as a negotiator, a logical reasoning man, he doesn't need to beg for what he needs in the political world, but for you, his world, he'd gladly grovel at this man's feet just for you.

The aforementioned man licks his lips, adjusting his clipboard so it rests against his chest, "I'm sorry Mr. Kamisato, but that won't be possible..."

The urgency rises and Ayato moves the doctor out of his way, stepping into your room. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together about what was trying to be said, but your lover can't bring himself to believe it. Not you too.

The moment he's at your bedside he leans close, trying to wear a smile as he places his hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you the exact same way he did that very morning. "My dear... wake up. This is no time for your silly tricks, we have to go home and have dinner together like I promised." His warm hands move up to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your equally warm skin, but when you make no move or noise the reality finally sets in for him.

His broken smile slips and all he can manage is a soft call of your name. Of course, there's still no answer, and Ayato is stuck flipping between the different stages of grief.

What if he'd listened the first time? Let the retainer who initially walked in speak? Would he have gotten a chance to speak with you? To tell you he loves you? To say goodbye properly?

You can't actually be dead, right? There's no way this is happening to him again.

He starts to promise to spend more time with you, he'll take off as much time as you want him to, he'll take you to that restaurant you've been wanting to go to but couldn't bring yourself to without him, he'll visit the land of Liyue with you - he knows you've been gushing about the scenery and culture recently. He'll do it all and more, you just had to open your eyes again for him.

Silence.

"Damn it all..." he whispered, face twisting in agony. Of course he couldn't have it his way this time. As if his parents weren't enough, the world just had to take you away from him too.

The doctor watches for a moment as one of the most powerful men in Inazuma sheds tear after tear before him, the droplets falling and hitting your lifeless body. As Ayato sinks to his knees before you, the doctor takes this as his cue to step out.

For the next few hours, the hospital is noticeably quieter, no one daring to interrupt a man who's just lost one of the dearest people to him.

For the next few hours, Ayato's tears slowly soak your shirt, his grip on the bedding knuckle white, his sobs muffled by your skin as it slowly grows colder and colder, fighting to commit everything about you to memory.

That night, he could not bring himself to eat dinner, for all he could remember was you, the way you smiled at him and how it was all ripped away from him, never to be seen again.

———

Diluc, whose connections are spread all over the world yet no one could locate you.

It should be impossible. The owner of Dawn Winery only associates himself with competent business partners. So, how could it be that the best of the best from all walks of life and all backgrounds couldn't locate the one person he needed to find?

Tirelessly, the redhead looked for you. Many sleepless nights weighed on him from shouldering so many responsibilities at once. He constantly asked for updates on the investigation and every time the news that there were no advances was just another layer of stress for him. So, of course, the moment the word of your location reached his ears, Diluc was up and out the door, claymore in hand, a fury in his eyes that few have seen only a handful of times.

When he got there, there being some far corner of Starfell Valley on the mountainside, there was no time to process or ask questions. All he knew was that you needed help if you wanted even a chance of making it out alive.

By a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the Abyss Mages that had been holding you hostage, an atrocious act that was no doubt aimed to make The Darknight Hero suffer. However, weaponless and exhausted, the creatures of down under easily caught up to you, surrounding you and throwing you around like a ragdoll. Diluc counted seven - one hydro, two electro, two cryo and two pyro - each using the elements to keep you from running too far.

With a few swift strikes of his enflamed claymore, the cryo and hydro mages disappeared in a cloud of red and black. Of course, they'd be the easiest of the group to get rid of. The last four would be the real challenge.

In between strikes, Diluc managed to get close to you, bending down to your fallen form. “Are you alright? Can you walk?” He did a once over of your body, noting that dirt clung to you and a couple cuts littered your skin. You could barely move too, having the shit kicked out of you.

“Not very far…” you groaned, raising your body slightly off the ground. Your lover nodded, glancing at the enemy before helping you stand.

“That’s alright, just get to that tree over there. I’ll come get you and take you home soon.” Diluc watches for a moment as you nod and begin to make your way over, turning his back to you once you've made decent progress. Taking up his weapon once more, it's a brutal clash of sparks and fire as he lets his adrenaline and rage fuel his every move. Soon, one electro mage goes down, and then the second and then one of the pyro ones until all that stands between him and getting you medical care and a nice bath is a single pyro Abyss Mage.

The demonic creature cackles loudly, a shrill sound that echoes in the silence. As it begins to wave its staff, a shock of recognition strikes Diluc and he glances around, looking for where the fire-breathing faces are going to appear. When he doesn't spot any dread fills his being and he chances a glance towards you, praying to the Archons that what he's thinking isn't about to play out.

The gods weren't in his favour.

Time seems to slow as he watches the triangle of heads surround you; he watches as you slowly turn to face one head-on, your tired eyes widening as you register the situation. Dilcu's only able to catch you turning your face away before he attacks the mage while its guard is down, interrupting its early dance of victory.

The next few minutes are a blur, both for you and your husband. Everything hurts, any slight movement or breath sends shooting pain through your body. When Diluc picks you up off the ground you let out the most heartbreaking cry he's heard and it took everything in him not to just stand there and soothe you.

He mumbled apology after apology, offering words of comfort as he ran as best he could without harming you further. When he made it to the cathedral he was ushered out of the room, every nun available flocking to your side. Despite the overwhelming emotions building in him, Diluc lets you go, waiting with as much patience as he can muster, which isn't a lot at that moment.

It takes about an hour before a sister approaches him, every second that he waited excruciating. She tells him that while your face was unharmed, you having managed to lean out of the way just in time, your upper arm, shoulder and the base of your neck on your left side were burned pretty bad and that scarring was almost guaranteed.

"But are they alive?" is all he asks in return. He cares that you were hurt, but he cares more to know if you'll live to spend another day with him. All the sister can do is nod, informing him that recovery will be slow, but you are alive. She adds right after that while you passed out from everything he was still allowed to enter and sit by your side. So, he does.

The nun didn't lie when she told him that things would be slow. It took several days before you could be discharged, and even when you were the days and nights that followed were filled with more torture than the usual joy.

Your burns would irritate at the slightest things, and you started to doubt your looks, wondering if your husband would still love you by the end when the wounds were all healed. At night you were haunted by nightmares of your time in captivity, and by the face of the abyss spell that burned you. It didn't help that the face was red and fluffy, just like Diluc's hair, leaving you to back away from him every time you woke up from that recurring dream, your mind tricking you that that thing had come back.

And all Diluc could do was hold you close to his chest once you saw that it was just him. He'd rub a warm hand along your back as you sobbed and shivered, quietly blaming himself for not being fast enough - to find you, to defeat the enemy, to get you out of the way of the fight. If he had been, if he succeeded in any of those things, then maybe you wouldn't have to live with this pain and trauma.

You were alive, but at what cost?

———

Childe, who was all the way in Inazuma for a mission.

Your husband left you that fateful day with a tight hug, a promise to come home and a kiss on the lips. As he walked further and further away from you all you could think about was greeting him in the same fashion. Your touch was his favourite thing after all, a reminder that you're there with him and that you love him despite all his wrongdoings.

The day came when Ajax set foot back in his homeland, and the first thing he did was search for you at the dock. When he didn't spot you, he'll admit he was a little disappointed but didn't think much of it. You were most likely just relaxing at home.

Yet, when he walked through the door he couldn’t find you anywhere. “Strange… where could they have gone? Maybe mom and dad’s?”

A quick trip over there reveals nothing however, just the tidbit of information from his mother on how it’s been a couple days since you’ve visited and that you last told them you were needing to chop some firewood.

Now he was not only confused but a sense of dread plagued his chest. Hoping it’s just his normal worrying, Ajax bids farewell to his family and heads back home. Sure enough, he spotted some stacked logs off to the side. What didn’t make sense though was the lack of an axe and the footprints that lead further into the tree line behind your home.

Following the tracks, the male’s eyes widen and his expression falls as the patterns in the snow go from clean prints to frantic clusters, as if you began running. What really injected fear into him though was the barely visible Treasure Hoarder insignia buried in the snow, its gold sheen glistening from the sun.

At this point his feet had a mind of their own as he picked up the pace, his mind running a mile a minute with the scariest thoughts his brain could conjure.

He wasn’t sure if he should've been relieved or frightened when he found you lying in the snow. Either way, he sprinted the rest of the way to you, calling out your name. You were on your side, back to him; you must’ve rolled into the fetal position to stay warm.

And that’s when he noticed it, the pink tint of the usually pure white snow surrounding your fallen form. Panic shoots through him as he rolls you onto your back, his hand recoiling at the state you were in, covering his mouth.

"No..." your cold gaze stares up at the sky, skin lacking the warmth he craves after a long day. Between the folds of your undone coat reveals where most, if not all the blood flowed from, now dry from days passed. With a shaky hand, he moves the cloth aside, surveying the damage.

The cut was deep but didn't hit anything major from the looks of it... you would have bleed out slow and painfully, and the mere idea makes him sick to his stomach. More and more he looks at the damage done to you and the more his blood boils and his heart stutterers. You were innocent, his spouse, his best friend, you had no intimate dealings with Fatui work, so why you?

His eyes narrow back in the direction of the insignia, the sorrow morphing into anger; they were fucking cowards, going after you instead of him. At the sanctuary of your home no less.

Looking back at the body that once housed your soul, he noticed something odd about your hand. It was clasped shut like you were holding onto something.

He starts to pry your fingers open, and for just a moment he can imagine that you're alive, back in the warmth of your home, grasping his scarf in a game of keep away. He'd pull you close, wrapping an arm around you and trapping you to his chest, grasping your wrist and trying to get the red fabric from you. Your husband would laugh merrily, "demanding" that you give him it back or else, to which you'd tell him no, because as long as you had it then he couldn't leave for the day.

When your palm finally opens up is the same moment time really stops and the world doesn't feel real around him. Picking up the small object, Ajax clasps it in his own hands, bringing it close to his chest - his heart - in hopes of feeling just the last bit of you left behind. He won't ever know this, but what he's doing now was exactly what you did in your final hour - you held the tangible promise you made with him close to you, your thoughts filled with him and only him as you took your last breath.

From that day onwards, your wedding ring rests against his collarbone, a string looped through it. He never takes it off, nor does he remove his own ring, because to him, you were the only one fit to take the place at his side in life. He doesn't want anyone else to love him, because no one could ever love or hold him in such high regard like you did.

It was everything or nothing, and you are his everything. Since you're gone, he'll gladly settle for nothing. Anything else and he'd label himself a cheater to your love.

———

Cyno, who prioritized catching the mastermind, lest any more innocents get hurt.

The General Mahamatra trudged back through the desert sands, clouds of dust trailing behind him. His grip was tight against the criminal’s wrists, leaving no room for escape. While part of him was solely focused on the captured mastermind, another part of him was thinking about you and how he's going to make it up to you for neglecting you the last few weeks. How could he ever possibly thank you or repay you for your neverending patience?

Rounding the last rock, Cyno finally makes it back to where he left you, having instructed you to wait there until he returned. You know that it was vital to stay put, so why is it that you've disappeared? Eyes red like the sunset scan the camp, finding that nothing was missing among your personal belongings or supplies.

As he continued to try and piece together the clues, you stood frozen in the shadows, an arm pulling you against a chest, keeping you in place. The hand over your mouth didn't help quell your fear, nor did the warm, rancid breath that tickled your neck.

How hard do you have to stare at the back of your lover's head for him to just turn in your direction!? Apparently very hard, because no matter how much you will a telepathic message his way, he still fails to find you. Tears begin to slide down your face - is this really it? Will this be the end? When he's so close to you? Will he turn and walk in the wrong direction, giving the man holding you time to escape with you in tow?

The looming threat that if you step out of line you risk harming yourself and Cyno plays in your mind, but you also remember nights lying in bed with your husband, whispering reassurance to him that no matter the situation you knew he'd always save you. You had full confidence in his abilities.

Gathering your resolve you take a leap of faith and elbow your captor, biting the hand that impairs your voice. Making a mad dash from the hiding spot, you scream for Cyno, watching as his head whips in your direction.

It all happened so fast after that. One second there's just you, him and the two Eremites and in the next, you're surrounded. The mastermind Cyno had been holding manages to retch his arms free, whistling a tune causing other desert dwellers to pop up from seemingly nowhere. A capture net is being thrown over you, aiming true and trapping you once more. Cyno, now flanked from all sides, can only watch helplessly as two men grasp the ends of the net, dragging you like you're nothing but a sack of goods.

You squirm with all your might, but it does nothing as you're effortlessly tossed in a caravan, screaming and sobbing for your husband. Amidst the scuffle, the leader orders the others to "shut them up" and right after a powder is poured on you, the effects taking seconds to kick in.

You begin to quiet until you slump on your side, and Cyno feels the urgency build even more. He channels all the strength he has into at least breaking through to get to you, but the moment he does the snap of reins echoes out and the cart takes off.

So, he runs, because for once something much for valuable that his life is on the line. Because he can't afford to let the bad guy get away this time.

But a man cannot match the pace of a horse, and it isn't long before his stamina reaches its limit and he stumbles, and you disappear over the horizon.

———

Wriothesley, who believed he could save everyone.

By no means was the warden of the Fortress of Meropide lacking in skills. He's proven time and time again that he's worthy of the title of Duke among the underwater structure, able to shoulder the responsibility of keeping each and every inmate well cared for and as comfortable as possible.

Perhaps that was the reason he's failing now to protect those he really cares for, for you were no inmate, but rather the person he swore to spend the rest of his life with.

He knew that this day would come, but he was still so, so unprepared for it. The damn seal was due to break sooner or later, and it chose today of all days to do so. The evacuation was quick, maybe even quicker than the first one, but there was one difference this time around. Today was also the day that a couple Melusines had come in Monsieur Neuvillette's place, delivering some reports to Wriothesley while also taking this time to speak with Sigewinne.

"Where are they?" The Duke grits his teeth, running through every area he can reach. You weren't far behind, having insisted a second pair of eyes was better than one. When another room turned up empty he slammed his first into the wall, cursing loudly.

You did another look through in the places he missed before sighing, placing a hand on his chest, "We'll find them Wrio. Take a deep breath, please." He stares at you for a moment, doing as you suggested. You offer a small smile, "There aren't many rooms left, they've gotta be here."

"I know," he sighs, running a hand through his messy hair, "but we're running out of time."

Just as he says that the building rumbles and shakes, the sound of a pipe bursting in the distance sending fear through your body. All it takes is a shared look for you two to start running again, eyes and ears sharp as you try to catch even the slightest signs of life.

There were only two rooms left to check when you heard a call, not by a Melusine but by a pair of inmates. Turning to look, your stress levels spike.

“Shit, this isn’t good,” Wriothesley mutters, surveying the situation the moment you both made it over. One of the inmates was trapped underneath a metal panel, and his buddy wasn’t strong enough to lift it off him on his own.

They plead for help and you can see the cool grey eyes of your lover start to unfocus, a million thoughts passing through his mind. Time is running out, and as he's internally about to lose his cool the sound of your voice brings him back.

Laying a hand on his shoulder you squeeze firmly, "Listen, how about we split up? You deal with this and I go find the Melusines. We'll be faster that way."

His eyes widen at your proposition, and he doesn't even have to think twice about denying, "Now, hold on just a-!"

Another tremor, and you have to harden your tone to get your point across, “We don’t have time Wriothesley, help them and I’ll search the two rooms. When you’re done get them out of here, I won’t be far behind!”

He wants to say no, wants you to get to the surface and he'll take care of the inmate and missing Melusines, but as he looks at the crumbling Fortress he finds himself biting his lips before nodding. "You better stay safe, or else."

You smile, turning and disappearing into the second last room. A quick search proves nothing and when you leave you see your husband beginning to pull out the stuck inmate. You're able to meet gazes for a moment only to break it off, rushing into the last room.

It's easy to spot the brightly coloured blue beings amongst the dreary Fortress walls. "Thank Archons!" You sigh, almost tripping over your feet in your hurry to get them, scooping them up in your arms, "we have to go now you two!"

There's a groan of metal and the clatter of something collapsing in the distance, and it's safe to say you didn't waste time sprinting out of there. As you pass where you last saw your husband, there's a momentary wave of relief at seeing him no longer lingering there. You know then that he's gotten out, and that he's probably waiting anxiously for you.

The thought pushes you to get out faster, jumping over any puddles that have formed or debris. But just because you can jump doesn't mean you can dodge.

One piece then two fell from above, but when you look up dread courses through you upon the realization that a good section of the roof is about to drop. You acted before you could fully think and tossed the two tiny beings in your arms, sprinting just a little faster before leaping yourself. You're glad you managed to throw them out of the collapse zone, but you weren't so lucky, your leg getting trapped from midway to your knee and down under the pile of rubble. All it took was one attempt at tugging your leg out to know it was stuck under there good.

"Go," you pointed in the direction of the exit, immediately beginning to dig yourself out. The least you could do was get them to safety. The Melusines however hesitated, looking at each other before looking at you again. You knew they weren't strong enough to lift anything off you, so you repeated the one-word order, adding that you'd be right behind them.

You hear more than you see them run off, and after a minute of struggling you manage to free yourself, continuing towards the exit.

Wriothesley didn't stick around the entrance, instead busying himself with checking on everyone. If he didn't then he'd go mad and rush back in to get you. As he made another round he spotted the two creatures of the sea clutching onto the Iudex, their heads buried in his neck. If they were safe, then you must've made it out too, right?

Wriothesley gives the order to close the Fortress of Meropide off completely, and he watches unaware as he cages you in. It's only by chance that, once he's almost to the surface, he looks out the window of his escape submarine and through one of the windows of the Fortress. The horror sets in.

Even if it's useless, you stumble and limp up to the glass, banging on it, screaming for him. You're not sure what he'd do though, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time, wanted to tell him you love him, that it's not his fault. You stare at him, tears streaming down your face before turning your back to the ocean and sliding down to the ground.

Even if he can't hear you, you whisper out your love for him, how you'd never hold this against him. You pray to the Archons, to the Traveler, to Neuvillette, to Clorinde to watch over him for you.

You eye the rising water, and to make it just a little more bearable you pretend it's the first time you got Wriothesley to go swimming with you. You had dip your toes in first, as a show that the water wouldn't bite. He wasn't scared of the water, and he knew how to swim; he wasn't ashamed of the scars on his body either. No, he refused to go swimming back then because he didn't want to freeze, and it took you and the trust he placed in your word to tell him the water was perfect.

So, you repeat that same action, imagining Wriothesley is right beside you like that day years ago.

From the water pod, your husband watches frozen as you vanish in an instant, continuing to watch as the water rises until it's above the height of the glass. In that single moment, most of the warmth in his heart vanishes along with you.

"You promised you'd be safe... I trusted you..."

It was the first and last time any prisoner would see the almighty Wriothesley cry out, for he swore sometime later that he'd close off his heart and never let anyone get as close as you did. He knows deep down that's not what you'd want, but he knew he could never go through the same pain again and still continue to live.

———

Zhongli, who you were fighting side by side with.

It's always been like that, you and him up in arms against the world. It was like that in the Archon War, in the Cataclysm and any other time someone threatened the safety of the Lord of Geo's territory. You had his back and he had yours, something that only grew stronger as your relationship developed from war buddies to friends then finally to lovers.

It was... naive of you both to think that you'd be able to spend eternity together without issue. You were too blinded by the fact that you were both going to withstand time and he believed that there was no way he'd fail to protect you, not with the strength he possessed.

Your downfall was not due to time or a lack of strength, but rather your own desire to keep the man you love safe from harm.

Zhongli did not see the sword pierce your skin, but he did hear the strangled cry you let out. He felt the fear wash over him, he saw the bloody aftermath as you fell forward into him, no longer able to hold yourself upright.

Instinctively he wraps his arms around you, sinking to the grass with you. Crimson stains his hands and clothes fast as if the wound was his own and he knows right then that your time together is limited.

The pain you feel is searing and with each breath you take you're fighting to keep that air in your lungs long enough to get more. Your husband spoke softly as he stroked your shoulder, "Why did you take the hit for me?"

When you looked up into his warm, amber eyes you knew then that this was the last time he'd hold you, the last time you'd speak with one another. How interesting it is that you both realized at different points that this was the end.

"You..." you cough, body trembling in his hold and Zhongli almost regrets asking you to speak. He just wants to make you comfortable in your last moments, to act as if everything is okay. "You... were going to get hurt."

The man you knew to never weep lets a single tear slide down his face, a light chuckle getting stuck in his throat, "ah, how like you to put me above yourself. I'm the same way with you, so I suppose I can't point fingers, now can I?"

“No… you can’t,” you smile back, but it’s tough to force it through the pain. You cough again and this time a little blood comes up as well.

It’s getting harder and harder to breathe as the seconds tick by. “Morax.”

The former Archon stiffens; you rarely ever call him by his real name unless you're serious about something. "Yes, my dear? What is it?" When he sees you trying to lift your hand to his cheek, Zhongli dips his head, placing his own hand over yours.

Glazed eyes watch as you swallow, stuttering on your own breath, "I'm... I'm very proud of the man you've become compared to the Archon I first met. I'm very proud of the things you've done for Liyue, and I'm grateful for the things you've done for me."

Your eyes droop a little, and he knows your time to depart is near when he sees you rest your head against him more and with the way he has to hold up your hand for it to stay resting on his cheek. He swears he won't let you slip away until you've said your final peace.

"I... I need you to promise me something Morax."

"You know I will always do my best to honour your wishes," he tells you, his grip tightening on your hand. A sudden breeze picks up, blowing his hair in such an elegant way that your face softens, never not amazed by his beauty. Tranquillity washes over you, and it may sound crazy, but the scent the wind brought to you smelt like home, like a simpler time in your life.

All other sounds are drowned out, the wind blowing them far away so he could hear you clearly, "You have to find happiness again... even though I won't be there for you. Can... can you promise me that?"

He pulls you impossibly closer, removing your hand just to place a gentle kiss on your palm before returning it to its place, "I promise." In that moment he feels like he's lied to you, for he believes he'll never truly recover from your death, but that doesn't mean he won't try for you. And as you smile up at him for the last time, Morax feels that he could live with his answer to you.

Much like his friends of old, he knows he'll see you in the little things around the city - a lantern, a blooming flower, a cup of tea, the fires in fireplaces - as if you're watching over him. He'll continue to walk forward as everything passes him by, mingling with the ever-changing people and culture and surrounding himself with friends, because that's what he promised you, and he wants you to see that even when you're not by his side to experience it yourself.

"I'm happy now, see? But I will never be as happy as I was with you"

Tag list (both regular and event exclusive): @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @x-zho // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs @leena-shi // @ari-the-wr1ter // @xiaos-wife // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx

+

@kaiserkisser // @multipleshadesofblue // @moloteco-real // @kithewanderingme // @scaramood

[zombieplaygrounds]

Desperately trying to claw my way out of a writer's block </3

fluff with your roommate

"You look like shit," You mur through a stifled laugh, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped aside, letting Simon in. He was your roommate of about four years, you knew a little and a lot about him - more than most less than others. One thing that hadn't changed since the day you met him was the cluster of bruises and scars he'd newly have every time he came home from a lengthy work trip. Simon grumbled softly, dropping a duffle bag on the floor and ditching his suitcase. "Smell like it too." You laughed quietly at his gruff voice. He was such a brooding man, always grouchy looking with a stern scowl painted on his face. You shut the door behind him and pushed the luggage away with your foot. Your arms crossing. "You hungry?" Your words met with a growling hum in affirmation. You walked toward the kitchen, grabbing a clean rag and and wetting it slightly with warm sink water. Hissing a bit as the water stung you, earning a glance from Simon. Regardless of his confused stare you turned to face him and pressed the dirty rag against his face, wiping away some sweat and dirt. "Mm, they don't let you shower or something?" You giggled at your own words, the big brute stiffening at your touch before slowly grabbing your wrist. "I was rushin'" What was he? A child? You snickered at the thought, a smug look on your face as he let you wipe him clean. His calloused hand brushing your smooth forearm gently. His eyes staring down at you with a dead eyed look. Were his lashes always this long? You tutted your head to the side and smiled, "What's that look for?" "M'hungry." Simon softy grumbled, slowly taking the rag from your hand with his freehand. His lips pressed against your now bare hand, eye lids fluttering shut and your fingers lightly curling in surprise. He couldn't help but smirk just a bit at that reaction - your soft gasp, stumble back against the counter. You hadn't been touched in awhile. "What was that for..?" You softly grumbled, tugging your hand away from his mouth, but he kept it there, gently pressing another kiss to your soft skin. "Just gimme a min.." You hesitated for a moment, your mind feeling a bit confused at the sudden affection, but you slowly eased up, your freehand running your fingers along his arm. Touching the toned muscles that trembled and flexed at your touch. Simon slowly slump to sink into your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a low sigh. He smelt a bit like a cat - oddly enough. Dust, the sun, Earth. The thought of it relaxed you, your face dipping in his own shoulder. Your scent was the opposite of his. Something sweet, maybe a bit fruity, but also carrying the scent of whatever dinner you left warming in the stove for the night. You always whined about how the flavors settled better that way. And he whined that you were crazy. A shared embrace, his fingers digging into your shirt lightly tugging the fabric to watch it cling back to your body, your heart beats filling the empty space in either ones chest. This was nice; something you think to yourself when Simon suddenly pulls away gently patting your head, back to grumbling, "Gonna go for a wash." He walks off, leaving you stunned, perplexed, and lamenting the warmth that hugged your body just moments ago. You smell your shirt where his scent had stuck to - so warm. Your arms wrap around yourself as you leaned against the counter. A singular thought draping across your mind, "What was that?"

[acid-ixx]

IM ALMOST DONE

THIS IS GONNA BE GUT-WRENCHING

Taken from the prequel:

you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together.

— masterlist !

help ??!? u rlly are feeding the community with ur fanart 🩷 bruce and damian bonding together despite it only being months since he was introduced into the family literally ruins any sliver of hope and only furthers the longing (name) would have, and the fact that they're mere silhouettes in the art is so <33 erm ignore my suddenly disappearance for a day or two, i was feeling unwell 💔

otherwise, here's something for u because i appreciate everything you send me ! ft. post-kidnapped reader with yan! bruce and damian.

bruce and damian after kidnapping you would not take lightly the diary entries you have written, expressing jealousy and contempt towards your biological father and half-brother, about how it was alfred who had to take the time of his busy day to watch a movie with you instead. when you write about how you wished alfred was your father instead, bruce would not only feel his heart clenching but he'd also need the feel to prove himself better than the past, that he can and will be the only father you would ever need.

add damian to the mix, who had his own bouts of jealousy towards you, who wanted to bond with you in ways closer than you ever will with your other siblings, who felt that deep pit of guilt that he knows he could never crawl out of, with his addled tantrums...

— and you get yourself an overtly clingy dynamic with those two in the same room as you. now, instead of both of them dismissing your presence, the two would be fixated upon your every movement, your expressions, your actions. anything and everything would be documented and if you ate less or talked less, damian would always be the first to comment upon it, and your dad (as you should be calling bruce) would take damian's observations seriously. there's no escaping their grips.

no, you can't say no just now! damian wants to watch animal documentaries with you and that's the only thing keeping him from slicing someone's head off their body! what do you mean you don't want to spend time with them? bruce just needs to have his baby by his side and— no, just because you're over 18 doesn't mean your family would lessen their affection towards you! you're still so young and who knows what path of self-destruction you'd bring on yourself if you're left to your own whims.

the family is dysfunctional enough, so any concept of personal space is nonexistent. it makes everything worse if you'd have to deal with more than two people in the same room... and two very strong, capable, and deadly vigilantes who invites you to watch movies with them isn't very soothing to your veins but those hands that can crush your throats are your family and they make it obvious that you're the favorite, that despite the... rough past they inflicted on you, they'll always love you; so what's the point in denying them?

you'll be squashed between your father and your youngest brother on the couch, with fluffy blankets and your favorite show playing in the background. you express any ounce of discomfort and bruce would immediately ask you what's wrong, what do you need, are you hungry, perhaps? is the popcorn stale? or do you want another snack? he'll pause the movie and ask you with practiced precision, the furrow on his brows and analytical eyes are an immediate signal that all your answers are taken seriously. yet despite his intimidating tactics, despite the lack of light in the room casting a shadow on his face, he questions you with your head laid on his chest and a scarred hand trying to soothingly run through your hair.

meanwhile, damian wouldn't even hesitate resting his head on your shoulders, finding it useless to silently express his need for your physical affection. so he takes it in himself to wrap his entire body around your torso, hands locking you in a grip that provides scorching heat under the countless of blankets you're already wrapped in. sometimes, he doesn't even know that he occasionally nuzzles against your neck, and you have no way to push yourself away from him because the position you're in makes you sandwiched between your father's chest and damian's body. and you can't do anything about it but puff, asking your youngest if he could be so kind to at least leave you air to breath.

he'll merely comply, but then it's your legs that would be tangled against each other next, and it'd be soon you'll discover that it's meaningless trying to attempt to escape their affection.

because really, you have no way out of this, not when everyone suddenly insists that bonding time with any siblings or with bruce requires your presence above everybody else's.

[space-invading-pigeon]

Steve is covered in scars; mementos of the horrors he'd seen and the determination to not just survive, but to protect.

There's the petaled bite mark on his left leg from that horrible night in the junkyard in '84; Steve's incredibly proud of that scar, and so are the three kids he'd kept safe that night.

Then he has the starburst scars across his ribcage and an uneven jawline from that night underneath Starcourt. He wears those with pride, because Robin doesn't have a mark on her from that.

His chest is littered with bite scars, and a long, jagged scar around his neck from those hellish bats. He also had a thin, raised line that split his eyebrow on the left side.

Every one of the scars littering the ex-jock's body is a badge of honor to him, and each of his kids seem to see these scars as a testament to a person's ability to change.

Steve loves his scars, so this new one stretching from his left shoulder to his right hip is going to be a huge hit, once it's healed, Eddie is sure of it.

If only Steve would wake up.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Two

Summary - As the ways of the world shift, you find yourself torn between those who have always cared for you and the life you feel like you were made to live.

Warnings - some angst, mentions to past trauma, fluff

Part One

The crescent moon scars peered out from the neckline of your nightgown, still raised and angry, threatening to split open in the hope of having their former partners restored.

It wasn't often that they caused you pain, and if they did, you had learnt to live with it, but there was a knot twisting around the muscle there and every movement was causing you to hiss and wince. After you had managed to lift yourself out of bed, you stood braced against one of the posters of the frame, eyes closed and inhaling deeply to halt the contractions pulsing around the area and shooting down your spine.

A gentle knock pulled your attention, the swirling pain striking hard and threatening to send you crumpling to the ground, "What's wrong?" Azriel appeared at your side, no doubt hearing the deep breaths and audible whimpers from the other side of the door.

Azriel's room was across the hall from your own, a silly decision on Rhys' part when you thought about the complicated relationship you shared with the Shadowsinger. It wasn't odd for you to enter your room at any point of the day to find him splayed across your bed or sat by the window, he'd always liked the comfort of your room more than his own.

"There's a knot in my shoulder, I can feel it moving," Azriel nodded in understanding and led you to the bathroom at a pace that was comfortable to you, helping you to sit on the edge of the tub before moving to your medicine cabinet.

Azriel knew where everything was in your room, he knew exactly where you kept the expensive ointments and where you kept the cheaper ones that Cassian would 'borrow' from you unknowing to the fact that you knew full well that he took your things. All you needed to do was mutter what you wanted and his shadows would slither back and tell him, moments later he would return with the item and a warm smile on his lips.

Soon enough Azriel had returned to you, tub in hand and glancing to your clothed back, "Do you mind if I lower it a little?"

Shaking your head, you caught the straps of your gown before they fell too far and exposed your chest to him. Azriel's touch feathered over the scar, and he could clearly see the muscle spasming beneath the skin, you entire body convulsing along with it. It was usually Mor that tended to you in these situations, but you didn't mind Azriel helping at all, you had seen the most gruesome parts of one another. An angry muscle was nothing.

The cream was cold against your skin but you leaned into it and the owner of its appearance, Azriel's fingers worked meticulously, applying pressure in just the right place to bring you untold relief but also a surging amount of pain. Azriel apologised softly as his fingers worked their way into the muscle, rolling small circles into the skin and wincing with you as you hissed in pain.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry," his shadows had flowed over your shoulders, hugging themselves around your neck and purring softly in your ear.

Azriel always tried his best to be mindful of your loss, going as far as to tuck his large wings behind him as much as possible when you were around despite you telling him that it wasn't an issue. It was obvious how much you missed them from when you looked at his wings, or Cassian's, or Rhys', even Feyre and Nyx weren't safe from your gaze.

A few more minutes went by of Azriel's fingers rubbing into your skin and you weren't in pain anymore, it had floated away in the abyss and you exhaled from your mouth as his hands came to rest atop your shoulders, "Thank you."

"Of course," he glanced about the bathroom, "Do you need me to do anything else?"

"I should be fine, thank you."

The touch of his fingers were still on your bare shoulders and you could feel his gaze trailing down the thick waves of your messy morning hair to the large scars carved into your shoulders. Warmth spread across your skin as his digits lay unmoving on you and you turned your head to the side to capture his gaze, “Is everything alright?”

Pulling him from his trance, Azriel cleared his throat and took a step backward, bumping into the jagged edge of the tub with a dull thump, “Fine. Everything is fine,” it didn’t go unnoticed by you how his shadows had restrained his wings, pinning them behind his back, but before you could tell him to stop, to not hide from you, he had spoke, “I should go. Rhys is sending me on a mission with Nesta.”

You stood, pulling the thin strings of your nightgown back over your shoulders as you faced him, “You and Nesta?” Your voice echoed in the large bathroom, rattling against the windowpanes that were begging to be opened to allow the sweet sonnet of Velaris to reach you, “Why both of you?”

“I can’t say,” he couldn’t say? Or he didn’t know? “I just wanted to come and say goodbye.”

“And to tell me to watch my mouth whilst you’re gone?”

Azriel smirked, “That too,” he wound his arms around your waist and pulled you into him, swaying softly with you in his arms, “I’ll be back soon.”

Cedar was consuming you and you swayed with him, eyes fluttered closed and enjoying the contact of his arms around you, “Be careful,” it was all you could say to make him aware that you cared, he knew that too.

Pulling back from you slightly, he looked down on you, running his thumb along the curve of your jaw, “Always am,” he pressed his lips to your forehead, where your hair met the skin, and paced from the room, his shadows fighting to stay back for one more moment with you.

It was no coincidence that Rhys had decided to send both Azriel and Nesta on a joint mission, the two people closest to you suddenly being ordered away from the Night Court. Away from you. It was unsettling to say the least. Rhys had been keeping a wary eye on you since the morning Eris had left a few days ago, he had noticed how Eris had lingered around you that night at dinner, how the High Lord had unknowingly dressed in the same colours as you, and he didn’t like it one bit.

It felt like punishment, to force you into solitude for aiding Eris at that meeting. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy spending time with the rest of your family, or that you didn’t like them, it’s just that Azriel and Nesta understood you in the deepest way possible, from the intricate ticking of your mind, to your wit, to the abuse you had suffered and the darkness that lingered inside of your soul, tainting it with its inky mist.

The entirety of Prythian, whilst they knew of you, wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd if it weren’t for your telltale eyes. It was always something that had bothered you, why exactly were you so hidden, like forbidden fruit born from a poison oak. To look at but never touch, to never be intrigued by, to never interact with unless they wished death upon themselves.

You were the last resort, the one Rhys would call upon if there was no other option. At first you believed it was because he truly wanted to keep you out of harms way, to protect you and the future of the court, but as time ticked away, it became glaringly obvious that protecting you wasn’t the reason for it at all.

Rhys was supposed to be the most powerful High Lord that Prythian had ever seen.

What would people think when they saw you, his lesser than sister unworthy of any true title, possessing power that even he found unfathomable?

Sure, Rhys could mist a portion of an army away with a lift of the finger, but you could decimate entire battlefields without even blinking if you so wished it. It wasn’t information he wanted to be common knowledge, so it wasn’t.

The reflection in the mirror was the perfect rendition of the mask you had worn your entire life, soft, elegant, naive, unknowing, it disguised the raging wildfire that consumed you daily, that begged to be unleashed, to devour the world in your fury and conform anyone who stood against you to ash.

A practiced smile fell onto your lips, your hands were neatly folded atop your form fitting plum purple skirt, and your shoulders dropped with a sigh. In that moment, as you stood before your reflection, dressed in fitted fabric of onyx and purple, did you realise how much better you looked in red.

The library had always been your sanctuary, perhaps that was the reason you and Nesta had become so close. She too sought out the comfort that only the library could provide, maybe it was the smell of worn parchment or the faint aroma of oak from the sturdy shelves, maybe it was how the light trickled through the stained glass windows or the comfort of the deep seated armchairs. Whatever it was, it definitely owned a part of you, of you both.

Nesta had found herself idly glancing at the titles on the shelves, it was the week after she had been Made, and one of the first moments she had left her bedroom since finding herself in Velaris. The eldest Archeron sister knew little of you, so little in fact that she didn’t realise you were Rhys’ sister until you told her.

You’d found Nesta in one of the many hidden pews of books, clutching a particular title between your fingers, she had looked awful back then with her hallowed cheeks and sickly pale skin, and she had commented on your inability to announce yourself, and you had told her that she better watch how she spoke to you in your home. Of course that meant that you would become close friends.

Silence swirled about you, a room that was usually rife with Nesta’s sharp humour and chatter about the books you had swapped with her was nothing but a wistful memory.

The library was off limits to everyone bar you and Nesta who came and went as you pleased, other members of the inner circle had to ask for special permission to enter the sanctuary you had made for yourselves. It was an uninterrupted space, a place of harmony and exploration.

Which is exactly why you scowled when you saw Lucien sat in your usual seat with his legs propped atop the vintage coffee table, sifting through pages of a random book he had removed from its perch without giving it much attention or care.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here, Lucien?”

Lucien glanced up at you then, cocking his head to the side and examining you. His mechanical eye whirred, filling the space, as his gaze narrowed in on you, “You look better in red,” his eyes moved to the space behind you which led to the open hallway with walls adorned with various portraits, namely one of yourself that Rhys had commissioned before the happenings of Amarantha, midnight purple wings and all; Lucien silently beckoned you inside with his stare and you closed the doors behind your entrance with a soft click.

Floating to the nearest open seat, a plush black armchair opposite him which homed a red wine velvet cushion, you waved your fingers and the atmosphere fell dense, “You can speak freely,” a shimmer clung to the air like speckles of glistening starlight, and Lucien knew that if anyone were to enter in search of you that they wouldn’t see anything but an empty room before their eyes.

Glamoured.

Lucien was by no means an unpleasant male to look at, he shared so many aspects with Eris, the elder brother than you could see in Lucien’s fire red hair and russet eyes, in his chiselled cheekbones and golden skin, even in the distant surveying glint in his eye. You didn’t know much about the Vanserra brother that resided in your city, but from what Feyre had told you, Lucien was trustworthy, one of the few males in the land she would always be able to count on.

Reaching into the back pocket of his deep brown briefs, Lucien held a piece of parchment before your narrowed eyes, turning it over in his fingers whilst contemplating whether or not to give it to you. Lucien knew little of you, only fragments of you from what Elain had told him in passing, but he had a feeling that you were much more than what you appeared to be. Such was obvious from the subtle notes he picked up from watching you converse with Eris a few evenings prior.

The parchment was rough under his touch, calloused paper that was singed at the edges. Lucien hadn’t dared to open it when it had appeared under his mug that morning with your name intricately scribed onto the folded surface, instead awaiting for his own note to appear, which it had moments later with strict instructions to make sure the note reached you no matter what.

“This is from Eris,” you sat up straighter in your seat, the once unbothered and passive stare now replaced with one of excited intrigue. He smirked.

Lucien held out the parchment to you, and you were ashamed at how fast you rose from your seat to claim it from your fingers. It smelt of him, of autumn pine and cinnamon, the same scent that had lingered on your skin since the morning he had left.

You sent him a sidelong glare and tried to keep your features as trained and neutral as possible, holding it lax in your fingers like you weren’t itching to flip it open and read away, “You know that Rhys would nail your balls to the wall if he knew you were giving this to me?”

Lucien hummed, grinning at you, “Yes. But something tells me that he’s not going to find out.”

Damn Lucien Vanserra and his keen eye, and damn you for allowing a sliver of your true nature to shine through for him to see.

Deep down you were a young girl in love with the idea of fated mates, of true love and happiness, of bright tomorrows and forevers, and it taken a lot of darkness to try and squash that hope that lingered within your soul. Centuries of believing that your power and name made you unlovable, to be feared only.

“What makes you think that?”

Lucien cocked his head to the side, looking you up and down, confirming to himself that there was no way that you would tell a soul, not even Nesta, “That hope I just saw in those eyes,” he rose from his seat and approached your position, “Perhaps it’s time for you to wake up,” he spoke in a tone that indicated that he knew something that you didn’t, many things actually.

Casting his gaze downward at the beautiful cursive rendition of your name, he spoke, “Write your response and will it back to him, it will dissipate into ash in your fingers and float to him in the wind.”

“Why have you delivered this?”

Lucien shrugged, “So many questions,” his voice trailed off, shoving his hands deep into his pockets he stepped toward the door, “Because y/n,” he turned from you, talking to you over his shoulder, “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen Eris be so openly kind to, do you know how hard it is for him to apologise about anything?”

Then he was done, and the moment he stepped out into the hallway the glamour dropped and you shivered at the sensation of it.

The portrait of you stared at him and he stopped before it, drinking in the beauty of the starlit backdrop and your wildfire ringed orbs that cut through the darkness like a beacon of enveloping safety. Lucien glanced back to you, noting how you stood in the room peering down at the parchment, turning it over in your hands and thinking about whether or not it was a good idea to indulge the new High Lord, “Life has its challenges, y/n. It’s up to you to decide if they’re worth the struggle.”

He spoke from knowledge, of his own truth, “Were they worth it to you?”

Lucien smiled fondly, no doubt casting his mind to his beautiful mate that breathed life back into his weathering essence, “Very much so.”

It had taken a lot of back and forth mental arguments to bring yourself to open Eris’ note. There was a delicious foreboding about it all that made it all the more tempting, Rhys would lose the reigns of his consciousness and submit himself to his own darkness if he knew.

But Lucien was right, there was no way that you were going to tell him.

With your heartbeat thundering in your chest, you slipped your thumb between the fold and flipped the note open.

Eris’ writing wasn’t as you thought it would be, you were expecting messy handwriting with little personable tone to the words, but how wrong you were, how wrong you were when you could hear that sultry whisky deep voice linger in every neatly curved word you read.

I apologise for putting you in the position of keeping something from your family, but I had to speak to you, and this is the only way I can.

Allowing your gaze to linger on the words, the paper rustled in the breeze from the open window, like Eris had sent the element to give you a little nudge. Reaching for a pen, you scribed your reply, watching the paper engulf in contained flame and the ash dance away in the wind, just as Lucien had said.

It’s not just yourself that you’re putting in danger. Poor Lucien for becoming entangled in another scandal.

A moment passed, and another piece of parchment appeared in your lap doused in his scent.

Any danger is worth even a mere second of your time.

Even if it means pissing off the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history?

Even then. But we both know that Rhysand isn’t the most powerful, don’t we Fawn?

Butterflies pulsed in your stomach at the name, you were by no means a fawn, but the sincere softness of it made your heart clench.

If you’re alluding to yourself then I’m afraid you’re severely mistaken, High Lord.

The paper vanished, reappearing again moments later and you could have sworn you could see Eris tucked away in the office of Fir Manor, dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and forest green briefs, hair tousled and smirking into the air with a quill resting between his digits.

This is perhaps the one and only time where I will happily be mistaken… and please, it’s Eris.

Do I not threaten you?

Should you?

You thought about it, there wasn’t a bone in your body that wished to be feared or appear as threatening, it was the role you had grown into, the one you had always played with little say in it, and it was like he knew that.

No, I shouldn’t.

The paper vanished and you waited a stretch for it to return, confiding yourself to staring at the starlit skies beyond the window and wonder where exactly Nesta and Azriel had been sent off to.

Where would Rhys have sent them? And why couldn’t Azriel tell you about it? Did he even know himself what the aim of his mission was? Did Nesta? Why had he chosen the two people closest to you and knowingly left you without someone to lean on?

I see the mask you wear. I see what it’s done to you. You’ve worn it for so long that you feel lost within it, as though the mask has consumed your light. I want to tell you to let the fire burn, to be yourself is the greatest gift you could ever give.

Who knew that the fox could speak with sentiment?

And, like you could hear the earthy chuckle through the inked words, you could practically hear him say,

There are many things that you don’t know about me, Little Fawn. Perhaps one day I’ll let you close enough to find out.

The ghost of his voice lingered around you, like faint whispers of a lover at sunrise.

No, you wouldn’t tell Rhys, or anyone for that matter about the oh so wrong pit burying itself into your gut, or about your nerves prickling with flaming desire.

Blood and loyalty be damned.

Authors Note

Hope you love this x

Feedback is, as always, appreciated

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh

[messenger-of-babel]

Shattered

Summary: Bruce isn't sure how to stop breaking things, or how to stop breaking in the process. (Bruce Wayne x reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Notes: mention of character death.

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You wished you could put the pieces back together; you really did.

You wanted nothing more to be able to put the pieces of his heart back together as easily as putting back his mother's vase, which had been the latest victim to his rage. Alfred came to your side, silent but face apologetic as he helped you dust the shards into the pan.

"I really must apologise for Master Bruce's behaviour-" he had started, but you raised a hand to stop him.

"Its fine, Alfred." you smile softly. "I know he's not mad at me, I just got a little spooked is all."

Alfred crinkles his nose at that. "It still doesn't give him the right. I raised him better, to be a gentleman. I know he'd tear himself to pieces if he hurt you too." he sighs. You can only offer a slight smile to the older man, standing with the pan full of shards in your hand. "And to dear Mistress Martha's vase…" he trails off, eyes softening as he looks at the old Wayne heirloom.

"I'll fix it." you say softly, holding the pieces to your chest. Alfred takes it from you, having to pry your fingers off the handle.

"I will," he says softly, wrestling it from your grip. "Just…there's someone else that needs fixing around here, and he surely won't listen to me. Not since I advocated for master Dick when he left."

You squeeze the old man's shoulder comfortingly. "I'll handle it the best I can." You say softly.

“It’d be much appreciated.” The old butler says, relief flickering in his eyes. “He’ll burn himself to nothing at this rate.” He murmurs in concern before taking his leave, and your mournfully gaze at the vase pieces in his hands. If only it could be that easy.

You knew you could only find him in one of the three spots, places that he seemed to frequent the past few months. The first place you could find him if you were looking was his training area down in the cave, covered in sweat and scars, circling a training dummy until he dropped. Before the incident, you would wolf whistle at him with a smile, calling for him to come eat lunch or take you out on a date. Your eyes could freely roam across his body before jumping up to meet the blue of his gaze and the superstar smile he'd send your way, proving his title as the Prince of Gotham. Back when the soul of Bruce Wayne was easier to pry out from under that cowl.

Now he was always circling, round and round like a shark. His feet placed firmly, and muscles tensed before he struck. Struck with more force than you normally saw him hit even outside of training, striking with cold indifference in his eyes, striking until his knuckles bled. He'd be out of breath and a half step away from collapsing, insisting it wasn’t enough despite your soft, kind calling and attempts at ushering him away from the training mats. He'd brush you off, dripping sweat as he got into stance before the poor training dummy again. You could only look onto him sadly, watching him circle it as if it would come to life and jump him any second. You could see past that though. The dummy was just a human torso, grey and plain, but unbeknownst to him you could also see the shadowy ears and cape that hung off the figure, the black mask that leered at him. You didn't need to be a medium to see the way he fought the ghost of himself. The way he was eating himself from the inside.

Even though he may not be wearing his cowl, you didn’t recognise him. The man staring down the dummy with a raging, cold fire in his eyes and lips quirked downwards with pure vitriol, was definitely not your Bruce.

Neither was he when he poured over the film footage from his suit, head in his hands when he thought no one was watching. The few times you did approach him he had tried to be indifferent, meeting you with angry quips and sarcastic comments. You told him he shouldn't watch; it was only traumatising him over and over again. Watching him be too late, reliving the moment of fear in an endless loop wasn’t healthy. He had snapped at you then, telling you that you didn't understand with his jaw clenched so tightly that you thought it was going to snap. "I need to be better." He had told you, tone firm and heavy. "I will be better."

There was very little you could say in response to that, not when you saw the pain burning brightly behind his eyes. The way their faces were scared into his retinas like ghosts, Thomas and Martha Wayne through the lens of young Bruce now joined by the freshly etched visage of poor Jason Todd. The same face riddled with fear in the grainy playback footage, freezing his last moments in place.

Poor, poor, Jason.

You still remembered the night that Bruce came back, with a bundle held in his arms. You hadn't been one to go into the cave normally, but when Alfred came to solemnly collect you and bring you there, you thought your heart had already thudded to your feet. That was nothing to the shock and horror of seeing Jason all torn up, colourful Robin costume barely clinging to the young boy. Alfred had turned your face into his shoulder as you cried, unaware that the echoing scream in the cave was your own. You were inconsolable, unable to even touch the burnt and beaten skin for fear of him falling apart. The fact that both Alfred and Bruce withheld what he had endured prior to the explosion brought bile to your mouth, head reeling with the worst possible ideas, mind imagining the poor teen in scenarios so sick it stung your eyes and made you dizzy. Alfred had told you that it was horrid to repeat, and it’d only bring more pain. Still, you weren’t sure if the truth could be any worse than your nightmares.

 Sure, Jason hadn't been your son, but he felt like it. You had chided him like a mother despite not even being married to Bruce, patching up his scrapes and cuts when he came back from patrol with your partner. He’d just laugh it off and give you a boyish smile while he regaled you with his adventure with Batman that night.

"Thanks, Ma." he'd say, flexing whatever part of him you had patched up.

He isn't blood, but he is your son too.

or was.

When you didn't find him in his usual haunts down in the cave, you found him night in your shared bedroom, only the faint moonlight filtering in to the strewn sheets and the sight of him sitting on the bed. "Bruce?" you call softly, but he doesn’t react as you slip into the room. You knew he hadn't meant to thrown things; mind clouded in grief. He hadn't even registered that you were there, evident by the way he was holing himself up in the room away from everyone and the haze that covered his normally bright sclera. He'd become more frequent to these bouts of grief and rage in the latest week, volatile and pushing everyone away to punish himself. You place a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly flinches, making you retract it instantly. For a full tense second, you aren't sure if you should fill the silence, but he beats you to it.

"Leave."

you shake your head. "I'm not leaving, Bruce. I want to help-"

"No, Leave." he stresses, and you can faintly catch onto the hint in his words. Your eyebrows draw together and your mouth goes dry.

"You don't really mean that, you're just-"

"I'm just what?" he snaps back, standing to his full height, coming around in front of you. His glare makes your voice shrivel in your throat as he stares you down. "You shouldn't be around me." he snaps. "When will you learn? That people around me-" he swallows thickly, blinking harshly as his jaw ticks and he turns away. You can fill in the blanks though.

People around me die. People like Jason.

"Bruce," you say gently but firmly. "I'm fine, you're not- and don't even argue." you huff, frustrated as he goes to open his mouth again. "Bruce please, it hurts me to see you like this." you murmur. "You need to talk to me, to Alfred, please-"

"I'll deal with it myself," he hisses out. "I need to stop the Joker. I need to catch him."

I need to make him pay.

"Bruce-"

"No." he says firmly, and there’s a swirl of madness clouded in his eyes when he looks at you. A kaleidoscope of pain that feels like murky waters as you trawl through them for the Bruce Wayne you know. "You don't understand," he says breath ragged. That sends a pang of hurt through you, and you take step back.

"Jason was my son too." you defend painfully. "Don't you dare-"

"He wasn't my son."

that makes you freeze, breath slowing in your chest. "What?"

"He wasn't my son." Bruce grits out again, eyes screwed up almost as tight as his fists by his sides. "He wasn't my son, he was just a Robin, he was just-" he struggles to get the words out, as if they're choking him from the inside. You aren't sure what is worse, the words he's saying or the way you can seem him breaking down in front of you. Like a shattered mirror, unsure whether to reflect back your Bruce or the broken hero.

"You don't mean that-" you say, trying to stop the way your own voice breaks, hating the tears that burn the back of your eyes. "I know you're hurting Bruce. We all are, but don't say that. don't say that he wasn't your son. He thought of you as a father whether you wanted him to or not."

His eyes seem to burn darker every word you say, the way he's on fire from the inside.

"You're hurting," you try to keep your voice steady. "Let me help."

Your hands ached to hold the pieces of his heart like the smashed vase, but this wasn't something you could fix with a little attention to detail and glue. He shook his head at your plea, sighing through his nose. "Leave." he chokes out again.

"I won't." you say firmly.

"Then I will." he snaps back, he turns to grab his coat from the funeral, thrown over the chair by the vanity. "And you better be gone from this manor by the time I'm back."

The burning in your eyes spills over as he brushes past you like he'd never known you, shoulder cold and biting. "I'll call Alfred to help you collect your things. He'll take you back to your old apartment, I bought it so the deed will be transferred back to your name in the next few days." and then he's gone.

You could only watch the retreating form of his back, lip wobbling as you try to keep it steady. He left so quickly you hadn’t even gotten a chance to properly react, to fight with your relationship. He’d cut it in a single blow, actions swift and efficient.

Not like Bruce. Like Batman.

His words to you cut, but you could sense the pain behind those words. You had known him long enough after all, enough to watch his rise and now his downfall as Batman.

I'll leave you before you leave me.

I'll leave before you get hurt.

Before you end up like Jason.

Because I know you will.

As you sit on the bed, shock settling into your bones, you can’t help but wonder who really was caught in the destruction of the bomb back there, and if you had just watched those last pieces of his heart shatter into dust.

[enternalvoid]

~Mha Relationship Headcanons: Villain edition!

Gender neutral reader

TW: very brief mentions of cuts, that's it.

Dabi

He's surprised when you admit your feelings for him. He didn't believe that anyone could love him, much less even care about him in the slightest.

He's not vocal with his feelings, he doesn't really know how to be, but he shows he cares in various ways.

He's way softer with you than he is anyone else. He's not as cold and apathetic when it comes to you, you get to see a whole other side of him that nobody else does.

He'd call you pet names, such as "darling", "baby", "sexy", "hottie", etc. Baby would have to be his favorite one though.

Touch starved af

He secretly loves it when you touch/kiss his scars. It makes his heart flutter every time you do so—he'll never admit it though.

His love language is gift giving. He'll randomly show up with something expensive that he totally bought. Saw some expensive clothing a few days prior? He's got it. Want a new watch? New phone? A plushie? He's getting it for you.

He has to be touching you at all times when you're in public, weather it be holding your hand or wrapping an arm around you.

He absolutely adores your body, especially your thighs and. They're his favorite pillows.

He needs affirmation from you. Hearing how much you love him, how you don't mind his scars, how you want to be with him—it makes him feel all warm inside.

If you're afab, he's like your personal heating pad when you're on your period. He'll hold his hand over your stomach and heat it up. He's also a lot more gentle with you during this time.

He tries to cook for you sometimes—he's not very good at it, but he tries.

You're the only person he truly trusts. He's so much more relaxed when it's just you and him together.

It's most likely something to do with his possessiveness, but seeing you in his clothes drives him absolutely crazy.

Manages to keep calm when jealous for the most part, but if anyone ever dares to hit on you, they're dead.

Shigaraki

He's completely clueless when it comes to romance prior to meeting you, so he wasn't exactly the best at relationships at first.

He's a quick learner, so he quickly learns what he should and shouldn't do (he pays a lot of attention to you, he just hides it)

He is extremely careful with you. He's absolutely terrified that he'll hurt you.

He refused to touch you for a long time until he got his gloves. Once he started wearing them, he practically never took his hands off of you.

His love language is physical affection. He's also extremely touched starved, much like Dabi. He wants needs to feel your skin against his.

He loves it when you play with his hair. It's surprisingly very soft, so you don't mind.

He loves your chest, it's his favorite place to lay his head. Your heartbeat is the most comforting sound to him.

He likes having you sit on his lap while he's gaming. He'll wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder. He squeezes you when he gets mad if he loses a game.

Wants to hold your hand when you sleep, but is too scared too.

Recreated the league in the Sims 4. You accidentally discovered your Sims were dating before you actually got together in real life.

Most of your "dates" consist of just laying around playing Minecraft or some other game together.

Gets jealous when other people touch you. Who are they to put their disgusting, tainted hands on someone as perfect as you?

Toga

You're constantly covered in bite marks and cuts.

She loves going shopping with you, it's one of her favorite activities.

Love language is words of affirmation. She'll constantly praise you, telling you how much she loves you and how perfect you are.

Dates would consist of going out to malls, painting each other's nails, doing each other's hair, doing each other's makeup, etc.

You met her by accident. You were taking a shortcut through an alleyway and happened to run into her. She was immediately awestruck by you. You could almost always see her out of the corner of your eyes. When you both joined the League, the two of you struck up a romantic relationship.

She steals your stuff a lot. You'll find her wearing your clothes, your perfume/cologne, your body wash and shampoo. She uses one of your shirts as a pillow case.

She gets jealous very easily, even more so than Shigaraki and Dabi. You're hers, and she is yours.

Loves cuddling with you, will do so anywhere, anytime.

She's always holding your hand when you're in public. She just loves you so much, she wants everyone to know you're together.

As mentioned before, her love language is words of affirmation; any sort of praise from you is music to her ears. She goes even crazier than she already is for you when she hears those words come from your mouth.

You're always the one to initiate kisses. She doesn't mind kissing, but she's too busy biting you to really want to kiss.

She wants to be by your side 24/7.

Mr. Compress

Total gentleman<3

He has the most experience with romance out of the League, he knows what he's doing.

Love language is acts of service. He loves doing things for you. He'll cook for you, clean for you, and just overall take care of you as much as he can.

He's definitely the type of man to open the car door for you, like he actually refuses to let you open the door yourself. He will lock the door if you try to open it yourself.

Kisses the back of your hand a lot. He'll do that thing where he'll kiss your hand and move up your arm to your neck.

Always calls you "darling" or "sweetheart."

He likes bringing you to very expensive and fancy restaurants with the money that he totally made in a very legal way.

Will give you massages whenever you're sore.

He absolutely worships you. Your hair, your face, your body, your voice, your scent, he loves everything about you and he's not afraid to say it.

He'll get you almost anything you want. Just say the word and it'll be yours in no time.

He will literally die for you, you mean so much to him. He tells you this all the time.

Will get you your favorite flowers on your birthday. Don't like flowers? No worries, he'll get you something else. Anything for you.

Bonus: Hawks

Despite everyone believing he's a playboy, he's never actually been in a relationship.

He randomly shows up at your place out of the blue. There's been times when you've come home and he's just sitting on your couch like he owns the place. He did it so often that you just gave him an extra key.

It didn't take long for the public to find out about your relationship. He didn't try to hide it at all. Why would he? Hell, he'd scream it from the rooftops.

He likes bringing you random tiny gifts. He'll come home with a shit ton of trinkets and souvenirs as gifts for you. Half the time he won't even know what they are, he just thought they looked cool.

Dates with Hawks would probably be more casual. It's not going to be anything too fancy—unless you want to go somewhere fancy, he won't complain—but he'd at least take you somewhere nice.

Cuddles on the couch are a must. He'll pull you onto his lap and wrap his arms/wings around you.

Usually sleeps with his head on your chest or stomach with his wings wrapped around you. He mostly lays on his stomach because of his wings, but occasionally sleeps on his side. If he's laying on his side, he's big spoon.

Gets jealous over you pretty easily.

He gets pissed at interviewers when they bother you. They often pester you with pretty personal questions about your relationship. He's always quick to tell them off.

He has you as his lockscreen on his phone, which is just one of many pictures he has of you. He just adores you and wants to be able to look at your pretty face at any time.

Loves wearing matching clothes with you. Definitely has matching Hello Kitty pajamas with you.

[mistress-riddle]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃. tommy shelby.

✐ 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

❧ cw. typical violence, alcohol consumption, mentions of a child almost getting blown up, the usual 🤷🏻‍♀️

❧ r. I was wondering if I could request one where she happens to be back at the house/betting shop at the time when the Lees destroy it and the fact that the Lees still did that with there being a woman, let alone the woman who is his significant other, in the shop really infuriates Tommy when he comes back to see that she’d been affected by it. I’ll leave it up to you for how you want to end it. ☺️ — @runnning-outof-time

"ooh, where are you heading?" you ask polly who places a hat on top of her head and she sends you a smile as you greet her. she means to answer but tommy joins your side and interrupts her by asking "where's john?"

"john's at the garrison," she informs and tommy's brows furrow "says he wants a meeting about a family matter." you hear him sigh and so you put your hand on his shoulder and he gives you a look of exasperation.

"easy tommy, he just wants a meeting, not to overthrow the government."

"and well, we know he'd do that himself." polly remarks and you snicker in response, she purses her lips in return "besides, he'll say his piece and he'll be back to take his place with scudboat." her nephew merely rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disbelief.

"scudboat, john will be here in ten minutes." polly declares and walks away, fixing her gloves on her way out to the garrison.

"five." tommy corrects before following her, but he stops halfway and turns to you "you coming?"

"i'll stay, still haven't had breakfast." you tell him and point over to scudboat "he might also need some help counting."

tommy stares for a few seconds before nodding "i'll be back soon, love."

.

he walks out and you take a seat at scudboat's table continuing his counting as he locks up. having two people deal with the work quickened the pace and soon the two of you were done. you leaned back in your seat.

"would you like something from the kitchen, scudboat?" you follow your question with some offers "tea or some biscuits?"

he nods "tea would be nice, miss." you shoot him a smile as you get up however you're stopped from actually walking to the kitchen as the instant you stand, the doors bust open. almost like instinct, you see scudboat pull out what you presume is a gun from the side of your eye and you freeze in your spot with both arms raised in surrender.

"put that down!" you hear one of the men order and around 2-3 men with weapons circle scudboat and restrain him whilst you face the end of a barrel.

"this is for cheltham." a man with a gypsy accent and bandages covering his right ear announces as he moves his aim from you to scudboat and you hold back a groan. of course tommy angered the lee family during his visit to the races, of fucking course "we're just taking back what's ours." he drives the end of the gun to scudboat's face, effectively dropping him to the floor.

he then turns to you once more "where are the loots, huh?" he asks gruffly and you withhold a grimace.

"i don't what you're talking about." you respond, annoyed at the entire situation you were left in.

"come on, you're tommy's girl, are you not? he must've told you where they are." a scoff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, arms crossing before your chest.

"what makes you think that?" you cock your head to the side, eyes widening in an innocent expression "i only work here to serve the men drinks and clean up."

the man lets out a hoarse laugh and clutches your face in his hold "don't mess with me, i know who you are." your face drops and you hold his gaze.

"then you must know that tommy will have your head if he so much as sees a scar on me?" you threaten softly and his grip loosens "or are you as stupid as you look, i mean you must be because who in their right mind would steal from the peaky blinders?--" you're stopped by a slap across your face.

"fuck you," he spits in your direction, probably realising that you won't give up information and are only wasting time, stalling for the shelby's return. you don't react, however, eyes staring daggers as he orders his men "search everywhere!" he tells them and they leave scudboat to fall on the floor to disperse around the betting shop, flipping the place all over in search of what the peaky blinders retrieved. you slip away during their distraction and kneel beside the injured man.

"i'm sorry" you whisper, reaching for a cloth on a nearby table to dab at the deep wound on his temple. it didn't take long for the men to leave, laughing as you hear something clunk against a table and within a few minutes, finn walks through the kitchen, his stroll halted at the sight of you and scudboat crouched on the floor.

"finn!" you call the boy and he runs to you, worry in his eyes "go and call your brothers, tell them to hurry here." you pat his cheek softly once he's close enough and with a nod, he races of to the garrison. you pull a fallen chair and stand it up right, helping scudboat on the chair.

"love," you hear tommy's voice before you see him "are you alright?" he asks and you leave scudboat as tommy gathers you in his arms, a kiss pressed against the crown of your head, and you inhale his familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey and a mix of cologne.

"what the bloody hell happened here?" arthur asks from somewhere behind you and scudboat answers him as john surveys the betting shop, feet stomping in anger.

"tommy, i'm fine" you reassure him, patting his chest as you pull away. the slap was nothing as far as you were concerned "however, they took what they could find, sorry we couldn't do anything about it, they were all armed."

tommy shakes his head at you "fuck that, what matters is you're alright." he places a kiss on your forehead once more before detaching from you to scan the place. you turn to see arthur tending to scudboat (serving him alcohol, you note with a chuckle) and instead choose to stand beside polly who reaches a hand out to hold your own.

"your cheek's red." you see the dissatisfied expression she's wearing and tap her hand.

"polly, i'm fine, don't worry." whatever she intends to say dies down her throat as tommy approaches the centre of the room, wire cutters held in his hand.

"they left these." he shows the people in the room the tool and you and polly share a confused look.

"wire cutters?" the older woman questions.

"what for?" you ask and hesitate when you see the alarm quickly taking over the shelby brothers faces.

"nobody move." arthur instructs but you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"i think our friends are playing the game." your confusion turns to tommy instead and you feel the frustration rising at the lack of explanation.

"what game?" polly asks, putting away the cash box she picked up earlier with her free hand and john stops her from continuing "aunt pol, don't touch anything." he pleads.

"erasmus lee was in france."

"an explanation would be grand since not all of us were in said france." you snap, anxiety at its peak.

"when we gave up ground to the germans," tommy begins, looking straight into your eyes "we'd leave behind booby traps set up with wires. then we'd leave wire cutters, it's part of the joke." you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"somewhere in here there's a hand grenade attached to a wire." john declares and you shake your head.

"holy jesus."

"but we've all moved and touched multiple things in the room, surely it would've gone off by now," you surmise, nibbling on your lip and you catch sight of tommy's pensive face "and there aren't any obvious wires here, they couldn't have stayed long enough to set it either." you clarify.

"you're right," tommy nods "the bullet's in my name. he set up a trap intended for me specifically." you hold his gaze and see the pieces click in his brain and soon he walks out of the house.

everyone pauses and they look at you "the car!" you exclaim and follow after him, leaving the shelby's and scudboat behind.

you lift your dress up and catch up to tommy, bumping slightly into him, just to find his arm extended, talking to someone in his car. the person he's softly talking to causes your heart to drop to your stomach.

"finn," he calls out "stay exactly where you are." you raise a hand to cover your mouth and try to steady your fast beating heart.

"i was pretending i was you." finn giggles and you feel something stab into your heart, tommy leaves you behind as he slowly inches towards his baby brother.

"which door did you open to come in, finn?" tommy asks him and you can hear the panic in his voice.

"i didn't, i climbed in."

"i want you to climb out exactly the same way you climbed in, okay?" tommy approaches even closer, getting to the right side of the car.

"listen to your brother, finn." you call out from the entrance of the garage but finn merely giggles and opens the door anyways.

"NO!"

"FINN!"

you run towards the boy, arms open to cover his small body and tommy quickly retracts the bomb from the car and throws it outside into the streets, yelling a "clear!" as he discards it. you feel him shortly join your embrace afterwards as it goes off.

once he deems it safe to assess the damage, you both walk together with finn holding onto both your hands and tommys. a collective sigh of relief escapes you two before tommy drops down to face finn, holding the boy's face in his hands "this is why you should never pretend to be me."

you watch tommy hug finn who still tightly clung to your hand and tommy looks into your eyes once again, relief washing over them and you send him a tired smile.

"come on finn, how about we go get you some sweets huh?" you ask the boy and he nods eagerly. tommy ruffles his hair and gives him another short hug before letting him leave with you.

once you get home, finn full of sweets and no longer ruffled, you prepare a bathe before you settle in bed. you allow your restless body to finally relax and soak in the warmth of the tub. around half an hour later you wrap your hair in a cloth to absorb the water that still clung to your tresses and apply your moisturiser. your fingers pause when you hear your door open suddenly and in an instant you grab the closest thing beside you and hold it in the direction of the intruder.

"very effective weapon, dear." you look at the item in your hand and let out a scoff/laugh.

"wouldn't need to think about having a weapon if it weren't for your lifestyle." you argue and tommy scoffs in return, busy removing his shoes and outwear.

"[name], you're a woman who lives alone in small heath of all places." the look he sends you makes you snort "even if you had nothing to do with me, you wouldn't be that safe."

"that's wonderful to hear actually, will go to bed feeling safe and sound." you deadpan and he sits himself on your bed, watching as you get back to working the moisturiser into your skin.

"of course, always happy to let my woman know she's safe and protected." you toss one of your powder brushes at him and he easily catches it with a laugh.

"come here already," he beckons you and with a roll of your eyes, you join him under the covers.

"i need you to know that i won't ever let anything harm you," he says once you settle in his arms, eyes gazing into yours "truly."

"i know." you peck his lips before resting your head on his collarbone, he picks up your "weapon" and flicks through the pages to continue from the last time he stopped.

"erasmus has been dealt with and i hope you're ready for a wedding," just as you began to feel the embers of sleep take a hold of you, you peek your eyes open.

"oh no thomas, what'd you do?"

"don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

you roll your eyes at him once more and huff out a breath of irritation "fine, but if polly ever complains to me about this i'm kicking you out of my house and you'll have no access to my books."

"you like me too much to get rid of me, love."

"i'll be the judge of that." you close your eyes once more and drift off to sleep, but not before you feel a kiss against the top of your head.

[jasonswh0rre]

Jason Todd Headcanons

🌸 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 🌸

ꨄ He likes to rub your thighs when he's contemplating sometimes he might do it un subconsciously

ꨄ I think he would like forehead kisses they give him a sense of comfort

ꨄ Better at showing rather then telling his emotions

❥ (for ex: say it’s Valentine’s Day rather then tell you Happy Valentine’s Day he might surprise you with a rose or chocolate and think nothing of it)

ꨄ After care would be him putting the covers on you and kissing your forehead he might rub your shoulders while you rested on his chest

ꨄ Teaches you self defense and how to shoot a gun so you can better protect yourself when he’s not there

ꨄ As a father, Jason's protective instincts are dialed to 100

ꨄ Behind closed doors he can be a teddy bear, and a bit clingy

ꨄ A lazy day for Jason looks like in the bed with you sleeping by his side while he reads a good book

🔥 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 🔥

★ Puts too much pressure and emphasis on the idea of weakness and strength forcing himself to be strong to protect you

★ Panic attacks himself awake

★ He might put you through the ringer to just see if you'll try to leave him, Jason is doing this because after all he's been through he doesn't want to open his heart to the possibility that someone is trying to reach towards him

❥ (So you better keep my man happy 😒)

★ I think possessiveness and abandonment issues play hand in hand like he might not be there for you consistently but he is expecting you to still remain loyal to only him

★ I have this idea that he’d probably have your home bugged so he can see you and know what’s going on should he need to protect you

★ Should there be a moment when you are pregnant he might leave the decision to you but that doesn’t mean he won’t not encourage you to terminate the pregnancy

★ If you keep it he will not be that present physically and when he is it might take him emotionally a while to adjust. He might still try to provide you with the financial aid tho

★ If there was ever a moment where he scared you he would see the fear in your eyes and just leave without saying another word giving you and him space for an unknown prolonged period of time

★ Is prone to dissociation or bursts of rage if he’s reminded of his trauma

☀️ 𝖲𝗅𝗂𝖼𝖾－𝗈𝖿－𝖫𝗂𝖿𝖾 ☀️

★ Smokes when he’s in stressful situations but does tries not to make it a habit

❥ (it’s canon he smokes since it’s implied he was the hooded man in the corner)

★ His go to alcoholic beverage is whiskey

★ Favorite meal: pot roast

★ I know Arkham Jason was never put in the Lazarus pit and never got that white streak we all know and love so I headcanon that instead he probably has peppers of gray hair

I think in the beginning when he checked his reflection seeing that he had gray hair may have left him self-conscious so he'd probably dyed it black but over time he lets it show mainly from just not caring anymore

★ Wears a back brace to correct his posture also has a back brace embedded into his suits

Injuries he potentially could have would be several scars across the body, minor joint pain/swelling, shoulder discomfort

★ If Jason was a father I've always pictured him as a girl dad 🎀 I can't explain it

[darth-kote]

Bad Batch Cuddle HCs

Yes, of course, Wrecker would be at the bottom. He likes laying flat on his back, but when he's really exhausted and feeling safe, he'll lay on his front. Nothing in the galaxy is like the rare chance to shed all the armor and relax those muscles. He practically falls asleep on the spot if someone starts massaging a particularly sore patch in his shoulders or back. He's a BIG hugger. Pillows, plushies, and his brothers are never safe from being held close to his side or chest when within arm's reach. He's even been known to cuddle with blankets if nothing else is available. He loves to be reminded his vode are there with him, and what's better proof than holding them close to his person? Plus he loves to play with anything soft when trying to sleep, so hair will most definitely be twirled and petted (Hunter beware).

Crosshair likes to pretend he hates it when Wrecker or another brother pulls him in for a cuddle. He'll roll his eyes and scoff and weakly push to get away, but the second arms start tightening around his waist or neck, he's a goner. If he really isn't in the mood, he's not afraid to make it known. Otherwise, he enjoys being sandwiched between his brothers; it makes him feel loved without having to say much or ask for anything. They all just seem to know what he needs: a lazy arm over Hunter's shoulder, the steady breathing of Tech behind him as their legs intertwine, Wrecker's hands in his hair or on his back. It's true that laying in a pile with them can get hot and uncomfortable at times, but there's nothing that compares to those moments. He's had so many nights alone, and it makes his fragile heart that much weaker to be surrounded by them again. In the best way possible, I mean.

Hunter is a sucker for a good cuddle whether under immense stress or overcome with immense peace. His heightened senses make it so that the amount of physical contact can sometimes be minimal; not that he hates the touching, it can just get overwhelming when all their bodies are sweaty and squished together. He prefers to be further on the outskirts, like at Wrecker's side rather than on his chest. He does love to be wrapped in the scents of his brothers, though, and finds himself pressing into the spots behind their ears or the sides of their necks when they get close enough. When one of them, usually Wrecker or Crosshair, starts playing with his hair, he's done for. He melts at the touch, his scalp sensitive from the lack of physical contact he usually gets.

Sweet Tech. He spends a lot of time trying to figure out where he's needed. If anyone asked, he'd admit he loves a firm and long chest-to-chest hug. Crosshair's usually the one to pick up on it, twisting towards him and pulling him close without a word. He likes how warm his brothers run compared to him, and he steadies his mind by counting their breaths and heartbeats. He also likes to move his hands a lot if he can't settle into an unconscious state; he'll let his fingertips trace knuckles, scars, and tattoos until he's asked to quit, if ever.

Bonus: Echo

The first time he ever saw them all like that – cuddled together like wolves in a den – he didn't know what to think. They'd all been in their rightful seats on the Marauder, going through a few final points for the upcoming mission before deciding to call it a night. He'd offered to stay awake a bit longer, his mind still unable to steady enough to sleep when the rest of the batch tended to. The quiet had a tendency of putting him back in that headspace he couldn't escape on Skako Minor. He'd noticed Wrecker get up first, a loud grunt emanating from him as he kicked the rest of his armor to the side. Echo never did understand how he could treat it with such roughness, but, in the end, supposed that's exactly what it was intended for. Slowly, they'd each said their good nights to him and headed toward the back of the ship. It had only been about an hour when he got up to stretch his legs – figuratively, at least. He'd nearly walked passed the bunk without a second glance. But then he'd noticed several arms and heads too many and couldn't help stopping in his tracks for a recount. The tech in his head was surely messing with his eyes. But no. All four of the clones were cooped onto Wrecker's bunk. The largest clone's back was to the Marauder's outside wall, presumably an attempt to cool off his skin after the day they'd had. His arm was splayed out in front of him, and the rest of the men were curled into each other like peas in a pod. It was certainly not a sight he'd seen many times: his brothers showing this blatant of affection for one another. He'd almost felt himself smile as he watched on, just for a moment. It made his heart swell to know how much love this squad had for one another, and it gave him hope that more clones could find a family like it.

[mochiwrites]

For the ask game/prompt, mayhaps #1 with Scarian? Could be in canon, one of your AUs, or any other AU you think of lol, no preference ☺️

01. Touch starved/cuddle curse (put that guy in a situation!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"How in the world have you managed this, Scar?!" Grian's indignant voice exclaims, echoing in the small space of Scar's train car. The avian looks down at the man currently pouting at him, a sheepish expression on his face.

"I-I don't know! Joel just gave me this potion thingy and -- and said it would be good for bonding with cOW!" As he speaks, he makes a grabbing motion for Grian, his pout morphing into a pleading look.

Grian pointedly takes a step back from Scar's outreaching arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Trusting Joel was your first mistake," he mumbles, sucking in a breath.

"He's a trustworthy fellow!" Scar retorts, "Besides, I don't see what's so bad about this arrangement... all I want to do is cuddle with you."

"That's exactly the problem, Scar!" The feathers of Grian's wings fluff up as he stares at his husband with a firm look. "I have building I have to do! Shops to set up, permits to not do! I also promised Gem I'd help her out with something in a few hours. I can't just stay here with you all day."

Scar's pleading expression only becomes stronger, his green eyes looking shiny as he stares up at Grian from where he sits on his head. "Please, lovebird? Just for a little bit?" He makes another grabbing motion for Grian, who finds his resolve rapidly crumbling the longer he looks at Scar.

"Nuh uh mister, I know exactly how this sort of thing goes. We both know it won't just be 'for a little bit,'" he answers. Grian's making any desperate attempts at keeping his denial firm.

But... he could just tell Gem he'd be around tomorrow. And it's not like the Permit Office is really ever open. They're only sometimes there to help anyway. And he still hasn't come up with any ideas for his mushroom stem shop.

"I promise this time I'll stick to it! Only a few hours, I swear on my hat!" Scar exclaims, eagerly nodding.

"Where have I heard that one before," Grian mumbles under his breath, fondness written into each and every word. He lets out a little sigh, "Alright, alright, fine. But only for a few hours! Let's hope this... cuddle affliction has run its course by then."

He takes a step toward Scar, and the moment he's close enough, a hand jumps out to grab hold of his wrist. Grian yelps as he's pulled right into Scar's lap, arms slinging around his waist. He steadies himself by gripping Scar's shoulders, finding the love of his life grinning at him.

"You should know I always want to cuddle with you." Scar shoots him a cheeky little wink, making Grian roll his eyes, a small smile upon his lips. "You just fit in my arms so perfectly!"

"Maybe that's just because you're a giant," Grian huffs, getting settled in Scar's hold. He moves to lay his head on Scar's shoulder, tucking it within the crook of his neck. "You're like one big teddy bear."

Scar squeezes him lightly, one of his hands moving to rest against the small of his back, right in between his feathers. The contact leaves Grian melting right into him with a content noise. "Am I a cute teddy bear?"

Grian snorts at him.

"It's the most important question I've ever asked you next to proposing, Grian!" Scar gasps in return, a serious look in his eyes. His green eyes sparkle with mirth, and pressed against him like this, Grian can feel the way his chest rumbles with hidden laughter. "I have to know if I'm a cute teddy bear!"

"Yes Scar," Grian sighs fondly, pulling back to hold the man's face in his hands, "you're a very cute teddy bear." He accentuates his response with a kiss to Scar's nose, "Although Jellie is cuter."

Scar makes some kind of ecstatic noise, pulling Grian down into bed as he rolls onto his side. Grian squawks at the sudden action, just narrowly avoiding his wings getting squished. "But of course! No one is cuter than Jellie. You come in a close second place though."

If it were anyone but Jellie, Grian would have complained.

Instead, he snuggles in close to Scar, wrapping a wing around him as they fall into a comfortable silence. Scar's arms are secure around him, and Grian thinks he'd be fine with laying here all day, wrapped in his husband's arms.

"Remember Scar, only for a few hours."

"Right, right! Only a few hours. Or until this cuddle curse goes away!"

(They go well over 'a few hours' together. Grian's communicator pings a few times, but it sounds almost silent over the pair's easy breaths as they sleep.)

[fuxuannie]

Omg i didn't see requests are open but hello sjchsudb

Going anon because I am a coward

Anygays! Ahem Caelus x reader general hcs pls 👉👈 i love wet cat man wit all my heart

Thank you! And stay hydrated >:(((

* pairing : caelus x gender neutral reader

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : wet cat man strikes again! caelus fans i am feeding you, for i too lack content of him <\3 most of these r silly and just remind me of a current dynamic of me and a good friend of mine lol

ּ ִֶָ ࣪✦ CAELUS is a bit of a man failure, still love him though（≧∇≦）

───── ❝ headcanons ❞ ─────

— he is so incredibly clingy and dan heng is so sick of it, caelus is practically glued to you and will only let go at the promise you'll come with him, or if you're not allowed then you have to reply to his 500 texts daily

— he really likes it when you count the scars on his chest, i imagine he's got tons of scarring and hes a weirdo who sleeps without a shirt and you just trace your fingers over his past scars

— he'll love to talk about the recent expeditions he went on over a cup of coffee, french toast for him and your own favorite snack.

— he tries to avoid looking at trashcans when hes with you but cracks a joke every now and then (gaining a slap to the back of the head for it)

— he tries his best to make good memories, cause a part of him knows the difference between you and him. you were merely mortal, he was.. idk something. but definitely was different. he wants to make sure he has enough smiles from you that he'll never forget how you looked when you were in your happiest moments <3

— the type to say happy anniversary the day before your anniversary cause he got rlly excited and thought it was that day

— he really likes animals and will get distracted if someone has a pet, its a problem when hes visiting someones home and they have a dog he has to play with it for 2 hours minimum

— makes random ass noises when hes bored "rawr" "caelus???"

— likes to hum, especially when you're running your fingers through his hair. he usually does it whenever he feels relaxed

— if you're taller than him, he loves tiptoing to kiss your nose, if youre shorter then he does the same thing but leans down instead lol

— his hair is kinda long enough to style, and he wouldn't really mind if you wanted to do. just ask and he'll happily let you do whatever you want

— he likes to give you his jacket, just randomly he'll sling it over your shoulders (then you not so subtly admire his arms lol)

— he likes back hugs where he leans on you and like his hands around your waist slowly slithering tighter (but not enough that ita comfortable) and ajsnehwksbdj

— his smile is one of your favorite things about him, march 7th and dan heng have listened to you ramble about the way you smile for hours.

— but caelus really likes eye contact, its weird but being able to look into your eyes brings him such comfort. he loves just grabbing you by the chin so he can stare at his beautiful partner.

— sometimes people ask where you found a man like him and you answer he was on the side of the road in the rain sitting in a box giving you kitty cat eyes and he stole your heart just like that (you also say you wish you left him there)

— despite the goof he is, you love him with all your heart. and he'd probably kill a man for you if you asked

[aibloomie]

intimate acts during sex (genshin + sally face)

ft:: xiao, childe, sal fisher x gn!reader (separately)

→  I was going to write more but then I got lazy and a strong urge to play stardew valley </3 also my wifi is failing this better post PLEASE excuse any typos

nsfw under the cut

XIAO

━ likes to cradle your head !! as in, he holds the back of your head with a secure hand and keeps you close to him that way. sure, he'd like to be looking at your face too, but in such a moment he gets lost in his need to be as close to you as possible. it's all the small feelings like: your eyelashes batting against his skin, your rapid breaths fanning the nape of his neck, and just feeling your burning skin touch his. it's definitely a bonus that the sound of all your noises is amplified this way too. he's usually on the quiet side when having sex, but by being so close to him you can make out all his pleasured sighs and moans that slip out.

━ on your end, kissing his scars is possibly one of the most intimate acts you can do for him. the moment you do, he'll start associating his battle scars with your loving touch instead of all the memories that haunt him and bind him to his tainted past. his cheeks will immediately flush when he notices what you're doing, your touch feels electrifying against the scarred skin and he'll start squirming in your hold.

"what are you doing?" his voice was strained, hands clutching onto the bedsheets as you left gentle and individual kisses onto all of his scars. he watched you through lidded eyes, chest heaving up and down because the simple kisses to his scars were more overwhelming than any other sensation he has felt.

"nothing," you murmured, "just kissing your pretty scars, that okay?" you asked, still on task and pressing your soft lips against the rougher parts of his skin.

"mhm." his form of agreement came out in a broken whimper. and he couldn't get another comprehensive word out, too enamored by how you were making him feel.

CHILDE

━ takes the time to kiss your thighs before going down on you, it's one of his favorite parts. he enjoys the sensitivity you have there, and how he has to wrap his arms beneath your thighs to keep you steady. and if you reach down to tug on his hair because you just need SOMETHING to grab onto, then you can bet he'll already be rutting his hips into the mattress for some form of alleviation

━ he gives gentle attention to past hickeys he has given you. childe likes being spontaneous, so sometimes during foreplay or the deed itself he'll find himself leaving marks all over you– usually on your shoulders or the sides of your neck. you'll feel the cheeky smile he's wearing as he leans in to plant kisses all over the light bruises.

━ childe loves eye contact, so he'll tilt your chin up with his fingers and encourage you to keep your eyes on him. he finds it funny when you can't, and are forced to shut your eyes closed once he touches one of your most sensitive spots. and when he's close to finishing, his only wish is to look into your dreamy lidded eyes

SAL FISHER

━ he doesn't do this one too often, but sometimes he gets the courage to leave the lights on during sex. he's very insecure, especially without his mask on, so the purest and utmost form of intimacy he can gift to you is allowing you to see him in such a vulnerable state. as you two continue though, his insecurities will fade because how can he focus on them when he can finally clearly see all the beautiful expressions that YOU make?

━ being as observant as he is, sally is well aware of any areas that you're insecure of. it could be a body part, or perhaps even your voice and noises you can't help but make. whatever they are, he gives them extra attention and makes sure to praise you. he'll tell you just how beautiful you are, emphasizing his words by rolling you onto his hips so you can feel how much you affect him, hoping that you'll slowly become less insecure

[cypheroo]

Relationship headcannons for Laurence Zvhal and Garroth Ro'Meave! ~♡

⭐️ anon requested this! Thank them!

"May I pretty please ask for MCD!Laurance/garroth x reader headcanons?"

Word count : 739

Triggers : none?

AN : it's short buuuut! Here are some basic headcannons for these two boys!

Garroth Ro'Meave who is insanely protective of you, he always wants you in his sight. He doesn't like you going on lone missons and much prefers traveling with you.

Garroth Ro'Meave who is so In love with you, he can't help but stare at you as you sleep in your shared bed next to him. He can't believe he was really able to be in a relationship with you and he's just speechless.

Garroth Ro'Meave who is usually awake early in the mornings and comes home late at night because of him being a guard. He feels bad he can't be there when you wake up or when you lay down for sleep.

Garroth Ro'Meave who was originally didn't wanna take off his helmet due to his history, but his helmet was also useful for when his face would flush at the sight of you.

Garroth Ro'Meave whos a litteral heater it's snowing or cold out? Trust me cuddling up to garroth in bed on the few days he's home early IS actually heaven.

Garroth Ro'Meave who asked you out by accident one late night, it slipped his tongue when he was expressing worry for you.

"I just really want you to be safe, I love you too much for you to end up hurt"

Garroth Ro'Meave who was worried about the village knowing. He was worried about if word got out of village what could happen to you.

Garroth Ro'Meave whos hands are scarred and battered yet touch you with such care and warmth, he loves cupping your cheeks and just getting to gaze into your eyes.

Garroth Ro'Meave whos insanely touch starved and feels his heart skip a beat anytime your skin grazes his.

Garroth Ro'Meave who sometimes will break down and cry in your chest, he's overwhelmed with guilt and sometimes it just becomes more then he can control

Garroth Ro'Meave who sure will get into fights with you but will attempt just best at keeping a level head, he'll never snoop low and call you names, disagreements happen and he doesn't want it to end your relationship.

Garroth Ro'Meave who would face anything if it meant you were safe and sound at home.

Pet names garroth would call you include but aren't limited to : honey, sweetheart, love, and sometimes sunshine

Laurence Zvhal who originally flirts with you as a joke and uses it as a nice excuse to talk with you. He'd also would slowly tone down flirting with other people as soon as you came into his life.

Laurence Zvhal who'll leave his stuff around your place as an excuse to come back and "retrieve it" I swear there is a scarf he left on the kitchen table that has been at your place for months.

Laurence Zvhal who originally is terrified of his feelings for you, he doesn't wanna lose control around you and hurt you. He avoided you for the longest time after he realized his feelings for you.

Laurence Zvhal who'd feel horrible when you ask him what you did to cause him to ignore you. It was only after you properly confessed your feelings that he'd explain why.

Laurence Zvhal who to makes up for ignoring you with truely romantic evenings where he and you sit on the beach, having a picnic at sundown.

Laurence Zvhal who can get pretty jealous when someone else is getting too close, and instead of being verbal about it he'd opt to just wrap his arm around your side and kiss your cheek softly.

Laurence Zvhal who will rest his chin on your shoulder whenever you hug. He loves closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around you.

Laurence Zvhal who's hands are Slender and cold, he likes tracing shapes on your back when your asleep in his arms. Those nights he doesn't get much sleep because of how happy he is.

Laurence Zvhal who'll tell anyone who asks about your relationship, he looooves telling people he's dating you, he just can't help it to be honest!

Laurence Zvhal who hates letting you see when he's hurt, Anytime something happens to him he trys his best to hide it, but he always ends up knocking at your door after he's been patched up.

Laurence Zvhal who actually hates arguing with you, he prefers to have conversations and not arguments.

Petnames Laurence would call you include but are not limited to : darling, cutie, babe, and rarely boo

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