Name's Violet âĄShe/Her⥠Fandoms I mainly throw myself at are: Batfam and DC in general, Malec, Karamel // fyi @adazzlingsakura is my main blog where I act as a totally unhinged deranged psychopath :)
to you i can admit (that Iâm just too soft for all of it)
(Read on AO3)
(TW: anxiety, anxiety attack)
Alec hates this feeling. He isnât a stranger to it, but the strength with which it washes over him today catches him entirely off-guard. He canât ignore it, but even worse, he canât hide it. The slightest inconveniences and missteps throughout his day nearly bring him to tears on more than one occasion. With every overly-loud conversation half-shouted across the cafeteria or the bustling area of the Ops Room Alec notices his anxiety rising steadily throughout the day. He spends his lunch break lying on the floor of his office with all the lights off, willing his mind to quiet for a few precious minutes of peace before heâs back to the grind.
His hands are shaky while he forces his way through the paperwork he must finish before he can be done with his day⌠or at least the public portion of his day. He sends Magnus a warning text that he isnât in the best mind space just so his husband is aware of it. Being honest about his bad days instead of hiding them is something Alecâs been working on improving.
After what feels like centuries but is really only another hour, Alec wraps up his reports and walks away from anything that can wait until tomorrow. All he wants is to be home. All he wants is to be with Magnus.
It feels like such a goddamn cliche but Alec knows that itâs true: the moment he steps through the doorway of the apartment they call home, thereâs an immediate release of some of the tension in his chest.
And then Alec wants to cry all over again, but for the best of reasons this time.
The sofa is covered with their most comfortable blankets and pillows taken from the bed. His favorite snacks are on the side table, and a stuffed bear Magnus got him last Christmas waits in Alecâs usual spot next to Magnus. To top it all off, one of Alecâs favorite of Magnusâ records is playing in the corner, soft and soothing.
âWelcome home, darling,â Magnus greets him, already waiting for Alec on the sofa. âHow are you feeling?â âIâm fine,â Alec says instinctively.
âGo get changed into something comfy,â Magnus suggests instead of immediately prying into Alecâs day.
Alec nods, slowly making his way to their room to slip into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt before immediately going back to the living room and wordlessly crawling onto the sofa, cuddling up against Magnus so that heâs half-laying across him, head resting on Magnusâ chest.
âDo you want to talk about it?â Magnus asks quietly, fingers threading through Alecâs hair.
âNo,â Alec says, but the word lilts up at the end, drawn out a little too much.
âThatâs the ânoâ you say when youâre lying,â Magnus calls him out. He isnât wrong.
And it isnât that Alec doesnât want to talk about things with Magnus, just that itâs so difficult for him to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He feels weak, even if he would never think someone else is weak for doing the same thing. He feels like nothing in his life is wrong enough to warrant what heâs experiencing right now.
Alec tries to think of where to start. His mind is blank, but not the peaceful kind - itâs the kind of blank where thereâs so much happening all at once that he canât pick out any one thing, and his brain stalls, all the while every little thing thatâs wrong sounds off in his head until itâs all just deafening static.
He canât describe that, though, so when Alec does open his mouth to respond what comes out is a broken sob.
He does more crying than talking, and Magnus is perfect throughout the entire thing. He rubs a hand comfortingly up and down Alecâs arm, he listens when Alec does manage to put some of his thoughts into words and shares the silence around Alecâs sniffles when Alecâs words fail him. Every so often Magnus asks a question, trying to help Alec pinpoint specific things that may be bothering him more than others, but mostly heâs just there, grounding and present.
Itâs exactly what Alec needs.
Heâs never had someone heâs felt comfortable enough to open up to like this before. He can count on one hand the number of times heâs cried in front of people who arenât Magnus. He doesnât need any fingers to count the number of people who know as much about him as Magnus does.
And right now, at this moment, being surrounded by all his comfort items while being held by his comfort person is all he needs to feel safe enough to let it all go for a little while. He cries, talks, and cries a little more. They even manage to laugh a little. Magnus peppers frequent kisses onto the top of Alecâs hair and Alec holds onto Magnus a little tighter with every overwhelming wave of emotion to anchor himself.
Finally, with everything out in the open and the last of his tears drying on his cheeks, Alec pries himself away from Magnus.
âThank you,â Alec says, relief evident in every syllable.
âI barely did anything,â Magnus says.
âYou did exactly what I needed,â Alec insists, shifting where he sits so he can bring a hand up to cup the side of Magnusâ face, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
Alec knows his biggest problem is bottling everything up, and he hopes that Magnus realizes how much it means to Alec to have an outlet and, more importantly, a confidant. He remembers countless breakdowns alone in his room, curled up in bed or lying on the floor, lost in the constant spiral of his own thoughts without anyone to help him through them. Just having someone, having Magnus, makes all the difference in the world.Â
The world around Alec expects so much from him. His parents expect perfection. The other Shadowhunters expect a confident leader. But Magnus? All Magnus ever expects of him is honesty and love to the best of his ability. To have someone he can turn to and admit that sometimes it all feels too much? Itâs priceless. Itâs something Alec never imagined having and something he doesnât take for granted.Â
âThis was perfect. You are perfect.â
Alec leans against Magnus again, breathing easily once more with the knowledge that every time he starts to feel like heâs breaking, Magnus will be there to hold the pieces until they can put them back together, together.
Grandmas were so right about puzzles and knitting and crocheting and solitaire and reading slow and slippers and baking and watching deer in the backyard send post
Tim Drake is getting a solo series again! Check out these incredible first issue variants by Dan Mora, Jorge Jimenez, David Baldeon, and Jamal Campbell!
ohhh, idealized mental characterization of my fav comic book character lovingly cobbled together from countless hours of media that is not actually wholly reflective of any of their canonical iterations because not a single one of their writers have ever understand them like i do, weâre really in it now :(
Today's fun and friendly reminder is that every single member of the Bat Family would personally beat the everliving shit out of a transphobe thanks for coming to my Ted Talkâ˘
I Donât Want To Know What Itâs Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelleâs The Other Side but itâs not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills thatâs all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â
I Donât Want To Know What Itâs Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelleâs The Other Side but itâs not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills thatâs all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â
I Donât Want To Know What It's Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelle's The Other Side but it's not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills that's all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â
â(Y/N)âŚâ
âBabe do us both a favor; shut up and for the Godâs sake stop. moving.â She snapped even as willed herself to get to work. A part of her worried that her magic would hide behind the sheer intensity of her emotions she felt, while another part dreaded  a worse outcome; lashing out uninhibitedly; God knows the simmering  rage she felt deep down within was more than enough to catalyst that.
âYour husband is in front of you. He needs you right now. Thereâs no threat here. He is in the cave now. He is home. So get yourself together and calm the fuck down for fuckâs sake.â
Obscuring her inner turmoil, she stole a glance up towards Bruceâs face. He had his eyes closed and the progressing relief being reflected on his face did wonders in draining out the tension lingering in her shoulders. The bastard though, chose that exact moment to crack open one of his eyelids, an amused smile making its way on to his face.
âDonât. even.â She narrowed her eyes, fixing him a pointed look that all but said âI will happily throw your ass on the floor if you even try to voice your thoughtsâ
His jaw snapped close, relenting from making any teasing commentary residing on the tip of his tongue. He could feel how the fuzziness in his head started to dissipate and in its place came bone deep warmth. The kind one would get from a long hot shower after a good two hour workout. He sighed contentedly. With her he didnât need to hide how he felt, be it pain or love, sorrow or happiness and everything else falling in between. He knew just how vulnerable that made him, especially for a person like him yet he could never ask or want for it to be any other way.
He watched her twirl her wrists with a practiced ease not known to many but came to her as a second nature, her palms engulfing in a vivid periwinkle aura that was all too familiar to him by now.
âHome. It feels like homeâ, heâd told Diana once when sheâd asked him. The answer was nothing short of confusing, but that was the closest he could come to describing it without stumbling over the words he was sure would never ever do justice to his lover; from the wisps of magic that often clung to her fingertips that gave her an otherworldly glow to the overflowing well of power deep within her.
His silent admiration came to a halt when he observed tiny beads of sweat starting to roll down her forehead as she continued pouring every ounce of her power into healing the bleeding flesh, desperately trying to knit everything back together as soon as possible; torn tissue, broken bones and all. Â Unable to keep the downward tug of her lips any longer, she continued to hover her hands over him, graceful yet frantic on the edge, fingertips ghosting over the bruised skin, barely touching so as to not upset the wounds further. She was getting more and more upset as she kept finding injury after injury which she couldâve sworn wasnât there a minute ago.
âMy love, youâre exhausting yourselfâ, there was no judgment in his voice, only an unwavering concern. He was stating a fact, something that she was made well aware of by her own body, every passing second.
Gritting her teeth she pushed through the waves of tiredness creeping in on her. âJust a little moreâ she kept telling herself; kept repeating it like a mantra until she felt two warm and calloused hands firmly wrap around her wrists gently guiding them down from their outstretched position.
Bruce lifted one of his to cup her cheek, thumb soothingly running along the expanse of her cheekbone, âCan you open your eyes for me beautiful?â, he whispered guiding his other hand which was still holding one of hers up towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each of her knuckles.
âHer eyes were closed? When did that even happen?â
It took her longer than sheâd like to admit, for the question to properly register in her brain and she cracked her eyelids open, meeting with a thankfully less bloody version of her husband.
âThere you are sweetheartâ
She hummed, stepping closer so as to stand in between Bruceâs open thighs, leaving little to no space between the two. She bent her neck down to rest her forehead against his, breathing out heavily.
âShowered with three endearments in a row, exactly how pathetic do I lookâ, she thought to herself, but a deep rumble of laughter vibrating through the man in front of her, told her she had managed to say it out loud. That and the words âNot as pathetic as I doâ that soon followed as the laughter subsided, leaving a broad grin in its place. She separated just even to shoot him a glare, but went back willingly when he tugged her towards him with a hand on each of her thighs, silently urging her to straddle him.
âI do wish for you to be more careful you know, thatâs all I ask from you, thatâs all I will ever ask from you Bruceâ, she whispered, after what felt like an eternity, not wishing to break the comfortably quite atmosphere of the med-bay.
He waited for her to make herself comfortable, hands settling on her hips before diving in for a deep kiss full of love, care and reassurance. When they finally came up gasping from the lack of oxygen, (Y/N) opted to rest her head against his chest feeling its steady rise and fall and along with thump of his heartbeat. She carded her hands through the locks of his matted hair, occasionally scraping her nails through his scalp with just the right amount of pressure.
â˘Â°â˘Â°
âI know and I understand that.â
âI donât think that you doâ, her voice went hoarse. She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. Bruce could say for certain any torture inflicted upon him would have been better than looking at the unshed tears in her eyes. Hell, he would much rather have Bane break his back again than to ever be the cause for such pain for the love of his life.
âEvery time you come home bloody and broken beyond imagination, on the literal brink of death and I have to heal you myself I wonder whether itâll be enough, whether this one would be the one time where you slip so far away from me that I wonât be able to pull you back. What if one day you need my help and I am all drained out, I barely held myself together we both saw thatâ, she scoffed âI donât think you understand how much I fear the day that you call out for my help and my magic hurts you instead because I canât get a fucking grip on myself.â
âYour magic would never hurt me; I trust it as much as I trust you.â He spoke softly, as if saying it was the easiest thing in whole world. âI, (Y/N) Wayne, love you and trust you with my lifeâ A kiss to the forehead âwith my heartâ A kiss to the nose âand with my soulâ A kiss to the cheek âand Iâd be more than happy to remind you of it for the rest of our lives because I assure you my love that it is nothing but an undeniable truth of my life with you.â He completed with a chaste kiss to her lips, looking at her sheepishly as if he hadnât just blown the metaphorical ground she always stood on, albeit all in good ways and with beyond pure intentions.
âI donâtâŚâshe started but words felt heavy in her mouth. He spoke his truth so it was only fair to speak hers wasnât it?
âI donât want to live without you Bruce, I donât even want to think about a time like that, that thought in itself scares me beyond words and I- I just canât lose you Bruce, I canâtâ, her voice cracked at the last word, a chocked out sob making its way out of her throat and with it went the last bit of self restraint Bruce had mustered to let her get everything off her chest. Wiping a traitorous stray tear that fell down her cheek, with the pad of his thumb, he pulled her impossibly closer, burying her head in the crook of his neck placing his lips soft but firm, on her temple.
âShhhh. Itâs okay. Iâm okay. Weâre okayâ He kept murmuring in her ear, running his hands up and down her spine, until he felt the tremors wracking her figure subside and heard the sobs turn to small sniffs of her nose.
âYou with me?â
âAlwaysâ, she mumbled nuzzling against his shoulder. Bruce nudged her just enough to get her to lift off her head, holding her chin with his thumb and index finger to prevent her from averting.
âSorry for all thatâ, her voice raspy after crying as she gestured towards her face âDidnât mean to have an emotional breakdownâ
âNever apologize for how you feel. Ever.â He chided even as his hands around her tightened infinitesimally more. Â
âNow I canât promise you that I wonât ever leave you because that is not something in my hands. What I can promise you is that I will be even more careful from now on and that no matter what I will always, always try my absolute best to come home to you in one pieceâ, he bumped his nose with hers, which if it werenât for the gravity of his words would have coaxed an ear-to-ear smile out of her. Instead she let out a heavy sigh and Bruce could feel the previous tension which had been there ever since he stumbled out of the bat mobile and into her arms, seep out with every breath.
âThat is all I ask, darlingâ, she whispered mirroring her statement at the start of their conversation. She moved forward, closing the gap and bringing their chests flush together. âI love youâsâ whispered against every brush of their lips.
Their bubble lasted up until they heard a loud snort in the background followed by a âYou guys are so grossâ and a much louder âI told you they would be making out by now! âGravely Injuredâ my assâ, Jason muttered the last part as he speed-walked back up the stairs of the cave.
âHow mad do you think Alfred would be if I tripped him on his way up with an invisible rope allegedly made from my magic.â
âDunno, but weâll never know till we try now will we.â
The smirk on Bruceâs face matched perfectly with the evil glint in her eyes. It was also all the answer she needed as she immediately snapped her fingers and they were both rewarded with a loud thud followed by a âbehaving like a couple of teenagers is so not cool guys! Oh stop laughing and help me up you Dickhead!â
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