#how much she must hate that helplessness

[auncyen]

(courtesy of the isat script project)

this bit always gets me

Siffrin wants so badly not to have the others hurt/see them hurt and yet doesn't register how much they don't want to see him hurt either.

the only reason Bonnie's not screaming too is because Siffrin already told them to run

[dark-lord-tom-returns]

So I'm reading Witches Abroad and the first time we see Granny use magic is in Desiderata's cottage. Desiderata (deceased) was a big proponent of everyday magic. She was also quite blind. So when Granny and Nanny check on her cottage and definitely are not looking for her wand, there are no matches for the fireplace.

Granny doesn't like everyday magic. She says so. She even tells Nanny that if they found the wand she wouldn't use it, emphatically. She doesn't like the habit. But she's annoyed and wants her tea and needs a fire for that. So she uses magic.

But then she sees the mirror. And the face looking back isn't hers but Lilith's. Heres a quote about Granny:

"Very few people in the world had more self-control than Granny Weatherwax. It was as rigid as a bar of cast iron. And about as flexible."

And she smashes the mirror immediately and without hesitation.

Now we don't know who Lilith is to Granny at this point but upon reread this is a particularly interesting passage. By the end of the book we know Lilith is "the bad witch" and because she is Granny "had to be the good one".

Granny hates the fact she has to be the good one. She knows that if she was the bad one she'd be the most terrifying witch the Disc has ever seen. But she has to be the good one. That's her responsibility since Lilith turned out bad. She has to be good and she has to be responsible, especially since she has the power to be so evil and do so much damage if she ever lost control.

And I think that's why Granny smashes the mirror right then. She was annoyed at the lack of matches, she wanted tea, she used magic to get it. And that's not responsible witchcraft in her mind. So when she find Lilith looking at her through the mirror, she sees the person that forced her to have that self control. That made Granny Weatherwax a good witch when she wanted to be the bad one. And that hurt her.

This is also interesting when you consider Sam Vimes relationship with alcohol. Vimes used alcohol as a way to deal with a feeling of helplessness and lack of control. That addiction numbed the emotional pain and he had to be so careful in later books not to fall back into that habit.

Granny is the opposite. Her power is, maybe not addictive, but something she takes immense pride in. She wants to use it, she became the most powerful witch (not the most talented, that's Nanny) through hard work and dedication. But she can't use it because that wouldn't be responsible. Because everytime she uses it, it becomes a little easier to justify using a little more until she's using it for everything. Or anything. And she can't because she has to be the good one.

How much self control must that take? Granny spent her entire life becoming the best at what she does. Decades of mastering her craft and when she reaches the top she had to essentially stop. To put it aside and only use it in the most responsible way possible because if she slips, it's a long long way to the bottom.

Cast iron indeed.

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

How bout angel dust, Verosika and Alastor with a puppy hybrid s/o? Like, they have puppy ears and tail and has some dog like tendencies?

For example: they love to bite and play with dog toys,they bark and growl, they LOVE headpats and being called "good boy/girl"

You can remove 2 characters if it's too much.

"Good Puppy!" ; Alastor, Angel Dust, Verosika Mayday

I'll be honest here: I have no idea how you got this to happen, because this man absolutely HATES dogs, and therefore hated you when he first met you. And he's honestly quite possibly the worst one to be with as a puppy hybrid.

He was exceptionally cruel, calling you a "mangey mongrel", a "rabid mutt", and just about any cruel name for a dog under the sun.

Will try to make you act more human. He'd despise your dog features. Dogs remind him of his death, and that's something he'd rather not deal with.

If you've managed to start dating him, he'll be slightly more polite, but still make his distaste for those features very apparent to you.

"S/O, must you constantly be wiggling that furry abomination?"

It isn't that he means to be mean, but, well, in some primal way, you scare him, and he doesn't know how to cope with feeling that helpless.

If you growl or bark at him, you will ROYALLY piss him off, and he will actually need to leave to avoid either lashing out at you or having a mental breakdown.

Fortunately, with enough time and patience, he will eventually calm down and begin to regard you as safe, and not someone he needs to fear. Then he'll become noticeably kinder to you.

"Well, aren't you just a dandy little pup! Excited to see me, hm? Such a good boy/girl~."

He may have started off cold, but he's trying to be better for you now.

He isn't sure how he feels about dog toys and the like, but hey, he's a literal cannibal and serial killer, who is he to judge? As long as you're having fun.

Eventually, he'll begin to give you those headpats you so crave, realizing how happy it makes you. He can stand a bit of discomfort for your sake.

But seriously... please don't bark or growl at him, he still doesn't like the moment of panic he's forced to feel when that happens.

He wouldn't do it to you, so don't do it to him. That's his one boundary with your dog-like behavior/appearance.

Oh boy. He'd be the one constantly flirting and teasing you for your traits, but in a loving (and very NSFW) manner.

"What's with the tail, Ears? Got a pet play kink or somethin'?"

When he finds out you ACTUALLY enjoy being called a good boy, that actually sets off every single one of his teasing instincts.

Every single day, you'll hear a joke about you having a praise kink, purely because it makes Angel laugh.

But he's only teasing, of course. If you actually tell him you're uncomfortable, of course he'll stop. The last thing he wants is for you to feel uncomfortable with him.

He'll also get you dog toys and chew toys if you find them fun!

And his absolute favorite thing to do is pet your ears and ruffle your tail, especially if they're as fluffy as his chest is! He finds the sensation soothing.

If you growl at him, chances are he'll growl back at you just to mess with you.

Or he'll make a claw motion and do the little "rawr~" thing because he finds it amusing how you react when you don't know how to respond to something.

He'll also definitely tease you if your tail ever wags.

"That a tail or are ya just happy ta see me, baby boy~?"

He's a tease but... very sweet. Toward you, at least.

At first, she didn't really see the appeal of dating a puppy hybrid. She treats Vortex like a guard dog, and she initially expected you to be the same.

But of course, who could resist a cute puppy? She quickly warmed up to you, finding you absolutely adorable. Whereas Verosika is sultry and seductive, you were cute and innocent, and she loved that about you.

She'd often find herself petting your head and telling you what a good boy/girl you were, seemingly without actually consciously meaning to. She just couldn't resist, the puppy eyes were too much for her!

"Aww, S/O! Such a good boy/girl! Who's my good boy/girl? You are! Yes you are!"

Yeah, even after you start dating, that doesn't change. She still calls you that, but her affections now run even deeper.

As in, she buys you a LOT of dog toys. A lot. She doesn't know why you love them so much, but she knows she wants you to be happy, because you absolutely deserve it.

She's also greatly amused whenever you bark or growl, but shh, don't tell anyone. That isn't part of her persona!

Sometimes, when you're cuddling, she'll wrap her tail around yours and slowly wag them both, since she knows it both stimulates you and expresses affection.

She'd also probably use your barking and growling to her advantage to scare people she doesn't like off. Nine times out of ten, it works. Dogs can be pretty scary when they're not being friendly actively, and puppies are no different.

"That was amazing, S/O. You really know how to scare a little bitch off!"

You didn't really mean to scare anyone, but you were happy Verosika was happy.

She did send that person an apology note at your insistence, though, luckily.

[timmydraker]

Tim who has never been good at understanding the words of Shakespeare and Dickens.

He can understand metaphors and knows about philosophy, but he’s always struggle to truely grasp the tragedy and helplessness so may of them hold. The idea of someone being doomed from the start, by the author and the narrative or maybe just the world they were set in, just doesn’t really make sense to him.

Part of him knows it’s because he was born with a vintage silver spoon placed delicately in his hands, but there’s more to it than that.

See, most of the bad things that have happened to Tim have either been consequences of his own action or the fact that his friends and colleagues all have the same dangerous job.

To him it just makes sense that bad things will happen and so he can just… prepare for it. He can do what he can to fix it or move onto something else and push away his own feelings because what else is he supposed to do?

So, no, things like Hamlet and Dorian don’t really click for him

At least… until he thinks about Jason.

Born in poverty with a world surrounding him that would not bother to care or offer help to him purely because of how he looks of his parents.

A mother who loves him endlessly, only to fall into the drugs she tried to protect him from.

Finding out that mother didn’t even give birth to him, but the father that never showed anything other than distain and cruelty was still his own.

Being given Robin, hated by the first one for a time, only to die in the suit by the hands of a mad man all because his real mother sold him out.

Waking up in a coffin, digging himself out and roaming around catatonic and the only thoughts he can actually process is that he must be a ghost.

Being taken by a league of killers, lied to and trick and tormented into thing a perfect weapon.

Realise his mentor, who he once thought the father he deserved to have, has failed him and let his killer free because of something as fickle as a moral compass.

Seeing that mentor seemingly replace him with a perfect rich kid who doesn’t swear or complain or sneak off without permission from what he can tell.

Having no real friends in that time.

Having no one to trust because everyone had an ulterior motive. Everyone uses him.

And through out it all, even with all the hate and the bitterness and injustice he had been faced with, his first course of action is to make the home he first had and the only one he will ever have… safer.

To protect the kids like him from becoming statistics and killers, from the pain he felt and the false promises of the Batman.

Jason keeps honesty and integrity, even when no one else offers it to him in return.

Tim can’t understand Macbeth or Antigone or Othello, can’t see why someone would write something so morbid just to try and entertain.

But he can understand, or at least try to understand, Jason Todd.

Because that is someone who had actually been hurt for no reason. Someone who had been tormented by the universe, by fates and coincidence, with no real lesson being taught other than the world hates him.

Sure Jason has Roy and Biz and Artemis and Kori, but what about a brother?

Dick tried, he still does, but he fails Jason over and over by trying to make him ‘better’.

Damian doesn’t really care too much, not out of malice but there’s just not much of a connection between them.

Cass tries, but Jason is always awkward around her and that’s not his fault, you can’t hide a thing from her.

Duke liked Jason a lot, but again, the newest Bat is trying hard to find his place in the world of vigilantes and can’t quite find it in himself to be too close to Jason’s violence.

But Tim…

He’s morals have always been held together by the simple fact of ‘it’s not really that approved of’ and not much else. He won’t kill, but unlike the others he is happy to leave a Rouge in a sinking ship and not feel a hint of guilt.

He adores Jason’s Robin, he knows to some extent how much he lost with that, and now he knows that Jason might not need much more than a few good things.

Small things, nothing that will trick him into thinking the world is apologising because it won’t, but enough to show him that Tim thinks he’s still worth something.

Tim won’t try convince him to become a better person or to stop killing, he might ask him to be a bit more rational and probably won’t be able to stop himself from giving tips on how to run his business, but he wouldn’t ask for his violent brother to change.

Because unlike everyone else, Tim knows that violence exist for good reason.

If it keeps his Jason alive, Tim will gladly hold onto his blood soaked hand.

[natalievoncatte]

Even in the vast softness of Caitlyn’s bed

(their bed)

Vi felt the jolt. It was either that or the soft, pained exhalation that woke her, but it didn’t really matter. She snapped awake with the sudden alertness she’d been taught by Vander and had honed in Stillwater. Even though she came around in an instant, she still expected to feel a cold concrete floor beneath her aching side and smell the charnel stink of sweat, desperation, and blood. Waking up to soft linens and the clean, fresh smell of sheets washed in lavender water, and *Cait* felt fresh and new every time.

“…no…” Cait mewled. “…no… stop… Jinx… Cupcake! Cupcake she calls me-“

Vi hesitated, unsure whether to wake her. She’d seen plenty of people cry out in their sleep and knew that eight times in ten it was better to let them ride it out instead of waking them in the middle of something that might make them lash out or hurt themselves.

When Cait let out a blood-curdling scream, Vi lept wxross the bed and pressed a hand to her cheek, finding a cold sweat sheening her skin.

“Cait, wake up.”

Caitlyn’s eyes (*eye*, a bitter voice added) snapped open and she looked around, jerking up from the bed, her chest heaving as she drew in ragged, pained breaths.

Vi pulled her into an embrace, wrapping Caitlyn up in her arms and bending her body as much as she could to form a shield around her while Caitlyn desperately hugged her back and buried her face in Vi’s neck.

Sometimes they said more this way than they did by talking. Vi sat up and gently rubbed the back of Cait’s neck with her fingertips and pressed light kisses to the crown of her head, for no other reason than she loved her and she was free to show it.

Finally Cait said, “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Cait didn’t answer, instead resting her head on Vi’s shoulder while her finger aimlessly traced the tattoo on Vi’s arm, sort of half-humming on exhalation. Vi had learned that Cait wasn’t being rude when she didn’t answer her and that these little things she did to soothe herself were just as important. That Vi could savor Cait’s touches forever was incidental. Vi hadn’t touched her enough and would make up for it for the rest of her life.

“Do you remember the… the tea party.”

Vi swallowed hard. That night had been one of the most painful of her life, when all her sins had marched out of the darkness to revenge themselves on her tenfold. It was the terror she felt when she saw Cait’s eyes that shattered her, but the worst, the worst…

(I paid your girlfriend a visit…)

It hurt to even summon the thought, like touching the edges of a barely healed wound, feeling the scab lift and pull at the raw flesh beneath.

For a moment Vi knew that Jinx was going to lift that lid and Caitlyn’s severed rotting head would be sitting there staring at her with blank eyes and she cringed in horror and fear, a shiver ripping through her.

Cait knew; Vi didn’t have to say yes.

“Did you ever wonder how she knew you called me cupcake?”

Vi shook her head. “I thought she must have heard me. On the bridge maybe or…”

“She might have, but she delighted in making me tell her. I was helpless, terrified. She spent hours hurting me, but she kept saying she wouldn’t kill me because she was waiting for you. She said you’d do it.”

“Did you believe her?”

“No, never.”

Vi let out a long, slow sigh in relief.

“I hurt you. I hit you, but you would never hurt me.”

“We talked about that, Cait.”

“I know.”

There was a brief silence in the dark. First light was beginning to peek through the curtains and soon it would be time to get up. Most nights Vi hated waking now. She wanted nothing more than to spend then rest of her life in soft sunlit moments with Cait, making love under the warming sunlight as often as not.

Cait’s hand worked between them and traced over the scar on Vi’s belly, in the same spot where Cait’s rifle butt had smashed the air from her lungs and left her begging, sent her spiraling into a booze-fueled nightmare of longing where the pain of a fist to her face was the only thing that kept her awake long enough to keep looking for someone to kill her in the ring before the drinking did.

They held each other a little tighter.

“No one is going to get you now,” Vi promised.

“You’re not my keeper, Vi. You mean more to me than what you can do for me.”

“I meant you can hold your own. You took me out, remember? Do you know how many people can say that?”

“You let me win because I’m me.”

Vi shook her head. “Not until I was already face up on the ground. You took down Ambessa.”

“I had help.”

“You’ll have help if someone comes at you again. My help.”

“I told you, Vi, you…”

“No. It’s not because I owe you something, it’s because I love you.”

Vi hadn’t said the words yet, despite all this time, but it shocked neither of them.

“We protect each other, then.”

Vi nodded in agreement. She could see Cait’s eye growing lidded and the tension slit out of her body as Vi lay down with her. She was asleep in a few minutes, snoring lightly against Vi’s neck.

Vi vowed to stay awake, Cait was too soft.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

“Mom, we should get going,” you say as you check your bag.

Your mother sits at the table. It’s cluttered as always. You can see her inhaler amid the mess. Wait, there’s another one. You cross the kitchen, only two steps, and grab both inhalers. You feel the subtle difference between them.

You take both, putting the full one back in the medicine cabinet and the other in the disposal bin. The doctor said the inhalent would help with your mother’s dopamine levels, balances her out a little, but the new treatment only seems to be another symptom of her disease. She hates doing it, she hates all of it, but you can’t blame her for that.

“We can’t be late for the consultation. We’ll be waiting another six months,” you come back to the kitchen.

She looks at you as she wobbles slightly. The tremor is more prominent than before. Each day you notice it more. All the little things changing about her. She’s a bit slower, her words don’t come easy or always clearly, and her mood grows grimmer and grimmer. So does yours.

You grab your purse and the keys. You’ll clean up when you get home. It doesn’t take very long for living to pile up though. Especially when you’re the only one to keep it in order.

Your mother grips the table and stands up. Getting her dressed was a battle already won. Her posture is slightly crooked as she shuffles around the table, “I’m moving.”

You step back, waiting patiently for her to round the table. She grumbles. Your mother was never bright and bubbly but ever since her diagnosis, she’s lost any glimmer of warmth. It’s like she’s living in a fog, just slowly wading through.

You walk down the hall ahead of her and pick out your shoes from the rack. As you kneel to tie your sneakers, she leans on the wall and slides her feet into the orthotic flats. She’s not very old yet. Neither of you expected her to decline so quickly.

You stand and open the door. You back up though the screen door and hold it for her. Her steps get a bit smoother the more she moves around. The permanent scowl sinks into the lines of her face as she comes out onto the porch. You lock the door behind her as she grunts and leans on the railing, stamping down each step to the walkway.

You follow behind her. That’s another problem. The lawn. The old mower broke. You haven’t been able to replace it.

As you trail your mother to the car, she swats you away. Sometimes you try too much for her. You know she must feel helpless. You back up as she sits heavily in the passenger seat and your eyes skim around the neighbourhood. The white sign on the lawn next to yours catches your eye.

You remember the finely dressed woman, her very image on the sign, and how she grimaced at the weeds and grass. If she’s going to sell the property, the neighbours shouldn’t be living in a jungle. You heard her say as much over the phone as she paced back and forth on the porch.

You mother pulls the door shut but it doesn’t click. You give it an extra push to secure it and round the hood. You get in the car and turn the key, rolling down the windows as the early summer morning crowds the tight space. Your mother mutters and wipes her forehead with a shaky hand.

“Let’s just go,” she sneers, “waste of my time...” she bends her arm over the open window, her fingers quivering, “damn doctors said it enough. Nothing they can do. Charlatans.”

“Mom,” you chide gently, “the surgery could help. If you qualify--”

“I heard ya last night,” she snaps. “Just drive.”

You nod and snap your mouth shut. You shift into reverse and back out of the drive. You know better than to talk too much. Your mother never liked hearing anything she didn’t want to hear. Facts are just an attack on her.

You steer down the street slowly, following the curve of the suburban street. The green lawns and white picket fences are palatial at first glance. It’s a 1950s fever dream implanted in the twenty-first century.

Your house is the black stain on an otherwise pristine canvas. The HOA must curse your grandmother for her leaving a perfectly nice home to a pair of beatnicks. You don’t blame them. You’re the puzzle piece that doesn’t fit, leaving a gaping hole in the picture.

The radio crackles on and you wince. Your mother struggles to turn the knob and the volume pendulums up and down. You reach to help her and she smacks your hand, only softly as she has little strength behind it. You retract and grip the wheel, listening to buzzing struggle of her unsteady. You just hope the appointment goes well.

🏠

Your mother hasn’t said much since the appointment. That worries you. What should be good news is just another dark cloud over her.

She sits as she often does; half-reclined in the chair by the window, watching the neighbourhood just outside the pane. She’s just a resentful of the picture-perfect neighbours as she if of everything else. As she is of you.

You tidy the kitchen table as the unsaid dangles in the air. You know better than to bring it up. She barely acknowledged it when the doctor said it. She’s a good candidate for surgery but it isn’t a cure. It will help with the symptoms but not stop them altogether. It’s not good enough for her but it might just be her only hope of relief, even if temporary.

“Bring me a coke,” your mother calls through and you hear the hollow tin clatter of an empty can.

You bring the dirty dishes to the sink and set them beside it. You go to the fridge to grab a red branded can and let the door shut on its own. As you enter the living room, your mother sits forward, the recliner snapping forward with her weight. She leans on and elbow as she squints through the window and cranes over the armrest.

You pick up the old can and put the new one on the small table by the chair. She sits back and takes the Coke, trembling as she struggles to crack the tab. You know better than to help her. The curl in her lip warns you better.

“Someone’s looking at the place next door,” she says.

“Oh?” You move behind her chair and try to the next house. You can only really see the edge of the porch from here. You could open the side window but that would give more than a view of the siding and might be too obvious. “New neighbours.”

“Eh, if it sells. Could do better without these stuck-up prissy bitches running around measuring grass,” she growls of the Home Owners’ Association.

You nod. She’s right. You’ve had to deal with that nosy blonde too many times.

“We’ll see,” she mutters as she finally gets the can open and slurps. “Just hope it’s not another bitch.”

You cross your arms and step closer to the window. You sense movement just beyond your vision and the realtor in her pantsuit comes down the front steps of the neighbouring house. She turns back to face someone you can’t see and speaks to him. Their words are garbled by the barrier of window and wall.

The woman smiles and spins to strut down to the sidewalk. A man follows after, a slow stroll in his long legs. He turns to face the house again and puts his hands in his pockets as he looks up at the facade. His eyes narrow as he considers it.

His gray hair is streaked with remnants of its former blond. If it wasn’t for the colour of his locks, you might not have guessed his age. He’s tall and his shoulders are broad. He’s built finely for any era.

Your mother leans forward again, “heh, lookie there,” she slurs.

She leers through the window as you stare blankly out. A new neighbour just means another person to complain about the lawn; or another person for your mother to complain about. The man pivots on his sole and pauses, his gaze set in your direction. You don’t think he can see you, not with how the sun reflects off the square panes. He stalls for just a moment before he turns complete, striding up towards the realtor.

You back up and retreat toward the kitchen. You mother hums as she continues to snoop through the window. The recliner squeaks beneath her as she shifts in the seat.

“Bit old for a family man,” she tuts.

[foresthyena]

Y'all are eating up my headcannons, so how bout a Caitlyn one?! S2 spoilers

Sfw: she's often super busy, patrolling,paper work, regular work, training etc. so you don't get to see her as much as you'd like. But when you do she always has your favorite drink and snack in hand while she apologies.

She may seem super grumpy and mean, but she deeply cares for you. She's the one who engages in cuddling and taking baths together.

Speaking of baths, she'll have the most wonderful romantic bath waiting for you. Bubbly warm steamy bath with rose petals and pink water from the strawberry bath bombs she's gotten for you. You two will sit in the bath enjoying each other's company while she washes you. You both sometimes fall asleep in the bath, I mean how could you not?

When training sometimes she asks you to watch. She loves to impress you tho she'd never admit it. Showing how strong she is and that she's able to protect you lightens up her day.

Speaking of protecting, she's super protective over you. You can't really blame her, her mother died and Maddie betrayed her. She's afraid something bad might happen to you. But she still trusts you even with the voices in her head doubting you.

When Cait decides to do paperwork at home, she'll have you on her lap while she fills some stuff out. She'd take a few breaks, kissing you,hugging you, laying her head on your shoulder or just complimenting you.

Favorite way to show that she loves you? Acts of service and words. Like what we've said, she isn't home as much. So when she is, she pampers you. She refuses to let you do anything yourself now that she's here. She'd do everything around the house then cuddle with you and whisper sweet nonsense in your ears.

"you're perfect, you know that right?"

"the most amazing lover ever"

"rest up, I've got everything dear"

Sometimes she'll stay awake at night keeping an eye on you. She's still a bit paranoid from the war and genuinely worries about your safety.

Her British accent comes out more when she's a bit upset or angry at something. So just give her time and hold her close. It helps her calm down, just being with you is enough.

Nsfw: such a Dom, sometimes she'll sub but it's rare. She likes to take care of you, she wants to make you feel good. But that doesn't mean she won't punish you if you disobey her or act out of line.

She's huge on discipline, she isn't so strict dw, but still. She won't cut you some slack, she hates brats and when you badmouth others.

When you do act up, prepare for spanking,edging or overstimulation. Probably all of the above if you've really gotten on her nerves.

Mistress kink. Oh she'd foam at the mouth if you pull out a, "please mistress" would immediately eat you out and praise you for being her good girl.

Bondag/handcuffs..I mean is it rlly a surprise? She loves to see you all helpless and begging. It just turns something on in her.

She isn't that much into biting, but if she's feeling possessive, she'll leave hickeys all over you so others take a damn hint.

She can be both rough and soft during sex, if it's a slow day and she has a day off. She'll kiss you everywhere while saying your beautiful. Soft passionate sex, she won't tease or degrade you. She just wants to see you all happy. Soft clit kisses while she massages your perky/big boobs.

When she's rough she won't hold back, praises AND degrading to mess wit you even more.

Slapping and some edging to keep you on guard and remind you whose in control.

She'll even use a leash and a collar to keep you in check and drag you around as she wants.

Hair pulling is a must, she loves to see how you practically scream her name and eyes roll back.

SIZE KINK. Oh if you're smaller then her she goes crazy, expecally if youre skinny, she loves seeing the bulge of her cock in you. God it makes her crazy. And for the chubby people, she loves holding onto your love handles while she pounds into you. It's just more leverage and makes it easier to pound into your poor used cunts:(

Her hexstrap is 7.5 inches with a 3inch girth to keep you nice and stretched for her.

[isagrimorie]

I'm rewatching WandaVision to edit a gif and then had to stop when Agatha claimed she was being patient with Wanda:

And I laughed right here.

And then she mentioned she was gently nudging Wanda awake.

That was where I hit pause and chuckled because IMO, she was neither gentle nor patient. I guess Agatha let Wanda play things out for a few days.

Rio was IMO, a lot more gentle nudging Agatha awake.

Every time Agatha as Agnes looked like she was struggling, Rio went back to humoring 'Agnes' so she wouldn't break Agatha's brain.

Rio seemed more ready to humor Agatha with a twinkle in her eye without being condescending. Also, I suppose Rio being who she is, could see both the reality of what Agatha saw in the hex while existing in the real world.

She even found a way to get 'photos' of Jane Doe to present to Agatha.

Also, Rio's question "Is this really how you see yourself?" holds so much more weight now (as of episode 7).

Because as we learn more, Detective Agnes really isn't that far off from our Agatha. But it's interesting how Agatha saw herself, as not the villain everyone, including possibly herself, thought she was.

In this self-sustained hex (both Rio and Billy Teen pointed out that Agatha was keeping herself in the distorted self) Agatha saw herself as a Brilliant but unorthodox cowboy Detective, who would bend any law to solve a case.

Being observant and keeping things close to her chest must have done a lot to help Agatha survive through the centuries. I bet when the detective genre started gaining ground, Agatha loved it.

I won't be surprised if Agatha was actually a fan of the Noir Detective stories, but imagined herself as both the Detective and the Femme Fatale.

It's funny, genuinely funny to me that Rio was more patient but it might be because Rio is dealing with Agatha. Rio is angry with Agatha but she didn't take out her anger on Agatha while she was helpless and trapped in a hex. She still cared for Agatha because the opposite of love isn't hate, it's apathy. And she's not apathetic about Agatha at all!

[vroomvroomcircuit]

Waiting for the Ocean

(A/N): I just needed that. Maybe you do too. Enjoy.

Summary: Something wrong is with his girlfriend. Max is fearing for their relationship.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Warnings: GRIEF, angst, so so much angst, emotional pain, some swears.

Wordcount: 1.7k

🏎Masterlist🏎

______________________ Max fears for his relationship. It’s as simple as that.

Lea has been distant recently.

Not really engaging when Max talks to her, telling her things from media duties or bits and pieces from the debriefs and team meetings. Which is weird, to Max at least, because Lea is a queen for gossip. That’s their way of bonding.

But currently, Lea only nods, her eyes having a far away look in them, signaling to the dutch man that his girlfriend mentally checked out.

He also feels shut out from Lea’s thoughts. When just a couple of weeks ago she told him close to anything that went through the pretty head of hers, from unhinged ideas to deeply philosophical questions, now there is not even a single opinion voiced. They sit together in the living room like strangers in a café, merely sharing the same space, but not the same feelings anymore.

Lea started to keep more to herself, locking in her hobby room, or woman cave as she called it when they moved into the apartment. Max has to admit, while not particularly proud, that he already tried listening to what is happening on the other side of the cold door. But he never hears more than shuffling when pressing his ear on the firm wood.

As a man who for 24 out of 52 a year drives a car made of durable cardboard at a literal neck breaking speed, Max feels utterly and completely helpless. This sudden shift in his girlfriend's behavior, leaves him with a feeling of a big heavy stone in his stomach. There is no escaping this reality, no matter how much he wishes for it. Right now, his relationship with the love of his life is crashing against a wall much faster than he ever drove. And Max feels like a bystander, watching the car crash in slow motion and sped up at the same time.

This sinking feeling, when you suddenly realize that there is a fatal problem, it’s killing Max. It closes up your throat, making you afraid to eat, drink, fuck, even talk. The longer it settles into your stomach, the less anything makes sense. Reality becomes a warped precious piece, your whole world view is tilted on its axes. Is anything you ever believed in before this feeling creeped up, even true? Who is to be trusted when you can’t even trust your own feelings right now?

In the last couple of days, Max knows one thing to be definitely, unshakably, true: Lea is not cheating on him. He can’t explain how he knows it for sure. But if he starts accusing his beloved of being in an act that ultimately kills a relationship, he can break up with her right way anyway. Accusing Lea of cheating on him, turning her back on their relationship, is the equivalent of accusing her of killing his mother. Because in a way, she would kill his feelings. Towards anything.

He tries to think rationally.

If it is not cheating, what is causing this riff between them then? What else makes a person who shares one hundred percent of themselves, say next to nothing? What whimsical feeling, moment, must have happened to change a person this drastically?

Max thinks about when it all started a couple weeks ago. They haven’t been out at that time. It can’t be any outside trauma. Or can it?

Maybe it’s something on her phone? Maybe people started some online hate campaign?

Max does what he despises the most. but for the sake of his relationship, he takes this upon himself: Reading through instagram and twitter comments.

What the Dutch man sees is nothing amusing to him, but it is unfortunately only the “usual” amount of hate and insults Lea has to see herself confronted with as the girlfriend of Max Verstappen. Something you usually become desensitized to with time. Still, he sends a few of those to his team of lawyers, desperately wanting this scum of people to find themselves dealing with the consequences of her actions.

Maybe, the hate is part of the reason Lea is so distant? Is the hate and limelight finally getting to her? Max wouldn’t even be able to feel mad towards Lea if that was the case. He knows the bad feelings many humans harbor towards him for most of his life, since none of them really hold back on their opinions.

Fed up about the silence and this bad, acidic feeling in his stomach that is giving him a heart burn, bile rising up to his throat, Max knocks on the hobby room door. “Schatje? We need to talk.”

Silence.

For several minutes.

Maybe his girlfriend is listening to music and can’t hear him through her headphones? Max produces his phone from his pocket with his left hand, the right one clutching a bouquet of flowers -sunflowers- for her. Either as an apology for if he actually has done something gravely wrong, or as a little pick me up. Even though they are a bit of an odd choice, Max never questioned her preferences.

He looks at their shared spotify. Lea actually listens to music, in German he recognizes. It is called “Waiting for the Ocean”. An odd title. Max shrugs and calls her instead.

“M-max?” The woman’s voice is small. Broken.

The sinking feeling, the big stone in his stomach? Yeah, that one. It turned into a fucking mountain when he heard Lea calling for him through the phone. If he can, he would climb through it and hold her, protect her from all the evil in the world until it ends and burns to the ground. And beyond that, into eternity. If Lea lets him.

“Schatje? Can you please open the door? I think it is time to talk.”

One beat.

Two beats.

Three, four.

Shuffling.

Max feels a wave of relief, the mountain in his stomach transforming back to a big stone when he hears the lock clicking.

Lea stands there. eyes red, face hollow, shivering like a leaf in the wind. “Oh baby” Max coos, enveloping her in a hug so tight, he is afraid to break one of the young woman’s bones. The bouquet of sunflowers is thrown to the ground. There are more important matters on hand.

But it seems like that crushing hug is the twig needed to break the whole dam. The floodgates of tears open immediately, making Lea sob and cry into her boyfriend's arms. Knowing that if one person for sure catches and holds her when she is falling, it is her Maxie. The guy who once searched up every shop in Monaco that was still open in the middle of the night, only to find one specific sweet craving of hers.

The man, who keeps a little metal box with her supplements with him, because he knows she forgets them at home whenever they travel.

Her boy, the one who is shield and sword to her. He will always catch her.

“I-I miss her”, Lea hiccups between sobs. The pit in Max’s stomach is finally lifted, knowing he is not the root of this situation. But it is instantly replaced by an ache in his heart, going in so deeply, it could be a medical concern. Because the pain in her voice, it’s unlike he has ever heard from her.

It is so raw, so fresh, Max himself has to draw in a shaky breath. He gulps, drawing patterns and letters on her back with his fingers. “Who are you missing, Schatje?” The Dutch man asks the question to which answer he is afraid of hearing. The pain in her voice and tears streaming down her face in rivers are enough to deduce that the missing person in question is not easy to be reached.

It takes Lea a couple of minutes to calm down enough to even try to answer. Her sobs are just so body wracking, breathing doesn’t come easy to her. “My grandma”, Lea hiccups, clinging to Max. “It has been nine years. And it still feels like we got the message yesterday.”

The pit in Max’s stomach is back. He knows about the death of her grandma. He hasn’t been told any actual details, but just that it was tragic, untimely and right before Christmas started.

He pulls Lea closer to himself. Hoping to bring her the comfort she needs right now. The tears are back in Lea’s eyes.

“You know what hurts the most?” She sobs. “She died alone. In a hospital bed. Surrounded by loud machines, a sterile smell in a cold room. No one was there for her” Lea takes a couple deep breaths to continue talking the words off her chest, the one that feels so heavy, an elephant could sit on it and it would have been a lighter weight.

Max stays quiet, stroking her head and holding her tightly. He knows that it is not the time to say anything yet.

“She was all alone. Just one night nurse for who knows how many patients. A woman with three kids and six grandchildren. Dying alone. In the middle of the night. In pain. Max- she didn’t deserve any of this.” Lea dissolves in tears again.

Max just holds her. He can’t do anything else. No matter what he will say, the pain will stay.

Grief doesn’t work like that. There is no magical formula of words strong together that will make her feel better. Not right away. There is no good short term relief from grief. Because come to think of it, grief marks the love to one person that you just can’t give to them anymore. This is why it hurts.

And for love to end, there is no instant remedy. Just like for grief.

It comes and goes in ways. You can only stand on the shore and wait for the ocean to come, ready to swim in the waves of memories, pain, despair and a love that can’t be received anymore.

[cybersunnie]

✶ : PRIZED POSSESSION

CORIOLANUS SNOW x F!READER nsfw (18+ / MDNI), smut, piv, cannibalism metaphors

Coriolanus sunk his teeth into everything that was his. 

And you were his prized possession, but you were difficult to tame.

You considered yourself independent; Coriolanus considered you stubborn. He had to stop himself from scoffing when you insisted you didn't need him at every waking moment. You hated how he didn't give you any space. You hated how he breathed down your neck.

What a bunch of nonsense.

He deserved to know where you were at every waking moment. Who you spoke to, hung out with. You were his, were you not? That was his right. Why would you ever need to be alone? Unless you were hiding something from him. Another man—or woman—perhaps?

But Coriolanus learned to ignore his paranoid thoughts. It would get him nowhere. He knew he couldn't force it upon you. You would retaliate, stray further from his clutches. He needed to be patient. He needed to help you understand. He needed to spoon-feed you little by little until it finally stuck.

And slowly but surely, you understood. Coriolanus knew you would eventually, his sweet girl. 

His stupid, sweet girl.

It made it all the easier for him to lull you under his control. You offered your heart to him on a silver platter, asking him to lock it away in the pit of his belly where it would be safe. And he consumed that heart of yours gladly, greedily. That independence you so desperately craved no longer fulfilled you like he did. He was the only one you could trust. The only person you could confide in. You refused to leave his side like an obedient little pet. You were a part of him. You were born to be his. 

And who were you to question the intentions of your loving, doting Coryo?

Now you had nowhere to run—nowhere to hide. 

But you didn’t seem to mind that sentiment. No, especially not when Coriolanus had his cock buried deep inside of you. 

For someone so sweet, you were filthy. But he liked it. In moments like these, you were truly his. You were vulnerable. Docile. He loved how easy you were when lust coursed through your veins. He loved it when your mind was lost in a hazy blizzard, barely able to think straight. And there you were, naked and pinned to his mattress, taking him like the good girl he taught you to be. His touch was rough, fingers digging into your flesh. He held you tightly, roughly, hard enough to leave bruises because he loved you. 

Coriolanus loved you, didn’t he?

"Your pussy's so fucking wet," Coriolanus taunted, breath hot against your ear. He felt you shiver, heard you whine, and he laughed, mean and dirty. "My sweet girl—fuck, she's crying for me." 

You called out his name. A meek whimper. An unutterable prayer. He grinned at the sound of it. “Oh, poor thing,” he cooed, pecking your lips. “Can’t handle too much teasing, huh? S’okay, you’re doing so good.”

He believed he did—love you, that was. Coriolanus felt like a starved man around you. He wanted to split you open, pry his fingers through your flesh and bones, and devour you whole. The feeling was unexplainable, all-consuming. That had to be love.

It must be.

He stared into your eyes, those helpless, glassy eyes as you clung to him. What a sweet little thing you were. Your nails dug into his back, adorning his scarred skin with red lines and crescent indents, but he didn’t mind. Or, more accurately, he didn’t notice. Coriolanus was too busy admiring how your face crumbled with ecstasy every time his hips snapped forward to meet yours. The way your brows knitted together and your mouth hung open when he hit the right spot. 

You were so beautiful like this.

Mine. 

And every thrust made you hold him closer, not wanting him far.

Mine. 

You were completely his like this. 

Mine. 

“You’re mine, yeah?” Coriolanus whispered, his pupils blown wide. You nodded, but that wasn't enough for him. “Tell me you’re mine. C’mon, wanna hear you say it. Wanna hear your pretty voice.” 

He hated how needy he sounded, but how could he not when your walls fluttered around his cock so deliciously.

“I’m yours,” you gasped wetly, voice weak and trembling. He tutted and gripped your chin, a signal you knew very well meant he wasn’t pleased. “I’m yours, Coryo,” you said with more conviction. “Only need you, no one else.”

He groaned, his hands moving to the back of your head. “You mean that?”

“Always.”

And, like the starved man he was, Coriolanus dipped his head down and sunk his teeth in you.

author's note: "alexa how do you write smut?" use cannibalism metaphors!

anyway, happy new year everybody!! decided to start off 2024 with... whatever this is! coryo is a sick man. HE'S DISGUSTING! i need him, actually.

[muffinsin]

Hi.

So in this post about pulling the sisters by their choker you mentioned that Cassandra doesn't like her neck being touched. Idk if you ever talk about it before, but do Bela and Daniela have places where they don't like to be touched too?

Hey hon! Surprisingly, I don't think I wrote of that before XP

Let's get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

She dislikes being touched at her stomach most of the time

Occaisonally, this is due to insecurity

Minaly, this is because she is awfully ticklish

How is the supposed to keep up her strong, intimidating nature when you're lightly tracing your fingers across her stomach, though, and she bursts out giggling?

When she squirms and squeals, her stomach and sides overly sensitive

Aside from this, much like Cassandra, she does have a natural instinct to keep her throat protected

Though, unlike Cassandra, who is still far more feral than her older sister, Bela has outgrown her possessiveness

Still, she'll occaisonally turn into her swarm of flies when you reach out to her randomly, taking her by surprise

It certainly embarasses her...

And as such, seeing no harm in it, you occaisonally do just that

Hold her, kiss her, then suddenly move your hand to her throat, laughing when she automatically turns into a swarm of flies

When she returns to a more solid form, you can only coo and cup her bright pink cheeks, half-promising you won't do it again

But really, you can't help it

And she knows it

Cassandra

She is very cautious as it comes to certain zones on her body

Her neck, especially

Now, that doesn't mean she hates having her neck touched

In fact, there is no way of turning her on faster than by licking, or even biting at her neck

She loves it, moans louder and louder, becoming more and more feral

More eager, rougher, more dominant or submissive depending on the situation

Alas, Cassandra's throat is not so easily touched

Guided by the primal, feral instincts that course through her still, she is instantly on guard should anything draw close to her throat

She can't control it. She's far too aware that a single slice there, a blade buried in it, hands around it, could all mean the end

As such, you must wait for permission each time you move your hands close to her throat, or let her know, at the very least, so she can prepare herself and push the urge to slice at you down

Multiple times has she accidentally killed playthings for moving to it

Another part of her body that is considered more vulnerable, another that prompts her to attack almost immediately when touched, if not prepared, is her stomach

Muscular, soft, strong, sensitive

Vulnerable flesh

You know, you're not to do as much as brush your hand against it out of nowhere

Always, like with your neck, you know to make small, slow movements

Slow enough for her to stop you, for her to voice her discomfort should any arise

You always see to doing just that, knowing that should you take this sister by surprise, it will end badly

Daniela

She doesn't like the underside of her arms touched

It's a bit of an odd thing, and she can't fully explain it

Well...it is ticklish

And while she will snarl if you accidentally move your fingers to this area, she's helpless when her sisters do it

As payback when she acts out, she's sure

She's lifted easily by her arms then, squealing and laughing and whining for Alcina to scold them

When you go about this, it's not quite intentional

You're merely lifting her, when suddenly she giggles and gasps, squeals and swarms off of you

She doesn't fully mind, aside from the ticklish feeling

Daniela is very, very comfortable in her body

She's confident, happy, and satisfied

As such, there's no area she feels uncomfortable about you touching, or even dislikes

In fact, she loves it when your hands trail all over her body

In worshipping fashion, almost

She just loves it!

[kingconia]

SAVANACLAW WITH S/O, WHO IS SECRETLY ANIMAGUS.

[ Animagus — a magician, who can turn into an animal and back by their own will. ]

Leona Kingscholar.

— I actually headcanon that Leona has a strong Disney princess vibe, which means he is always surrounded by a lot of animals—and it is not about his classmates—so, when a stray cat starts following him around he doesn't see anything strange in that;

— Whenever he wakes up, there is always the same cat curled on his chest, a very pleasant weight on him almost reminding him of you, his lover;

— Leona's friendship with the cat starts when he offers it the peace of his meal that Ruggie brought. It licks his fingers and face after, and he introduces the cat as ”my partner in crime” to Ruggie affectionately;

— The cat hit him on the cheek with these little paws of it, when the headmaster is too close to the spot, where Leona sleeps carelessly, instead of being on lessons;

— Instantly, Leona wants you and the cat to meet each other. But when he tries to arrange the meeting in the botanical garden, something always goes wrong. He is so annoyed.

•

”Fucking fluffy brat!” Leona hisses, sniffling more intensely, trying to pick of the scent of the cat one more time. ”That is embarrassing, I swear.”

You smile as you lean on the tree with your shoulder. There is something especially funny about Leona, who searches for the cat desperately, with his tail swinging nervously. You don't even mask your laughter.

”I swear, this furball hates me,” Leona mutters. He is suddenly in front of you, with hands gripping your shoulders as he gently shoves you in the opposite side. ”Move, move. I think, she is somewhere here.”

“Su-ure,” you yawn with the fake sympathy.

”I am sure... It is somewhere... Here...”

You can't help but wonder how someone could be so smart and stupid at the same time...

Ruggie Bucchi.

— When a little bird sits down on his windowsill in the morning, Ruggie's first—and honest—reaction is to wonder if it is morally correct, to eat it alive;

— He stops thinking about that right after the bird throw a few branches in Leona's head, after he was especially mean to Ruggie;

— Since then, considers to befriend it. Brings some food for birds, and allows it to peck on his cheek;

— Allows it to travel on his shoulders, while he shows ”the bad guys, you should throw branches at, Birdie”, and complains the bird about everything and everyone during the day;

— Ruggie finds it unbelievably unfair how you, his lover, and Birdie, his best friend, are never in the same room.

•

”You hung up with Draconia boy too much,” Ruggie tells you, with the absolutely serious expression on his face, when you come to look at the empty cage again.

You blink, not really understanding where it is coming from.

”...What it has to do with you never being able to keep your bird to my arrival?” You mock, folding arms on your chest.

”His darkening aura annoys Leona, and it surely scares the Birdie away,” Ruggie hums.

You really can't help but burst out in laughter. Instantly, you throw a pillow in his head.

”Ouch, ouch!”

”And you should start hang out with Leona less,” you chid. ”Malleus is no at fault that you can't even train your pet.”

Though, of course, you are not his pet. And there is no way you are going to be train, even for a game.

”Yeah... You are right.”

But Ruggie doesn't need to know that. For now, at least.

Jack Howl.

— ???

— When a random rabbit starts following Jack around, he looks absolutely lost. Had this animal never heard that wolves eat their kind???

— ”Hey, come on... Go away, bunny... Go!” (Looks at it with the warmest eyes ever) ”Fine... The strong must protect the sweet one... But only because you are so small, and helpless!”

— He can't bring it to Savanaclaw, for the obvious reasons, so Jack makes a deal with Epel, to keep it in his dorms. Epel stress out, because the animal keeps appearing and disappearing on its own wish, though...

— Jack, somehow, justifies this strangeness with the fact that, of course, his Bun-Bun is not like other rabbits, huh! (He is so delusional...)

•

”Oh, Jack,” you mutter softly, scratching him behind the ear. ”Don't be sad. Surely, once I will be able to meet this rabbit of yours, too.”

Jack sighs, putting cheek on your shoulders, obviously disappointed that his two favourite creatures hadn't met yet. In moments like this, you are so close to tell him the truth... It is just impossible to see him sad...

”I know... But it happens so often. It is, as if you and Bun-Bun are the same person!” He blinks. ”Actually... You kinda act the same, you know?”

You pale visibly. How the fuck, from all of the in this school, Jack the only one who assumed the right answer, though, by the accident?!

”I... Jack...”

”Ha-ha,” the sudden loud laugh from the other end of the room startles both of you. ”Our dear Y/n, cette douce étoile, a bunny? Don't you think, a cat would fit them more?”

You sigh, waving Rook Hunt off, though, with a certain gratitude.

”Jack, you would notice, though, wouldn't you? You have extra senses.”

He nods reluctantly, but you can see doubt in his eyes. And when you turn around, Rook winks at you, knowingly.

You are in so much trouble...

[jenosbliss]

pairing. gn!reader x jeno | genre. fluff | wc. 0.4k | warnings. reader goes through a breakdown, academic stress

The hallway window leading to your bedroom reflected a blurred image of yours. Even though the image appeared bleary, the slump of your shoulders, the dark circles under your eyes, and the wild mess of hair escaping your usual bun spoke volumes of your exhaustion.

With a heavy sigh, you shuffled towards your room, this wasn’t new. Semester end had always been exhausting, the relentless cycle of assignments, deadlines, and exams was draining. You just probably needed a good cry and sleep to prepare yourself for tomorrow’s struggles and stress.

Entering the room, you were greeted with a “Hii baby” from your boyfriend sitting on the shared bed. Jeno’s eyes formed small moons as a sweet smile played on his lips which faded the moment he saw your weary state.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” His smile gave way to concern. “So much… I’m tired,” you said, dropping your bag near the desk. “Come here, love". You turned around to see his arms wide open.

Tiredly you walked toward him, sitting next to him as he wrapped his arms around you, soothingly patting your back. "What's troubling you?" he asked, as you shifted closer to him, hugging him back.

Jeno could probably never understand how much you needed this hug right now, he felt like home, and the warmth from this hug made all your worries disappear for the time being. You didn't want to come out of his embrace wishing to stay here forever as if he'd protect you from everything and everyone.

Tears filled your eyes; the day was exhausting enough and now this closeness overwhelmed you. Noticing your distress, Jeno tenderly held your face, his gaze filled with concern.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you admitted, leaning into his touch. “Each day feels harder…” Your voice faltered, tears streaming down. Jeno knowing not to interrupt just leaned in and kissed away your tears, a hand rubbing the back of your head slowly.

“As if all this end sem and exam stress wasn’t enough, my English professor misplaced my portfolio and is asking me to submit it again.”  you sobbed, gripping his sweatshirt. “It’s not even my fault! She knows I submitted it, but somehow it vanished… I spend hours searching it everywhere but…”

Jeno gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb wiping the tears off your cheeks. It hurt him to see you so broken, he knew it was temporary academic stress and everything would be fine after a week but right now he couldn’t do anything except watch you cry while sitting there helpless wiping your tears.

“I’m not even getting proper sleep, my head hurts all the time, I feel dizzy, and it feels like no one gets it., I hate it… I just want to give up.” Your shoulders slumped as your head fell on his shoulders. Your cries turn into muffles. Both of you stayed like for a few minutes, while you cried on his shoulder, he just rubbed your back calmly.

“Y/n, baby hear me out.” Reluctantly you moved your head and looked up at his direction. “How about we look for your portfolio together on Monday? I’m sure it must be somewhere in her cabin and if not, I’ll help you write it.” He smiled raising his eyebrows. “But our handw-” placing a finger on your lips he continued “Don’t worry I’ve got that covered.” he teased, bringing a smile to your face.

He felt a little peace seeing your smile “And I’m turning off all the alarms for tomorrow. No getting up at 4 and studying, okay?” You were about to protest but he just continued “Nope, no excuses. Sleep in till you wake up fully fresh. You need rest baby also I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow so no getting up early.”

“Fine… but I want waffles.” Knowing that you couldn’t win against him and that what he said was correct you gave in. Smiling he pressed a lasting kiss on your forehead mumbling “I love you” before kissing you on the lips. “Love you too.”

The stress of academia was nothing new, breakdowns like these were frequent for you, crying yourself to sleep and preparing yourself to survive another day was like an everyday story until now.

What changed now was that you can lean on someone while you cried, someone to rub your back, someone to hold, someone to share your problems, someone who maybe doesn’t relate but understands you, someone to make sure that you sleep peacefully before going to bed himself, someone who’s just not someone, but Jeno.

a/n. had this idea two weeks ago when i went through a similar situation but didn’t have someone like jeno :’)

navigtion.

masterlist. dream | 127 | wayv

[azsazz]

Sanctum

Azriel x Cassian x Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Okay so for the a/b/o. What if a bad guy (Illyrian camp lord, Beron, Hybern, etc) takes the reader/omega of one of the bat boys while the reader is in heat to bring the bat boys to them or something and they have to get them back but also fuck their brains out 😂

Warnings: SMUT, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, anal, fingering, breeding kink.

Word Count: 4,376

Notes: I think my mind just went "why have one when you can have three" cuz lately i've been down bad for all of them

_________________________________________

“Az,” you whimper, writhing in his hold. You’re sweating and shaking in his arms, and the cooler autumn breeze tells him that winter is coming. Your nails dig sharply into the muscles of his back because you’re so uncomfortable, even though he’s holding you so closely. “It hurts too much.”

His heart pounds in his chest as he angles his wings to keep you in the current. He hates that you’re feeling so poorly right now, but they have to get you away from Autumn, and fast. Azriel winces, tightening his grip around you as you squirm. Your nose buried into his neck does nothing to ease your heat, the close proximity only makes your cunt throb and you wish he were holding you differently so you can rut up against him.

“I know, my mate,” he murmurs, but it's strained. His own body wants to react to you, your mating bond calling to his, and he’s never held his body so taut while flying before. His pupils keep dilating as your scent swarms around you both, your slick intoxicating. He knows how needy you are, how painful this must be for you, but he’s incredibly thankful that he and his brothers had found you in time before Eris or one of the other alphas in Beron’s court came to your aid. 

His jaw tightens as he thinks about what could’ve happened to you, his precious little omega stolen away from her home to use against them.

He’ll kill them all.

The brassy tone of Azriel’s voice soaks through your skin to settle in your bones. It only makes you cry harder, utterly helpless and knowing that there’s nothing that you can do to make the unbearable heat dim. Even though you’re desperate to be home, where you can be safe and really sink into your omegaspace while your big, bad alphas protect you, your body is craving a knot, now.

Azriel casts a hopeless look to his brothers, flanking the both of you as he carries you. The smell of your heat and the desperate gnashing of your bond is affecting them too. Cassian’s face is red, thick brows pulled tight in a furrow as he watches Azriel struggle to keep you still. Rhys frowns deeply, hardly able to take his eyes off of you to scout the areas ahead.

“We won’t make it.” Rhys swoops as close as he can while avoiding Azriel’s shifting wings. His voice carries over the wind. You’re still hours from the house and he and Azriel are both too drained to winnow, but Cauldron be damned they’ll get you to safety, no matter how much their wings ache. “We need to stop.”

Azriel cuts him a look, jaw set. “There’s nowhere to stop.”

“She’s clearly in pain, Az,” Cassin nearly growls at the sound of another mewl of agony. He tries to flush soothing feelings down the bond to you but it does nothing to lessen the spasms of your heat. 

“I know,” he bites back, “Fuck—I know.” 

But he’s not wrong. Night has settled, and while you’re still hours away from the House of Wind, there’s no lodging in the mountains nearby. The Hewn City hadn’t ever been an option. 

“Az,” you cry out. Their bickering isn’t helping. If anything, it’s making everything ache even more, the throbbing between your legs incessant no matter how tightly you clench your thighs together. 

Knock her out, Cassian sends to Rhys through their mind connection, and the High Lord opens the path for Azriel to communicate through as well. It’s better this way, for your safety.

Azriel’s grip around you tightens, his lips finding your forehead, a comforting motion for the shadowsinger. You’re burning hot, sweat beading your hairline, even though you’re vibrating in his arms. Your tight grip has slackened already as the pain of your heat consumes you, and the rattling of your breathing worries him more than he’d ever admit.

We can’t do that, he sends back, but the look Rhysand wears is the same one he does when he has to make a tough call involving his court. It’s the last thing he wants to do, and his own power drain is palpable, but to get you to safety, he’ll tap himself out. They all will.

We can’t leave her like this, Cassian bites back in his alpha voice. It makes the hair on his brother’s necks rise. He’s more frustrated than them, being the first one to bond with you will do that to a male. And with his own rut nearing, he’s been on edge as of late.

Azriel ignores the both of them, taking a deep breath before he flaps his wings harder, picking up more speed. He’s losing steam quickly, days without sleep while searching for you and fighting off anyone who dared get in their way was not easy. They could feel your fear and distress through the bond, the way that you hardly touched the food they’d given you and kept yourself awake, fighting your captors even as your heat began to sink in. 

“I need you to touch yourself for me, love.” He sounds so gentle, like you’re some fragile thing in his arms that’ll break at the next bank of wind. “Can you do that for me?”

You shake your head no, afraid to even speak, knowing that your voice will break. 

“Please, love,” he begs, “It’ll help.”

“It’ll hurt worse,” you croak, blinking tears from your eyes as your desperation rises, “I need it, Az. I need your knot.”

He groans, smothering his face in your scent glands to get a whiff of your drug-like aroma. He teeths over the bond mark on your neck, a brand of his own, set between by both of his brothers' indentions, proof that they are your alphas and you, their omega.

And the last thing your alphas want is for you to hurt.

He lets his instincts take over, drawing his wings into his back as he nosedives. He lets his spymaster mind take over, eyes scanning for the best area to stop and rest. The wind whips at his face and the fabric of your skirts slaps against his body as you freefall.

With a stroke of luck he spots a cave. It’s not nearly as hidden as he’d like, but there are no other options right now. It will have to do.

Azriel sends his plans to your other pack members, who immediately follow the spymaster’s silent instructions. Cassian stalks ahead when you land on the ground with a jolt, scoping out the area while Rhys moves closer to help settle the raging bond in your chest.

“Just a few more moments, darling, I promise you,” he speaks softly, brushing the hair from your wet cheeks before running a soothing hand across your soft skin. His power thrums through you but does nothing to stave away the gnawing, uncomfortable feeling gnashing in your gut.

“All clear,” Cassian calls, voice echoing loudly throughout the darkening night. It makes the other two wince, Azriel tucking you closer to his chest as he goes on high alert. Ater a brief pause where he scans the area, straining to hear for potential threats over the rushed sound of your heart in your chest, he makes their way deeper into the cave while Rhys sets off in search of firewood.

Cassian’s already stripped himself of his thick coat and shirt, laying it out on the cold, stony ground as a bed of sorts for you. His muscular, tanned chest on display has more slick dripping from your cunt, undergarments soaked through. The light dusting of hair across his large pectorals makes you flare up, and you so desperately want to reach out for him, to touch the soft hairs beckoning to you like a beacon, but you’re too weak to unclench your fist from Azriel’s shirt.

You whimper and the warlord scrambles, reaching out to relieve Azriel of his duties. He looks bone tired, dark circles around his eyes and mouth set in a permanent frown. He’d been hard as a rock the entire time he’d been carrying you, his body reacting to your heat, ready to give you everything that you could ever need, but your protection will always come first.

He presses in close, his bare body touching yours and you huff out a sigh as the thrumming in your chest becomes more bearable from his warm skin pressed up against you. Cassian is gentle with you, setting you down onto his jacket to help you with your own clothes.

You rake your nails across any skin you can find as he works, body writhing on top of the warm threads beneath you. The throbbing between your legs is driving you insane, and you need him, you need him like the sun needs the sky, like the moon needs darkness.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” he reassures, but there’s still too much clothing between the two of you. Azriel’s made himself scarce, off to help Rhysand prepare for the long night in the cave with their omega in heat. They’ll need all of the protection they can get. He only hopes they’ll be able to sate you enough before you’re needing to go for another round so they can finally transport you the rest of the way home in the morning.

You shiver as he drags the lace covering your needy cunt down, tossing them over his shoulder without care. His nostrils flare as the scent of your slick hits his nose and his cock strains against the leathers he’d only gotten so far as to untying. He bends to kiss and lick at your wet thighs but there’s no time for foreplay, you need his knot and you need it now.

But you don’t need to speak a word, the bond you share with Cassian lets him know exactly how much you’re in need of relief. He lets your hands slide up the hills and valleys of his back as he shifts away to rid himself of the confining leathers, but your fingers slip up into his hair and tug him to a stop.

The alpha growls and you keen in response, nipples tightening and thighs spreading as you submit to the noise. He huffs, shoving his pants down and kicking them away into the pile with his boots before he’s leaning over you and molding his body to yours, pressing a kiss of apology over the red indentations of the bite mark of his you wear proudly.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling his body even tighter to yours. His cock slides against your soaking cunt and you need to scream but his mouth is on yours, swallowing the noises trying to escape your throat as he shoves into you with a predatory groan.

Stars burst behind your closed eyelids, body vibrating at the sensation of finally being claimed by your alpha. You’d never staved off your heat like this before. Either your alphas were there to take care of you or you had your plethora of toys to help relieve some of the pain, but as you’d sat in one of the suites in the burrows of the Woodland House, the thought of getting off to help the pain subside was met with the fear that one of the men there would try something with you.

“Cassian,” you moan as he licks across your bond mark again. You swear that you can feel his soul tangling with yours at every thrust, feverish and rushed, your alpha wanting to help you through your prolonged heat. He doesn’t like seeing you in pain like this, and he’s proving it by fucking into you the way you crave, not loving and teasing like he normally is. No, this is hungry and raw, the need to take care of what’s his outweighing his own need to be gentle.

You’re already getting near. A single touch from them could get you off in the throes of your heat, but after having forced yourself back for so long, it’s taken him longer than he’d like to admit to get you to this point. Cassian licks his way down your neck and to your nipple, swirling his tongue before nipping at it with sharp teeth, and your body arches into his as you whine while your orgasm rips through you.

Some of the haze clears from your mind when you come back to, but you’re just as desperate for him to follow you. You can feel Cassian’s knot swelling already and you wait with a baited breath until he releases with possessive snarl, locking him into you as hot spurts of his seed fills your needy cunt.

You feel as though you can finally breathe again, even with the warm weight of your biggest alpha pinning you to the ground. You feel safe in his arms but the itch comes back quickly, consuming you as you catch the scent of your other alphas on the autumn breeze.

“More,” you cry desperately, swirling your hips but it does nothing to move the cock that’s locked deeply into you. “I need more.”

Hurry up, Cassian snaps through their mental shields as he drags his hands down your sides and across your hind. He scoops some of the slickness from between your legs, grunting as his cock throbs again, releasing even more cum into your tight cunt. It’ll go on like this for a long moment, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get you prepared.

You shudder through a moan as he circles a finger around your pucker, a gentle tease before he presses it inside. You sigh against his lips, giving him a thankful kiss as he helps fill your needs.

Azriel strides into the cave by the time Cassian’s worked you up to three fingers, his face set and mouth downturned as always. You know him better than that, understand that the hard look in his gold-flecked eyes isn’t because of you or even the alpha knotting you, it’s because he feels as if this isn’t a safe enough place to mount you and claim you as his. 

Overprotective alpha.

Cassian is careful to shuffle you around, tucking you close to his body as he maneuvers himself under you so that your ass is on display for the scowling alpha. You mewl as his knot is jostled, but he stays tucked tightly into your cunt. They’re good about giving each other space at home, but with how long you’ve been needing them, your bond calls out to all of them like a siren song.

There’s a pile of wood in Azriel’s arms but Rhys hasn’t made his way back to the cave yet, scouting the surroundings and preparing himself for the night ahead. He’s still collecting firewood, and Azriel drops his own carelessly at his feet, his hands already dragging his shirt up the toned planes of his chest, responding to his omegas call. 

He settles onto his knees behind you, letting his shadows drape themselves in lone lines down your back. You shiver, their cool claws brushing your heated skin in a way the makes your cunt flutter and you beg.

Azriel hushes you softly, admiring the sight of you stretched out on Cassian’s fingers, his cock. His lips part to taste the scent of your arousal in the air and he so desperately wants a taste of his delectable omega, but your wild cries for him to fuck you have him ripping Cassian’s fingers from you to replace with his rock hard length.

Your broken moan echoes throughout the cabin and into the autumn winds outside, calling Rhysand home to you with every sound. There’s nothing he can do except glamor the mouth of the cave. He has to concentrate harder than he’s had to since he was young and learning the skill, but the pleasurable sounds you’re making are very distracting. Sweat lines his brow as he forces his powers out, shoving away the weariness he feels from exuding too much of it in the search for you.

He drags himself inside and all but collapses into a heap next to you and the other alphas. He’d love nothing more but to shut his eyes and rest for a moment, but he can’t look away from you, mouth hanging open and eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Azriel fucks you frevorently from behind.

“Fuck, Az,” Cassian hisses, fingers digging into your hips. His chest is heaving under you, pressing you up and down, rubbing you between your alphas chests. Your hardened nipples brush over his tanned skin and they’re so sensitive that it makes you cum again. The feeling of Az’s cock through your walls is astounding, and everytime he shares you this way he’s just as surprised by the feeling, especially when he feels his own sensitive cock preen as the shadowsinger’s knot expands. “I’m going to cum again.”

“Do it,” you beg, clutching onto his arms. Azriel’s hands snake around your shoulders to tug you up, and the change of the angle he's pressing into you has you seeing stars. With a hand gripping your chin, he tilts your head so that he can finally kiss you.

Cassian cums again with a roar that shakes the mountain and makes the other two alphas growl in alert. He doesn’t care, baring his teeth at them as he tries to pry you out of Azriel’s arms, to no avail.

You meet the eyes of your third alpha, the High Lord who’s lounging like the playboy he is, beside you with a glare that melts into a tired smirk when he catches you staring. 

You reach out to him, pleading him to join in because you need him, it still hurts even though two of your alphas are fulfilling your needs right now. 

But you need them all.

“Please, please, please, please, please!” Your plea for him twists into chants for Azriel, his knot growing deeply inside of you as he cums, lapping at his mark on your neck. He wishes it were the one on the meat of your thigh, his other favorite place to pleasure you. For now, this will do.

Rhys scoots closer when you collapse on Cassian’s chest, soft noises of approval drifting from your mouth. Your eyes flutter from how incredible you feel, but you’re still hot all over and you know that you won’t be feeling like yourself until you’ve had all three of your alphas multiple times.

“You know I can’t help you right now, darling,” he drawls, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear. Your fingers dart up to catch his wrist before he’s able to pull away, so he settles on brushing the smooth skin of your cheek instead.

“You can,” you whimper back, but he’s already shaking his head.

“I don’t like to do that, my sweet,” but there’s no High Lord demands in the tone of his voice, so you know that you can push him.

“Rhys,” you swallow harshly, trying to focus on him for a second instead of on the hot seed filling you to the brim from your other alphas. “I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t sure. I need you too.”

He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and you bite back a whimper because you think you’ve gone too far, that Rhys won’t help you at all.

“Alright,” he says softly and you breathe a sigh of relief.

His eyes glow brighter as he enters your mind.

Rhys doesn’t like meddling in your mind, but sometimes when your heat is too much, it’s all he can do. Your body thrives on having all three of your alphas inside of you, and he’d be willing to fuck your throat, but knowing just how bad this heat is for you, he doesn’t want to risk it.

Instead, he caresses your inner being. You can feel him in your head, the images he’s showing you, you bent over the counter in the kitchen, taking his cock like the good little omega you are for him. There’s one of him slurping the slick from between your thighs like a starved male, until your legs could no longer hold you up and his tongue was buzzing from the amount of times he’d gotten you off.

And there’s one of the future flooding your vision as you whine for more. One of his favorite thoughts, you chasing around after a little boy who howls with laughter and looks just like him.

That’s the one that makes you cum harder than you ever have before, your vision whiting out as your body slackens on top of Cassian, sliding into your omegaspace.

They hold you like that for a long time. Azriel draped over your back and Cassian under you, keeping you warm as the chill of the night sets in and even after their knots go down. Rhys runs his hand in a soothing pattern against any skin he can find, even as he shuts his eyes to rest. 

You’re sated and happy, surrounded by your alphas, until you’re not.

You wake with a start, writhing in the space between Cassian and Rhys. Your hairline is damp with sweat and the ache between your legs is back. You whimper into the darkness of the cave, hoping to rouse one of your sleeping alphas, preferably the one you haven’t been filled with yet.

Azriel is nowhere to be seen, on patrol no doubt.

Rhys wakes to a stiff cock and you rutting against him, begging him for relief. He blinks away the sleep in his eyes only for his pupils to dilate as he zeroes in on the scent of your slick.

He’s quick to roll on top of you, caging you in with his forearms pressed to the pile of coats and clothes they’d set you upon to sleep. The undergarments that he’d been reluctant to put back on for this reason are gone with a snap, his hips tilting down to dip into your wetness. You both groan at the feeling and you cling to him like a bat.

You’ve been waiting for him, your alpha and High Lord alike. His touch is demanding, wanting all of your attention on him as he sheaths himself inside of you in one fell swoop. He doesn’t want to share, and right now, with Cassian snoring softly beside you and Azriel taking rounds in the woods, he doesn't have to.

Rhys doesn’t waste any time. He can feel how badly you’re craving him, squirming on his cock like the good girl you are. Your fingers leave crescent shaped marks on his shoulders and he leaves behind bruises where his fingertips hold your hips still to pound into you.

Even in the darkness, you can see that there’s no violet in his eyes. They’re a reflection of the night sky, looking at you like you’re the moon, heavenly in the way that you move, sound in response to him. He loves you, through and through.

The bond thrums in your chest as he ruts into you, swirling his hips as he lowers himself flush to you. He slips into your mind, letting you feel everything that you’re doing to him, and it’s nearly too much, to be able to feel his heart pounding in your chest against yours, the blistering arousal coursing through his veins.

“I’m going to put an heir in you to rule the court, darling, will you give me that?” Rhys’ voice is dark, more alpha than Illyrian right now but it’s exactly what you need. You need his roughened hands manhandling you into positions best for breeding, you need those dark eyes pinned to yours, knowing that his words are nothing but truth, you need his knot to fill you with his seed to give him exactly what he wants. 

Your body arches into his on instinct and you bare your throat to him. He lets out a predatory growl and noses along your scent gland, devouring the familiar sweetness he’s been craving. The urge to mark you again is strong, his body vibrating as he tries to hold himself back. But then you answer.

“I’ll give you a whole litter, alpha,” you moan, and he bites.

The sensation explodes throughout your body. You cry out in pleasure as you cum on his cock, walls flexing around him in a motion that only makes his hips move faster and his teeth clamp tighter.

You’re pulling at his hair, clawing down his sides trying to drag him closer, as if somehow you’ll be able to manage to absorb your alpha into your very being. Your mating bond vibrates and you can feel the warm, golden tendrils as they meet his, twisting and twining around each other in tight knots that will never be able to become undone.

“I can’t wait to see it,” his voice sounds like he’s swallowed sand, rough like it hasn’t been used in ages. “Your belly swollen with my pups. I bet it will drive your other alphas wild.”

His voice holds a breathy falter, and the visions of you heavily pregnant flit through his mind. It makes him release a desperate sound and his ships stutter, knot swelling as he shares the images with you.

He cums with a sound that brings courts to their knees and sends shivers up your spine, knot locking into place deep in your cunt. He swears that this will be the time that his seed takes, Cauldron willing. 

“Let’s find out,” you pant, brushing some of the hair from his face. Rhys stares down at you, noting how the cloudy look from your heat has subsided now that you’re being knotted, and he can see nothing but the truth glimmering in your soft gaze.

Rhys swallows roughly, leaning down to breathe in your scent deeply. It’s always calmed him, even in the worst scenarios. You are his rock, his home. “You’re ready for pups?” he asks like he’s afraid of your answer.

You can’t bite back the grin splitting your lips. 

“Yes, Rhys, it’s time to grow the pack.”

[onmyyan]

A/n: had a thought about a homelander-like reader in the DC universe, reader has homelanders powers minus his incel-like qualities just something self indulgent

It was over in an instant, the second her eyes refocused she calmly stood from the ratty chair he had her bound to, the dark steel cuffs he'd been sworn would weaken her became paper as she stood and shredded them to nothing. The tall young woman rolled her head between her shoulders, and the small grimace on her face fell after a satisfying pop echoed throughout the room.

"You know how I feel about people poking around up there." She smiled at him, tapping her finger against her temple, then took her first step forward, like a predator stalking its prey. 

"In fact- I'm almost certain you know how much I hate it." Another calculated step.

They both knew she could end him anytime she felt like it, so the slow almost teasing way she hadn't yet, chilled him to his core.

"I was only trying to right a wrong- you must understand the world must be protected-"

His tearful plea was cut off by the harsh bark of laughter leaving the younger woman. "Please, this is me you're talkin' to. I know you old man- you don't give a shit about the world." Her smile cracked giving him a flash of the beast he'd raised.

"You just want someone to remember your sorry ass when you keel over and die. You want them to think you were worth something- well guess what? You were. You made me, and I'll always remember you for that." She stared down at the man she'd called Papa, her serene smile looked as hollow as it felt.

She'd finally made it close enough to see the microscopic beads of sweat on his upper lip. Her stare was eerily curious, (e/c) eyes forced him frozen as she looked him over, akin to the way a cat stared at a mouse it was about to bat around for fun. Her (s/c) hand came up to rest gently on his chest, dead center. She patted the area a few times as gently as she could, the force shaking him in place, he moved for the syringe on his belt, if he could get to it fast enough he had a chance of survival.

"I'll also never forgive you for it." 

He saw it before he felt it. In a flash she had pushed forward and punched a hole straight through his chest, her fingers made contact with the cool cement wall behind him, Her free arm came up to cradle the back of his head, and she calmly pets his hair in a gesture she'd only seen in the hero films they showed her, his choking, bloodied sputters and gasps were quickly shushed.

"I think it's time for me to move out." She sighed to herself, yanking her arm back from the warm insides of her papa. Her face twisted in disgust at the chunks and viscera clinging to her skin, she wiped as much as she could off on the cleanest part of the deadman shirt before making her way out of the room, she had a few more doctors and nurses to say goodbye to.

Across the city was a soon-to-be hero having a not-so-good time.

Tim was having a very, bad day.

His alarm never went off forcing him to run to his classes to be on time, some freshman got too excited at lunch and knocked his soup all over the front of Tim, he had to wear his ugly gym shirt for the rest of his classes, then that idiot Kon accidentally crushed his phone with a little too much strength so Tim was screwed when it came to patrol tonight, he had a police scanner on that thing.

Then it began to rain. Sure he had an umbrella, but with the way it was coming down, it was useless.

He huffed a harsh breath through his nose, trying everything not to scream, there was an alleyway nearby that had a cover, and he quickly ran under it to avoid getting any more soaked. That was when he saw her.

A woman stood hovering over a mewling kitten, the small creature's desperate cries were almost inaudible from the harsh pound of the rain. He watched as she just stared at the helpless creature and felt himself hit his breaking point, he stormed over with a vengeance. 

Tim glared at the odd woman, his attitude more directed at his shit day than her.

"You some kinda' sicko? What the hell are you doing just standing there?" He yelled poking the taller woman in the shoulder.

She didn't budge.

"I can't grab her cuz' I can't control my strength. I think I might hurt her." She responded in such a sad tone, the guilt in her gaze made his stomach lurch with shame, the instant regret was a new feeling he noted, not one he enjoyed. "And you're standing there because you couldn't leave her either." He said it more like a statement than a question. 

The drenched (h/c) haired woman remained silent, offering a nod instead. He cleared his throat, a nervous pattern developed in middle school, and took the few steps needed to kneel next to the creature, he untied it simply enough and the small kitten instantly calmed down, rubbing its little face against his palm.

He risked a glance up and found the stranger smiling down at the scene before her. His heart did a funny little skip when he caught her gaze. From the way her eyes reminded him of warm honey, to the way she stared at him as if he was the most interesting person in the world, down to the way the rain beat against her (s/c) face, her plush lips curled up in that smile that sent shivers through his belly, everything about her pulled him in. She was enchanting so- enchanting, he'd thought it was her quirk.

"Thanks, mister." The tall woman smiled at him so brightly he felt the urge to shield his eyes, but he couldn't look away, she stood there like this goddess carved from marble, it almost seemed unfair how she lit up the grimy alleyway, how she looked to good just standing there.

"My name is Tim, what's yours?" She seemed to ponder it for a second, her head tilting, eyes calculated as she smiled at him again, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, 

"(Y/n), I'm gonna be a hero." Her greeting was odd, but he returned her smile with a small one of his own, she stuck her hand out and shook his with a toothy grin, he could feel her strength in the simple motion as they shook hands. He had a feeling she could give Kon a run for his money.

"What are you doing out here? Besides rescuing kittens that is."

"Oh, you know stuff. Normal stuff." Was her calculated answer? He laughed to himself a bit, "Well whatever you're doing, you know you don't have any shoes on right?" She looked down with a hum. 

"It would appear I do not." He took that moment to really observe her. She looked like a gorhamite, including her clothes, she wore a white set of hospital thermals, well mostly white. Splotches of pink stained her front as if she'd been splattered with paint. Thick (h/c) curls clung to her perfectly carved face, framing it even more, the fabric of her clothes hugging her body like a second skin. He had a feeling she'd been in the hospital recently, judging by the thin band across her right wrist. He got close enough to read the word 'HOMELAN' but the rest was concealed, He chose not to comment on that, having a feeling one wrong move would send her flying.

"You hurt?" He asked standing to his full height, he had to look up a bit to meet her gaze, "Nah- I'm all good hot stuff." She made a point to flex her arm playfully, even in jest he could see she was packing some serious muscle under there.

"You running from someone?" Again she took her time to respond, her finger tapping against her chin in thought.

"Hmm, I'm gonna go ahead and say no. They definitely can't chase me anymore." The thought pulled a snort from her as if genuinely tickled, by the it, her gaze seemed gleeful, but something in her tone made his stomach do a flip, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Another thing that caught his attention was that innocent look in her eyes whenever she looked away from him, how she stared at the ivory leaf-covered brick with the most interested expression, something in the way she looked at the sky reminded him of a child's innocence.

It was as if this was her first time outside or something.

His heart had been steadily rising throughout the entire interaction, a strange but warm feeling began to grow, and a dangerous little seed had sprouted in his heart the second he realized she was just some poor soul looking for someone to reach out and save her.

He could definitely be that person.

"I can't leave you out here like this- do you have someplace to stay?" He watched her rack her brain for an answer.

"Yes, thank you." She nodded more to herself than him and began walking in the opposite direction, straight into the storm that seemed to only worsen. He cursed under his breath and did a light jog to catch her. "You're a terrible liar." It was instinct to lift his umbrella higher, now standing side by side the good few inches on him really seemed to stand out.

"You can tell? Gotta work on my poker face then." The smirk on her plump lips felt teasing, paired with the confident way she carried herself left the purple-haired man with a swarm of dancing butterflies in his tummy.

"I know somewhere safe-" he flicked his tongue out over his lip, "I'm..connected with some heros in this town, I can protect you." He said as earnestly as he could, something telling him not to let this one go, he rubbed her arm, trying to warm her with his hand as he gave her a crooked grin. She giggled at the man before her, she wasn't used to people worrying for her so intensely, so honestly, to think she'd known him five minutes and he'd shown her more kindness than any of the cold, calculating doctors who raised her ever had, it made her laugh to herself. He had no idea how little she needed protection, but still, the thought made her chest feel funny and warm.

 "Oh jeez, my own personal hero? Lucky day." He returned her grin, the festering feeling of obsession gripped him all that more. With that, he took a calculated risk and linked his pinkie with hers. "Come on, it's not far." The kitten was happily asleep in his hoodie pocket, the stallion beside him reminded him a lot of a feral kitten, just asking to be taken home and pampered.

[biblio-smia]

part one | part two | part three

there's a feeling of dread in mike's stomach the second he wakes up. then, he remembers last night and his chest starts aching, too.

mike forces himself not to dwell on it. not on the disappointment in your eyes. not on the way you'd admitted you'd loved him (was it too late to admit he loved you, too?). not on how mike had ruined the one good thing he had.

mike rubs his eyes, blurry vision refocusing until the Nebraskan trees on his ceiling are clear once again.

mike feels more sluggish than usual as he throws clothes on and struggles to tie his tie, almost like he's still dreaming. he catches the crookedness of his tie in a mirror and imagines it's your fingers instead of his readjusting it.

abby is especially cold to him this morning, clearly not worried about mike realizing she had overheard last night's argument.

mike takes it, not even upset when abby calls him a jerk and throws a plushie at him.

he knows it's his fault. he knows he's been living in his own bubble without space for anyone else and he knows you are not going to come back without a little effort from him first; but the idea of telling you what's really going on is so terrifying mike would almost rather you never speak to him again.

it's really quite pathetic, how helpless mike is when, realistically, all it'd take is a phone call. but mike can't even bear the thought of hearing your voice confirm everything negative he's ever thought about himself.

so mike puts it off.

as soon as he gets this done. as soon as he figures out who kidnapped his brother.

then everything can go back to how it was.

though that uneasiness really never leaves mike that day. not as abby angrily huffs as she exits the car, not as mike shares this dream theory with his co-worker Jeremy, and especially not as mike sees an older man forcing a young boy along.

really, mike didn't even remember tackling the man and beating his face in.

but mike must deal with the consequences.

he is home early and abby has learned not to ask why. she has long since caught on to mike's patterned behaviors, though her childish mind does not quite grasp how it all could affect her. but abby does know that she misses you, wishing that stupid mike would just pick up the phone and call you.

max is her babysitter now. she's nice and she lets abby sit and draw in her room, but she's not you.

abby is on a hunger strike again, one that only you could ever seem to get her off of. mike tries one of your tricks, telling abby she'll never get to ride any adult rides at amusement parks, but she does not give in. at least he's sure they're related. mike can only hope abby's anger at him will mellow out - she has not been this difficult since before you and mike started dating and he has forgotten how to wrangle her.

the next day is better - up until the moment mike is handed a stack of papers asking him to give abby up.

a part of him considers it. who the hell was mike to raise abby? he couldn't maintain a job or relationship. abby has barely spoken to him recently (though mike wonders how much of that has been his own fault) and there have been multiple times throughout the years where mike thinks abby might truly hate him.

but then dr. lillian reminds him that children communicate through pictures and mike almost blurts out your name when she asks who's at the center of all of abby's drawings. and then it dawns on mike that, even before you, it's been mike. it's always been mike and now he is forced to think about how deeply abby loves him, pushing out the voice that tells mike this is impossible.

at home, mike sits in front of the phone and considers calling you. he still half-expects you to come in through the front door sometimes, smile bright and arms warm as you hug him from behind, too impatient for mike to stand and properly greet you. mike can almost feel your fingers on his shoulders and your kisses on his temple - and then he remembers he's alone.

mike shakes the thoughts, though he lets himself imagine your reaction to aunt jane's request. you'd say no, god, you'd rip up the papers, an anger on your face that mike knows isn't directed at him. you'd grab his hands and promise you'll find a way to win.

yeah, you'd be there, right by his side.

as if on cue, abby pipes up suddenly, her attention off the television and on mike and the phone in front of him. "are you finally gonna call?"

"what?" mike asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion until abby says your name like you're the only person mike should be calling.

"what? no, abby."

"why not?" abby cries, her frustration with mike beginning to return.

"because," mike stammers. "because it's complicated."

abby rolls her eyes. mike sighs and picks up the phone. he doesn't dial your number (that he knows by heart), not quite ready to let you see him while he's so low. instead, he takes a small white business card out of his pocket and dials steve raglan's number.

yes, mike thinks as he looks at abby, he has had a change of heart.

it's been three days since you've seen or heard from mike. there's a certain kind of disappointment that constricts around your throat, making it hard to breathe when you think about it too much. you hadn't explicitly broken up with mike, but you'd given him a choice that he still hadn't acted on. were you too harsh? had trying to pry your way in been a mistake?

no. you weren't happy with how mike had been acting and you had to let it out eventually before it hurt the two of you even more.

but god, why was it so hard for him to just pick up the phone and call you? all he had to do was say i'm sorry. at this point, you'd take just that. maybe if he saw you...

so you make a trip to the mall after work, but nerves start to set in as you drive and your confidence starts to falter. maybe you won't go up to him, but maybe you could just get a glance...

you've been curious to see how he's doing, anyway. you know mike can survive without you but your anxiety won't quit turning your stomach into knots until you see that he's okay.

you don’t spot mike. but your eyes do land on jeremy, who you’d met a few times when dropping things off that mike had forgotten (like his uniform shirt).

thankfully, the security guard spots you first, sending you a friendly wave that you return. he isn’t really expecting you to walk over, especially now that mike’s gone, but he doesn’t really mind.

but then you ask about mike and jeremy’s expression quickly becomes confused.

“mike got, uh… let go. two days ago.”

"let go?" you don't bother hiding the confusion on your face. if you had known, you wouldn't have been here.

"yeah... didn't he tell you? that's something pretty hard to hide."

"we're not... together. um, i mean, we don't live together... we argued. it's complicated."

jeremy smiles understandingly, a little amused.

"well, i didn't know him for long, but i know he was crazy about you. i mean, i thought he was a real dick until you stopped by and i saw how he acted around you. i mean, he was like a little kid with a crush," jeremy laughs, before he raises his hands defensively. "look, i don't know what happened, but he's probably beating the shit out of himself for it."

you let yourself laugh a little, your cheeks a little warm in embarrassment. "yeah, i'll keep that in mind. thanks." you turn to walk away, only getting a few steps away before another inquiry pops into your head. "do you know... if he's working somewhere else now?"

jeremy frowns as he shakes his head. "no idea. it was all kind of... messy."

you wonder what he means briefly but any chance to ask for more details is stripped as a static-y voice comes through jeremy's walkie-talkie. you decide not to bother the guard anymore, waving your goodbye and walking back to your car.

what did mike do?

that night, max enters the schmidt home to abby's screams. she stands in the doorway curiously, watching mike shut abby in her room as she takes her raincoat off.

"she's all yours." mike grumbles, heading back into his room.

though as sleep finds max on the couch with the tv playing softly in the background, she does not hear the soft padding of abby's feet sneak into the dining room. abby's small hands move the phone to a position that is more comfortable for her to dial in a number she does not know by heart, but has written on a piece of paper that has "in case of emergencies!" scrawled at the top. abby hopes you aren't asleep as the line rings, grinning when she finally hears your voice. it's been so long! abby almost squeals, but remembers she must be quiet.

"hello? who is this?" your voice rings, a little impatient.

"hi! it's me!" abby whispers loudly.

"abby? honey? is something wrong?"

"everything's wrong!" abby sighs. "mike won't take me with him to work and i have to stay here with max and i don't want to!"

you hold the phone to your chest momentarily as you sigh. no real emergency. a part of you is relieved, while another wonders how mike would feel about this. if he'd feel anything at all. (and maybe there's a part that's disappointed you don't have an excuse to see abby and mike).

"max is your new babysitter?" you're a little hurt mike would go so far as to hire someone else rather than just call you - did he really not want to see you that much?

"mhm," abby nods. "she's sleeping on the couch right now - that's why i'm whispering!"

you stifle a laugh at abby's antics, listening carefully as another voice (seemingly still half-asleep), max, asks abby who she's talking to.

"my friends," abby responds, her voice sounding a little more faraway before her attention returns to you. "i miss you," abby whines.

"i miss you, too, abs. so much." and you didn't really realize how much you did until now, an ache in your chest spreading at the sound of her sweet voice.

"can you come over? please?"

"no, abby, i don't think that's a good idea." you sigh. you really didn't want to put more pressure on mike and risk running him out for good, even if he wasn't currently at home.

"mike is a jerk!" abby groans, bringing the phone down to the floor as she lays on her stomach. "and i know he's sorry, he's just being stupid."

"hey," you warn gently. "you know he... tries his best," you sigh. "he's just not that great at talking about his feelings."

"well, he took my vest," abby tells you. "and he wouldn't let me come with him to work."

"he's going to work at this hour?"

"mhm! he works during the night now. at the abandoned pizzeria?"

"now, why would you want to go with mike there?" you laugh lightly.

abby's giggles grace your ears and your heart hurts despite your smile. "it's fun! i wanna go!"

you really can't fathom how abby manages to find a place like that appealing, shaking your head softly through the phone.

and then that other voice, max, speaks up again, less groggily this time. "abby, are you actually talking to someone?"

"no!" abby lies. "i have to go! bye!"

you don't even get the chance to wish her sweet dreams before the line goes dead, leaving you with that sad feeling in your stomach and a lump in your throat that you fear might turn into tears.

the next day, you're barely home when the phone starts to ring. you pull it off the hook quickly, remembering last night's caller.

"hello?"

your intuition was correct; abby's voice greets you on the other side of the line.

"can you come over? it's really an emergency this time!"

"abby? what's wrong?" there's worry in your voice and you're suddenly grateful you haven't even had the chance to take your shoes off.

"i can't tell you over the phone. just come quick, please?"

you don't even ask where mike is before you nod. "okay, i'll be right there. ten minutes, okay?"

you hang up the phone and practically speed to mike's.

your hands tremble slightly as you try to shove the spare key in, twisting the doorknob and shoving it open quickly.

mike's name is on the tip of your tongue before your eyes land on the man himself and abby, both crouched as the clean up spilled items from that stupid, always-stuck drawer.

"wha... what's the emergency?" your voice falters and you're beginning to think there was no real emergency after all (how could you know that the sight of a woman wanting to talk to mike constituted an emergency in abby's little head?).

mike looks at you confused and a little shocked while abby grins. she leaps up to wrap her small arms around you and you bend down to reach her height.

"abby..." you begin, but she's off before you can even finish, the soft shut of her door the only thing filling the silence between you and mike as abby disappears.

you sigh as you straighten, wondering if you should just turn around now. "she... called, said it was an emergency." you're avoiding mike's eyes, only keeping the lower half of his body in your peripheral.

mike sighs. "abby!" he calls, his hands on his hips and his head down, though he knows it's no use.

"sorry," the both of you blurt out, looking up at each other at the same time before quickly glancing away.

"no, i'm sorry," mike steps closer to you now, hands balling up the hem of his hoodie. "for... everything."

you look up at mike now and you can see that he means it.

"i'm sorry for shutting you out. i'm sorry for getting angry. i'm sorry for not calling."

you can tell his hands want so desperately to be on you and you step closer, putting your hands in his.

"i was stupid." mike pulls you closer, just now realizing how much he's missed everything about you: your touch, your scent, the way you fit so perfectly against him. the way he can never keep his hands off you, not even for a second. "and i'm so, so, sorry." mike's voice has dropped to a hushed whisper, his eyes scanning yours for any hint of forgiveness.

"okay," you begin, hands dropping to mike's waist as you pull him in for a hug. "okay," you nod, holding him so tight mike feels like he could cry.

"i'll tell you everything," mike whispers. and he does.

he thought it'd be easier, considering it was the second time he'd told the tragic story of his childhood in the span of about thirty minutes. but sitting next to you, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand, mike began choking up which led to you crying, too.

"you never told me," you said, voice soft.

"i know. i'm sorry."

"no, no," you shake your head. "this is... big. i understand why you don't talk about it." mike nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "it's a lot," you continue, wiping your own tears away. "it explains a lot."

"what do you mean?"

"why you suck at opening up."

that makes mike laugh. and there's a part of him that's mended by your words. to you, he's not difficult. not unlovable. he just... sucks at opening up.

"yeah, i guess i am pretty bad at that." mike keeps his eyes down, hands still playing with yours.

you shrug. "you're getting better."

and mike's heart soars.

he looks up at you with nothing but hearts in his eyes, his head tilting ever so slightly as he leans in closer. you meet him halfway, eyes closing once you feel mike's lips against yours again - softly, sweetly. your hands drop and find the back of his neck while mike's land on your hips, bringing you closer as you both feed the hunger you've been fighting off for days.

"finally!" abby's voice interrupts you and mike as you spring away from each other, wiping your lips with warm faces.

"you," mike points, getting out of his chair. "are in so much trouble."

abby squeals as she dodges past mike and straight into your arms, clinging on tight.

"okay, abs, what did we talk about when using the phone?" you ask, pushing a stray ringlet into place.

"that it's only for emergencies," abby recalls a little glumfully, though you're glad she doesn't bring up the little chat you two had.

"and what do you say for lying about an emergency?" mike pitches in sternly, hands on his hips.

"it was an emergency!" abby insists, turning from you to mike and back. "mike was talking to vanessa."

"vanessa?" your eyebrows raise, a little amused as you glance from abby to mike.

"what? abby, it's not even like that!" mike insists, face warm and hoping you won't get the wrong idea. "vanessa is a police officer who comes by freddy's sometimes," mike explains, partially to abby but mostly to you. you try not to giggle at mike's flustered state.

"see, abs? nothing to worry about." and really, you know there isn't. it took mike two months and a direct confession to realize you were into him; there was no way anything had happened between him and vanessa.

"so, you two are together again?" abby asks hopefully, eyes glimmering.

you glance at mike, who's hiding his face in his hands and groaning. "well, technically, we were never broken up," you tell abby, patting her face as she smiles, clearly satisfied. "good," she says. "don't." and then she's off again, back to the comfort of her room and her imaginary friends.

"are you serious?" mike's voice is clear now as his head leaves his palms. "that wasn't a breakup?"

your head tilts in confusion. "well, i never technically said the words, 'i'm breaking up with you,' so no, it wasn't a breakup. more like a break."

"what the hell? that was one of the most awful experiences of my entire life, and it wasn't even an actual breakup?"

mike is so evidently torn you can't help but laugh, standing to pull him in and catch him in a kiss.

"act right and you'll never have to experience one," you whisper in his ear.

mike nods profusely, arms wrapped around you tightly as he pulls you in again and again, lips not leaving your skin for more than a few seconds at a time.

and really, he has no idea how he's been managing to survive without you.

OKAY OKAY... do we want a part 3 that would wrap up the rest of the movie?? (itd have more angst + flluff <3) pls let me know <3

requests for mike schmidt are open!