yueebby · 10 months ago
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happy wife, happy life  — gojo satoru
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synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.
contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?
notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3
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the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.
“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.
“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare. 
satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.
the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about. 
“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.
“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.
gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”
nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”
the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~” 
nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.
“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–” 
satoru frowns at her statement.  he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —   
“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”
the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.
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“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.
“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence. 
“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.
maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.” 
“salmon.”
from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”
satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection. 
you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed. 
quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.
you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.
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the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.
and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.
he thinks he might actually die.
“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”
“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.
you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong. 
without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.
to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.
his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.
“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful. 
the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.” 
“gojo satoru.”
your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.” 
your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.
satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.
"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.
despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.
"come on, use your big boy words."
"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."
upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”
“seriously.”
“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.
satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”
your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.
“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”
“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.
“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”
satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.
upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.
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valvewall · 4 months ago
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Izuku's Clingy-ness
Izuku Midoriya x girlfriend/fem! Reader
word count: 643 (very short)
warning: clingy!boyfriend izuku, post-war arc, not-canon compliant (i tried, lord help me.), izuku missing his gf :(, someone get this man his gf back!!, sassy midoriya genes, possibly ooc for both kaminari and bakugo but oh well. NOT FULLY EDITED but it's like 4am... so...
a/n: I was reading some of @gglitch1dd 's dilf!izuku series, and i KNOWW I'm very late to the Izuku love but this fanfic idea is currently wrangling me like a bull... so... here! making this in-between 3 unfinished works and one series ideas!!! nice, author, nice.
beta read by my beautiful and unnerving sister.
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Sometimes, It seemed unnerving how Izuku was so intensely obsessed with you. Izuku was just glad it wasn't in a bad way, despite how sometimes he would convince himself that he was such a bad person after the events of the Paranormal Liberation War. You were always there to squash those terrible thoughts that scattered and dug their way into his head, and convince him that what he had done was probably one of the best options left for Tomura Shigaraki.
He missed you today. You weren't in class the entirety of the school day, and he had gotten worried that you slept in; Until he saw your text message about having to suddenly go babysit your niece today due to an emergency involving the sitter not showing up. Everyone who even looked at Izuku's face could see it, how he looked like a kicked puppy who had just gotten every insult known thrown at him.
"Dude, you good? Did Y/N break up with you or something?" Kaminari had walked over, crouching down to rest his arms on Izuku's desk, long after class had ended. He had a slightly worried expression on his face, eyebrows furrowed, making Izuku feel slightly bad at making his friend worry about him. The green haired boy huffed, pouting as he stared down at the matching bracelets he had been fiddling with for most of class when he noticed Y/N's absence. Bakugo chimed in after Kaminari, abrasive as ever. Where did he even come from?
"Get a grip, Izuku. Your girlfriend is coming back tomorrow."
Izuku had at that moment, felt a little dumb. Oh. Oh! He had almost forgot, yeah you were coming back tomorrow. Wait... How did Bakugo know that? Right on cue, did Bakugo squash his thoughts.
"Y/N and I are friends too, calm down. Don't stare at me like that. You look like an offended goose." Bakugo sneered at him, his arms crossing over his chest. Kaminari looked over at Bakugo, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
"Woah! Dude, a little nicer maybe?"
Izuku rolled his eyes, giving his best friend an 'are you fucking kidding me' look. "You act worse when Kirishima is going to the bathroom, shut it." Izuku pouted and pointed at the spikey blond man in front of him.
Bakugo huffed and rolled his eyes, despite his hypocrisy in the situation. The blond was honestly so tired of Izuku moping around in class, and now outside too?
Izuku looked down at his phone, laying on the desk between his hands that kept fiddling with eachother. "Maybe I should call her."
Bakugo's eyebrow twitched. Maybe he should have bullied Izuku more. (not actually, but still.)
Kaminari was shocked at Izuku, no way Izuku was that clingy. "Yo! You should go and relax, go shopping with Todoroki and Bakugo! Todoroki has his dad's card for the day too! Do something instead of moping around all day! C'mon dude!" Maybe he wasn't being helpful, or maybe it was his excruciating single-ness.
Izuku groaned loudly in frustration, he just wanted his girlfriend dammit! Not to be basically kidnapped by his two friends to stop rotting over Y/N being gone for one day. "I don't wanna go out hanging out with everyone else, can't you guys just let me mope over my girlfriend being gone!?" He looked up at the ceiling, leaning back in his chair, hand clutching his hair.
"Not when you make it our problem! Get up! You're going shopping with Todoroki and Bakugo! Shoo! Out!" Kaminari exclaimed.
At the end of the day, he still couldn't help sending you a few 'I love you's and 'Facetime?'. He just missed you too much. When you came back, he was waiting on the UA steps, anxiously tapping his foot, and waiting for you like you always did.
"Day infinitely better."
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want to support a struggling author? Leave a like and maybe a nice comment if you feel like it!
drops this and hides.
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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 4 months ago
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༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 || 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭
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— pairing: logan howlett x plus size mutant!reader
— summary: who knew the key to scaring away the big bad wolverine was a kiss?
— warnings: angst that i have no idea how to describe, heartbreak :/, miscommunication that is quickly rectified, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, horribly described plant ability (forgive me).
— wc: 664
⋆ a/n: OH ME OH MY!!! i haven't written for a new character in so long! it's so refreshing!! forgive me if logan is a bit ooc and a lot of things probably don't make sense, i'm still in the process of watching the movies so i tried to keep things as vague as possibly aside from the spoilers i've been given! i have fallen so deeply in love with this man so he will definitely be making an apperance on this acc more! ty for your request! @hicanivent
masterlist | AO3
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You never thought in all your years of living, you would be the one thing that managed to scare away Logan, and all it took was a kiss.
Maybe it was your fault or possibly the tension that had surrounded the two of you since you had joined the mutant school as another professor.
Either way, what was done is done, and you couldn’t sleep.
You stared up at your roof which was decorated with all sorts of plant vines. Though you were a mutant as well, your ability was minor. You were able to manipulate plants; you could make them move, grow, or wilt. It was nothing too impressive, but the children enjoyed your gardening class.
Gardening wasn’t the only thing you taught, there was also the history of different herbs and species of plants and how they were used throughout time. 
That’s where your dilemma of insomnia lies. With an aching heart and an active brain, essays sat delicately on your desk in your classroom, and you were contemplating on whether or not you should just grade them. The kids weren’t expecting them back anytime soon, but what else were you to do?
A part of you is afraid that maybe you’ll run into Logan stalking through the halls like he does sometimes when his brain gets too loud. It was like he always had something to run from, and somehow he’d always find himself knocking on your door at all hours of the night. Sometimes he wouldn’t even talk, just sit there and find comfort in your presence.
You weren’t ashamed to say that you’re worried about him, but Logan was probably the most stubborn man you had ever met, so if he didn’t want to do something, you couldn’t force him. Sometimes you wish you could.
You threw your blankets off of your body, sitting on the edge of the bed and held your head in your hands. You felt the exhaustion seeping into your bones and you let out a prolonged sigh.
A hesitant knock on your door pulled you out of your tired stupor, your head shooting up in alarm.
You honestly thought it was one of the kids, definitely not a very shaken up looking Logan.
A very bitter part of you wanted to turn him away, but a very extremely soft part of you – the part that was in love with him – led you to open up the door wider with a small encouraging smile on your face.
He looked unsure for a moment before breaking through the threshold. 
“I’m sorry.”  Was the first thing he had said before you even had a chance to turn around after shutting the door.
He was standing in the middle of your room, the midnight glow shining through your window casted an enchanting shadow against the naked skin of his arms that was exposed by his classic plain white undershirt. 
You don’t know how you managed to speak through the dryness of your throat.
“It’s okay.” You spoke quietly, looking up at him through tired eyes. “No it’s not.” He denied. You approached him slowly before you cupped his cheek. “But Logan, it is.”
Your words had a plethora of meanings behind them, that you forgive him, that you were waiting until he was ready. 
You stare at each other for a moment, his large battle worn hands rest on the plumpness of your hips, and the supernatural warmth of his body sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.
“If I kiss you, are you going to run away again?” You joke, breaking the intense atmosphere. 
A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips ever so slightly. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around this time.”
Logan doesn’t give you time to retort because he had already found himself kissing you, the scruff of his mutton chops scratching at your cheeks ever so slightly. It tickled and you giggled, smiling into his mouth.
You felt him smile too.
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ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @khxna @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus
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mitsvriii · 27 days ago
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JEKYLL AND HIDE
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summary: when your boyfriend starts acting oddly, you believe that something may be wrong with him. only to find out that the "oddness" came from a product of something else entirely...
cw: mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, odd(?) pacing, semi-rushed ending, not proofread well, possible ooc (first time writing) | wc: 2.1k | taglist: @tetrachrxmacy, @aphrodict, @akutasoda
for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest! the prompt i chose was doppelgänger
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“yingxing?” whispering into the night, the shadow of your lover creeping from the doorway. if not for the moonlight making shadows around the outline of his hair, you would’ve thought it was someone else completely. “yingxing what are you doing up? it’s late.”
“...i’m sorry. i had a nightmare.” yingxing stalked over to the bed to sit on the edge, turning his head to scrutinize you, “woke up thirsty.” with a simple glance at your tired expression, he pursed his lips, “you should be asleep.”
“couldn’t sleep, bed got cold.” yingxing hummed in response, sliding in beside you rigidly. dipping into the mattress, you felt his investigative peer at your form; however, he didn’t comment anything else before turning on his side. frowning at the lack of affection you reached a hand out to run through his hair, an inexplicable habit. 
the bed was still cold even after he had gotten back in it.
“are you hungry?” pressing a chaste kiss to a pallid cheek, you slid over a plate of freshly cut strawberries and cherries - which you couldn’t tell were unripened - while squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “i’m still making pancakes, but here’s something sweet to tie you over until then, okay?”
yingxing looked disinterested in your words, hand hovering over the strawberry slices before quickly plucking up a cherry. without a second thought he popped the entire thing in his mouth, swallowing it without even blinking.
oh, okay. 
with an awkward pat to his shoulder, you returned to tend to the other food. yinxing was quiet the entire morning, oddly enough. going without giving you morning forehead kisses, not offering to fix dinner like he normally does, hell, he didn’t even spare you a glance when you screamed the other day because a small pool of hair dye looked like blood.
speaking of hair dye…
when the hell did yingxing decide to dye his hair?
it wasn’t as white as it used to be. now sporting a more grey hue, the roots borderning black instead of an ashen. and to make matters worse, the sight of the spot of not-blood in the bathroom looks like he had done it sporadically. it was odd, having to take on the product of an inattentive change between the both of you. you barely existed to him anymore, only being spoken to if he needed reminders of your outings or activities together. 
you didn’t want to ask. in fact, you were honestly nervous to. if he switched personalities overnight just a week ago, there’s no solid idea of how he would react if you questioned that. perhaps you should just keep your mouth shut instead of bringing it over breakfast. it would be better for both of you. 
but, alas, sometimes you cannot keep things in if they’re already about to burst at the seams.
the absolute second that the question of “are you okay?” left your mouth, it was as if the old yingxing had returned. long gone was the robotic man that had been walking aimlessly around your house for the past month. the tenderness in his voice filling to the brim again, his cold hands squeezing yours and providing just enough warmth that for a second, you’d believe that maybe the observations you’d made were just a figment of your imagination.
for a second, though.
as soon as his eyes met yours, there was a different aura within the air. his smile was more forced as his eyes crinkled around the edges just enough to tell you that you needed to let it go. it was nothing but a one-time thing, even though you knew it wasn’t. his attitude was a product of stress brought from a nightmare, which was odd because when he normally has them he doesn’t comment on them so as to not stress you out. the weird movements were apart of cramping his hand from hitting it on one of his projects in his office; a product of “an accident”, even though he hadn’t been in it in days as to have a break.
but it was okay, he was okay, you were okay; everything was okay.
night took over the sky quicker that day. the quiet doing nothing more than fueling your nervousness as yingxing slept beside you, an arm around your waist as his mouth parted open, breathing softly.
yingxing never wrapped his arm around your waist. it was always both of his arms, never just one.
in fact, it was the warmth brought on by his embraces that often made you feel as if a warm blanket was draped over your shoulders. kissing your temples as you cooked, swaying back and forth with his arms around your waist as you both danced silently, hums of affection as his hands guided yours when you helped him build his sketched creations. you missed the warmth that he brung, now stuck to withstand the cold.
yingxing seemed to notice the distance growing between both of you, trying to substitute his thin paper for wooden flecks to keep the fire aflame. straying to edges, spurned kisses pressed to cheeks, unwanted touches of so-called affection being something to look forward to everyday.
wonderful, really.
it was still worrying, as if you were living with an entirely different person. 
the more you thought about it, the more you felt uneasy. you knew it was stupid to assume anything was actually okay at this point, but you had a guy in your house that wasn’t even your partner; at least as far as you could tell. 
yingxing didn’t have this super, secret evil twin as much as you knew about him. but the idea of somebody secretly taking his place, or even the pipeline of scenarios in your head of someone wearing his skin…
it scared you. 
getting up as carefully as you could, you crept to the bathroom. opening and closing the door - cursing under your breath when it creaked - you flipped on the light near the sink, staring at where you had seen the blood hair dye. the spot on the tile floor was clean, but you could still envision it perfectly. 
it was hair dye. it was hair dye.
nothing else, nothing more.
it was the knock on the bathroom door that made your heart stop.
“babe?” yingxing never called you babe, it was always sweetheart, “are you okay?”
“just had to use the bathroom.” the lie was shaky. by the way he went quiet, you’re sure he knew it, too. “don’t worry about it, i’ll be back.” why the hell was he following you around like a lost kitten? the one time he decides to actually check up on you is the worst, what a shocker.
“oh. do you need my help?”
swear.
“what?”
a pause.
“i’m sorry, that was odd of me to say.” oh, you think?
the silence was laughable, honestly. one person two people who didn’t even know how to properly communicate with another each other. clearing your voice, you cracked open the door to peek at him.
jeez, his eyes.
it was as if a darkened glass orb was crushed and shifted into two circular shapes. a kaleidoscope of mixed emotions all scattered into one. the darkened colors of maroon twisting with blues of dark greens, his pupils nothing but ink blotches on the canvas. stray bristles mixed within the irises to give them a highlighted countenance. alas, its his eyes were the only thing worth much note on his face. they even appeared as a cheap replica of that belonging to an oil painting. 
“i’m sorry.”
the echoed words rung throughout your head, as if they were a church bell and you were the quiet nave. you hated how you cracked the door back open on pure impulse, the tone in his voice drawing you in to comfort him by pure memory. he sounded sad. you hated when yingxing was sad.
but this wasn’t yingxing, remember?
“why?” asking quietly, the door creaked again as it was stopped by his foot.
yingxing stepped back, as if to give you enough space to squeeze back into the bedroom, ��for being distant. for not being myself recently.”
funny timing for an apology, huh. 
“that’s okay.” universe, you hope he couldn’t tell your smile wasn’t as forced as it was within the darkness. “you had that nightmare, remember?” grabbing his hand in yours, you tried not to flinch at the sheer chill that shot up through your body once you grabbed it. “not your fault.”
whoever wrote your part in this script was at risk of getting their neck wrung. why couldn’t you be the possible-but-almost-certain imposter? it would’ve been easier than playing the naive rat that wasn’t aware of the rat looming on the kitchen counter. 
yingxing didn’t say anything, allowing you to lead him back to the bed. “we can just worry about this all tomorrow, okay? it’s late. we can walk to the café and get coffee like we do every monday morning.” you froze when yingxing stopped, the backs of your knees hitting the bed’s corner. “yingxing?” 
those eyes bore into you as he moved his hand out of your grasp, staring at you. the clouds hide away the moon from the sight, leaving you squinting to make out his silhouette. a hoarse right was mumbled under his breath as he slid onto the side of his bed; the movement not as stiff as it was yesterday. you followed suit, doing your utmost not to shake as you pulled the duvet further up your body.
you and yingxing went out on wednesdays for coffee, not mondays.
the universe had decided that you deserved a break, so when you woke up to the sound of heavy rain on your windows, you nearly jumped for joy. at least now you wouldn’t have to deal with the onslaught of questions from the barista about why you and yinxing were two days earlier than normal, and you wouldn’t have to stomach the latter’s stares. 
but on the downside, you were now stuck with a yinxing you weren’t even positive was yingxing. perhaps your previous doubts were factual. this wasn’t your boyfriend and you’ve been living with something someone completely random. 
oh god…you let him sleep in your bed. even if you weren’t aware, the point still stands.
“are you okay?”
its his voice pulled you up and over the wave that nearly drowned you in your thoughts, the saccharine tone making your teeth ache. how could it pretend that nothing was wrong? was it simply emotionless?
or had it not had enough human experience to learn how to produce them?
“fine”, you choked out, wincing as the sting of the seasoning on your takeout hit the back of your throat. “sorry, the food's just a bit spicy.” yingxing seemed to take the response in a positive light, or positive as in not questioning your response. 
and more silence. great.
it had become unnerving, not welcoming. as much as you’d not like to listen to not-yingxing's voice grating your ears like nails on a chalkboard. a grater with a sharp blade – oh.
blade. not-yingxing shall be dubbed blade.
but if you were to pull it out of your side, you’re sure that you’d only bleed out. left in your own misery of not letting everything try to stick back together like glue. lifting your head to look at blade, you noticed that he was staring at you. was he a mind reader as well? just your luck, something to dig into your thoughts and expose them in front of yourself. 
“would you like to see him?”
a pause. 
the air seemed to get thicker as your utensils almost slipped out of your hand. rearranged your grip, you swallowed; the salvia hitting your dry throat and going down harshly. “i’m sorry?”
“i asked you if you’d like to see him.” blade tilted his head at you, questioningly. “surely you do not believe that i’ve not read you?”
you felt your stomach twist in disgusting ways when blade stood up, eyes still on you as he moved to the doorway. “come with me.” fading, fading, fading down the hall and into yingxing’s office.
the office that hadn’t been occupied since blade appeared.
scrambling up from the table you brushed past blade, whose footsteps stopped, and you swore you heard a chuckle bubbling out of his throat. shaking as you reached for the door handle, you closed your eyes and twisted the knob. opening to gaze within the room, you felt your blood run cold in your body.
and you screamed.
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safination · 8 months ago
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Partners in Death…and Life
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Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself
| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason.
Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*
Flick . . .
Flick . . .
Flick . . .
Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you. The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you . . . just . . . one . . . single . . . moment to . . .
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘ yours ’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand��it’s a proper animalistic feather.
Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain. The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair . . . hair-feather, or your ‘ whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.
An audible grumble . . . well, uhhhhh . . . grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with. (These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)
Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.
You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.
Ad about some impish business—Not interested.
‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.
Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.
Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of . . . something . You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.
The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box. Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown . Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.
A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.
Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink.  Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale
Exhale
You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door.  Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.
Another blink.
Huh . . . you’re on the bus .
The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle. You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems . . .
Hmmmmm.
It seems you did not think this through. How . . . how are you going to get to the hotel?
Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.
Turns out, you don’t even need the address.
The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.
The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.
You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?
“Excuuussseeeee me.”
A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair . . . or was that skin . . . puffs out with two red sets of eyes.
“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.
“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”
You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”
His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his . . . er . . . snake body.
You follow in silence.
The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.
Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”
His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”
You give him your name “ . . . Doctor.”
“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”
“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”
The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”
One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.
You wave back.
Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel. Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.
Your smile strains after a minute of banging.
A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.
Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”
A punch to the face is his reply.
“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”
This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”
“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.
“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell . . . Cady . . .Char . . . Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”
“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face .”
Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.
Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.
No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered.  Would Alastor stay in such a place?
You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘ x ’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.
“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous.  ���This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this . . . slithery . . .slippery . . . special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery . . .sheddy . . . and round-eyed woman.”
You do not shed.
You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “ . . . and I expect it to be used.”
Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”
“None taken,” you say, dryly.
Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.
You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.
Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So, this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”
Vaggie calms her down.
The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.
You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”
Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Yes . . .,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”
“There’s no need to be nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.
The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”
Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”
“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”
Husk doesn’t answer you.
Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”
Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”
“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless . . .” Charlie prattles on.
“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.
She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘ humph’ , and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.
You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”
Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”
“Maybe next ti—”
Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious . . .hehe . . .,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”
Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.
He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.
You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”
You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”
Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to meet you. Quite the pleasure.”
You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”
“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.
“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”
His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”
“I think you mean the good nurse.”
“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”
“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”
“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”
A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”
A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?
“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”
Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art
“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”
And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here
Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.
“You have such beautiful handiwork.”
“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”
“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”
You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”
Alastor is following you.
The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.
You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.
His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”
You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”
He takes the bottle from you.
“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh . . . and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”
Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”
“That is because I am.”
Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.
You point to the top shelf. “Can you . . . ?”
He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.
“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display
Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”
“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”
Alastor continues to follow.  “Do you often aid your father in his work?”
“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”
“Such interesting hobbies you have.”
You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”
His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”
You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.
You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”
He nods, smiling at you.
You smile back.
Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown.
“Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”
“Partners,” you say
“Friends,” Alastor says
Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.
Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”
“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋ .” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”
More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.
Charlie winces a bit “Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we . . . uh . . . take a look at the kitchen!”
Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.
Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)
You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor . . .”, you say as a greeting.
Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.
“Has it really been that long?”
“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”
 “My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite . . .kind of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.
Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.
The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances. Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.
“This . . .,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “ . . . is the kitchen!”
Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”
“Uhhhhhh, I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘ x ’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”
“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”
Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”
Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.
 “ Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”
Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.
Soft static fills the kitchen air.
“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”
Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human . It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?
Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re . . . giving . . . me permission to poke around?”
“Er . . . yes?”
You open a random cabinet door, and huh . . .
On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.
Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but . . . but . . . you find it in your grocery basket every single time .
Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.
Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.
“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.
You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.
Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”
“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”
He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”
Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”
Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”
“ What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”
Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”
Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.
The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.
Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘ absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘ this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something. Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.
Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.
“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing! ” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”
Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”
Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”
Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman.  Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.
He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.
There’s still that never-ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.
Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—
You slap him.
Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.
The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.
You slap him again, staring down at him.
“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.
You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”
His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh
“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”
Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.
Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him. 
“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”
“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”
“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh . . . yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.
You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”
It’s his silence that makes you turn away. 
“I see.” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”
You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble . . . at least, they never have before.) 
Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”
You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.
Alastor does not answer you.
“Will you just stay silent every time?”
“Yes.”
Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However,  I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”
There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”
“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”
Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”
You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”
“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread.  He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."
You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”
“Indeed.”
You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.
“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.
He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”
“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”
Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.
“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”
“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”
You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.” 
You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.
“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”
Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”
You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”
His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”
“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”
A knock breaks the moment.
The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.
“Oooooooohhhh . . . yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”
“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”
Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”
You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”
Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.
The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.
There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.
Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”
Charlie squeals. “ Thank you thank you thank you! ” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”
“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”
“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”
Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”
Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”
From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”
Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.
“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”
Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”
“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”
“Not at all, my love.”
“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”
His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush it away. You grab his lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.
“Much better?” he asks.
“Indeed,” you say softly.
“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.
“Good.”
Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh . . . oh . His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.
That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”
“Of course.”
“See to it that you keep your word.”
The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.
You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.
Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.
You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.
‘First, do no harm’
But this . . . this does not harm a single living being.
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Next Part: |Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should Be Trusted| If you guys know who Octavia and Stolas are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.
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sameschmidtdiffname · 9 months ago
Text
Princess
Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader
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Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.
Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.
Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.
▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎
I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.
He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.
My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.
"Michael," I say.
Silence.
"Mike."
Nothing.
I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.
"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.
"I don't sleep well," he says.
"Neither does the baby," I say.
Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.
"Michael-"
"Don't call me that," he interrupts.
It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.
Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."
"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.
"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.
"Which one?"
"Both."
We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.
Year long lease. Joy.
-Tuesday-
"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.
"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.
"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.
"So am I, I'm sorry!"
There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.
"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.
"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.
His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.
"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"
He stammers. "I-I have."
"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."
As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."
I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.
"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.
Oh, motherfucker. It is on.
-Wednesday-
It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.
"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"
"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."
"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.
"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."
"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.
"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.
"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.
A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.
"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.
"Not my mess," he says.
"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.
"Don't slam my door!" I say.
"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.
"Problems?" I ask.
"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.
"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.
"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.
"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.
"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.
Fuck.
"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.
"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.
"Is not!"
"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.
"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.
"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."
My jaw drops in shock.
"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.
Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.
"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."
Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?
His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.
"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.
"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.
Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.
-Thursday-
"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.
"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.
The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.
The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.
"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."
Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.
Should be.
Wasn't.
The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.
"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"
"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.
Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.
"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.
"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.
-
I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.
"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.
"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."
His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."
More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.
"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.
"Nick," I say.
"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.
"Canadian," I say.
Mike nods. Sip. Silence.
"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.
"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'
Mike looks at his drink in thought.
"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.
"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."
"Just bored?" Mike asks.
"Just bored," I confirm.
Sip. Silence. Thinking.
"You... do that regularly?" He asks.
"I mean... I like sex," I say.
His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.
"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Another sip. He finishes his glass.
"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.
"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.
Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.
"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.
There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.
"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.
"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."
This comment stings. Deeply.
"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.
"Oh?" Mike asks.
"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.
"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."
"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.
"Says who?" He asks.
"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."
"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.
I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.
Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.
"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.
"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.
Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.
...
...how easy is Mike to swallow?
-Friday-
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.
Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.
"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?
Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.
"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.
Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.
"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"
I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.
"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.
"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.
All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.
The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.
Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?
But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.
"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.
"Oh?" Both of them ask me.
"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.
The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.
"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.
"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.
"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.
My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.
"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.
Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.
"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.
"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.
Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.
I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"
I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.
His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.
"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"
He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.
"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.
"Make me," I taunt.
He blinks.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.
"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.
"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.
Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.
"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"
It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.
"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.
"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."
I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.
His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.
"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."
I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.
His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.
"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.
"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.
"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.
"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.
"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.
This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.
"What?" I ask, my voice raw.
"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.
"Say what?" I ask.
"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.
"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.
"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."
I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?
It's not fair.
"I'm yours," I say quietly.
"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.
"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.
"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.
"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.
"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.
"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."
"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.
He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.
"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.
I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.
"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."
He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.
"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"
"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.
"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.
A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.
His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.
"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.
"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.
"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.
"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.
"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.
"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.
"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?
"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."
"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.
"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."
"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.
"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."
"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"
His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.
"So you want me, do you, princess?"
I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.
His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.
He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.
"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."
"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.
"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.
His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.
"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."
I lick my lips and nod lightly.
"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.
"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."
Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.
"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.
"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.
"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.
A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.
"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?
...Fuck me, I have problems.
¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤
Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.
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igotanidea · 1 year ago
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What is wrong with you!? : AK!Jason Todd x reader
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Just a little something to outline how i see this verse going. Suggestions/requests/feedback is highly appreciated.
WARNINGS: angst, SMUT minors DNI, probably bit of OOC
***
He was strong enough to snap her body in two if he wanted.
To break her neck.
To choke her.
To hurt her.
But somehow in his crazy, washed brain, he knew he needed her. And in some messed up, freaked out, impaired way he felt for her.
Not only because she knew what he’s been through, but because it was also so easy to dump all his frustration into her.
He failed in his mission to kill Batman?
Rough sex
His militia was questioning his abilities to lead?
Blowing steam off while pounding into her.
Did he love her?
Yes.
No.
Honestly, what is love? He lost the meaning of this word a long time ago. What he felt for her was like what the owner feels for a pet. Some kind of allegiance. Sure, he would feel some sort of emptiness if someone were to take her away and would probably kill that person off while getting his revenge, but it was nothing more than that.
Or at least that was what he was telling himself.
He was not Robin anymore and his childish infatuation for her surely turned into something more animalistic. She was at his mercy.
Just like right now.
There were some disturbances in the force and it made him angry. Angry enough to grab her from the tech room where she was working and drag her into his own bed, stripping off his armor and clothes, doing the same to her, pressing her to the mattress with all the brute strength he had.  
“Jace…..” she writhed underneath him, feeling him kiss her body with the animalistic urgency, biting, scratching and squeezing. All of her body, except her mouth. He avoided that like a plague. He didn’t need intimacy, closeness and all that bullshit. She was just a playtoy for him. The same way she was for Harley back in the days. The same way he was for Joker. “Please….” A single tear flew down her cheek.
“Shut up.” He hissed, entering her without any prep or warning, just with one push. And it hurt like hell, even after all this time she was kept in Arkham like a prisoner. Well, he was big after all. Her poor body should have been used to all kind of torture by now, but the truth was far from that. And Jason made sure she stayed tight for him. “Just shut the fuck up and take what I give you.” Jason added, putting a hand on her mouth to muffle the scream she dared to let out.
“Jace….” She moaned, not sure if it was pleasure or pain. The fact was that she might have developed some sort of Stockholm syndrome.  She knew him when he was Robin. She loved him when he was Robin and in the back of her head she had this crazy scenario that if she could only comply with his action and commands he would come back to her. Love her back. Love her again.
Poor little thing thought she could save him from himself.
She believed that she could be the one to see and have the real Jason, not the Arkham Knight. But the more she tried, the more she failed. “Baby….” She writhed, one of her hand reaching for his chest and shoulder, trying to touch him, to feel his skin against her, to ground herself.
Mistake.
She wasn’t appalled or disgusted by marks Joker left on him.
He was.
“Get your hands off me!” he shouted and grabbed her tiny wrist in his ironclad grip, leaving bruises and making her whimper in pain. She should have known better. He hated his body, all those scars and imperfections. He hated being reminded of the past tortures and rough treatment and her touch, even if it was so loving and tender did just that. “You little whore!”
“I’m sorry.” She cried out “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…..”
“Just shut up!” he yelled picking up the pace, pounding into her like she was nothing more than a piece of meat. He did not care about her silent begging, pleading and whines. If anything, having such sense of control only spur him on. “I know you like it, don’t you? Being treated like a slut you are? Hm? Y/N? Answer me!”
“Jace…..” she begged, squirming and trying to free her hands, which were now pinned above her head “I….I…..” he was rough, brutal even, but he never failed to bring her pleasure, by some twisted accident igniting the fire inside her and her body slowly started to take over making her unable to form any coherent though, settling on arching her back, whining and silently begging him to not stop while losing her breath.  
“So cock drunk, aren’t you?” he groaned, pushing her body back to the bed harshly, one hand still pinning her hands to the mattress, the other gripping her hip, pushing into her more, harder, faster. “So fucking stupid you can’t even answer one question?”
“I….. ah! Please…..” she whined throwing her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her throat.
“Oh, no, you don’t get to cum. You’re here to serve me, remember? Not the other way round.”
“please…. Jay, please…. I’m so….. “ she gulped awkwardly. She shouldn’t even think about saying it, but it just slipped past her lips “so close. So good. You’re so good. God, Jason, please, please, let me. “
“No.” he smirked vindictively grabbing her throat, cutting the air supply and watching her struggling to breathe. He himself was so close to cumming now.
Finally, with just one more thrust he came inside her, letting out groans and animalistic sounds. But not words. He felt good with her, but it wasn’t like he was going to admit it.
And this time she got lucky since she managed to orgasm with him.
It happened from time to time, not that he cared at all.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He pulled out, immediately reaching for his pants ready to go back to his duties.
“Don’t go.” She cried out, pulling herself up, her blurry eyes and tear stained face making him stop for a second. What the fuck was wrong with her? He treated her like nothing and she still gave him that loving gaze? Why? She was supposed to break, to let go of all her hopes and fantasies filled with happy future with him and yet, all his actions did nothing to make her do that.  “Please, don’t leave me.” She begged, her body shaking, clearly getting into the subdrop phase. She needed aftercare, even the slightest aspect of it. Her entire posture, her curved, trembling lips, the stain from the tears on her cheek.
She was so fragile and vulnerable.
She was so pathetic.  
Fuck!
Those were the times when something in him broke. He might have been brainwashed to hate batman and everything connected to him, his freaking assistant included, but it was y/n. His friend, his first love (and most probably last, since he didn’t have much opportunities to meet girls). He wanted to hold her. She’s been through enough. But he couldn’t break. And even her sad eyes and extended shaking arms were not enough to make him change his mind.
“Clean yourself up.” He muttered “you’re dripping.”
And then he moved towards the adjacent bathroom. He needed a moment for himself. To collect and control every stupid emotion bursting inside him. The thin walls however did nothing to muffle the sobbing and crying of Y/N, who was shaking on the bed, silently calling his name, begging for attention like a little child. Even after all he’s done he was crying for him, wanting his touch and hugs and care and attention.
Fuck, he couldn’t go soft.
But it was painful to hear her like this.
To see her broken. By him. By the only person she wanted and need.
Fuck, she was making him soft.
He yelled in frustration and punched the mirror.
Hard. Hard enough to break it into little pieces that fell to the ground and hurt his knuckles.
The sound clearly scared her, since in a second she appeared in the bathroom door, watching him bleed to the floor. Wearing only her shirt and panties since it was all she could grab in a hurry to check on him.
Fucking check if he was all right.
“what are you staring at?!” he yelled turning towards her. Her eyes wide in fear, her lips trembling, her body shaking but she was so fucking beautiful like this. Just like in the other life, before Harley left her fingerprints on Y/N.
“I… I …..” she stuttered “you’re hurt.”
“Yeah, so what? It’s not like I haven’t been before.” He shrugged, shoving her away, trying to move past her.
“Let me help you.” she whispered, lifting her hand trying to reach him, but quickly realizing how much of a mistake it would be. Again. “Let me patch you up.”
“Why?”
“Cause I don’t want you to bleed. I don’t want to see you like this. Please, Jason, let me…. Let me help you.” she mumbled looking at the ground, too shy and scared of another punishment for even suggesting something like that .
Jason couldn’t comprehend it.
How was it possible that she wasn’t completely broken like him?
What the fuck was wrong with her?!
“Why do you care?!” he yelled in frustration, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her into the wall, a little squeal escaping her lips in the process. “Why?” he grabbed her chin making her look at him
“You know why…..” she sobbed
“don’t you dare saying it!”
“I…. I won’t….. I won’t, I promise. Please…. It hurts.” He let her go, preventing her from falling to the ground. “Let me….”
“Grab the kit. Just do your job. And do it silently. I don’t want any other stupid words coming out of your mouth, you hear me?”
She nodded and without a sound sat him on the bed taking a spot next to him. Her skillful, soft hands patching him up quicker than anyone else ever could. Years of practice as Wayne assistant (i.e. Batman’s helper).
“thank you” he whispered when she was done, not looking at her. She just nodded again, smiled lightly through the tears and laid down on the bed, not daring to hope for anything. Not anymore. And Jason was not going to give her anything, apart from throwing her a blanket so she could cover herself. And then he left, leaving her in the dark, still unable to figure out what was wrong with her.
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aidansloth · 2 months ago
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Voice Modulator Shenanigans
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Summary: You and Hitoshi find yourselves in his dorm having fun with his voice modulator when you accidentally let some top-secret information slip.
Warnings and A/N: just swearing, this is all fluff don’t worry! Reader is gender neutral and written in the 2nd person. If you think Hitoshi is ooc, no he’s not. He's just happy.. Maybe inaccuracy on how his mask works but listen, I’m not an engineer. Oh, and established relationship. 
Words: 0.6k
I also posted this on AO3! Here's the link!
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It takes a good while for your and Hitoshi’s laughter to calm down, maybe too long but in your defense he did just give a flawless Katsuki imitation using his mask. When you finally find it in yourself to speak he’s still wiping tears from his eyes.
“I think you should pursue acting honestly.” 
He grins. “Yeah?”
“As a hobby even. I’d come to see your shows.” His grin becomes a smile and it gets even wider.
“You better bring me flowers for those shows then.”
“Only if you promise that I get a backstage pass.” 
“Deal.” 
There are a few beats of comfortable silence, your heads are laying next to each other on his pillow. Your shoulders are touching and the only thing you can hear is his breathing, gentle and regular. An idea pops into your head. You sit up and turn to look at your boyfriend, hardly containing your excitement; he looks up at you and he can already tell he’ll give you anything you ask for.
“What?”
“Can I try your mask on?” 
He stares blankly for a few seconds. “Sure. Though I’m not sure it’ll stay on your face correctly since it’s meant to fit my face exactly.”
“That’s fine, can you help me though?” Hitoshi had already the intention of helping you but he keeps that to himself, instead he nods and sits up with you, grabbing the device from his nightstand. 
“Who do you want to imitate?”
“Darth Vader.” 
He stares at you.
“What?” You ask.
“I thought you were more creative than this babe.” 
“Oh shut up and help me put on this damn mask.”
“Aye aye captain.”
He places the piece of equipment on your jaw trying to adjust it to your face as well as possible, he then toys with the settings. When he’s done he places a kiss on your forehead before moving away. 
“There, try to speak.” 
You clear your throat. “HELLO- OH GOD, IT WORKS!”
“Of course it works.”
“OH STOP IT WITH THE SASS.” He smiles fondly but doesn’t respond. You straighten your back and clear your throat again as you’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life. 
“HITOSHI, I AM YOUR FATHER.” 
He just stares at you. You stare at him. 
“OH COME ON, THAT WAS FUNNY.”
“No it wasn’t. Here, watch this.” With care he takes the mask off you and adjusts it on himself instead. You watch him change the settings in silence, wondering what character he’s got in mind. Once he’s done he looks at you dead in the eyes and speaks.
Gollum’s fucking voice comes out.
“My precioussss.” 
You cannot contain your laughter for the life of you. You end up falling back on the bed while clutching your stomach. And just like that three little words escape without your knowledge. 
“Oh my god I love you.” 
He freezes and so do you. He rips his mask off carelessly, chucking it on the black sheets under you. You slowly creep up from your position to look at him. 
“You what?”
“I, ehm- I love you?”
“Is that a question?”
“No! I- I love you. I do.” Silence falls again, your gazes never wavering. 
“Do you also or…”
“Oh God, yes, sorry, yes. I do. I love you too.”
A smile forms on your face and he matches it. 
This is a very sweet and romantic moment for the two of you as you can imagine which is why your gremlin ass decides to ruin it.
“You know- I might not mind the Gollum voice again in different circumstances-” You get interrupted by Hitoshi’s cushion being thrown in your face.
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Thank you for reading! Constructive criticism/advice is welcomed.
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noellefan101 · 4 months ago
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Hello hello! I love reading your Streamer AU for the HSR cast, can I request you to do a part 2 for it hehe 🤩
You can pick whoever you like but can I request one of them to be Fu Xuan? The thought of her streaming is kinda funny HEJISEHWJSHEHEH
Also thank you so much!! You may refer to me as - - Anon 🏎️
ofc im so sorry that im a few months late though 😭
Char: Fu Xuan, Topaz, Aventurine the gambler, Blade x gn reader
warnings: ooc, not proofread, swearing, you are pretty :3
Summary: your princess(or partner if you wanna be boring) is a streamer, a popular one at that. this is a fic about: how their chat finds out that you are dating, how they treat you off-stream and on-stream/do they treat you differently
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Fu Xuan
How chat found out: it should be pretty easy for anyone to find out if im going to be completely honest. as she is both a bragger and a complainer.
if you had done something, anything, that she didnt like or just thought was stupid, she was going to lovingly complain about it to her following. and yes, this also applies to everything and everything you accomplish.
so uhm, lets just say she also sees no reason to keep such things a secret unless you begged her to not mention your relationship(she would still end up talking abt it at some point).
but luckily her chatters are nice and like you. but they definitely how Fu Xuan pulled you, they do not see the vision of how she did that
On-Stream: she herself does not see any difference in how she treats you whether she is streaming or not. her viewers however, very much see a difference to when you are with her or not
"Fu Xuan seems nicer with [name] around", "Xuan's eyes seems to light up just a little whenever [name] is around", this was not known to her until her following started chatting about this online
her face was unusually red when she read a message about her being soft for you on stream
Off-Stream: she, kissed you more, maybe even more affectionate in general, since she just doesnt like her whole life being online and thinks its unhealthy and dumb.
she is also just way too into you for her to want to share you with the random people watching her on a tuesday afternoon.
Topaz
How chat found out: you forgot she was streaming and brought in a snack for her and numby
and you accidentally called her 'love' while walking in
oh she was so red, and it did not help that she was on a call with aventurine and he heard everything
On-Stream: honestly, couldn't care less about what her following thinks, although she does get embarrassed.
she will hug you she will kiss you.
she will do whatever she wants to do, but is extra shy when Jade is around and watching.
and despite what she say and does, if you ever kissed her infront of the camera she would combust and melt into a little puddle
while numby is just innocently eating her little meal beside you two
Off-Stream: doesnt let go of you unless she actually has to get up and do something without you
loves hugging you, and especially with numby cuddling up with you both
kisses you more and it feels like you're kissing for longer, but this is just your observations
Aventurine
How chat found out: are you kidding? you really dont know? he doesnt stop fucking talking about you
he's playing another gacha game? oh this character kind of looks like [name], i should totally get them
irl stream? he's getting distracted left and right because he saw something that you would like
just on a call with his friends? talking about how pretty you are left and right
he just doesnt stop, there was no way you weren't going to appear on camera at some point
On-Stream: kisses you a lot just for just existing
chat thought it was cute in the start but now its more like when does he stop omfg
hugs you a lot and makes you sit on his lap while he gambles, saying that you bring him more luck
will still not stop bragging about how amazing you are, even when you're just sitting next to him on your phone
Off-Stream: still does not shut up about you, and is still very affectionate
but he is a little more touchy when people arent watching, still wanting you for himself in one way or another
he likes showing you off, but he also values his private life when he isnt the popular streamer Aventurine, being watched by thousands of people
but with you, and only you? he is just Kakavasha
Blade
How chat found out: one word, Kafka.
this is the only possible way other than you yourself walking in to see him streaming and you happen to be on camera.
Kafka, Silver Wolf, and Firefly is the only reason his following knows that he even has a love life to begin with. they talk more about you than he does! betrayer!!
but seriously, Kafka loves to talk about you two to her own viewers as well, even getting Blade to correct her because you can bake, and is very good at it
On-Stream: he doesnt talk about you, this may seem concerning but i assure you he's just shy. if he talked about you on stream it was because they girls made him talk about you.
but he just likes his private life, alright? he also strictly told Kafka to not tell them anything bad about or her head will be on a platter
but no matter, you can go kiss him yourself if you want to, he cant do anything to you
or he will die mentally and hopefully physically
Off-Stream:
absolute bbg
will not let go of you at all, never ever
he's always touching in some way or form the whole day, but when he turns on the camera and starts streaming its like his personality turned around
the only thing remaining is how he longingly looks in your direction whenever you come in with some water
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thank u for reading and thank you 🏎️ anon for requesting even tho this was long ago(im still very sorry abt that)- Masterlist
You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts
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writingmeraki · 1 year ago
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cold enough to chill my bones.
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a roronoa zoro drabble !
pairing : zoro x gn!reader, teasing frenemies to ???
genre : fluff, romance, they like each other but aren't dating...yet.
warnings : not any i can think of! if you find anything alarming then lmk :)
author's note : enjoy this quick drabble while you wait for the first chapter of the zoro series!! and also i got the idea to make after i got almost sick last night- maybe zoro is a bit of ooc? idk i just love the idea of him being a menace while flirting but not knowing what to do when someone flirts back at him lololol let me know what you think ! <3
word count : 1k
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Despite the sun almost blinding you as it set, the sky turning into shades of deep pink intertwined with light purple and hints of yellowish orange, you felt cold.
Naturally, you'd always been the type to get cold easily, quite literally. Before even the harsh winters used to begin, you'd be getting the chills amid the warm autumn.
Though. it was beneficial when it was the blazing summer and you were always not on the brink of dying due to the immense heat as your cooler hands and feet made you more comfortable. 
But today, it was a bane to your existence as your teeth chattered as you sat down on the lounging chair in the middle of the ship, trying to rub your hands to bring life back to them. 
“Seems like someone can’t even take the fall breeze huh?” 
The familiar voice taunted you and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was probably smirking as he looked down at you. 
Sighing in annoyance, you faced Zoro and clicked your tongue when you were right about him smirking. 
It was a tad bit distracting though, especially since he looked too…attractive than you’d like to admit.
“If you’re here to taunt me then leave me be.”
“The weather is annoying enough anyways, I don’t need another nuisance.” Not wanting to entertain him today, you turned your back towards him and faced the sunset. 
Too bad it was such a beauty but your body wasn’t allowing you to just simply be in bliss to enjoy it. 
Suddenly you felt a heavy weight on your shoulders, which took you by surprise as you flinched to stand up and yelped loudly. 
“Calm down idiot, it’s just a jacket,” Zoro said as it was his turn to roll his eyes,
“For the record, I didn’t come to ‘annoy’ you as you said which is quite ironic coming from you but I saw you shivering like a drenched cat,”
“So me being the considerate person I am,” You scoffed at his humble attitude which he chose to ignore, “I’ll let you wear my jacket for the time being.” 
Honestly, you were confused. Zoro was a confusing man you‘d concluded. Since the time you’d joined the crew, he’d been confusing you by saying something different, different as in finding every way to taunt you but then he’d be nice as a true gentleman with his actions.
Like right now for example. 
So ultimately, you were confused about how to thank him.
“Uh…thank you?” You’d thought it was best to just say it, figuring it was enough as you pushed your arms throughout the black clothing that was a tad bit larger than you. 
Of course, it was larger near the shoulders, enough to fit almost two of you inside.
“That’s it? That’s how you thank me? You know I almost saved you from I don’t know shivering to death here?” 
You sighed, now in exhaustion at his over-exaggeration, it wasn’t like if he hadn’t helped, you’d have not gotten up yourself and gone into the kitchen since it was usually always warmer as Sanji was always cooking something and the heat was always bubbling there.
He tsked at your sighing and supposedly unappreciative attitude, ready to go on a rant about how people nowadays never appreciated the little things and whatever.
When suddenly you got an idea. 
“-sometimes even if a gesture may be less, you should sti-” You shut him up by leaning forward, on your tiptoes and pulled him by his yellow shirt closer to you, landing your lips on his surprisingly soft ones.
That oughta shut him up. 
You pulled away in about three seconds, eyes shut as you just relished how soft they were and how right you’d been about them being like this from the countless times you’d imagined kissing him.
When you pulled away, you saw something you didn’t think you’d have seen anytime soon. 
Zoro was red, a bit wide-eyed as he stared at you, not speaking another word, his cheeks highlighted with a blush that was familiar to you in a way it was something you’d always experience whenever you’d check him out for too long. 
“Sooo is that enough for a thank you?” You smirked at him tauntingly, thriving in the way he was speechless, happy he could feel how you felt at times when he decided to shamelessly be a menace, a cute one, at that. 
“Now if you excuse me, I have some work to do.” Turning around, you didn’t say anything else as you tried to hide your giggles recalling his comical expression of astonishment.
“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT!” After a few moments of gathering his thoughts, Zoro was able to form a proper reaction.
“I deserve more than a peck! Kiss me like you mean it-” You burst out into giggles now at the way he was whining as you shook your head abruptly turning around to face him when he began to follow you. 
“For that you have to earn your way to it!” You mocked him, pocking your tongue out as he glared at you, now crossing his arms.
“Are you seriously messing around with the Roronoan Zoro, demon pirate hunter?”
You rolled your eyes at his seemingly serious tone but you knew he was playing into the little thing you’d created as his lips twitched, trying to hide his grin.
You grinned widely at him, now your dimples peaking out, 
“Ohh if you are the pirate hunter, you’ll have to catch me first to get your treasure!”
 As cheesy and cringy as it was, you caught him off guard as you turned around and ran, figuring the place to run to was likely the kitchen in the confined space you had.
“HEY! Now you’re just cheating!” You heard him shout behind to which caused more giggles,which left your cheeks aching from how widely you’d been smiling.
Admittedly, the once cold you’d been feeling was now replaced by the warmth unknowingly yet knowingly caused by the oh-so-famous pirate hunter.
Maybe he did deserve a proper thank you afterall huh?
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all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri.do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest. I don't own any of the characters from the movie, rightfully belonging to One Piece creators and the Netflix franchise and also this is a fictional work, not relating to any of the cast in real life.
writingmeraki Ⓒ 2023
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cheianimatez · 6 months ago
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Doubts (Gaming x GN!Reader) (SAGAU IMPOSTER AU)
(Might be a bit OOC, pls correct me 🥲)
"G-Gaming...?"
Gaming's body froze, you knew his name. He lowered his weapon, his doubts coming back to his mind. Ever since everyone was given an order to kill the "imposter" by their "Divine Creator", he thought "Why the heck would we hunt someone just because they have the same face as them, that's a bit cliche 🫤", but he can't defy his god, for he fears punishment.
But you, you knew his name, like you personally knew him, unlike the one on the throne.
"You're not going to kill me...?"
His thoughts got interrupted by your voice, sensing fear in it. He sighed.
"Honestly, despite everyone claims you impersonated Our Grace, you never did anything wrong at all. You also knew my name, unlike the one on the throne who didn't knew me at all, or maybe anyone else"
You looked at him, your fear dwindling down but still kept your guard.
"Yeah, probably that. In fact, I literally appeared here, then everyone started hunting me, like bro, do I look like I'm going to do some heinous crimes that they don't think their Grace or whatever the heck they call them would do?"
Gaming tried his best to hold his laugh. Somehow, even in tough times, you surprisingly have humor (even speaking his language /j). Maybe that kept you sane while you're being hunted down or something.
Then they heard voices. It's the Milileth. Gaming looked at the "imposter", suddenly feeling bad for them.
And that's when he decided to be against the order, deciding his own fate by himself
"Hey, what are you- UHH WHAT THE F--"
Gaming them immediately gave you a glare to shut you up.
"Oi, quiet! I'm going to help this time because who the frick would order people to kill someone just because they have the same face as them?!"
You looked at him in disbelief. He's helping you? But I guess you should be grateful this time, the last time someone helped you is Bennett, Fischl, Razor, and Mona helping you to escape Mondstadt, then you got killed by the Acting Grandmaster Jean, returned home to your world, then managed improved your life there until you fell asleep at the end of the day, only to find yourself you respawned in Liyue, and now the Milileth, the Qixing, heck even the Geo broke ahh grandpa Archon started chasing you! And I guess I could say it's enough for you to slowly develop distrust against anyone. Until this guy started to help you.
"I'm going to take you to my house. My father will probably understand my doubts of this... order..."
You stayed silent as Gaming carried you on the back away from the hunters, safely hidden from them.
"You know, I really wanted to go home. I had known these types of events that would happen in this world when I came, but I half didn't expect this sht would happen to me. I don't want godhood, I don't want to become a god higher than the Archon, I don't like how really submissive but blind these people are when it comes to faith on their beloved "Creator". All I wanted is a perfectly normal life, here in Teyvat, and now I wanted to go back home because of what I suffered..."
Okay, now he felt really bad. You didn't deserved this! He felt thankful for following his guts.
"Anyways, Gaming, did you know I actually laughed at your voiceline about your troubles? Like the way you said "How much?!" and "I'm not paying for a few extra wet wipes!" got me rolling! Oh, and your thoughts on Qiqi, it's so wholesome! I'm glad Qiqi gets the respect she deserves..."
To be honest, when he brought you to his house, he is already flustered about how much you knew him, praised him, heck even he heard you said a lot people from your world liked him because of his personality. Gaming could feel like jumping to the atmosphere, he felt being recognized.
Meanwhile, you feel your trust coming back again, and it's directed towards the guy whom everyone in the fandom called him the "sunshine boi".
And you're quite thankful that he's not blind like those rodents (blinder than Dora the Explorer lol 💀)
"You know, I feel... happy about how much you knew me and praised me. I feel recognized unlike Our Grace for not answering our prayers."
ISTG THIS GUY IS MAKING OUR DAYS BETTER 😭😭💖💖💖
"Anyways, want some dim sum? 😃"
Yo, this is my first time writing a one shot in Tumblr. I usually write the stories on my notebook at school, and maybe sometimes post in Wattpad (I'm barely active there anymore, just only used it for reading purposes-)
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koipaper · 7 months ago
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taps u on shoulder anxiously … UFJEKEJE yan!claire x fem!reader (x yan!engel if polyamory is okay). please ,,,, starts shaking in my boots and collapses to the ground
YANDERE CLAIRE + ENGEL TEAM UP
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Paring: Yandere! Claire + Yandere! Engel x Beloved (Yours/Your/Yourself)
Fandom: Fundamental Paper Education
Trigger warinings: Yandere Behavior, Overprotective Behavior, Manipulation, OOC(?), Sacrificing mentioned, Isolation, Mc almost dies, Lana and Abbie's deaths mentioned, Not canon way to survive the day if your getting chased by the teachers, bruises and cuts.
A/N: i'm sorry, i do not do gendered readers :(. I can however make this Gender-neutral! I'm sorry if this seems bad, I had trouble with these two. (sorry if board is wonky on pc, it won't let me fix it)
‣ Honestly, I can see this happening with both Claire and Engel. The wiki states that they're both best friends, and they seem to be pretty close. So they would work great as a team up. ‣ This is after Claire comes to the school (And fortunately, doesn't fall to the hands of both the teachers and Alice.) After you do your introduction to your classmates, Miss Circle assigns your seat next to Claire and her group. ‣ Claire is the first to greet you, introducing herself and saying that she is a new student like you! She hopes you both can get along! After her introduction, she points to Engel, who smiles and waves at you. Claire states that if you have any problems with other students such as Oliver and his crew, or maybe work, just come to him. ‣ The introduction was cut short by the sound of Miss Circle tapping her pencil like hands on the chalk board, signifying that the lessons about to start and the room needs to keep quiet.
‣ Since you were pretty new, you had no idea what the lesson was about nor how far in the unit everyone else is. But don't worry! Claire and Engel are there to help you! The day goes by quickly for your first day, and you had fun with your new friends!
‣ Before you left home, Engel and Claire offer you their numbers, which you gladly accept. And that's how you got involved with the pair!
‣ At first, everything was going good. Everyday you'd hang out with Engel and Claire, telling them stories about things that has happened to you (Some weird, some funny, and some diabolical). They soaked up every bit of it, they loved hearing you ramble about the things you patinate about! It was endearing to see you so happy about something small... ‣ But then, they started acting strange after a few months... ‣ I feel like even though they aren't completely the same, they would share similar traits of yandere behavior. ‣ Claire in my works would be a Cunning, Obsessive, Manipulative, Stubborn, and Clingy yandere, While Engel would be a Selfless, Possessive, Manipulative, Cunning, and Sacrificing yandere. ‣ Claire is a hard working student as we saw, but can sometimes lose her cool if she's pushed hard enough. For example, maybe if you became friends with another student, she tells you not to hang around them anymore because she feels slightly off about them, and you continue? She would manipulate you. You might get hurt hanging around them! Why won't you listen to her?! All she wants is for you to be safe and you're disagreeing?? ‣ Come to Engel about Claire's behavior, he will shut you down and tell you she's 100% right. You don't need your new 'friend' anyway, you got him and Claire to keep you company, don't you? Stop whining about something silly! It should be obvious why they act this way! They only want what's best for you.
‣ Claire loves your company, especially if you go on cute little rambles about things you love. Her gaze softens and goes all mushy and lovey-dovey. She's constantly around you 24/7, following like a magnet. Continue to tell her more, she wants to know everything about you. ‣ Engel is the same way as Claire, but he's a bit more closer then Claire. His tail wrapped around you when you sit down, a possessive arm around your shoulder when you walk the halls, you don't really question it that much, thinking this is just how he acts with anyone he's friends with. ‣ Speaking of Engel, it seems like he loves keeping his friends happy, shown when he takes Claire to the library. If there's a certain interest you have or a certain place you've told him about, well surprise! He brought you there! You being happy makes him happy, and he loves seeing that smile of yours. ‣ Both Claire and Engel try their best to keep your grades in check. They don't want you turning into what Lana and Abbie turned into that day. Claire especially doesn't want you to experience not one, but all three teachers anger if it ever came to that. Even if you were to say you're fine, she would just shake her head and continue with her help. ‣ Though with the amount of help Engel and Claire provided, it just wasn't enough. Unfortunately, you had gotten an F in Miss Thavel's test due to Oliver and his groups constant distractions. You were alone when she showed up in the hallway, anger clouded in her pinpricked eyes. No one was around, which means it was you and your wits to survive until 3 pm.
‣ Hiding in classrooms, hiding in lockers, throwing obstacles, you did it all. You were not going to die by all means possible, even if it meant destroying your stamina and bruising your body. ‣ The chase lasted for far too long, you're speed was slowing down due to lack of stamina, and the cuts and bruises made it harder to move. Where was everyone?! They're not gonna let you die like this are they? ‣ You collapsed, breathing heavily as Miss Thavel's smile grew wider, claws sharpening and raising to put you out of your misery. You were too tired to beg, to scream or shout, and just closed your eyes, tears falling down your cheeks. ‣ A yelp and a big loud "THUMP" was heard. Opening you're eyes, you see Engel who was holding down Miss Thavel, a determined look on his face. ‣ "Take them and run!" He yelled. That's when you felt your arm go around someone's shoulder, and helped you limp away from the scene. "Come on!" The voice was Claire's as she tried to help you move faster. ‣ Once in your hiding spot, Claire went ahead to check and your wounds. Thy weren't as severe, but they were still bad. She would try and treat them the best she could, fuming about you being alone. This is why they you should've never been alone! You were about to be killed! Imagine if they didn't find you in time?
‣ Don't worry, Engel is fine! He's just a bit scarred from his little stunt. It didn't matter though. As long as you're alive and healthy, he would do what he did all over again. Though the next day he sees you, he will take Claire's side on what she said. You shouldn't have wondered off. ‣ Yes their behavior gets worse after that day. Claire is more stubborn whenever you wanna you try to wonder off alone again, and Engel becomes more possessive with you. They are never away from you, and they never separate either. You're trapped between the pair, and there's nothing you could do about it.
‣ This is for you're own good, just let them do what they need to do to keep you away from harm. Besides... ‣ If you ever want to get out of this school alive, you would need their help to do it. Leaving them would be a deathwish.
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ballblender · 1 year ago
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Could I request some headcanons for GoM + Kiyoshi helping their scared s/o on the train? I’ve never been on one before and I’d be so nervous. Death grip on their hands fr
a/n: Thanks for the ask!! I'll also include Kagami if that's okay! :) Btw anon, i recommend trying out the train (unless you live rural and far away from a station, or already know how to drive lol), it's honestly so convenient :) also jshdghd they might ooc because i honestly haven't watched the show in almost a year
GoM + Kiyoshi comforting their scared S/O on the train
cw: fluff, gn reader, idk - trains???, not proofread, my writing is never proofread LOL
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Kuroko
"Y/N...what are you doing?"
It's a strange sight to see his usually smiley and happy partner currently cowering as the train rumbles. The carriage is full of passengers, standing tall above the pair.
"Don't laugh but, I...I don't use the train very often...or ever, at that."
Kuroko's face contorts to confusion.
"...so, this must be scary for you, right, Y/N?" Kuroko asks, smiling reassuringly as you bod in response.
"That's okay, I'm here with you. Just hold my hand."
He wasn't expecting you to grab onto him like he was your saviour, but giggled softly anyway.
He kisses your cheek, whispering how he'll have to take you out on dates more often so you can get used to the train.
Kagami
(having a little liberty this time since he wasn't technically part of the ask)
When your boyfriend told you that he'd show you around America, you were excited, as you should've been. Not much about the place seemed to matter to you right now though, as you stand, cramped up in the damp-smelling train of the New York City Subway.
Kagami himself appears unfazed by the way the carriage rumbles, the random coughing from every direction, the flickering lights, not even the rat licking up an old coffee stain on the floor.
"Taiga..."
"Yeah, what's up?"
"...I-I wasn't prepared for America to be this...how do i put it...ratholey?
Kagami laughs out loud, smiling broadly.
"That's a good way to describe New York."
You chuckle along with him, each other's laughter serving as a better light than whatever was short-circuiting above you both.
You hold his hand, and he holds yours, resting his palm on your thigh, as he rubs your knee with his thumb.
"LA is better than this, I promise."
Aomine
"Idiot...why are you scared?"
You can practically feel Aomine's mocking smirk forming, even if your eyes are shut and your face is buried in his chest.
"I don't use trains...you know I walk to school..."
Aomine's eyes roll as he sighs.
"Well, better get used to it now, or how are you gonna live in this city as an adult?"
It's these occasional moments of wisdom that draw you to Aomine. Until he of course ruins it.
"Unless you want me to piggyback you everywhere like a baby."
"Shut up."
He chuckles, stroking a few loose strands of your hair from your face.
"Kidding. I'm not gonna break my back carrying your ass."
You huff in annoyance at his comment, your hands finding his as your face buries into his chest even harder. He chuckles, squeezing your hand and kissing the crown of your head.
"I told you to shut up."
Midorima
"Oha Asa predicted (Your Star Sign) would not suffer any misfortunes today, you shouldn't worry." Midorima says this so matter-of-factly, it's scary.
"I-I know that...but it's still scary, Shin."
Midorima casually wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you slightly closer to him.
"You really should travel by train more often. In the future, what if a job you want requires you to travel by train? Don't be scared." he says his last sentence with a little smile, an uncharacteristic one at that, yet you find it so endearing.
Midorima has always been like this, acting less like a boyfriend, and more like a proper spouse, a husband you can share anything with, and be free of judgement, well, except from Oha Asa's.
You then feel him slip a small bangle onto your wrist.
"Your lucky item today is a silver bangle. But, I want you to wear it whenever you go on a train, okay? In fact, wear it everywhere, then I'll be with you."
You look down at the bangle, admiring the small 'M' engraved along it.
"I will...I'll wear it all the time. Thank you, Shin."
As he takes hold of your hand, you suppress a giggle; he'd already given you your lucky item earlier that day, a animal eraser. He must've been looking for an excuse to spoil you.
Murasakibara
The carriage rumbling: the murmurs of students: the ringing of phones. It was a lot to take in, especially since the last time you used the train was when you were a kid.
It especially didn't help that your giant of a boyfriend was crunching on snacks, the sound only adding to your unease.
"Mmph...this flavour's nice."
"Atsushi."
He turns to you and swallows the mouthful.
"Yeah, Y/N?"
"Could you...hold my hand?"
"Ehh? But how will I eat my snacks?"
"...use your other hand."
"But that hand's for holding the bag!"
This little dispute carries on for a while until he suggests, and you (hesitantly) decide to sit on his lap, perched on his thighs as he continues chomping away.
Weirdly, you do feel safe. Too bad you'll be getting crumbs all over you.
Kise
"So then my boss told me that-"
Although Kise is great at telling his stories, both about his modeling work and about Kasamatsu's never-ending impatience with him, you truly couldn't care less in this moment.
Your shoulders press together as the carriage shakes. The contact is hot and unpleasant, despite Kise's joyful face.
Your forehead begins to sweat, the air in the train is damp and humid.
"Kise, c-can you stop talking for just a second?"
"E-eh? Why? I was just getting to the good part!"
"I really don't feel well..."
Upon your words, Kise looks up at the announcement bar, and grabs your hand.
"Come on, Y/N, let's get off at this station."
"Huh? This isn't our stop though..."
He chuckles, the train coming to a stop, as he leads you out.
"I can't have you fainting on me! Let's cool down with a drink or something, my treat!"
You smile at the offer.
"Alright."
Akashi
While you and Akashi would usually walk together, or get rides in his limo, today he decided to use the train. You honestly didn't question it, Akashi always had his reasons for doing what he did.
What you forgot, however, was that you've never actually been on the train before.
It's more...suffocating than you were imagining, despite passing by the beautiful hills and landscapes. Akashi is drawn to them, staring out of the window with a small smile painted across his face.
You, however, can't ignore the other passengers. The sneezing lady, the sniffling office worker, the crying baby. It's a lot all at once.
"Y/N? ...What are you doing?"
You realize that, subconsciously, you covered your ears with your hands.
"Ah, sorry."
"...Do you not like the train?"
"...I...i've just never been on one before..."
A slight silence forms between the two of you.
Akashi's fingers slowly find yours.
As your hands squeeze together, you know it'll be alright.
Kiyoshi
You're with the rest of the Seirin team, walking back from a game (Kiyoshi managed to convince Riko to let you watch from the bench), when Riko rounds up everybody to get their attention.
"Okay everybody! We have to meet up early tomorrow, so let's get the next train out of here."
Everybody nods in agreement, and you realise, you've never actually been on a train before. Kiyoshi's hand squeezes yours as soon as your expression changes.
"Y/N? What's wrong?"
"I've...never been on a train before."
He blinks for a moment.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah..."
Kiyoshi chuckles.
"Well, what is it that you're so afraid of?"
"Just...never thought i'd have to go on one."
Kiyoshi chuckles again, shaking his head slightly.
"We'll have to go on dates more often to help you get used to it then."
-------
a/n 2: sorry for the lack of posts, and more sorry to this anon for how late this post is. ill try better to post more often hehe
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gayozpin · 2 months ago
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An Observation on Current Jaime and Confiding in People
The beautiful thing about Jaime Reyes? He's no stranger to opening up and being honest with how he feels.
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Oh the wonders of growing up in a healthy and loving household!
But it is interesting to see that recently, as the weight of Jaime's responsibilities and actions increases, as things continue to change, we see Jaime withdraw into himself more and more and needing to be promoted by others to open up.
And see, the impulse is to be like, “Well Jaime has always talked to his family in the original run, he should always be open and honest with them," which yes! Jaime never was and still isn't a closed off person. Like ask him how he's feeling and he'll most likely open up.
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BUT I personally enjoy the idea that as Jaime falls deeper and deeper into this life of heroing, as he gets older, it becomes more difficult to talk about certain things without being afraid that his friends and family will see him differently. Perhaps he feels like he has to “grow up" now and stand on his own, instead of allowing himself to lean on others, like you would as a child when things got scary or confusing and you would look to your guardian for help.
It can take time to realize that yes, even as an adult, you ARE allowed to seek support and lean on others when things get tough, but striking the balance of being independent and knowing when you need help takes time and a lot of self exploration. And well, Jaime's still young! And honestly experiencing SO MUCH at once.
So when it was revealed that Jaime hadn't told his parents yet about what happened to the Blood Scarab:
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It was both, surprising and NOT surprising. Like not only is that NOT the kind of conversation you can have over the phone, but it's a stomach churning thing to reveal. It's the kind of thing that makes your blood run cold because YOU KNOW your parents. You know their beliefs. And while Bianca and Alberto would never stop loving Jaime or shame him for what happened...
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... it's likely difficult for Jaime to see this. He's probably deeply afraid that his family will see him differently. That they'll be disappointed or worse, be afraid of him.
Because how can their heroic son do such a thing? When he would NEVER compromise his beliefs? ... Right?
He's probably scared, despite being assured time and time again that they'll always love him, he can always come to them for anything, and he'll always be their son above all else. That they know Jaime is a good person. Alberto and Bianca understand the nature of making mistakes, and what matters is that you tried your best, and what you do after.
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And perhaps to those reading this, it would be considered OOC for Jaime to be afraid of his parents' reactions. Bianca and Alberto have never done anything to make Jaime doubt for a second that they would ever stop loving him, yet emotions can be illogical and I would say that Jaime is probably afraid of the weight of this revelation.
Because the reality is that it's not an easy pill to swallow. Killing the Blood Scarab when there could have been another way? Learning that there is no way to control Khaji Da because they aren't a thing, but a living being with their own impulses and fears?
God, who the hell WOULDN'T be afraid of sharing something so haunting that it could potentially shift how someone sees you?? ESPECIALLY when it's your parents who you love and look up to. Like you don't want to let them down, y'know?
And so as Jaime sinks deeper and deeper into this life, as he's faced with crazier enemies and even more difficult situations, it's probably going to get even harder for Jaime to talk about these things with his family.
BUT, I don't think Jaime will ever fully shut out his loved ones because he is too loved and cared about for his family to allow it. They know him, and they can tell when something is wrong. They might have to poke and prod, but it doesn't take much for Jaime to open up. And Jaime loves his family and friends too much to lose them. It may take some time for Jaime to work through this fear, but with support, he'll find the courage to seek support!
So yeah! I love that Jaime is both willing to go to people and talk about how he's feeling, while also having the cat-like tendency to slink away when it's something REALLY difficult or painful to talk about. Like most people haha!
And that's the post! If you have read this far, thank you so much for reading!! I appreciate it! ♡
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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago
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AITA for making fun of/complaining about my friends special interest behind their back? (To clarify I only make fun of the media to others, not them. The hardest I've complained about them for having this special interest is calling it unfortunate that they ended up so attached to it in particular because I've ended up having to engage with it and learn a lot more than I would have ever on my own) Their special interest is a widely considered problematic piece of media so when I talk to others about this it's always been piggybacking off of someone else mentioning their distaste for it so I'm looking for a more unbiased opinion on this. I want to hear about the things that make them happy and they care about genuinely. When they first told me about their new interest I did admittedly tease them a little for having bad taste but overtime warmed up to it when I saw how much it meant to them and listened to what they got out of it. I have managed to form an investment in their experience of the media, pretty ooc from canon to my understanding but that's all the better for me since no matter how hard I've tried to force myself I just can't stomach the source media. Whenever they sent me snippets from it I talk about whatever nice thing I can think to say about it and when I sit down actually partaking in it I'll only express my dislike for more general genre tropes. I just honestly really hate it and told them the source media just wasn't for me and I wouldn't end up warming to this aspect of their interest overtime. They took this well and rarely send me things like that anymore while still talking about the other aspects of their interest. But I'm sure they'd be sad if they knew I was shittalking their favourite thing in the world when they already get sad when random strangers do that too. AITA? Should I be keeping my mouth shut about my opinions on it if I know they'd hurt her? My friend is not the asshole in this situation, if you think I'm not the asshole either pick NAH (No assholes here) instead of NTA (implying she is the asshole instead of me)
What are these acronyms?
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uchihaharlot · 9 months ago
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I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)
But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.
(I'm an artist, so😎)
Nonny 🥹🥹
That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).
I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹
N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).
Madara:
It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.
And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.
Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.
Obito:
Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.
‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.
Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.
Shisui:
Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.
And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.
But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.
Itachi:
Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.
Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.
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