#{ & ooc } Honestly I Should Shut Up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

purple-obsidian · 2 days

Note

Would you write for AK Jason? I like him mean. Like him and you are arguing and he gets all pissed off and makes you cry but it ends in angry sex.

say it back (18+, ak jason todd x fem reader) wc 5.5k

⭓ this post contains sexually explicit content and dark themes. it is not suitable for minors. please consider the tags and consume at your own discretion. not an example of a healthy relationship. jason might be kinda ooc here, but hey. it's fanfiction.

"You need to drop your fucking attitude." Jason hisses at you.

"Me? My attitude? I'm just trying to have a conversation, Jason, you're the one acting like-"

"Like what? Hm?" He stalks closer to you, and you take a step back reflexively.

"You're angry." You state simply, staring up at him with sadness in your eyes. "You're angry with me. Still. Aren't you?"

Jason's eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It takes several tense moments before he finally mutters, "Maybe I am."

"What more do you want from me, Jason? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't come looking for you. I didn't know. Bruce told me you were-" Jason growls, and corners you against the wall until your back is pressed up against it.

"Don't fucking talk about him! Don't say his name, I'm sick of thinking about him!"

"Then what do you want me to do? I mourned you, Jason, I grieved for you. I didn't just forget about you. I could never." Tears begin to well up in your eyes. The guilt you feel for what your boyfriend went through is crushing. It haunts you every day. Every time you look at him and see that 'J' carved into his cheek, your self-hatred grows even deeper.

"There's nothing you can do now. What's done is done." His warm breath fans over your face. His eyes are narrowed, staring you down like you're the one who locked him up and tortured him.

"Why am I here, huh? Why do you keep me around if you refuse to forgive me?" You ask him, your voice quivering from grief and exasperation.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" He groans and slams his fist against the brick wall, just inches from your head. Your eyes widen when he does, a jolt of fear running through you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Jason's never hit you, but ever since he came back, you don't know what to expect from his behavior. He's erratic. Hurting. But at the same time, even more focused and calculating than ever. Its a terrifying combination, honestly.

He looks so much different now. Even though you're both still young, his features are harsher, his face hardened and scarred. You still see traces of the boy you fell in love with. It isn't always obvious, but you catch brief glimpses of the old him here and there. Its enough to keep you around, to remind yourself of how much you love him. Seeing him hurt like this and isolating himself is devastating.

"I don't know if I'm capable of forgiving you." He says between labored breaths. His eyes are dark, filled with a pain he refuses to share. "You left me in there to rot. The things he did to me, the things he made me do-"

"Jay." Your voice breaks, warm tears trailing down your cheeks. "Please, baby, I'm sorry. I failed you. I know I did." You reach out tentatively to caress his cheek, avoiding the scar. "I want to be here for you. I want to help you. But I feel like me being here is making things worse.”

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you catch a flicker of something in his expression. A crack in the hard mask he’s been wearing. “What are you saying?”

“If you hate me so much, maybe I should leave.” You struggle to get the words out. You hate yourself for even suggesting it. But the past few weeks with Jason have been tumultuous at best, and you’re not sure that your presence is actually helping him. If anything, you feel like you trigger him just by existing.

“Leave?” He asks, his face contorting in pain and anger. “You’re going to leave me? Really?”

“Only if that’s- I mean, I don’t know, Jason! I don’t know!” Unable to hold it in anymore, a heavy sob shakes your body, and you look away in shame. He’s still got you pinned against the wall, his arms caging you in and keeping you from turning away. “I just want you to be happy. I don’t think I’m capable of giving you happiness anymore. You won’t talk to me. All you do is yell. I want to be here for you, more than anything. But you won’t let me in. Maybe you’ll be better off without me.” Your voice is hushed and thick with emotion. You don’t want to leave him, now that he’s finally back. You were over the moon when you realized who was behind the Arkham knights mask.

Your best friend. Your lover, back from the dead.

But he hasn’t been the same. And you can’t blame him. He doesn’t go into detail about what happened, but you can see the evidence of his torture on his body. Not that he’s let you get too close.

He referred to you as ‘his girl’ in front of his militia. And now, after Gotham has recovered from the events surrounding his return, his hired men know that you’re to be protected at all costs. But other than a brief kiss upon your initial reunion, Jason hasn’t touched you. Yet he’s kept you close, physically, insisting you stay with him in his hideout. You quit your job, moved out of your apartment, left behind your old life as a law-abiding citizen to devote yourself to him and his cause. But your loyalty has been rewarded with him being emotionally closed-off and bitter towards you. It has you questioning where the two of you stand, and if he even wants you here.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is still harsh as he lowers his head to try and meet your eyes. He's close enough that you're able to smell his scent, a mix between his body wash and his natural musk. It draws you in, but you don't dare lean into him, in fear of fueling his annoyance towards you.

"Then why are you so mean to me?" You hate how weak you sound. You wish you were stronger, but being Jason's emotional punching bag has taken it's toll on you.

"I..." Some of his anger seems to fade, but his eyes are still swimming with turmoil. "I can be nicer."

"That isn't an answer."

Jason swallows hard, and removes his forearms from the wall so he's no longer caging you in. His jaw is clenched as he keeps staring at you and thinking about how to respond.

"I don't know." He finally says. "All I know is that I don't want you to go."

You slip to the side so you're no longer sandwiched between him and the wall, and take a step backwards to distance yourself. "I can't handle much more of this, Jason. It's too much. I can't stand fighting like this. It hurts me."

The look on your face has Jason's pulse quickening. "I'll be nicer." He says again.

"Jas-"

"I mean it." He reaches for your hand, and you need to consciously keep yourself from flinching away. "Just please, don't go."

Your heart aches at his plea. You don't want to leave, of course you'd rather be here. But you're not quite naïve enough to believe him when he say's he'll be nicer. You look down at where your hands are entwined, eyeing the thin silvery scars that litter his hand and wrist. Your mind briefly wanders, wondering what nightmare gave him those. Too thin to be from rope burn. Maybe zip ties. A few more tears pool in your eyes and blur your vision at the mental image of him being restrained in such an inhuman way.

"If you really want me, I'll stay." You whisper,

His eyes light up, but the relief doesn't touch the frown that's seemingly permanently etched onto his strong features. "Come here."

You don't fight the gentle tug on your hand. You let Jason hug you close to him, his heart still beating fast in his chest. You feel the steady rhythm against your cheek when he pulls you close and holds you against him. He's still angry, you can sense it radiating off of him in waves. But he's making a pointed effort to stay calm, which is an improvement.

"I don’t hate you. I love you. You know that, right?" He asks. You get a odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach. Not the same as the feeling you got the first time he told you he loved you. It’s a weird, perverted ghost of the feeling, one that makes the ache in your chest even worse.

You don't want to answer him. What would you even say? That you love him too? He already knows that, surely. And he laughed at you last time you told him. In front of several of his men. It was humiliating, and you've avoided saying it ever since.

"Hm? You know that, right?" He tightens his hold on you, his strong arms encouraging you to answer.

"Yeah. I know." You mumble back.

Jason looks down at you, and pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes again. What you would give to know what's going on in his head. It’s like a whirlwind of emotions are playing across his face.

You don't expect him to lean in and capture your lips in a sudden kiss. You freeze for a beat before you kiss him back, not quite relaxing against him, but letting yourself move with him. Still, it feels off. Almost like you're kissing a stranger. He isn't familiar anymore, which only encourages the tears to keep falling hot and slow down your cheeks.

As your tongues dance together, Jason begins to explore your body, warm hands running up and down your back. You wouldn't describe his touch as gentle, but he moves slowly and deliberately, finally resting on your ass and kneading your fat with his strong hands.

Is this his idea of 'being nicer'? You wonder to yourself. But you don't stop him. He's the only man you've ever loved, and when you thought he was dead, you missed his touch more than anything. Craved it. And you still do, even though you're more wary of him now. If you were thinking clearly, you'd probably stop his hand from sneaking down the front of your pants, and tell him that you should both take a breather and calm down. But he's left you so desperate for any speck of affection that you can't bring yourself to turn him away.

His hands are warm against your skin, but goosebumps still prickle your skin from the contact. He slips his hand in your underwear, not bothering to take his time. The sudden feeling of his rough fingers against your labia has you whimpering into his mouth. Jason rubs firm circles over your neglected clit as he breaks the kiss. "Yeah, you know?" He says back in a mocking tone. "Your body knows. She missed me, didn't she?"

The way he calls your cunt 'she' leaves a weird taste in your mouth. You pretend not to notice. "Of course I missed you." You say back to him. You grip his forearm gently and caress his skin with your thumb, feeling his muscles move and flex as he pleasures you, while your other arm grips his shoulder to steady your body. It's hard to relax with all the pent up tension you have inside. But you focus on his fingers, and how good it feels to be touched by your boyfriend again after so long.

"How quick did you move on. Hm?" His deep voice almost sounds like it's rumbling as asks. "How many people have you fucked since I disappeared?"

His question feels like a daggar to your heart. Maybe he really doesn't know, doesn't understand how hard his 'death' hit you. You haven't spoken about it much to him, since he obviously suffered much worse than you did while you were apart. It would feel insensitive to open up about the deep depression you fell into, one that your friends and even Dick tried and failed to help you out of. It was all you could do to even finish high school and get a job. You didn't see anyone else. You barely hung out with anyone. All you did was work and sleep. It was like the joy was sucked from your life the day you lost him.

But Jason doesn't know this. He mistakes your silence for shame, and he uses his other hand to cup your chin and force you to look at him as his fingers slowly warm you up. "What's wrong? Lost count?" The bitterness and mistrust are second nature to him now, after enduring Jokers sick mind games.

"No one... I promise." You lip trembles as the pleasurable sensations build between your legs. You grow wetter under his touch, even though your heart is heavy with grief.

"S'that right?" Jason lets out a dark chuckle and removes his hands from you abruptly. "Take your clothes off."

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You hesitate, looking from him to his bed along the opposite wall. Jason brings his fingers to his mouth, and to your horror, he sucks them clean, tasting your arousal without breaking eye contact.

"Do you want this?" He asks, growing annoyed at how you're freezing up.

"Do I want, what?" You say back a little too quickly.

Jason's nostrils flare as he lets out an irritated sigh. "Me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you stammer out a hurried "Yes."

“You sure about that? Doll?” He cocks his head at you and studies your face carefully. The old nickname brings back memories, memories you’re sure are far too sweet in comparison to what’s about to happen.

But it doesn’t stop you from nodding at him all the same. You want him, there’s no denying that. Even if he isn’t the same boy you fell in love with, he’s still Jason. Your Jason.

Breathing heavily, Jason leans down to you so you're face to face once again. "Then take. Your fucking. Clothes. Off. Before I rip them off of you."

You glare at him through teary eyes, not appreciating the threat. But you’re not going to pass up the opportunity for intimacy. Hardening your gaze to match his, you hurridly remove your clothing piece by piece, folding the garments and setting them down neatly on the table beside you.

Jason surprisingly keeps his eyes on yours. Even as you reveal more of your body to him, his focus is on your face, not faltering.

When you step out of your underwear and set them on top of the pile, you finally say “You next.”

A dark chuckle departs Jason’s scarred lips before he replies, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Confused, you give him a quizzical look as he stomps over to his bed and kicks off his boots. They land beside him with a thud, making you jump a little.

“Get the fuck over here.”

Jason’s voice echoes across the studio apartment ominously. It’s pissing you off, how he’s still being so brash after just promising to be nicer to you. You shiver and run your hand up and down your arm while you walk over to join him, the cool air against your bare skin making you feel even more vulnerable. It’s clear to you that he’s enjoying this. Sitting on the edge of his bed, still almost fully clothed, finally letting himself drink in the sight of your naked body as you approach him.

“You’ve changed.” He comments after a few moments of tense silence. And he isn’t wrong. You’ve matured in the time he was gone, you’re a bit taller, your hair is longer, looking less like a teenager and more like a woman. But the changes in your body are subtle compared to his. Jason is at least 6 inches taller than what you remember. He’s put on a lot of muscle, and his features are sharper. Harsher, even. His face is different. Even ignoring the scars, there’s a new depth to him that’s hard to pinpoint.

You wonder how much of his transformation is due to just growing up, like you, and how much of it is from the trauma he experienced. Surely, being malnourished and tortured as a teenager would stunt a persons growth. But the man in front of you is anything but stunted. He’s massive. Again, your mind wonders about the details of his absence, about how long he took to recover from his torture before returning as the Arkham Knight.

“You just gunna stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to help me out?”

“Sorry.” You mutter hastily, embarrassed to be caught zoning out. You focus on him again, and realize he has his pants unzipped and his cock in his hand, stroking it with lust-clouded eyes. It takes a good deal of effort to hide the shock on your face from the sight as heat rushes between your legs. Your cheeks turn red, and you place your hand on his knee to steady yourself before you kneel in front of him. “You’ve changed too.”

Jasons pupils dilate when you place your hand over his own, taking over for him and stroking him lightly. He is already hard as a rock, his veins bulging under your touch.

“Way to state the obvious.” He leans back casually and uses his hands to prop himself up against the bed. Using both of your hands now, you jerk him off carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice the trembling in your fingers. “That’s it… shiiit, spit on it, baby, can you do that for me?”

With nervous excitement you obey his request, gathering some saliva with your tongue and letting it drip from your mouth down onto his shaft. His cock is feverish to the touch. The groan that rumbles in his chest as you spread your spit over him triggers emotions you haven't felt in a long time.

“Fuck yes, nice and sloppy for me, shit.”

You want to tug his pants down his legs to give yourself better access, but your instincts are telling you it’s a bad idea. Even as you became more aroused from his reactions, you still maintain a strong sense of unease, like he could snap at you without a moments notice.

When you peer up at his face, his eyes are closed, and some of the anger and tension he was holding onto is less apparent now. It gives you a spark of excitement, pride, even, that you’re finally able to provide him some peace.

His expression gives you enough confidence to lean your head down and take him in your mouth. You start with a soft kiss against his tip, then you swirl your tongue around it slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

“M’not in the mood for teasing, doll.” Jason groans. “Better take a deep breath.”

That is all the warning he gives you before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes your mouth down onto him. You gag a little at the sudden intrusion before you remember to relax your throat to allow him fully in.

Another deep moan fills your ears when Jason feels you gag around him. Your eyes water as your nose brushes against the dark hair at the base of his cock. He’s definitely bigger than the last time you two did this. Or perhaps you’re just out of practice. Whatever the reason, you struggle to suck him off properly. After a few seconds of deep-throating him, pull your mouth away to cough and catch your breath.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He growls. "That felt good."

“You’re being a jerk.” You sputter out between coughs. “You said you’d be nicer to me.”

“This is me being nice.” He argues, bringing his hand to his cock to stroke himself again now that you've abandoned your effort. “You don’t want to suck me off? Fine. Get on the bed.”

“It’s not that I-“

“Get on the fucking bed.”

He stands up, and you’re momentarily scared he’s going to drag you. But his grip on your arm isn’t harsh, just a firm guide as he helps you onto the cheap mattress. You lay on your back and settle against the bedding, but Jason promptly flips you over, helping you onto your hands and knees.

You the mattress creek as he positions himself behind you. A quick look over your shoulder results in him gripping your hair and pushing your face into his pillows. "Stay just like that." He warns.

"Seriously? What, y-you're not going to let me look at you? Or kiss you?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?" The irritation returning to his gravely voice.

You close your eyes and try to stop your tears. You exhale a deep, steadying breath before you reply, "Yes, Jay, of course I do."

"Then quit complaining." The mattress shifts again as Jason moves behind you, his still clothed legs pressed against your rear. His left hand rests firmly on your waist, and a second later you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit. He drags himself up to the entrance of your cunt slowly, them back down again. He languidly repeats this back and fourth several times while he mutters under his breath "Shit... look at you, doll, touched your pussy for 5 seconds and you're already soaked for me." Jason smacks his shaft against your cunt a few times, your body visibly tensing when you feel the tip press against your asshole. "Relax," Jason scoffs, "I know you don't like that shit. You couldn't handle me in there before, there's no way you could take me there now."

Jason's weight shifts forward, pressing his hips into you. It only takes a moment for him to find the give and sheath the tip of his engorged length inside of your cunt. Green eyes stare in awe as he watches himself slowly disappear inside of you, pausing halfway, savoring how warm and wet you feel. He curses when your inner muscles clench and relax in little spasms as you try and accommodate him. "So fucking tight, goddammit, doll, shit, shiiit... feels so good when you do that."

Your eyes roll back at how badly you've missed the feeling him inside of you. This part, this feels familiar. This doesn't feel like a stranger. Your heart fills with relief, a sense of comfort washing over you and helping you to relax.

Jason pushes even further inside when your inner walls lax around his girth. A soft hiss escapes your teeth when his crown kisses your cervix. It's too bad that you miss the grin on his face as he takes in your reaction.

"You really haven't been with anyone else, have you? Tssk." Jason slaps your ass and watches the slight recoil in awe. "I can tell. You held out. You know what that tells me?" His large hands plant themselves on either side of you against the bed. Jason leans down, shifting his weight onto you and forcing you down into the mattress, prone-bone, fully bottoming out inside your tight cunt.

A whimper falls from your throat at the sting of how he stretches you. It creates an ache deep inside of you, deep enough that only he could reach.

"Tells me you knew I was still around. You're a liar."

"W-what?" That sense of ease and comfort is gone just as quick as it came.

Jason says your name in disapproval, "We both know you're loyal to a fault. That's why you're here. That's why you put up with my shit." His clothed chest presses against the soft skin of your back as his hips begin a slow rolling motion, thrusting into you while he brings his lips to your ear, brushing against your earring. "Me dying is the only way you could ever move on from me. But I did die. And you didn't move on. Which means you knew. You knew I was alive. Which is why you didn't betray me, even when Dick was practically throwing himself at you."

His pace increases as he speaks. His words are tainted with an bitter smugness, which makes your stomach churn.

"Jason, Jay, baby, that doesn't make any sense. I really t-thought you were gone-hmmpht!" Jason gives a sharper thrust which interrupts your explanation.

"Then why didn't you move on?" He's asks in a tense whisper.

"I couldn't!" You cry out in exasperation.

"Exactly".

His hips are rolling faster against you now, only pulling out an inch or so before thrusting back in, too greedy to pull out any further. He stays deep and buries himself as far as possible inside your neglected cunt. The friction feels divine, even if the rough cotton of his t-shirt is rubbing against your back instead of his bare chest. You long for skin to skin. The closeness is something you crave, but Jason, for whatever reason, decides to deprive you of it, even though he's balls deep in your guts.

"Fuck off!" You spit out between your shallow pants and moans. "You're being a jerk!"

"Yeah?" His voice strains as his pace picks up even more. The mattress is squeaking softly and bumping up against the wall with each rut of his hips. "I'm a jerk? You think I'm a jerk?"

You moan in frustration and pound your fist against the mattress. It's difficult for you to find the right words to say when his cock is hitting all the right spots inside you. You've dreamt of this, being forced to live with the longing inside of you for a partner you thought you'd never see again. It's everything you've been craving, to be one with him again. But he's souring the intimacy with his smartass mouth.

"I don't wanna fight, Jay." You mutter in response to him. Jason's hand cradles the back of your head and pushes it further into the pillows. You're almost ashamed at how it turns you on, being crushed and handled roughly by him like this.

"Ha, don't believe that for a second." A warm hand snakes down the side of your body and slips around your hips so he has access to your clit. He's still pistoning deep into you, now nipping and biting at your neck as his fingers work your sensitive nub, sandwiched between your body and the mattress. The added stimulation makes you squeeze your thighs together. "C'mon, too late to be shy, doll. Open up f’me." His voice is a gruff rumble in you ear. It sends a chill down you spine and makes your toes curl, clenching around him to alleviate the pool of tension building in your core.

You should have better self control. You should rise above, be better than his antics. But your mind is reeling and trying to reconcile how good he’s making you feel with how irritated you are. So without much thought, you quip back, “Says the man who won't even take his shirt off when he fucks."

“The fuck did you just say?” Jason pinches your clit between his fingers, earning a sharp yelp from you that’s muffled against his pillows. His pace doesn’t falter, but his body tenses as the anger finds him again.

The sting lingers, and you push your thighs together even more, effectively squeezing him out of you somewhat unintentionally.

“No, none of that now, you’re going to let me in.”

A deep inhale blesses your lungs when Jason pushes himself up off of you, leaning back and grabbing your hips to force you on your hands and knees once more. You grip the sheets and steady yourself, unprepared for the harsh smack that stings your ass cheek.

“Ouch!” You whimper, taking a chance to look back at him again. Your lips part to voice your protest, but Jason chooses this moment to impale your body back onto him and fill up your dripping cunt in a single jolt. You swallow the cry that threatens to leave your lips. You feel so full, your eyes flutter when he starts his pace up again, the sound of wet skin smacking against wet skin filling the apartment. He’s going faster now, his fingers almost painful on your hips as the uses your body for release.

“Look at how wet you are, doll, shit.” Jason’s eyes are heavy with desire as the line between lust and anger starts to dissolve. “You know what I think?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You’re hardly in a state to answer him. The friction of his arousal pounding in and out of you, the weight of his heavy balls slapping against your clit, the sound of him straining and losing control, its making it difficult to focus on much else. As your arousal builds, your brain slows down, unable to comprehend anything other than your boyfriends cock filling you to the brim.

“I think you like when I’m mean. Look at how soaked you are right now, dripping onto my bed like a greedy slut.”

A low, depraved moan vibrates in your throat, only further proving his point.

“Ha, that’s right. Fucking… fucking knew it, god- fuck, taking me so good, so fucking good.” Jason moans your name, repeating it as he senses his release getting closer. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“Fucking love this, I… I… dammit, I love you, doll. I love you so much.” Jason's filter is gone. He’s lost in the feeling of your soft pussy squeezing him, the wet sounds of your sex bringing him to the brink.

Each hard thrust of his hips has your body recoiling. Your chest falls down to the bed, hands gripping the pillow for dear life as the vigilante relentlessly pounds into you.

“I said... I love you, bitch.” His voice actually wavers slightly at the repeated admission, his emotions peaking and threatening to spill out.

You try to respond to him, you really do. But Jason fucks the air right out of your lungs, moving at a bruising pace, ramming himself so deep in your body that your vision is blurry and nothing even close to a real word has a chance at leaving your lips. You're breathless and cock drunk as he abuses that soft spot inside of you, building up your pleasure to an unbearable level. You're close. And so is he. You tremble and pant as your orgasm hits you hard, a warm fuzzy sensation radiating between your legs where your bodies meet, more of your slick splattering Jason's thighs in droplets from how hard he's fucking you. The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his hard length is the final push he needs.

You attempt to muffle the fragmented scream that falls from your mouth at his last few brutal thrusts. Jason curses, his breath catching as his balls tighten and release his load into you, mixing with your own fluids to create a sticky mess that oozes out around his cock. His hips finally slow, giving a few more gentle pumps as he rides his high. His labored breathing is accompanied by more curses and soft groans. You stay still, reeling from your own release, your mind still fuzzy and not thinking clearly.

Jason leans forward, putting his weight one hand while the other reaches for your flushed face, reaching around to grip your chin firmly. Following his lead, you let him turn your head to finally look back at him. The anger is still there. You're not sure if it will ever go away. But there is a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before. He's still inside of you, hunched over your body, flushed face only inches from yours.

"Say it back."

Your eyes widen at how broken he sounds. It takes a few seconds before you can get your mouth to move, but as soon as you've gathered yourself you respond, you say "I love you, Jason" with as much tenderness as you can muster.

He nods, eyes narrowing, before finally sitting up and removing himself from you. "Good." He mumbles, moving until he's sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing. "Remember that next time you threaten to leave."

"It... it wasn't a threat." You explain, but you're so breathless and fucked-out that you're not sure if he hears you. Relaxing onto the bed, you lay on your side to look at him with worry. The emotions inside of you are tumultuous, confusing you even further as you try and decide if this was progress or not.

"I keep you around because you belong here. With me." Jason stands up, avoiding your anxious gaze and keeping his back to you. "Don't fucking forget it." His feat thud against the floor as he walks over to the bathroom, disappearing and closing the door behind him with a slam.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

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contradictivs · 2 years

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just casually thinking about the idea of subby ryder being so overwhelmed & fucked out that he just starts gasping ‘I’m a good boy’ over & over again

#( tell me to shut up ; ooc. )#I can no longer find the audio that gave me that idea and I’m Pissed #but that is honestly the biggest ryder mood where he’s just #too overwhelmed or flustered so he’s just trying to prove #that’s he good and should be given what he wants <3

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safination · 4 months

Text

Partners in Death…and Life

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…

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. H-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 red 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. “Uh…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 be meeting 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 that away. You grab the 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.

#alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #Hazbin x reader #Hazbin Hotel imagines #Hazbin imagines #Hazbin Hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x wife reader

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sameschmidtdiffname · 5 months

Text

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

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."

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."

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.

Masterlist

#yes nick is nick brady from paradise lost #i couldnt help myself #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic

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igotanidea · 11 months

Text

What is wrong with you!? : AK!Jason Todd x reader

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.

#jason todd x reader #arkham knight x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x oc #jason todd angst #jason todd smut #arkham knight #arkham knight smut #arkham knight angst #arkham knight jason todd #arkham knight x y/n #arkham knight imagine #arkhamverse

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writingmeraki · 9 months

Text

cold enough to chill my bones.

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

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?

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.

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cheianimatez · 2 months

Text

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-)

#sagau impostor au #gaming x reader #can be read as platonic or romantic #genshin sagau #genshin impact #genshin x reader #gaming being a gen z as usual lol

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

Note

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?

#aita #am i the asshole

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koipaper · 2 months

Note

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

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.

#yandere #fundamental paper education #yandere blog #yandere fundamental paper education #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #female yandere #female yandere x reader #engel #claire #engel x reader #yandere engel #claire x reader #yandere claire

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byhuenii · 6 months

Text

⊱☆⊰ COFFEE STAINED SHIRT

prompt— couples truth or drink with bf gojo satoru. (WC: idk) pairing— gojo satoru x fem!reader warnings— MINORS DNI! not proofread, fluff, maybe ooc gojo, typos, suggestive, maybe more im missing. a/n— these videos get me through boring days lol, i love these and yeah MINORS DNI. gojo’s questions are in blue and yours are in purple

“ are we already recording orr… ” satoru’s blue eyes squint at the camera crew who put up their thumbs as a yes now start the video.

YN : “ hi. my name is yn ln! ”

GOJO : “ and im satoru gojo, and this is truth or drink couples edition! ”

“ how long have you two been together and how did you meet up? ”

a sly smirk rolled onto satoru’s lips causing you to groan outloud. “ well if you insist~ she actually spilled coffee on my white shirt that i gifted myself for my own birthday! and 2 1/2 years ”

“ it didnt even look expensive ”, she mumbled under her breath, a few staff giggled

GOJO : “ what? ”

YN : “ nothing anyways.ill go first! ”

a small chuckle escaped her lips, “ oh wow starting off stong. okay what is your favorite part of my body ” her eyes deadpanned to the camera “ i already know what he is gonna say, and its gonna be my ass and boobs .”

GOJO : “ wrong its your heart, i love the way it beats and brings me comfort ”

the silence was evident, gojo tried not to laugh causing little hee hee tee hee slip out. you stared at the camera blank expression.

GOJO : “ it is your boobs and ass though. ” a wide smile plastered on his face

“ have you liked any of my friends? ” satoru happily placed the card down staring beams against you, you hesitated at bit your hand rested against the cup, “ see! she only had eyes on me—“

you took a shot eyes squinting at the bitter and hot aftertaste lingering on your tongue

GOJO : “ WHAT ?? ” “ WHO?? WHAT ??? ”

YN : “ nope i took a shot im not saying shit! ”

GOJO : “ …do any of them know..? ”

YN : “ well i wanna say both of them. ”

GOJO : “ BOTH? AS IN TWO?? ”

you cleared your throat “ anyways, what were your first impressions of me ”

GOJO : “ i thought you were really cute especially when you apologized after spilling the coffee on my shirt.. ”

YN : “ is that it? ” you smiled at how sweet he thought of you

GOJO : “ …and that i wanted to fuc— “

YN : “ OKAY OKAY FUCK. NEVERMIND I ASKED. JUST GO. ” your face turned red flipping off satoru who blew you a kiss

“ what is the one thing you wouldnt change about me? ” satoru rested his head in his hand kicking his feet from under the chair

YN : “ your beautiful big blue eyes. ”

GOJO : “ i was expecting you to say like my big dick or something but awww ”

you kicked his foot under the table “ yeah i guess i love that too. ”

GOJO : “ no no you do love it, you tell me all the time ”

“ okay shut up satoru. how many people did you have sex with while we were talking? ”

GOJO : “ zero, after you spilled that coffee on my shirt i only wanted you. ”

“ whats the meanest thing you said about me to your friends? ” gojo smiled, “ it cant be that bad ”

you sighed taking a shot, debating if you should pour yourself another shot.

GOJO : “ okay im hurt ” he exclaimed dramatically,

YN : “ you may of not had sex with other girls when we were talking but you flirted with them toru. ”

GOJO : “ ..hey i said i was sorry! ” his pout was evident

“ if you could change one thing about me what would it be? ”

GOJO : “ nothing. ”

YN : “ all quick.. ”

“ me or peeta mellark? ”

YN : “ both? ”

GOJO : “ no pick thats not fair! “

YN : “ okay well you obviously! i love my boyfriend more than some fictional man.. ” you looked over at the camera ans whispered peeta mellark,

GOJO : “ HEY I SAW THAT NO NO— “

“ have you ever faked an orgasm? ”

YN : “ no. ”

GOJO : “ im just that good ladies never settle for anything lower! ” he winked at the camera

“ have you ever thought of breaking up with me or taking a break? ”

GOJO : “ honestly once i did, but that was just because my job is so demanding i didnt want you to constantly be alone waiting for me ”

“ would you of dated me STILL if i had a child with another women? ”

YN : “ oh hell yeah i would, kid no kid it dont matter to me ”

“ what is my biggest flaw? ”

YN : “ you are very cocky and some times act like nobody can touch you or you think youre alone basically. ”

GOJO : “ well..damn ”

YN : “ its okay i still love you ”

“ have you every considered having an open relationship? ”

GOJO : “ i have thought about it BUT i don’t like the idea of open relationships. whats the point of being im a relationship if you are going to date another person? it doesn’t make me feel right either.. ”

YN : “ okay good cause i would’ve killed you if you said yes. ”

“ whats the nicest thing you’ve said about me to your friends? ”

GOJO : ww had meanest so obviously we need the nicest now spill.

YN : okay well, this was when we were in our talking stage. i already knew he liked me but i was trying to figure out my feelings and he waited for me and was so supportive. i think i cried and ranted to my friends about him the next day—

GOJO : i mean nobody should pressure nobody into a relationship

YN : see ladies NEVER SETTLE FOR LESS KEEP THOSE EXPECTATIONS HIGH.

GOJO : in the wise words of taylor swift “in a world of boys hes a gentleman!”,

YN : since when did you know tswift…

GOJO : …

“ if i was a leech would you still love me? ”

GOJO : “ aww yes, id put a cute little bow on you! ”

YN : “ really? id love a glitter bow— “

GOJO : “ i would keep you on my arm ans let you suck the shit out of me— “

YN : “ okay bye this video is over. MAKE SURE LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE— ”

GOJO : “ WHAT ALREADY? I WAS JOKING WAIT PLEASE, ”

A/N: :3 gojo :3

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #— prim’s ☆ wildest dreams!#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru blurb #gojo satoru fluff #gojou satoru x reader #okay :3

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myhairpintrigger · 1 year

Text

Moonlight & Shadows (aleksander morozova x fem!moon summoner!reader)

READ PART 1 HERE

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the requested part two to another request i had gotten previously so PLEASE read that first. it’ll make it easier for you to understand this one :) apologies in advance for how long this is… i got very carried away.

requested by: @sloppyzengarden

as always.. PLEASE SEND ME YOUR LOVELY REQUESTS <33

warnings: major character death, spoilers for season 2, canon typical violence, mentions of blood. slightly (?) ooc (?) mal

word count: 17.5k

Tendrils of shadow weaved themselves between your glowing fingers and you tapped them, watching as the darkness of the shadows fizzled into a soft silvery shower of tiny sparks.

Your delicate hand was clasped tightly in Aleksander’s much larger, scarred one. A black mark covered the back of his hand where the bone of the stag used to sit, fused into his skin.

With your free hand and his, the two of you absentmindedly messed around with your powers, something the two of you did often. He claimed you should use it often and that’s why he did it, but you suspected it was because he enjoyed watching your light consume his shadows and turn them into silvery, moonlit sparks.

You sat on one of his thighs while your legs were draped across the other and you laid your head down on his shoulder. Every now and then, he’d turn to press a kiss to the side of your face. Despite the situation you were in, the pressures you both were under, you’d never felt so adored.

You pulled back just a bit to look up at his face to admire him. Black scars now decorated his beautiful face and there was a different roughness to him ever since you had found him, emerging from The Fold.

He didn’t like his scars, but to you, they were just another part of the man you loved so dearly. Every part of him was so beautiful to you.

As if sensing your stare, he slowly turned his head downwards and gazed at you through his half-lidded, tired eyes.

“What’re you staring at, little one?” He asked and reached down to run just the tips of his calloused fingers over your cheek.

“Just you. What else?” You answered honestly, and he simply let out a short laugh.

He didn’t respond in any other way, instead deciding to wrap both of his arms around your waist. You laid your hands on his chest and rested your cheek against his collarbone, eyes falling shut slowly. Comfort washed over you like a warm rain and you gathered the lapels of his kefta in your fists, holding yourself as close to him as you possibly could.

Most of your nights ended like this, together. Ever since you had found him, crawling out of The Fold with his nichevo'ya following behind him, he’d held you just a little bit tighter when he got the chance to. He hadn’t allowed you to board the skiff with him and Alina on that fateful day where everything went terribly wrong. He’d instead had Ivan put you to sleep and left you in his tent back at the army encampment. When you woke, you could feel him. All of him. All of his pain, his suffering, and most of all, you could feel the way he was calling for you. You heard it in your mind, and it led you all the way to the edge of The Fold. When he came stumbling out, you ran to him, taking him into your capable arms.

When you promised him forever, you meant just that.

You’d always known there was a darkness within Aleksander. A darkness that was more than just the shadows he controlled.

A darkness that you’d taken in whole and accepted as part of the man you loved.

There was much unspoken between the two of you, much that was unnecessary to speak. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and at this point, you liked to believe that you knew him better than he did.

“You ought to be getting some sleep, my precious Saint.” He whispered and placed a kiss against the side of your head.

“I do not wish to, not yet.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am comfortable here with you.” You replied and looked up at him. His face was soft, a sight you’d seldom seen before his emergence from The Fold. You felt a twinge of sadness in your stomach and he must have noticed it on your face, because he cupped your face with one hand and leaned down towards you.

“Oh, my love. None of that. Do not pity me. I am alive and I am well. You are mine, I am yours, we will emerge victorious through it all, all is right. All is well.” he cooed in a tone that could’ve convinced you that the sky was green rather than blue.

His warm lips pressed themselves against your temple and he drew you in closer to himself until you were completely covered in him.

“My beautiful Saint of the Moon, sleep now. I will not let go of you.” he promised in that same velvet tone, and it was enough to make you close your eyes.

“But you need your sleep, too, moi soverenyi.” you whispered to him, but you felt his finger tap your lips.

“I will sleep once I know you have comfortably fallen into your very own slumber. As I do every night.” he replied and you nuzzled your face into the side of his chest.

You listened to the shallow beating of his heart underneath your cheek and you focused on the rise and fall of his chest, never wanting to move from the spot you’d taken up residency in for the night. The distant sound of his heart lulled you to sleep, slowly at first, and then your exhaustion came down on you like an avalanche, pulling you down into its clutches.

“Do you think perhaps once we find the last amplifier that I could have a bit of it, too?” you asked softly, watching as Aleksander flipped through a leather bound book on the table in front of the two of you.

Vladim, a small Alkemi pushed another book towards Aleksander and he let out a discontented hum.

“But of course, my little moonbeam. Anything you would like shall be yours.” he mumbled distractedly and you heard a snort from the other side of the room. You glanced over at Baghra who sat in her cage, eyeing you with contempt.

“Feeling like a little house kitten yet, Miss y/l/n?” Baghra asked and Aleksander’s head perked up.

“Speak not to my Moon Summoner, woman. Keep your spite to yourself and rot with it, mother.” he said sharply and then as if he had to apologize, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Do ignore her. She couldn’t possibly understand the capacity of that which I have affection for you.” he murmured and then picked up another book.

“Please. You know little of true affection, Aleksander. You’ll have your fun with your pet and then once the novelty wears off, you’ll want another. Something else to gain.” she said with a sense of pride that made you curl your fingers into fists.

“Last I checked, Baghra, I was not the one collared and chained to a skiff. My presence is entirely voluntary.” you snapped, referring to Alina.

“Voluntary because you choose to show him what tricks you’ve learned. Because you derive your pride and pleasures on making him proud. Proud of the tricks he taught you. You-“

“Enough!” Aleksander yelled and turned towards Baghra, “Bitter hag. Make your assumptions to yourself, for you know little of what you speak.” he snapped and the room fell entirely silent.

His arm wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into his side tightly.

“You can have whatever you like. If you desire The Firebird, then I shall give it to you on a silver platter.” he repeated and then stared down at you, his eyes steely, “A queen deserves that much.”

A warm feeling, much akin to drunkenness, filled your chest as you looked up at Aleksander and he trailed his eyes away from the journal in his hands. He looked down upon your face and then he sighed.

“Stop gazing at me like that. We have things to do today and if I catch your affectionate stare once more, I will want nothing else but to stare back.” He replied and then he set the journal down and clutched your hands in his.

He gave you a soft smile and then he ducked down to place a delicate kiss on your cheekbone.

“My dear girl, would you be so kind as to fetch me the notebook that is in our room?” He asked softly and you looked up at him, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

“Of course. Give me a moment, I’ll be right back.” You promised and he moved in to give you one more peck on the side of your face and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Once he had released your hands and turned back to his work with Vladim, you walked out into the hallway, humming quite contently to yourself.

You rounded the corner to your bedroom when a hand closed itself around your arm. You spun around urgently only to see Genya standing behind you, her lips pursed in a frown.

“Y/n,” she began, speaking in a tone not much louder than a simple breath, “I am hoping you will find it within yourself to help me.”

You gazed into the red headed girl’s eyes and you blinked a couple of times, reaching up to gently lay your hand on her forearm.

“You look ever so frightened, Genya.”

“I need your help-“

“Yes but you are shaking.” You protested, cutting her off.

“That is why I need your help!” She exclaimed and then she leaned her face into her hands, “I did not mean to raise my voice to you, I apologize, y/n.”

You’d never seen her act so skittish before and it struck a chord of worry deep within you.

“Oh, please no. Don’t apologize. Just tell me what you need, darling.” You breathed, trying to be as soft and kind as you could be to the anxiety ridden girl.

“David and I-“ Once again, the girl was cut off by a bloodcurdling scream behind the two of you, and you slowly turned around.

The scream resonated in your bones, it nearly made you shiver with its proximity. You’d heard that kind of scream many times before; someone was in great pain.

Determined footsteps followed just a moment later and they echoed down the hall, coming closer to the two of you.

Genya let go of your arm instantly and she turned the opposite corner and took off in a fast walk, leaving you standing in confusion. Just as you went to walk to your bedroom, another hand caught your arm and you looked up to see Aleksander.

He did not look down at you this time. His face, though stoic, had a burning fury bubbling just underneath the skin, and you could see this through his dark eyes. His jaw was set so tightly you thought he might shatter each and every one of his teeth. You had not been around an angry Aleksander before. Either he displayed his anger elsewhere, or he was just very skilled at keeping it at bay. Whatever the case may have been, the apoplectic glint in his eyes made you frown and you wanted to make yourself very small in that moment.

“My love?” You whispered and reached up to place your hand on top of his as he held your upper arm.

His restraint was impressive. For someone who had eons of rage just beneath the surface, he held your arm so gently that you would have believed him to be much happier if you’d felt his touch without seeing his face.

After just a moment, he tipped his head down towards you and he gave you a very, very tense look.

“I have acquired amplifiers for you and I.” He said simply and then he let his fingers fall away from your arm before he gently brushed past you and strode down the hall.

You wondered where he could have found an amplifier so instantaneously and you turned around and made your way back into the room he had just left.

Vladimi stood at his table with a semi-disgusted look on his face and you stared at him for a moment before you dared to look over at Baghra, who had her hand cradled against her chest. Blood slipped through her fingers at a rapid rate and dribbled onto the floor beneath her. You questioned what had happened and turned to Vladim to ask, though, you wished you hadn’t, because the boy held a dish with one severed finger sitting upon it.

Your mouth fell open and you looked between Vladim and Baghra rapidly before you retreated out of the room, feeling rather sick to your stomach.

You hadn’t seen Aleksander all day. Not since he informed you that you now had an amplifier. The thought made you shiver.

You had never been fond of Baghra, in fact, the two of you had a very tumultuous acquaintanceship. She was very well aware of the fact that you stood with her son at all times, completely devoted to him. Just as you were well aware she was completely devoted to his downfall. The two beliefs didn’t match up, and neither did the two of you. That didn’t necessarily mean you wanted her to be dismembered in the name of your own gain.

It wasn’t as if you were angry with Aleksander, though. Truth be told, you were a bit afraid of him at the moment. You had never seen the man angry before. He was smart, he played his cards right, and he was cautious to never show you his anger, his contempt. Perhaps it was because he knew just how terrifying he could be. He didn’t need a gun, he didn’t need weaponry of any kind, he didn’t even need to raise his voice. All Aleksander needed to invoke fear was a simple change in his eyes, and the look in them earlier was enough to send a biting chill down to your very bones. And you weren’t even the subject of his anger.

You finished your ninth slow lap around the grounds of the sanctuary and you rubbed your cold nose a few times, letting out a little sigh. You’d been outside walking for quite some time now, trying to decide what to do next. You wanted to thank Aleksander for the amplifier, but you also wanted to ask him why. You wanted to go inside and sit on his thigh while he pondered by his window, but you didn’t want to see his anger. So you instead went for your tenth circle around the grounds, only getting started before someone cleared their throat near you.

You turned your head to see David walking alongside you now and you gave him a little smile. He didn’t smile back.

“Is there anything I can do for you, David?” You asked, keeping the polite smile on your face as you spoke to him.

“Yes. I need to ask something of you. I would never ask if I wasn’t completely desperate.” He mumbled and then looked away from you.

“Ask.” You instructed, and you were almost surprised with how your tone resembled Aleksander’s.

David must have thought the same thing because his eyes shot towards you and he studied your face for a moment before he shook his head.

“I am… leaving. With Genya. I need you to keep The Darkling… occupied. For the evening. Please, y/n. I know very well of your devotion to him, I know what I risk by asking this of you, but I saw your eyes today, when you realized what he’d done to Baghra. You are afraid of him. So are we. Please, I beg you to let us go. Let us escape. Buy us some time.” He explained, not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

You eyed him and pursed your lips. A bit of your own anger began to build and you let out a little scoff.

“Do you realize what you ask of me? You want me to deceive the man who protects me? Who protects you? All of us? David, he saved Genya. He saved you, and all you can do to repay him is run?” You asked incredulously, your eyes narrowing.

“He is no man! He is evil in its truest form. He commands wicked things, horrible things. He inspires nothing a man who saves his people should inspire. He inspires fear! Pure fear!” David protested and then stopped walking, causing you to stop as well.

You looked the Durast up and down in disgust and you clenched your hands into fists.

“You only fear what you don’t understand. Just because you cannot see the beauty in his nature does not mean it isn’t there. You and Genya are ingrates. You should be ashamed of yourselves. He saved you, took you in, gives you purpose and a shelter in a country where Grisha are being hunted every single day-“

“And why are they being hunted now?” David asked sharply, cutting you off.

“Because they fear what they don’t understand!” You exclaimed, “Just as you do! Just as Genya does! My answer is no. I will not aid in your abandonment. If you wish to run, do so at your own risk. I hide nothing from my Darkling.” You hissed, squaring your shoulders as you stared up at David.

The mild-mannered man looked down at you in a sort of disbelief and then he shook his head.

“I cannot have you tell him what we have planned.” He said somberly and reached out for your arm, but you jumped back as quickly as he moved forward.

“I will tell him what I please!” You shrieked and held your hand up threateningly, the silvery light of the moon glowing just beneath your skin, “It would do you well to not try and stop me, David Kostyk.” You warned before you stepped back once more. You stared at him for just a moment longer before you took off back towards the sanctuary, running with intent. You looked back just once to see him running in the opposite direction. Frustration filled your chest and you ran even faster up to the doors. You flung them open once you reached them and dashed inside. It took all the self control you had not to scream Aleksander’s name, and as soon as you came running through the halls, Genya went running past you and you gasped.

You ran down the hall to your bedroom, your footsteps graceless and loud as you stampeded towards the room and you pushed the door open.

Aleksander sat in his chair and when the door flew open, he slowly looked up at you.

If he was angry still, there was no trace of it left on his face and in his eyes. Instead he looked exhausted, pained, regretful.

You let out a loud cry of frustration and you pointed towards the hall, out of breath.

“Genya and David are deserting!” You cried out.

That got his attention and he stood as quickly as you got the words out. He grabbed his cloak from off of the table it laid on and he nodded towards the door.

“Come then.” He commanded simply and he stormed out of the room and you followed behind him, your chest heaving.

He pulled his cloak on as he walked and then reached back to grab your wrist and pull you closer to him.

“How do you know they are deserting?” He asked you as the pair of you made your way outside towards his horse.

“David. He asked me to keep you distracted while he ran with Genya.” You admitted and Aleksander looked down at you with wide eyes.

“Then I suppose we will have to put a stop to that, won’t we?” He asked in a hum.

As soon as you reached his horse, he hoisted you up onto the animal and climbed on behind you and kicked the horse in the side, getting it to move.

You looked out across the clearing before you and you saw Genya’s head bobbing above and beneath the tops of shrubbery and twiggy bushes.

“There.” You said and pointed towards the distance, and Aleksander didn’t waste any time in steering his horse in that same direction.

You placed your hands on top of his gently and you let out a very quiet sigh.

“I am sorry, my love.” You whispered and you could feel him shake his head behind you.

“This is not your doing, I will not have you apologetic for the actions of others.” He replied and simply urged his horse on faster until the only sound you heard was the thundering of the animal’s hooves.

The two of you chased the girl up a few paths until you rounded a corner and he called out for her viciously.

“Stand and answer me!” He shouted determinedly.

Genya was cornered. There was nowhere else for her to run now that she was stuck between some old ruins and you and Aleksander. Your lover threw himself off of the horse and you stayed up on its back, staring down at him as he stalked towards her.

His hood hung over his head ominously, and the ground beneath his feet blackened in little tendrils, all radiating out from him. Genya was shaking like a frightened animal and her eyes darted between you and Aleksander in terror.

Normally, you probably would’ve felt pity for the scared girl, but all you felt in that moment was a white hot twinge of frustration .

How dare she so easily abandon the man who saved her life? The man who wanted nothing but peace for his people.

You stared coldly at the girl and you straightened up your shoulders, your jaw setting sternly.

Aleksander pushed his hood off of his head as he approached the Tailor and he looked around the small clearing.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked lowly, still approaching Genya, “I rescue you from certain death, yet you abandon me.” His tone was calm, so soft that it was eerie.

She looked up at you as if you might save her from her fate, but you simply watched her as if this was nothing but a show put on for your own entertainment, a silly little attempt at your amusement.

Her face became one of anger and she whipped her head towards Aleksander.

“You used me to satisfy a king. I should be your greatest shame,” she replied, her voice trembling just as hard as she was, “Please,” she began, tears forming in her wide blue eyes, “just let me go.” She wasn’t begging, she wasn’t asking. She was trying to reason with him.

She turned towards you and then she let out a fragment of a gasp.

“And you! Who have you become? You were my friend!” She cried and pointed at you shakily.

You raised an eyebrow and then let out a long sigh. You tucked a fallen strand of hair behind your ear and you shifted on the horse.

“You speak of things you have no possible capacity of knowing.” You replied in an even tone.

“Please, just let me go.” She repeated, eyes still on you as if you were going to speak up on her behalf.

You weren’t.

“I’m afraid not.” Aleksander spoke, and you tore your eyes away from Genya just in time to see one of his nichevo'ya rise up from the ground at his side, “I need you, Genya.” He added, approaching her with small steps, his side half consumed by the cyclonic billowing of shadows that made up his new creatures of nothing.

Genya jammed her hand into her coat and yanked out a gun, and without hesitation, shot into the nichevo'ya. The misshapen humanlike form of shadow moved toward her, followed by Aleksander and she made one last look up at you before the nichevo'ya wrapped itself around her and she let out a gut twisting scream.

You averted your eyes from the scene in front of you and pushed down the little sliver of guilt that prodded at your throat.

She deserved it. She was going to desert you. She betrayed Aleksander, she would have gone straight to Alina.

You closed your eyes and took a few slow breaths before you opened them again and exhaled slowly. You kept your eyes on your hands now as Genya continued to scream and for only a second, you thought you tasted but a lick of the fear that compelled Genya and David.

Aleksander was nearly doubled over coughing when you entered your room. You approached him with caution to make sure you didn’t startle him, and you laid your hand gently on his back, passing him a handkerchief from the pocket of your kefta.

He took it from you very gently and held it over his mouth as he continued to cough. After a few moments of this, he straightened up slowly and lowered the handkerchief. He dropped it on the chair he was clutching onto and you didn’t dare look at it, afraid of what you might find.

His eyes found your face and he reached out for you, his hand sliding gently around your neck as he pulled you into his chest.

“I know that look. I’ve told you not to pity me.” He mumbled and tucked your head against his chest. His voice was hoarse and he sounded exhausted, but you let him pull you close nonetheless and wrapped your arms around him tightly.

“Aleksander, I do not pity you. I worry for you. Grisha do not get sick, yet you cough and are burdened with headaches. I have the right to worry. I lo…” you slowly trailed off and let out a small huff. You didn’t let yourself finish, instead, you pressed your face against his kefta and closed your eyes tightly.

Many of the emotional things between you and Aleksander went unspoken, and it had always been this way. You weren’t doubtful that he loved you, just as he wasn’t doubtful that you loved him. Nonetheless, it was a word that fell into the realm of the unspoken.

You never knew why.

Perhaps it was that it had a deeper meaning than just the affection you two held for one another. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to proclaim your love for him in verbal form. But he never did. Not in such a direct way. For you, not telling Aleksander that you loved him was simply because he never did either, but for him, you theorized that it was much deeper. Maybe it was because he didn’t love you- which you didn’t believe for one moment- or maybe it was because the last time he claimed love for someone, they were murdered before his very eyes. Or perhaps it was because the moment he said it aloud, he would give up the very thing that kept him impenetrable to his enemies: he would give up his supposed invincibility.

To his enemies, The Darkling didn’t have weaknesses. He didn’t falter, and he didn’t hesitate.

To most of them at least. It was no secret that you two were close, and Alina knew that much. Though, you didn’t fear Alina. Neither did he.

But you were his weakness, just as he was yours. You admittedly had many more weaknesses than he, your so few years on this earth leaving you with soft spots that had yet to harden. He had the luxury of having those soft spots hidden behind walls and steel and stone.

His hand slid away from your neck and up into your hair as you stood silently in your thoughts, and his fingers curled protectively against your scalp.

“You worry for such trivial things, angel.” He replied quietly.

It wasn’t trivial.

Not to you.

If he didn’t get the third amplifier before Alina did, you knew that his use of merzost freely would poison him until his heart finally did stop for the first time in over five hundred years.

You didn’t say anything more. You just kept your face hidden against his chest and you clung to him, desperate to have him as close to you as possible. Especially tonight. Especially after Genya.

The two of you hadn’t said a word on the matter, and you knew it was because Aleksander knew he’d frightened you, even if you did try to mask it with a replica of the hard facade of his that you coveted so deeply at times.

A knock on the door broke your silence and pulled you away from your wondering thoughts and Aleksander gently pulled your head away from his chest with the grip he had on your hair. He leaned down and pressed one delicate kiss to your lips before he let go of you and cleared his throat.

“Yes?” He called and the door opened briskly.

His unofficial right hand, Fruzsi stepped into the room and she approached the two of you instantly.

“General, Miss y/l/n.” She greeted with reverence.

Aleksander hardly acknowledged her greeting and instead turned his body towards her and let out a quiet wheeze before he spoke.

“The moment Genya is conscious, let’s take her and make sure the others understand what awaits them if they are disloyal.” He instructed and you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to be part of that.

“With pleasure.” Fruzsi replied obediently and clutched her hands in front of her as she bowed her head just slightly at Aleksander.

He turned back around and faced you now, reaching out to carefully adjust your kefta, straightening it and dusting it off just a bit.

“I’ll admit disappointment,” he began and then he tidied up the collar of your kefta, and though he was fiddling with your clothing, you knew he was speaking to Fruzsi, “I always felt an affinity for her. And David,” he continued before he turned back towards the other girl in the room.

“Morozova’s journal is missing.” She blurted and you stiffened.

The journal was the only thing you all had with the information that was needed to possibly cure Aleksander’s ailment that he’d dragged out of The Fold with himself.

His shoulders stiffened and you reached out to grasp his forearm, and though he didn’t acknowledge you, he was thankful that your hand was on his arm.

Your touch grounded him.

“Vladim believes David took it.” Fruzsi continued on, a look of worry ghosting over her features.

Aleksander didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds and you brushed your thumb soothingly over the sleeve of his kefta, even though you were sure he didn’t feel it through the thick material.

Of course David would take it. The one thing that you needed. The betrayal of Aleksander by two people he claimed to trust sent a stab of sickness up through your stomach.

“And with it, any possibility of understanding my… condition.” he slowly turned towards you, his face colorless. The same anger from earlier boiled just beneath his skin and his eyes seemed to glow with the same fury.

You practically cowered underneath his indignant stare.

His lip curled back just slightly and you let out a shaking breath, your hand tightening around his arm, mouth forming his name.

You had never been one for anger before. It took a great deal to get you to the point of rage, and even then, you kept yourself as calm as you could. You had to. All of your life, you had to. You could tell by the look in your lover’s eyes, that he reached his breaking point. There was no masking his anger now, his mask had fallen, and there was no amount of patience now that could compel him to slip the mask back on.

“Leave.” He hissed over his shoulder at Fruzsi.

The girl glanced worriedly at him and then at you before she bowed her head once more and scurried out of the room.

Aleksander yanked his arm from your grip and you gasped softly.

“Aleksander, my love-“ you began but he held up a hand to silence you.

You fell silent, your heart hammering anxiously against your chest now.

He breathed heavily for a moment before he launched his arms down upon his desk and sent everything atop it flying, a loud, mangled cry leaving his mouth. He turned his back on you and leaned up against the desk as he continued to scream, and you brought your hands up to your mouth, tears gathering in your eyes.

The sound of his yells and the clattering of objects flying off the desk made you jump and you stumbled backwards just a bit, a tiny cry escaping your lips. You held your hands tightly over your mouth and watched him as he lifted a shaking hand and turned it over, staring at the remnants of his and Alina’s shared amplifier.

You watched him in shock and you shook your head, lowering your hands from your mouth.

You knew very well of the tether Aleksander shared with Alina, and you also knew of the dangers that came with it. He loved to have the last word, loved to toy with the girl as if she was a mouse caught by only her tail and he was the cat that held her in place.

“My love, do not call on her, you’ll only grow angrier.” You whispered and stepped towards him.

But he already had.

You had barely left your room for a week now. You’d barely found the will to speak along with your desire to not leave the room.

Aleksander knew very well that he had scared you the night the journal was reported missing, and though he didn’t come out and apologize aloud yet, he’d spent a considerable amount of time with his arms around you. He would hold you against his chest and he’d coo sweet little things in your ears and he’d rock you back and forth like he was comforting a baby.

His guilt was eating him alive, perhaps more rapidly than the merzost was.

Tonight in particular pained him more than the others.

You were sat at his desk and stacked his papers carefully after arranging them. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t even mean to stand up so fast and so aggressively, but he rose rapidly from his favored chair and you jumped backwards, eyes wide as you looked up at him.

You stood up quickly and tried to play it off as just getting up, but he’d seen the way you’d flinched.

“Y/n,” he whispered and slowly moved towards you. When he was only a foot away from you, you looked up at him and gave him a watery smile and shook your head.

“No, Aleksander I’m just fine. It’s okay.” You insisted and held your hands out to dismiss whatever he was about to say. You knew the look on his face well. He was stricken.

“You are not fine. You walk on eggshells around me. You have ever since Genya.” He stated and you swallowed nervously, shaking your head in protest.

“I don’t, I promise.” You insisted, your voice getting stuck in your throat nearly at the end.

“What do you call this, then? You jumping at my abrupt movements, your newfound anxiety in my presence. Just seven days ago, I brought you comfort. I know this has to do with her and my outburst and I am sorry that-“

“No! No! Please, Aleksander! You have nothing to apologize for-“

“I am sorry that I allowed myself to act that-“

“Please, no-“ you cut him off again, only to be cut off in return.

“Will you just listen? It was no way for me to behave. Especially in front of you. Because if I don’t have your devotion and your trust then I have nothing.” He said firmly and reached down to cup your face in his hands.

His touch was feather-light and he held your face carefully as if you were thin, breakable glass.

“You have my devotion and all of my trust. It was just… new. Genya has nothing to do with it. I’ve just never seen you so… angry. It startled me.” You admitted in a whisper and Aleksander leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

“My sweet little angel, I do apologize for startling you. Please know that my anger will never be turned on you, it will never be directed towards you. How could I be angry with you? You stand by me so adamantly and so loyally. That is a wonder. A beautiful wonder. I’ve not known such unconditional devotion.”

“That’s because it’s not only unconditional devotion, Aleksander.” You whispered and closed your eyes, your lips trembling under the weight of the words you wished to speak.

“What else is it, then?”

“I am devoted to you, that is the truth. But I don’t regard you with only devotion, Aleksander. This unconditional devotion you speak of is not devotion at all. It is love.” Your voice broke at the end and a single tear rolled down your cheek, “It is love Aleksander. Unconditional love. And I know you don’t wish to say that aloud, but it’s-“

He cut you off yet again, this time with his lips crashing down upon your own.

You received his kiss with a type of reverence that could only be comparable to the kind you give to a God and you returned his action by kissing him back. His fingers curled into your hair and held your face to his as he kissed you with the same reverence, and you could feel past his apology, past the shared reverence. You felt his sorrow and his fear and his devotion to you, all in his kiss. When he finally pulled back to take in a breath of air, he let out the tiniest cry you had ever heard out of his mouth and he clenched his jaw painfully tight.

“What have you done to me, woman?” He asked breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut.

You opened your mouth to answer but you never got the chance to, because he spoke again before you could.

“I don’t fear things. I am the one to be feared. But I fear losing you. It rattles me down to my very skeleton. I fear losing you the way I should fear death. Tell me what you’ve done to me. Tell me what curse you’ve put on me to leave me in such a haze. Tell me why you have me on my knees for your love. Oh, I want it. I need it. I crave it. Oh, how I want you. I need you. I crave you. You are the light that belongs to the darkness. The Moon needs the shadows to shine. You were meant for me, just as I was meant for you. And oh, my beautiful saint, how I love you.”

You gasped at his words softly and he nudged his nose against your own, and you didn’t notice that you were crying until he was wiping your cheeks dry with his thumbs.

“When we win, when we get out of this victorious and I rise as King, I will make you my queen. I will have you for life. I will marry you, underneath that pretty willow behind the Little Palace, in the dead of night where we can be surrounded by nothing but shadows and moonlight. Isn’t that what we are? Shadows and moonlight?” His tone was hushed and it was devout, as if he were a prophet reading you his favorite scripture.

You brought your own hands up to Aleksander’s face and you cupped it the same way he cupped yours. You wanted to speak, but you weren’t sure if anything would leave your mouth except for sobs, so you let him continue.

“I fall at your feet, Sankta y/n. You are my very own saint to worship, and I will make sure that one day, you are the one they scrawl into the history books and sacred texts. Sankta y/n, summoner of the Moon. My love, my life. You are the one thing that makes me stronger while simultaneously making me weak.”

“That is love, my dear Aleksander.” You cried and he shushed you with a handful of light kisses over your trembling lips.

“That is love.” He echoed, his lips so close to yours that they brushed your bottom lip when he spoke.

The two of you stood in silence for a long time, and he wiped your tears when they fell and you brushed your thumb over the soft skin underneath his eyes.

Finally, he pulled his face away from yours and he looked down into your eyes with an intensity he’d not looked at you with before.

“I mean it. I will make you my queen and marry you underneath the willow behind the Little Palace. Surrounded and adored by Grisha. We will liberate our people and I will spend eternity by your side. My queen of the Moon, the love of my life.”

You nodded once, a small smile tugging the corners of your lips upwards.

“Eternity sounds nice.”

In the days following your heart to heart with your Darkling, Aleksander had a Durast make you a ring infused with his mother’s finger bones. Your very own amplifier. He’d slid the dainty gold ring onto your little finger, too, murmuring the entire time about how he’d get you a prettier ring one day and how this one was just a reminder of his promise to marry you. And then he held up his own hand to show you his own little gold ring, sitting upon his little finger as well.

It was a pretty ring. Really. It was gold and made to look like a willow branch, fashioned after the tree he vowed to marry you underneath. He always was one for symbolism.

You sat and admired the metal on your finger while sitting atop the desk in yours and Aleksander’s shared bedroom. Most of the other Grisha that were usually around were out on a mission, and Aleksander was hiding out somewhere, using the tether to provoke Alina, as he so often did. The sound of metal clattering startled you and you slowly climbed off of the desk and walked to your door. You pushed it open and looked around the hallway. No one was there, and no one should have been there to make something fall, that was for certain. You stepped out of your bedroom and eyed the halls once more suspiciously before you shook your head.

“Hello?” You called out, expecting exactly what you got in return, which was silence. You stepped out further into the hall and you began to slowly walk towards the makeshift laboratory to find Vladim, who had likely stayed behind, not one for the organized attack on the Lantsovs. The sudden sound of glass smashing and things clattering to the floor made you freeze in the middle of the hall and you raised your hands up, the unforgivingly cold light of the moon beginning to light up your hands. The strong electric feeling that came along with your new amplifier travelled up your spine and out towards your fingers, sending a bright surge of light up through them.

Out from around the corner, Baghra and Genya walked towards you in tandem. Baghra looked complacent while on the other hand, Genya looked furious. You hadn’t directly looked at Genya since she’d been maimed by the nichevo'ya, and now that you were looking directly at her, you felt a small bit of pity fill your head.

“Stop right there!” You called at the two of them.

Baghra did. Genya did not. Instead, the Tailor marched towards you and you raised your hand up higher as if you were loading an arrow with one hand.

“Genya, I do not want to use my power on you. Stop where you are, now.” You commanded, standing your ground.

She did not reply, and she did not stop, either, until she was nearly three feet away from you.

“Look at me,” She seethed and pointed at her face, “Look at me and know this is your doing. I never thought you’d lose your compassion. Your kindness. But every single day that passes, you become more and more like your Darkling.” She growled and you shook your head.

“You are a fool, Genya Safin.” You breathed and then lowered your hand just a bit, “You are the only one to blame for your misfortune. And when we find David, you’ll be the only one to blame for his misfortunes, too.” You chided and watched a look of worry cross her face.

“You’ve lost your heart.” She said harshly and then jabbed you in the chest with her finger, “You have allowed The Darkling to rip it from your chest and blacken it. We grew up together, Y/n! We served the Queen together! How could you have just turned your back on me? I needed you!” She shouted and you lowered both of your hands entirely.

“My heart is as bountiful as it needs to be. Blackened or not. You betrayed and abandoned the Darkling, therefore you have betrayed and abandoned me.” You said flatly, gazing at her with the same look you’d give a non-compliant child.

“You love a made up man. He will never love you back. He is using you. The same way he used Alina, you’re just too arrogant to believe that you’re being played with. You are but a piece in his infinite game of power.”

She wanted you to doubt him. But you knew better. You saw sides of him that no one else got to, that no one else needed to.

“Don’t make me maim you further, Genya. You might have to find a strength greater than your beauty if you keep pushing me.” You said coldly.

This had her eyes blazing angrily and she reached for you, grabbing onto the lapels of your kefta.

You brought your hand up to shoot a beam of moonlight through her chest, but you were stopped, something cold and clammy tugging your wrist backwards. You looked up to see a thick tendril of shadow around your wrist and you looked at Baghra who now had her own hands raised. You furrowed your brow angrily as you watched the old woman and you went to raise your other hand, and in the struggle you didn’t even see Genya reach up to grab the side of your head until you felt her fingers in your hair. She swung your head near the wall and you pushed back with all your might, but she kept trying to make contact between your head and the wall. You growled in frustration and tried to fight her off with your free hand, but another shadow wrapped itself around your free wrist, and before you could even protest, your head was being slammed ferociously into the wall, and blackness consumed your vision.

You weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious, and furthermore, you weren’t even sure of where you were, because when you woke up, you were behind iron bars on a gravel floor. The room around you was dim, and it looked like it had been carved out from a cave. You went to touch the side of your head that throbbed painfully, only to find that your hands were bound and separated by a beam of wood. You let out a frustrated groan and you slammed the wood between your hands against the bars, but it hardly even dented.

“There is absolutely no point in trying, girl. You are getting a taste of what it’s like to be a prisoner.”

You groaned again and lifted your head to see Baghra walk shakily into the space beyond the bars in front of you.

“Mm, abduction is your thing now?” You asked sardonically as you looked up at the scraggly haired woman. A sharp pain shot through the side of your head where you’d been hit and you winced slightly, your vision blurring just temporarily.

“I wasn’t fond of the idea but sometimes we have to do things we aren’t fond of in the name of what’s right.” She answered with a shrug and she sat down on a stool about six feet away from you, and you loathed how there were bars in your way of tackling the woman to the ground.

“So your grand idea is keeping me locked up? And then what? I’m not the threat you think I am.”

“No, not a threat. More like… bait. But I wouldn’t expect you to recognize when you’re being used. You haven’t thus far, why start now?” Baghra droned and your lips twitched angrily.

“Your plan is listless. Aleksander will tear you and anyone else apart to ensure my safe return.”

“You overestimate your importance to my son.”

“On the contrary. I think I underestimate it at times.”

The two of you were locked in an intense stare for a long time before she finally waved her hand dismissively.

“Well, only time can tell.” She conceded and slowly stood up. She didn’t say another word as she exited the room, and you didn’t care to speak either, so instead you watched as she left, sneering in her wake.

You were unsure of how long you sat in silence in that dim little room, but it surely had been a few hours before you heard gravel crunching underneath a pair of footsteps. You looked up spitefully to see Alina standing across the room with a deep frown on her lips, and at her side was unmistakably her little orphan friend, Mal. You eyed the two of them contemptuously and said nothing as Alina approached you. Instead of using the stool Baghra sat upon, the girl knelt in front of the bars and she placed her hands against them, a sadness pooling within her eyes.

“I remember when you saved my life. I’ve always so admired you for that.” She said quietly, wrapping her fingers around the shabby iron bars between the two of you.

You didn’t say anything in return. Instead, you shifted your gaze to the wall adjacent to you and you shook your head once.

“Y/n, I know this is hard to hear, it was for me as well, but you are being used. You are being manipulated. You’re stronger than this, look at you. You harness the power of the moon. Our powers are supposed to work in tandem. We are supposed to work in tandem. Please don’t let your potential be reduced to just another thing Kirigan desecrates and throws aside.” Alina whispered and reached through the bars to touch your arm.

You shied away from her fingers and you looked up at her, staring her down as if she were as maimed as Genya.

“It’s okay to be scared. But I really need you to trust me.” She added and pulled her arm back to her side.

“How long have I been here?” You asked her, looking down at your sore wrists. Surely they were raw by now.

“Almost a week. We had to keep you unconscious until we were sure you were securely… locked up.” She said with a frown.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, laying your bound hands out across your thighs.

“This is ridiculous. You are begging for a death sentence.” You mumbled.

“Right. And so are you and The Darkling. Trust me when I say, we will deliver.” Mal snapped, and it was the first time you’d heard him speak. You eyed the tall, dark haired boy and your lips curled upwards into a little smirk.

“Try, otkazat'sya.” You challenged and you watched Mal’s face darken as he took a step forward.

“She’s hopeless, Alina. He’s fried her head. Whatever friend you knew now belongs to Kirigan. Just do as the old woman says and get her out so we can get going. She won’t help us willingly so she can follow us as our leverage.” Mal remarked stuffily and he crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes raking over you in disdain.

“And just where do you think I’ll be following you?” You asked rigidly, looking to Alina this time.

She hesitated in answering, her eyes shifting down to the gravel floor. You could tell she didn’t want to be in this mess, and neither did you. However, you’d be more inclined to be kind to her if her main objective wasn’t to kill your lover.

“We are going to find Morozova’s workshop, and you are coming with us. We hoped as an ally, but Baghra warned us that you might not be so interested in being an ally.”

“Ah. Well, I’ll have to politely decline. I will not be going with you.” You drawled and dug your heels into the gravel beneath your feet.

“You don’t really get a say in the matter.” Mal snapped and you looked up at him through narrowed eyes.

“You sure talk bravely for someone so mortal.” You replied and he took another step forward and raised his thick brows.

“And you sure act like you’re important enough for Kirigan to smite me over so perhaps we are both wrong.” he replied and you watched as Alina reached up and placed a hand on his leg to silence him.

She gave him a sad look and then shook her head a few times.

“Mal.” She warned and then nodded back at you, “She’s not the enemy.”

But you were… weren’t you?

It was probably best for them to keep believing you weren’t, though. Keep yourself unassuming and secure feeling.

You glanced down at your hand and almost let out a breath of relief when you saw your ring still sitting around your finger. The only explanation you had was that they didn’t know it was your amplifier, and if that was the case, you had to keep it that way.

To keep yourself unassuming, indeed.

The next few days were uneventful. You had spent most of your time on a horse, your hands still held apart. Your entire body was stiff and at the end of the day when you were allowed off of the horse, walking was a daunting task all on its own.

Hardly anyone said anything important around you, and the journey was quiet and awkward. However, the night before last- the first night of your journey- you had heard Alina speaking to Mal and Baghra when they believed you to be asleep. It wasn’t of much importance, but she did say that Aleksander had been the most unstable she’d ever seen him the last time she reached out to him through the tether. Baghra had assured her that they were not going to be stopped by him, but Alina seemed on edge and quietly tried to suggest leaving you behind to find your way back to him.

That was the night you had started trying to create your own tether with Aleksander. It’s mostly all you had put your energy into for the last few days, desperate to hear his voice at the very least. You weren’t afraid that anyone was going to hurt you. Alina wouldn’t in spite of her big heart, Baghra wouldn’t because you knew deep down she knew you cared fiercely for her son, and Mal… you weren’t sure about. But he didn’t scare you. If anything, he just vexed you beyond all reason.

The two others led their horses on foot while Mal was pulling the one you were on. He hadn’t so much as looked at you once that day. Bitter little orphan.

“You know, if you spent even half as much time smiling as you did brooding and being a grump, you might actually start to have the inkling of a personality.” You remarked down at the boy. At first you thought he was going to ignore you some more, but you watched in surprise as he shook his head.

“I’ll take brooding and grumpy over being The Darkling’s zealot, time and time again.” He replied, not looking over his shoulder at you once.

You rolled your eyes and wished you could kick him in the back, and you willed him to come a little closer to the horse so that you could. But he never did, much to your disappointment.

“I believe my feelings for him to be no different than your own for Alina. I mean, we’re both putting our trust and loyalty into something otherworldly. The only difference is, this side of the world has never scared me as it has you.” You remarked, feeling a sense of accomplishment when you watched his fist tighten on the reins.

He said nothing for a while, the only sound now was Baghra and Alina chatting ahead and the sound of twigs and gravel crunching underneath your horse’s hooves. You didn’t expect him to speak again, so you closed your eyes and prepared yourself to connect with Aleksander once again.

Mal’s voice stopped you.

“At the risk of feeding into your delusion, I believe that we are entirely different. Look, I know you aren’t a bad person. His crimes aren’t on your hands, Alina tells me of your kindness when she came to the palace. How could you have betrayed her after saving her life?”

“I didn’t betray Alina. I simply chose my side, just as she chose hers. That doesn’t… I don’t have to justify myself to you, boy. You know as well as I do that when you care deeply for someone, a lot of things such as reason or morality tend to fade into grey little lines that are easily blurred.” You remarked.

This time he really didn’t answer. And you were fine with that.

You closed your eyes again and went back into your mind, doing everything you could to find a way to Aleksander. You almost groaned with frustration nearly half an hour later when nothing had happened.

You both had Baghra’s bones as an amplifier. You both wore the same thin gold rings on your littlest fingers. Surely that had to be enough.

It didn’t seem as if it was, though.

You wanted to reach for your ring, but the bar between your hands stopped you and you frowned and clenched your fists tightly, balling them up against your thighs. You took a deep breath and decided to try again.

You closed your eyes slowly and focused on the band around your pinky finger. You focused on how it was cold, how the patterns on it pressed against the side of your ring finger. You felt a small buzz at the very back of your mind and you grit your teeth and chased it, breathing heavily. You focused on him. The thought of him, the feeling of his hand against yours, the sound of his voice, and the starless black glittering of his eyes. The blankness behind your eyes began to shift into something blurry and misshapen. It focused and refocused hundreds of times before the picture in your mind became the blurry from your shared bedroom.

Your stomach filled with warm anticipation and you took a long, deep breath and willed yourself into the room. The second you moved forward into the room, it was as if everything around you changed. You could no longer feel your sore body nor could you feel the horse beneath you. The air felt warm and soothing against your cheeks, and it was a different feeling than the chilly air that had been biting at your face for the past few days. Your steps were soundless as you moved further into the room and your eyes fell on Aleksander as he stood by his window. His hands were gripping the windowsill so tightly that the skin over his knuckles was pulled taut and colored white. His hands shook underneath the intense pressure of which he held the windowsill with and you didn’t have to see his face to know his jaw was clenched.

You spoke his name, but the sound seemed to get lost, because you didn’t hear it, and he didn’t seem to either. You felt a twinge of disappointment and you took a long breath and refocused completely on him, speaking his name again.

This time, you could hear it. It sounded like a faint, distorted echo. One that he still couldn’t seem to hear.

You clenched your fists as tightly as you could and you focused on the ring on your finger, on the man in front of you, on the very emotional connection you two shared, and you finally spoke his name one more time.

Your voice was fully audible to your own ears now, and you had definitely gotten his attention, because he spun around from the window and his eyes fixed themselves on you. There was a vast collection of emotions that flickered through his eyes, ranging from surprise, to relief, worry, anger, and then finally something else that you couldn’t name at first but you eventually came to recognize it as guilt and sadness.

“Y/n.” He breathed and strode towards you determinedly. He reached out to pull you towards him, but his hand only went right through you.

It took him just a moment to recover from the confused look that painted itself over his face, but when he did, his eyes flooded with realization.

“You aren’t here. Not really.” He whispered sadly, his big, dark eyes glossing over with a layer of unshed tears.

“No. But I’ve been trying to reach out to you this way for days, and I haven’t been able to. This is the first time it’s worked!” You exclaimed excitedly and then you smiled up at him.

He did his best to give you a proud smile, but you could see there was a heavy sorrow lingering in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re such an intelligent girl. So gifted.” He said softly.

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to take you in his arms. You missed him.

“Aleksander, I don’t like being away from you.” You whispered and you watched him shatter before you with those words.

He closed his eyes and reached up to rub them with the sides of his hands and he let out a slow sigh.

“My darling, where are you? I will find you and I will bring you home. I will kill anyone who stands in my way; anyone who tries to stop me.” His face was almost pained and you frowned.

“I don’t know where we are. I just know we have set out to find Morozova’s workshop.” You stated.

Exhaustion started to seep into your head and you were finding it hard to keep the connection going. You knew you were not as powerful as Alina and Aleksander, and this was taking almost all of the energy and power you had, and it didn’t help that you couldn’t even use your hands.

“We? Who is we? Who is with you?” He asked sharply and he leaned closer to you. His eyes studied your face and he frowned, “Angel, you look so tired. You need your rest, this must be taking so much out of you.” He whispered and you shook your head.

You struggled to piece your thoughts together so that you could answer him, but eventually you pushed through and were able to elaborate.

“We… Alina, Mal, Baghra.” You mumbled.

He gave you a little nod and then he frowned even more. He looked as if your struggle pained him.

And it did.

Seeing you this way pained him more than he cared to admit, and the week without you had been one of the hardest of his entire life. It was as if he could feel every single second passing. All he could do is hope that his Grisha would find you, hope that you were safe, and then fantasize about how he would enact painful revenge on anyone who dared lay their hands on you. He would have his revenge on those who took you away from him.

“Darling, stop trying to keep the connection going. You’ve done so much already, and I am so proud of you. Seeing that you are unharmed is the greatest relief to me at this moment. Rest now, don’t exhaust yourself. I will find you, everything is going to be alright. Do you trust me?” He asked softly and gazed down upon your face.

You gave him a nod and he gave you a watery smile in return.

“Sweet little girl, you have made me so proud today. I love you. Know that I will find you. I swear it.” He vowed in a whisper and you looked into his eyes one last time before you felt the connection slip.

It was like a rope, pulled in two different directions being cut in the middle. Your eyes snapped open instantly and you gasped, nearly falling off of the horse. You steadied yourself quickly and you had to readjust to the brightness of the outdoors. You blinked a few times and looked around to see that you had stopped moving, and Mal was staring up at you, along with Baghra and Alina.

Alina looked a bit paler and she turned to Baghra with a worried expression.

“I knew this was not a good idea, Baghra. I-“

Baghra cut her off with a wave of her hand and she eyed you contemptuously, her beady eyes fixing themselves on you in an accusatory way.

“You, too, can connect with my son it seems.”

You didn’t respond, instead you jutted your chin out as if you were an indignant child and you looked away from them, gazing off over to your left.

“Foolish girl. You think he’s going to save you? He won’t give himself up, even for you.” Baghra said haughtily and you shook your head once, not saying anything.

“Look, we need to get inside.” Mal stated and then looked up at you, “But she can’t come. If she’s able to speak with Kirigan then she can’t be anywhere near whatever is in there. Then whatever we find out, so does he.”

You snorted and looked back over at the three of them.

“What was the point in bringing me, then? This was easily a three person job. I think, Baghra, that deep down, you did expect Aleksander to come for me. You wanted to isolate him from his Grisha out in the middle of nowhere, then you would’ve had your chance to stop him. But now that he hasn’t come, you are flailing.” You theorized and then you shook your head with contempt.

No one said anything for a long time. You knew you were right. They knew you were right. No one wanted to speak. Baghra didn’t want to admit her idea had been a farce, Alina was anxious, and perhaps Mal just had nothing to say.

But as usual, the boy finally did find something to say.

“Get down.” He commanded and you held your hands up and shook them a few times.

“Can’t really dismount a horse on my own without my hands.” You said in a bored tone, and Mal scoffed in annoyance, but his irritation didn’t stop him from reaching up and grabbing your waist. He easily lifted you off of the horse, and instead of setting you on your feet, he gingerly dropped you before making sure you were steady.

You fell onto your knees in the fallen leaves and the dirt and you winced. You didn’t have even a moment to recover and stand before Mal grabbed you by your upper arms and dragged you to a tree next to a large rock. He pushed your side up against the tree and you yelped, the rough bark biting into your cheek.

“Give me the rope.” He instructed and Alina hesitated for a moment before she reluctantly untied one of the ropes from one of the horses and brought it over to Mal.

You looked up at the tall, lanky boy and you shook your head.

“Just let me go. You don’t need me, I don’t need any of you. Please.” You said exasperatedly and he gave you a hard look before he pushed you down onto your knees. Your knee collided with one of the tree’s protruding roots and you groaned quietly, leaning your head up against the side of the tree.

Mal looped the end of the rope up underneath one of your shackles and knotted it many times before he tied the other end around the slender tree. He gave the rope a hard tug and when it didn’t budge, he stepped back and looked down at you with disgust.

You mirrored his expression to a T and then sneered.

Your eyes wandered past him and you looked at what seemed to be large rock formation on the side of a hill, but upon closer examination, there was a door. It was much like the stone doors you’d find at a tomb, and there were branches and vines shrouding the entryway. Small stone steps led up to the door and your three delightful travel companions slowly turned away from you and walked towards the workshop.

You looked down at your raw wrists and you gave the rope a few sharp little tugs before you let out a grunt and leaned your back up against the tree. You needed Aleksander. You needed to speak to him again. If only you weren’t so damn exhausted.

Your entire body ached and you could hear Baghra speaking faintly behind you. You closed your eyes as tightly as you could and tried to muster enough energy to connect with your lover once again.

You couldn’t.

You opened your eyes after a while and realized that you couldn’t hear anyone any longer, and you turned to look over your shoulder to see that Mal, Alina, and Baghra had disappeared. Likely into the workshop. You scooted over in the dirt and leaves until you were up against the rock and you laid your arms down on top of it and laid your head against your arms as if you were laying your head upon a desk. You stretched your hand out a bit and then felt something sharp catch your palm.

“Ouch!” You hissed and sat up. You glanced down at a rather sharp edge on the rock and then looked down at your now bleeding palm that had been sliced open. You slowly turned your head back towards the sharp, serrated edge of the rock and then you glanced at your shackles. You quickly rose up on your knees and leaned over the side of the rock and brought the middle of the wooden beam down on the sharp edge of the rock. You pushed down against it with all of your might and began to drag it back and forth rapidly, trying to saw through the wood. After a few grueling moments of this, you stopped and let out a little whimper.

Your wrists were raw and sore against their metal shackles and your arms ached terribly. But you had made some progress. The rock had indeed began to cut into the wood and there was a small split in the wooden beam, about one quarter of an inch deep. Staring at the split in the wood filled you with determination and you brought the beam back down on the edge of the rock and continued to drag it back and forth as hard and as fast as you could. Your wrists protested with every movement, but you didn’t stop.

You had almost gotten past cutting halfway through the beam when the scraping of stone stopped you. You quickly scrambled back down on the ground as if you were sitting there the entire time and you stayed still and silent. After a moment, you turned to see Mal and Baghra standing in front of the workshop. Baghra passed Mal a blade and you tried to make out what they were saying but couldn’t hear anything more than their faint vocal tones. You watched as Baghra cut Mal on his hand and he slowly turned and pressed his hand against the stone door, which slid shut. Mal jumped back, startled, and he slowly stepped away from Baghra and the door, looking frantic.

You turned your attention away from the two of them and instead looked back at the wooden beam that held your hands apart. You pursed your lips and you put the beam over your knee and tried to snap it, pulling your wrists down as hard as you could before you let out a shriek and stopped immediately, your wrists now bleeding from all of the friction against your raw skin.

You heard Alina cry out from inside the workshop and you turned to watch Mal dash inside. Baghra didn’t follow. Instead she came towards you hurriedly. She used the blade in her hands to cut the rope off of the tree and she grabbed your arm.

“Come with me, girl.” She said flatly and pulled you to your feet.

You complied silently and glanced at the severance in the wooden beam. All you had to do was wait for the right moment. You followed Baghra inside of the workshop and the two of you joined Mal in the doorway to one of the rooms.

Mal went to run for Alina, but with the hand she didn’t have on you, Baghra grabbed onto Mal with and she shook her head.

“Don’t break the connection!” She commanded.

“You said she’s not strong enough to face him!” Mal protested.

You looked past Mal to see Alina surrounded by an electric blue light and you widened your eyes. Aleksander was here.

“Exactly.” Baghra said to Mal calmly and stepped in front of him, leaving you behind.

You eyed Baghra warily as she grabbed a torch off of the wall and walked towards Alina, who was struggling against the wall, held there by the telepathic presence of Aleksander.

“I will end this once and for all. Once I’ve killed my son, my time here is done.” Baghra said sternly and tossed the torch into a bin of scrolls, “All this goes with me.” She finished and you let out a wail.

“You’re heartless!” You cried out, realizing what she was about to attempt to do, “He is your son, Baghra!” You screamed and tried to run at her, but Mal stopped you and pushed you down to the floor, where you landed in a graceless heap of limbs.

“You know what you have to do. And close the door on your way out.” Baghra said to Mal as the room began to go up in flames, “And leave the Moon Summoner here with me.”

Baghra approached Alina and you slowly sat up and turned to the shackles on your wrists. You had to break out of them, there was no question about it now. You began to slam the split in the wood against the rock walls and you let out a scream that was born of pain and determination.

Alina dashed past you, and you assumed Baghra had freed her from Aleksander, and Mal was now dragging her out of the workshop, trying to convince her to leave Baghra behind. The old woman now stood at the far side of the room in a trance, her head tipped upwards in focus.

“The Firebird!” Alina said in a panic and jumped towards the burning table.

“I know where the Firebird is!” Mal shouted, “We have to go!” He said and yanked her towards the door.

“No! Y/n, Mal we can’t leave her!” She cried and you looked up at Alina who was standing a few yards away from you, trying to break free of Mal’s grasp.

“Alina, cut your losses. She is not your friend, we need to go!”

You eyed her sadly and you let out a little sniffle, looking up at her. The room grew hotter as the flames grew closer to you and you shook your head once, looking down at the floor.

“Mal, she’s innocent, please!”

But her begging was futile, because Mal only gave you one last look, a cocky little sneer, and then yanked Alina from the workshop.

You heard the scraping of stone and knew that the door had been closed.

You cried out in frustration, tears pooling in your eyes and you banged the wooden beam against the wall, even harder now. You didn’t realize you were screaming until your throat felt hoarse and you coughed, smoke filling your lungs.

This couldn’t be how you died. You refused. But your body had different plans. Exhaustion washed over you, trying to pull you into its sea. You were so tired. Everything hurt. You were almost tempted to lay down and let the warm flames consume you until you remembered Baghra. She was aiming to kill Aleksander.

With one final burst of determined energy, you slammed the beam down on the jagged edge of the wall a few more times before you heard a snap. You looked down at your hands to find them separated. Still shackled, but separated.

Quickly, you scrambled upwards with a burst of adrenaline just in time to see Baghra collapse. She turned her head slowly and her eyes met yours, blood dribbling from the corner of her lips.

“Stupid girl. Though it will never be enough, thank you for loving my stupid boy.” She murmured, and you could hardly hear her over the roar of the fire.

You looked down at her in disgust and you shook your head.

“One of us had to.” You spat and then you brought your right hand up to your lips. You placed a little kiss on the gold ring upon your little finger and then you let out an ear shattering yell, bringing your hands together in a sharp clap that resonated even louder than the fire.

Silver light flooded the entire workshop and turned each flame into a blazing beam of the moon. You held your hands together and squinted to see, but within seconds, there was nothing but bright, bright light and then an earth shaking crash.

You fell to your knees dizzily, unsure of what just happened and your eyes rolled backwards into your head as you slumped sideways and finally let your exhaustion drag you away from the present.

There was a loud ringing in your ears, and you could feel a cool breeze dusting across your cheeks. Your throat was dry and your tongue was like sandpaper against the top of your mouth. You willed yourself to open your eyes and you stared straight up at the grey sky above you.

Your body was sore everywhere, but you couldn’t ignore the tingling, electric sensation that coursed through your veins. You weakly pushed yourself up and felt rubble tumble off of your chest as you did. The workshop laid in ruins around you and there were still little traces of silvery light, fizzling out slowly like smothered flames. You took in the ruin around you and you blinked a few times.

You did this. You had destroyed this entire cavelike workshop. You would’ve been a bit more giddy if you weren’t covered in bleeding cuts and sensitive bruises. A strange sense of pride swelled in your chest and you very slowly hoisted yourself up with a grunt, grabbing onto a fragment that remained of the wall to steady yourself. You looked around the mess slowly and your eyes settled on a hand that protruded out from underneath a pile of stone.

Baghra.

You stared down at her for a long time and then finally you tore your eyes away from her rock burial.

If she was dead, it could mean two things. Aleksander’s mother had killed him, or he had killed his mother.

With a grunt, you walked away from the ruins of the workshop and approached the nearest tree. You leaned heavily up against it and took a few long, deep breaths before you closed your eyes and reached up awkwardly to hold onto your ring with your opposite hand.

It was much easier this time to establish a connection with Aleksander, you simply pictured him in your mind and let your power do the rest. When you opened your eyes, you stood behind him in what appeared to be a tent. He was hunched over on his knees and seemed to be in pain, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt to know that he was alive.

“Aleksander.” You breathed.

You knew he had heard you by the way his head perked up a bit, but he didn’t turn towards you.

“Sweet Moon Saint. Are you really there or have you come back through my head?” He asked in a low, ragged tone.

“I’m not there. Not yet. I just had to know if you were alive.” You said quietly and watched as his shoulders rolled back a bit. He never did turn around, though.

“Mm, alive, yes. I was very worried about you. My mother told me you were going to die for my sins. It seems ironic to me that now she’s the only one that’s perished for them.” He said in a deadpan.

“My love, where can I find you?” You asked softly and he let out a sigh.

“You sound terrible. You sound tired. You sound hoarse. What have they done to you?” He asked, hanging his head.

“I am fine, Aleksander. Please, I need to come to you. Tell me where you are.” You pleaded and he very slowly turned his head toward you.

“Keramzin. You’ll find my encampment. Please, please my love, do not leave me alone on this earth. Fight tooth and nail if you must, but return to me. You must return to me.”

“I will.” You promised.

Always.

The journey to Keramzin had been a brief one, and you were thankful for that. You weren’t sure how your body hadn’t given out, but after hobbling through the mountains for nearly a day, you came across a little farm and stole a horse from its stables.

After that, it was a straight shot. You made it to Keramzin in only six days and it was easy to locate Aleksander’s camp. You slowly rode up on your horse towards the camp, and two large Heartrenders ran towards you to stop you before recognition crossed their faces. They both bowed their heads to you and whispered your name.

Sankta Y/n.

Your hair was in tangles and your face was polluted with dried blood and dirt and your kefta and dress were torn and caked with mud. You looked terrible.

But you also looked formidable.

Perched high upon your horse, broken shackles still around your wrists, wounded, but sitting straight with your shoulders squared nonetheless.

“Take me to The General.” You commanded and slid off of the horse, landing on your feet, a painful shock going through your entire body as you hit the ground.

You followed the two Heartrenders through the field and around a handful of tents before you saw him. His back was turned to you and he stood at the precipice of a dead little meadow, and across from this meadow was a shabby home. Likely an orphanage or an inn, you reasoned. Fruzsi stood a few paces behind him, and as you approached, she turned around and let out a gasp. Your eyes met hers and she bowed her head immediately.

“You’ve returned.” She said softly, relief evident in her tone.

“I always will.” You said gauntly and then stepped past her.

You continued on towards Aleksander, and when you reached him, you slid your hands around his arm and fastened yourself to his side before you completely leaned against him, your legs giving out.

He didn’t even need to look at you, he recognized your touch the second you grabbed his arm. He turned towards you and in one swift movement, hooked an arm underneath your knees and lifted you off of the ground and into his arms.

Silently, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tucked your face in the spot between his shoulder and his throat, breathing in his scent. He wordlessly tightened his grip on you and he buried his face in your hair. The two of you stayed like that for a very long time, silent. The only sounds between the two of you were sighs, sharp inhales, and exhales.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Aleksander moved his face away from your hair and he gazed down at you as you laid in his arms, weary.

“I love you.” He whispered, dipping his head down so that he was close to your face.

You turned your head so that you could look up at him properly and you leaned up to nudge your nose against his.

“Aleksander.” You whimpered and he nodded once.

“I know. Never again. You will never be away from my side again.” He promised and you gave him a little nod, your eyelids growing heavy.

He watched as you fought to stay awake in his arms and he turned towards the crowd of his Grisha. He glanced at Fruzsi and then he jerked his head towards his tent, “Draw the Moon Summoner a bath immediately. Have an Inferni heat it. Get me a Durast so we can get these dreadful things off of her wrists. Waste no time, she is in pain.” He ordered and Fruzsi ran off in a frenzy.

Within only half an hour, you already had a Durast remove the shackles from your wrists safely and you now sat in a deep metal bathtub, filled with hot water. Aleksander knelt by the side of the tub and kept his eyes on you the entire time you laid in the water. You looked over at him and he reached up towards you slowly to tuck a piece of damp hair behind your ear.

“Aleksander, what did your mother do? When she claimed she was going to kill you.” You asked quietly.

He sucked in a deep breath for a long time before he blew it out and then he gave you a very small, very sad smile.

“She told me she was going to burn you alive, then she… permanently severed the connection between Alina and I.” He answered and then held up his right hand.

It was deep grey and glinted metallically in the low light of his tent. You stared at it for a moment before you looked up at him, a little frown tugging your lips downwards.

“I should have stopped her, Aleksander, I’m so sorry-“

“Do not. No. You will not apologize. You couldn’t have done anything. Judging from your state now and even when you called on me the second time, you were in no condition to stop her. I am simply grateful that you are alive and you have returned to me.” He explained in a soft voice and you reached out of the tub to gently take his new hand in your own.

You intertwined your fingers with his and you closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the edge of the metal tub. He allowed you to hold his hand for only a few minutes before he pulled away from you and stood up. You opened your eyes and looked up at him as he shed his kefta and a few other layers until he was only in his base shirt, a loose fitting black shirt made of silk. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and he knelt back down next to you and he held his hand out to you and nodded towards it.

“Hand me the cloth, my dear.” He instructed softly and you reached down into the water to search for the cloth that had been in the tub with you. You found it a moment later and then brought it out of the water, wringing the excess water out of it, and you dropped it in his hand.

He made a pleased humming sound and he grabbed your arm and lifted it up towards him. With a touch as soft and light as the silk of his shirt, he began to clean your skin with the cloth.

You watched his scarred face as he bathed you, and the sight broke your heart in the best way. He looked so serene and so peaceful, making his features softer and you swore you had caught a glimpse of boyish innocence in the sincerity on his face. The world had been so cruel to him for five centuries, and despite it all, he’d allowed himself to love you; allowed you to love him.

Your eyes glittered with tears and they began to fall freely down your cheeks while you watched him wash your arms and your legs, being especially tender with the places that had little bruises or scrapes. His touches were usually selfish, driven by his own need to have you close to him, but as he touched you now, there was nothing but selflessness behind his actions. When he moved up with the intent to clean your face, your tears made his face fall as he shook his head.

“As beautifully as you cry, I have half a mind to let you continue, however, the sight breaks my heart. What pains you?” He asked softly and reached up with the cloth to very carefully wipe at your face.

“It is not pain. You are my greatest accomplishment.” You whispered and leaned into his hand as he wiped your cheek, “You are the best thing that I will have ever known in this life.” You added, your lips trembling as you forced them up into a smile.

He stilled his movement and he looked down into your eyes and simply shook his head before he went back to washing you. Once he had finished cleaning you up and washing your hair, he stood up and rolled his sleeves back down. He pulled all of his shed clothes back on, along with his kefta and he grabbed a large, thick towel off of the table he stood near. He came back to the tub and held it open, looking down at you.

“Can you stand, darling?” He asked softly and you nodded. You grabbed the edges of the tub and very slowly pulled yourself up.

Before you could even step out of the tub, Aleksander wrapped the towel around your upper body and lifted you out of the water. Your bare legs broke out in goosebumps and you held onto his shoulders as he carried you to his bed. Once he sat you down, he readjusted the towel around your body and he knelt in front of you.

“You claim I am your greatest accomplishment. The best thing you’ll know. But you are mine. My greatest accomplishment, the best thing I’ll ever know. My peace. My sweet peace in the middle of the turmoil and chaos that is my long life. You are the truest kindness I’ve ever been shown, and whatever sent you to me knows I don’t deserve you, but Saints, I will try everyday.” He murmured and laid his head down against your thighs as he knelt before you.

You reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair and stroked it gently.

You looked down at him as he laid on your thighs and your chest ached with adoration for the man that was before you. No one else mattered anymore, how could they?

Alina had told you that you and her were meant to operate in tandem, but the sunlight is no place for the moon, and moonlight has no business with the sun.

No, you and the Sun Summoner had no business working alongside one another, because Aleksander had been right when he said that the moon needs the darkness to shine.

Moonlight needs shadows.

In all your life, you’d never imagined your death.

You’d never felt as if you’d die.

But you probably wouldn’t ever have imagined it would happen this way.

You stood by Aleksander’s side in the middle of The Fold. Alina and Mal had created a bubble around them, keeping the volcra out. Keeping the darkness out. Your hand was tightly closed around Aleksander’s and you held a bright beam of moonlight in your other hand, eyes fixed on Mal and Alina.

It all had happened so fast.

One moment Aleksander was pulling you against his side and Mal was shooting at the creatures of darkness that threatened to come in and wreak havoc inside the little bubble of light. The next moment, you were making eye contact with Mal. His face twisted in a feral anger, and he spun his gun towards you and shot it just as Aleksander dropped your hand to summon his Cut.

You didn’t even realize you’d been shot until warmth began to spread over your chest. You looked down to see the silver embroidery on your black kefta turning red with your blood, and that’s when you felt the pain. A hot, sharp ache bloomed through your chest and you fell backwards, head thumping against the sand. You’d been shot in the place between both of your collarbones, between the tiniest opening in your bulletproof kefta.

How capricious this universe can be, you thought.

Everything around you seemed like it was happening underwater, and you felt something shift next to you. You very slowly turned your head to see Aleksander on the ground next to you, clutching his side. He had been wounded, too. By what? You weren’t sure.

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing- if you could even call it that. Every breath you took felt shorter and shorter and you were losing awareness rapidly.

It took you a moment to register that your name was being screamed and you opened your eyes to see a blurry Aleksander knelt over you. Light of pink and blue was swirling around everywhere and he pulled you up into his arms as if you were a child and he cradled you against his chest as he rose to his feet. The world became brighter and brighter around you until there was no trace of shadow.

The Fold had fallen.

You weakly grabbed at Aleksander’s kefta as he held you and your eyes grew hot and burned with fat tears.

“Aleksander,” you whispered weakly and let out a pathetic, weak sounding sob, “Please do not let me die, I don’t want to die. Please, I don’t want to die.” You begged, and you watched his face contort painfully.

He ground his teeth together as he looked down at you and his own tears threatened to fall.

“You are not going to die, do you hear me? Everything will be alright. You’ll still be my queen, wed under the willow at midnight. Remember?”

You did remember and you wanted to tell him you remembered but your mouth didn’t seem to want to form the words and your head didn’t move when you willed yourself to nod.

He let out a broken choking noise and he shook his head rigorously.

“Don’t you dare. Do not leave me alone on this earth. Y/n! Don’t do it!” He called and sunk to his knees.

Your head weakly rolled backwards and he grabbed your jaw gently, forcing you to look up at him.

“Please. Do not go this way, my love. It is not your time to go.” He whimpered and you shakily reached up and laid your hand on top of his as he held your jaw.

“You… are my greatest accomplishment. The best thing that I have ever known in this life.” You mumbled and gave him a weak smile.

“Your life is not over!” He protested and then he pulled your head up to his, resting his forehead against yours, “You are too young, my love. You are meant to live centuries at my side. Please, I know you’re strong, I need you to…” he trailed off and stared down at you as you cried. He wanted to beg you to fight, but the look on your face stopped him.

Your face was full of fear and you were shaking in his arms.

He knew you weren’t going to survive, and filling you with that false hope was not fair. Was he even going to survive? Likely not. He was a selfish person, but he couldn’t be selfish with you. Letting you die in fear because he begged you to hold on wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be selfish now. Not while you slipped away in his arms. His chest ached in a way he never wished to feel again, and hopefully he wouldn’t have to. He placed one kiss against your lips and bumped the tip of his nose against yours.

“It’s okay, my beautiful moonbeam. You can let go. Close your eyes, angel. Close your eyes and let go, it’s okay. I won’t let go of you.” He whispered, his own tears falling onto your cheeks.

“I love you. I’m so proud of you.” You breathed, your hand weakly falling away from his.

“And I love you, little love. Rest now. No one can ever hurt you again. It’s okay to just rest.” He said, barely above a whisper. Your tears and his mixed together on your face and you closed your eyes slowly.

With the last bit of strength you had in your body, you moved up just slightly and pressed your lips against his, and you did your best to muffle the sob that came from his mouth with your own.

A bittersweet smile crossed your lips as you moved away from his lips and you laid your head comfortably against his arm.

“My love, my life.” You murmured and he took a sharp intake of air to prevent himself from crying more.

He knelt there on the sanded ground with you until he watched you draw your last breath and he leaned down to kiss your forehead, painfully aware of all of the eyes on his back.

“My love, my life.” He repeated against your skin.

He very carefully laid your body out over the sand and rose to his feet, turning to stare at Alina blankly. He looked over at Mal as he laid unmoving and Aleksander held his hand over his wound as he stood straight up.

“Now… you know sacrifice.” He breathed and watched Alina carefully.

Alina eyed him and then glanced at your lifeless body on the ground.

“I believe you do, too.” She spoke in a firm tone, “And look what said sacrifice did.”

“Indeed.” Aleksander replied blankly, willing himself to keep his eyes off of you, “Look what it did.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she nodded once at him.

“Mal and I changed the world.” She said tearfully, a little smile on her face, “We tore down your Shadow Fold.”

“You have my sympathies for what comes next. When you realize that what you’ve done solves nothing. The world doesn’t need a Saint to protect it-“

“But you needed one. You just had to have a Saint. And look where it got her. Perhaps the world doesn’t need a Saint, but look what you have done to yours.” Alina shouted and pointed at you.

His eyes wandered towards you and he shook his head, holding his hand over the gash in his side caused by Alina’s Cut.

“Your Firebird did this. Not I.”

“No, she is dead because of the choices you made.” Alina stated, shaking her head just once.

“Choices you, too, will make in time.”

Alina jutted her chin up into the air and she balled her fists at her sides.

“I will never walk your path. And if you hadn’t carried her down it, she would never have walked yours either.”

“I know you believe that now-“ Aleksander stepped forward and let out a groan, holding his side with both hands, “But soon, you’ll have no equal. The years spent alone will grind you down, they will harden you. And who will be there to shield you from it? Who will be there to save you? I could have. Y/n could have.“

There was a long pause shared between the two of them, and Alina grasped his shoulder when Aleksander approached her unsteadily, still clasping his wound.

“I will save myself. Your legacy is already written. It always has been. No amount of love for or from a girl could save you from that truth. There is no redemption.” She gave his shoulder a hard shove and he fell to his knees in pain.

He let out a long, gasping growl, and one of his nichevo'ya poured out from his back, taking on a sinister form behind his kneeling body.

The creature grabbed Alina, by the throat and lifted her up and when Aleksander tried to stop it, the creature flung him backwards.

A blade came flying through the air and pierced the shadow form, sending it scattering into the air, and Alina fell from its grip. Aleksander pulled himself up off of the ground at the same time as Alina rose to her knees and he grunted.

He walked towards her and offered her his hand.

“You can’t control them, can you?” She asked shakily, “You can’t control any of it.”

“I thought I could control it all once.” He spoke and Alina eyed his outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake and he continued on, a tear rolling down his cheek, “Find peace. And for a moment…” his eyes fell shut and he tipped his face up towards the sky, “I swear I did.”

He inhaled shakily and his mind flickered to you. Every little moment with you seemed to rise to the forefront of his mind. The first night he held you and lulled you to sleep, the night of the winter fete when you promised to stand with him forever, the afternoon just mere weeks ago when you two had whispered your first and most meaningful “i love you”s. Tears were steadily falling down his cheeks now, slipping through his closed eyelids while your sweet voice filled his ears, calling his name, singing him praises. In his mind, you weren’t laying on the sand with a bullet in your chest. Instead you were laying underneath the moonlit, starry sky with him, in a world where forever meant forever.

Not here. Not in this cruel place where you had to be the atonement for all his wrongdoing; the price he paid for the sins he committed.

This world was no place for you. He swore you were his Saint but as he imagined felt your touch on his face there in the middle of what used to be his Fold, he began to wonder if really you were an embodiment of The Moon itself. Graceful and beautiful in all endeavors.

He could hear you calling for him and he leaned forward to meet your call, further, further…

Until he could lean further no more because a blade had pierced his abdomen.

He laid his hands on top of Alina’s as she held the sword in his stomach and he looked up into her eyes as black blood fell from his lips.

“Thank you.” He mouthed.

She gave him one nod and withdrew her blade, sending him falling backwards onto the sand next to you.

He heard you call for him again, and you were closer this time, and he was ready to answer your call.

Alina stood over him and he let out a little cough before he sucked in whatever breath he could to speak.

“Alina. You make sure there is nothing left of me. But her… please see to it that she is buried underneath the willow tree just behind the Little Palace. Please. She deserves that much. Make sure she’s remembered as a Saint.” He begged, giving the Sun Summoner a little nod.

She gave him one nod in return and pursed her lips.

“For her, Aleksander. Not for you.” She whispered and he gave her a weak smile before he looked past her, up at the sky above.

“I hear her.” He breathed. And it was true. Your voice rang in his ears, singing his name.

“Go to her.” Alina commanded quietly, her voice softening only slightly.

So he did.

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