#I could elaborate but I think it speaks for itself

[schoolidolnecromancy]

yozora wa nandemo shitteru no (evil version)

[rist-ix]

https://www.tumblr.com/rist-ix/749015401700229120 not you reblogging this when you ship bloom with the man who murdered her family 😭

Bloom's into ppl who slay! Hope this helps :3

[astrumborn]

// I faintly remember the character inspo meme and well one of Lucen's inspo's is lowkey Jesus.

[battlekidx2]

I want to elaborate even further on why I think Alastor’s breakdown in the finale was (at least in part) motivated by the fact that he has come to care about the people at the hotel. A few people have responded to me saying they don't believe he actually cares or asking me about my opinions on certain counterarguments against the interpretation that he cares and I figured it would be easier to just make one post in response. (this is just meant to expand on my thoughts. You don't have to agree. That's half the fun of media interpretation.)

The consistent throughline I keep being told is that his breakdown was purely motivated by pride and loss of control and I do think these were massive parts of the breakdown.

Alastor is very aware of the fact that the situation around him is spiraling out of his control. That the notoriety he had cultivated as an unchallengeable overlord is crumbling. His time away allowed the fear he sowed to dull. He keeps coming face to face with beings that rival or surpass his strength. People who wouldn’t dare question him before are banging on his door. His foothold in the world isn’t secure like it once was and that has him reeling.

Alastor's pride is a driving factor in his actions, but, like I said in my last analysis, I think this is only part of it. I think this breakdown is motivated by the fact that he feels like he’s losing control of himself on top of the situation around him.

I'm going to start with the points/questions I've been asked first then expand on my thoughts after.

The first one I was asked about is the interpretation that Alastor was mocking the very idea that he would sacrifice himself for someone else when he says "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends." and I think that would work if it wasn't for the visuals paired with this line.

He literally looks like THIS when he is speaking the line. This isn’t the face of someone mocking the very idea that he would do this.

It was actually this shot that convinced me there was some truth to the words he was saying because it looks like he’s beginning to have a breakdown over the fact that this is almost exactly what happened.

The second one that I was asked about was the idea that he was forced to fight and protect Charlie by whoever owns his soul. But if he was forced to fight in this battle due to his contract why not describe it this way when alone? How could he even leave if he was forced to fight and protect the hotel? I doubt there was a caveat that he could leave the fight if he was seriously injured if he was ordered to fight and protect Charlie and the hotel.

I do think he's at the hotel because of whoever owns his soul, but I don't think it's why he fought or why he helped Charlie get Cannibal Town to aid them through his connection to Rosie.

And the last one that I was asked about was the idea that the demons had to be fighting for love like Carmilla said to Vaggie to defeat the angels and the reason Alastor didn't win was because he was fighting purely for his own interests. Freedom, power, and control.

And, while I think the base idea of this is really interesting (This is a genuinely cool idea!) and could challenge Alastor's more selfish motivations, the show itself doesn't really back this up.

Charlie is the literal embodiment of fighting to protect those she cares about-- she has the biggest heart out of anyone at the hotel-- and yet she doesn't defeat anyone in this battle.

Before she faces Adam all she uses is a shield to protect herself and the other residents. She apologizes to those she hits, while Vaggie finishes them off. When she does face Adam she doesn't beat him. She gets in a good hit, but she isn't able to finish him off. She would have been killed if Lucifer didn't step in.

Plus, Alastor's shield killed multiple exorcists before Adam destroyed it, so I don't think this means he hasn't grown to care about the residents of the hotel or that there wasn't some part of him that was fighting to protect them.

Now to expand on my own thoughts now that I've answered the questions I've gotten, it's not just the final battle/fallout that brought me to believe he had come to care about the hotel and its residents.

The show itself seems to want us to think he is starting to grow “accustomed” (In Alastor’s words to Niffty) to the group with little moments that are played straight like when he sends Mimzy (possibly his oldest friend) away, telling her she can stay if she truly wants to try for redemption, but if she just wants to put the hotel in danger then she has to leave.

When he says he believes in Charlie and wants to mentor her in cannibal town. He even gives her his microphone which is a literal extension of himself to help her.

When he talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her.

There is no sinister undertone or hint of the usual facade Alastor puts on in these scenes.

Like I said above I don't think that the fact that Alastor has come to care about the residents is the only factor in his breakdown or the only reason he fought in the first place (Alastor's blatant overconfidence in his fight against Adam makes it clear pride was a factor. That overconfidence is why he lost that battle). It's a combination of multiple things (his pride, loss of control, desire for freedom, etc), but I do think it's a valid reading that it was a part of it considering all the information the show has given us.

This isn't to say I think Alastor is going to melt and be a team player for the hotel from now on. In fact, I think he's going to lash out against this internal change.

Alastor has always put himself first and in the finale he almost died trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him. It's challenged his entire self-perception. He doesn’t like that it’s being challenged. That he’s losing control of himself on top of the situation around him. So, he doubles down on his initial goals.

I think this internal conflict is fascinating. I wouldn't have written so much about it if I didn't. I genuinely can't wait to see what they do with it in season 2.

If you feel differently feel free to send an ask, message, or respond to this post. I'd love to hear what other people think! Differing views and connections to characters is what makes media so impactful and fun to consume.

[irishmammonagenda]

How I Think The Obey Me Boys Would React to The Rumours™️

Summary: Rumours have been floating around the Devildom. Rumours about a certain Angel and Sorcerer...how will the demon brothers react? Word Count: haha great question Content Warnings: probably just swearing tbh Disclamer: This will probably not make a lot of sense unless you've read this fic here for context, but ykw life doesnt make sense you do you <3

[dateables & co version]

post dividers by @cafekitsune their post dividers r really cool check them out! (also sorry for the tag!!)

You had left the Sorcerers' Society feeling quite flustered, but also extremely pleased with yourself. Take that Solomon. You grin. In all the excitement of the following days, you'd forgotten about the rumour you had accidentally spread around the Devildom. Perhaps you shouldn't've pretended to be Archangel Michael to gain entry....

💙💙LUCIFER💙💙

When Lucifer heard the news from Beel, he was in the student council room, he turnt his D.D.D off and just placed his head in his hands.

Was this some elaborate scheme by Solomon to gain a pact with him?

Lucifer wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

Sighing; he pulled on his coat and traversed to Purgatory Hall where Michael was staying.

"Michael." The Avatar of Pride stood leaning against the kitchen counter, everyone else in Purgatory Hall was at RAD, so the Angel and Demon were alone. "Oh Jesus Christ!" The Angel in question brings a hand to his heart in mock dramatics, "Warn a guy next time Lucikins!" "..." The Silence was palpable. "...Lucikins?" Lucifer gritted out, his eye twitching. "Michael. This is not the time for your games. I am the Avatar of Pride and a Prince of Hell, show me some respect." Michael merely raised an arched eyebrow, a shit-eating grin on his face as he quickly closed the distance between them, pulling the Avatar of Pride into an ironclad headlock, bringing his other arm over with a clenched fist and messing up Lucifer's hair. "I'm sure you are Lucikins, but you're still my adorable little brother." Lucifer pushes his hands out in an attempt to get away, but even he had to admit, Michael had always been stronger than him. "Michael." The younger protests, "I swear to Lord Diavolo if you do not let me go, I will-" Michael interrupts him, pausing his brotherly tormenting to wipe a tear from his ruby red eyes. "-Ahh! You must've missed me so much, poor Wittle Wucifer! Always so heavy on the teenage angst!" Lucifer growled in a way too similar to Satan when he first fell. Like father, like son. "I don't have teenage angst. Now unhand me you bastard!" "Oh please! The amount of times I caught you in the Celestial Realm listening to My Chemical Romance and Panic at the Disco on repeat speaks for itself! And the eyeliner! Just because the others were too young to remember doesn't mean I was baby brother! Don't think I don't remember the wolf-cut!" Lucifer's eye twitches so hard he worries for his socket. He cab't even refute it. "You are two minutes older than me! And besides! I came here to talk about the rumours of you dating Solomon!" "The What." Michael immediately ceases all noogie-ing, his grip loose enough for Lucifer to slip through his arm. He scowls, smoothing the wrinkles from his suit and beginning to fix his hair. He moves a safe distance away from his older (estranged) brother. "The rumours of you showing up during a Sorcerers' Society meeting and making out with Solomon on his lap. Ring a bell?" Michael, for the love of him, just looks confused. "But I've never even-" He blinks slowly a few times. "I am going to kill MC." Lucifer, even with the ego bruising he had just endured, laughs, partly out of sheer relief, he doesn't want to imagine what a Solomon Michael duo could be capable of. But of course it was you. It always was.

💛💛MAMMON💛💛

HUH???!!!

This poor man's confusion is so strong.

He doesn't want to think about Michael's lovelife. Or Solomon's for that matter.

He immediately rushes to tell you.

"Oi! MC!" Mammon shoves his way into your room like he was auditioning for the walking dead, as per usual, he wasn't aware of the marvellous invention of knocking yet. You quickly closed you laptop lid, and placed the device down beside you on the bed, lest he saw the Archangel Michael/King Solomon 100k, Slowburn, Angst with a Happy Ending you were writing on HellO3. “Hi Mams!” Mammon scurries onto your bed like the floor is lava, resting his chin on your thigh and looking up at you with his usual puppy eyes. “Yer not gonna believe this MC.” He says seriously. "What's up?" You tilt your head, bringing a one of your hands to ruffle your First Man's hair, he leans into the touch happily before jumping up and acting like he wasn't. "Well, 'pparently Michael's after starting te date Solomon. Can ye believe it?" Mammon makes a face. "Michael...wi' Solomon...I don' wanna believe it...just...its mingin'..." You laugh nervously, "I don't think Michael's dating Solomon, Mams....someone must've uhh..." You hold in a laugh. "It's probably just a succubi or someone looking for chaos." Mammon nods seriously, laying his head back on your lap. "Yer prolly righ' MC." You pet his hair again, "Wanna watch a movie or something, Mams?" "Pffft- Of course ya would wanna watch a movie wi' the Great Mammon...alrigh' huma-...Angel...I'll allow it...!" He says with his usual bravado, it was almost convincing, if he hadn't nuzzled further into your hand, and he wasn't looking at you like you were the one reason his pulse was still going.

🧡🧡LEVIATHAN🧡🧡

He finds out after the first chapter to a certain Archangel Michael/King Solomon fanfic was published. Yes he is subscribed to your HellO3 account, and yes! he has emails turnt on.

What kind of person would he be if he didn't read his Henry's fanfics?!

He throws his phone across the room.

When he finally wills himself to get up and retrieve it, he takes a screenshot and starts texting you frantically.

You're lazing about on your bed dong nothing, you'd just posted the first chapter of THE FORBIDDEN FRUITS: A GAY ROMANCE STORY THAT TRANSCENDS REALMS five minutes previous when your DDD began vibrating at such a speed you almost made a very unfunny sex joke. You pick up your DDD and sure enough, its Levi, heh; so he is subscribed to your HellO3 account! Leviachan <3: MC WHAT IS THIS NDVNRO DID YOU WRIT E FNAFICTION AOBOUT MCIAHEL AND SOLOMOMN You grinned. You: Fnaf fiction? Good idea for an AU! Leviachan <3: VFIBNODNORNGVNO MC IM LOOKING ON FORUMS WDYM THERES A RUMOU R ABORUT SOLOMON AND MICHAEL DATING You: In my defense, it was Solomon's fault. There's no response for 10 minutes, until your DDD pings again. Leviachan <3: Why is the fanfic good Leviachan <3: I MEAN OFC ITD BE GOOD, YOU WROTE IT BUT Leviachan <3: ITS SO Leviachan <3: THE CHARACTERS ARE SO COMPELLING AND THE PLOT IS SO GOOD RJRGNVDON Leviachan <3: AND THE TENSION??!! You grinned, you could always count on your Lord of Shadows to hype up your degenerate fanfics. You: thanks <3 satan's helping me write it, wanna help? Leviachan <3: I don't think I could write as good as you guys, im just a stinky smelly worthless otaku :( You: nuhuh. >:( Leviachan <3: But if you wanted... I could maybe beta-read??? You: OFC YOU CAN LEVI TANK YOU <33333 Leviachan <3: Haha tank LMAO ROFL You: I can never mispell anything around anyone in this house You kicked your feet like a catholic school girl holding hands with a boy for the first time in her life, knowing Levi probably was too.

💚💚SATAN💚💚

This man has a web of connections.

He found out almost as soon as the rumour started.

Like Mammon, he immediately finds you to tell you

Unlike Mammon, he actually knocks

granted he knocks for a second before just opening your door so he could've just not knocked and it would've had the same affect.

"Hello MC" "Mornin' Satie...What time's it?" You rub your eyes tiredly, having just woken up from a nap, you sit up and blink at him slowly with sleepy eyes. Satan can't stop himself from cooing, he movies towards your bed and ruffles your hair like you're a cat, you lean into the touch. "Sorry for waking you, dear..." You yawn. "You're fine Satie...what'd you need?" "Have you heard the rumours that Michael and Solomon are secret lovers-" Suddenly you're wide awake. "Oh no. Oh no no no." Satan raises a brow, "What's wrong, MC?" You grin sheepishly, "I maybe might've accidentally not on purpose started that rumour?..." Satan laughs in your face. Handsome bastard. "It's not funny!" "It is a little funny..." You gasp, eyes lighting up mischievously, "We should write a fanfic!" Satan tilts his head, "And why would we do that?" "Because the world deserves a Slowburn Michael x Solomon fic?" "Nope." "Pleaseee Satan! I'll pay you!" "Nope." "It'll annoy Luci?" "Tempting..." "I'll give you a kiss?" "I'm in. Let's write the best Michael x Solomon the Devildom's ever seen." You shake Satan's hand. Maybe you should've been reincarnated as a demon.

🩷🩷ASMODEUS 🩷🩷

Finds out through one of his gossip circles relatively fast.

He wants to get more details so he can tell you later! <3

By far one of the more supportive brothers

So he finds Solomon, who knows maybe he could give some advice!

Michael was strange, but he was always nice to Asmo growing up in the celestial realm, he might as well make sure one of his best friends is treating his former brother right <3

"Hiya Sol!~" Asmo smiles excitedly, pulling the sorcerer in for a hug, pouting when he pulled away again. "I cant believe you never told me! Ugh~...you must've been scared I wouldn't accept you!~ Poor thing...~" Solomon blinks slowly, his usual shit-eating grin replaced with pure confusion, lost in his own rant, Asmo doesn't notice. "Well! You have my blessing!~" "For what?" "For your relationship with Michael, silly!~" Asmo giggles, Solomon takes a deep breath. "For my what." A pause pauses all sound for a moment, only for a moment, before like all other moments, they begin the cycle of movemnt again. Solomon nods rather calmly, "Maybe I shouldn't have turnt MC into a sheep....or maybe I should do it again as payback...." He says to himself Asmo sighs, so it was just a rumour then....

He does still post a link to your fanfic on his Devilgram story, because he's so supportive! <3

No one tell Michael, or Lucifer pretty please

❤️❤️BEELZEBUB❤️❤️ & 💜💜BELPHEGOR💜💜

Being a member of the Anti-Lucifer League, Satan told Belphie who told Beel after taking a nap.

Beel, being the absolute legend that he is didn't really have any opinions on it. As long as they're happy :)

Belphie sits in on the fanfic plot planning sessions you and Satan host, with Beel sometimes joining and giving surprisingly interesting plot twists.

Belphie cackles when Beel tells Lucifer of the rumours, shortly before the first chapter of Forbidden Fruits is published.

Satan and You stand by the whiteboard in the attic, various spider diagrams and bullet points are written messily upon it, only this time, it's not a plan to 'prank' Lucifer. (Are they really pranks if they never succeed?) The sound of munching can be heard as Beel works away happily on a bag of crisps, offering everyone some as you work. "What if we made Solomon run after Michael in the rain." Belphie drawls out lazily, not even looking up from where he lies beside Beel. You stare at Belphie, "What is with you and the people chasing after people in the rain trope?" Belphie sticks his tongue out at you in response. Beel shakes his head. "That wouldn't be accurate. Michael hates getting his hair wet." Belphie smiles, "Good point Beel." Satan makes a sound of contemplation. "What if...we had Michael chase Solomon in the rain instead? The fact he hates getting his hair wet could show just how much he loves Solomon..." You laugh, imagining the scene in your head. "But why is Michael chasing Solomon?" Belphie smirks, "Because Michael said something bad about humans during a fight, Solomon got upset and ran like a maiden." Beel stops munching on his snacks, looking down approvingly at his twin. "That's really smart Belphie." "Thanks Beel." Belphie grins. "Yeah Belph, your angstiness is really paying off." You tease. "Oh shut up MC." He glares at you, but there's no real weight behind it. "Theyre right you know." Satan smirks. "I heard you blasting Paramore and MCR earlier." "Its good music!"Belphie says definsively. "Besides, it keeps me awake. Goodnight." He mutters, laying his head on his twins lap before closing his eyes. Five minutes of silence later, Beel opens his mouth, "He does wear eyeliner a lot when he's in our room y'know?" "Beel!" You and Satan laugh, Beel just smiles happily at everyone getting along. Belphie devises a plan to make you dream pigeons are going to take over the world tonight as payback.

im on a Lucifer being bullied by Michael spree rn 🧍‍♂️ also you can't convince me that Satan and Belphie aren't soso similar to Lucifer bc at the end of the day they're all just angsty emo teens &lt;3

[bluefairyhere]

I think I'm in love (with you)|| Colby Brock

¬Colby meets a girl at a coffee shop. ¬Pairing->f!reader x f!reader ¬w.c 2.3k ¬t.w. SMUT, swearing, Colby being a little agressive, y/n being silly, edging, rough play, unprotected sex.

You can't do it. No. You can't do it. No. No. NO! Was all that ever crossed your mind when you were with your friend Colby. He's a fuckboy, he has no real feelings for you. Giving in will only get you hurt.

You'd had a crush on him for as long as you could remember and lately he'd been giving you mixed signals. Flirting with you in a way he never had before, but then he'd show up and say he had a date with some other girl. At the beginning you didn't think much of it since you figured it was only some friendly, playful banter. But then it started getting more and more serious in a sexually tense way. Right now, Kat, Kris, Sam, Celina, Colby and you were hanging out. You had just finished recording a long video at one of the haunted locations and decided to come hang out for a little bit since you finished way earlier than expected. For now, you were watching a horror movie.

When you'd first gotten there, you sat on the corner on the couch and covered your legs with a blanket. Colby hadn't taken long to sit right next to you while everybody was getting on their sits to watch the already preestablished movie: Sinister. It was a solid re-watch and apparently Kris had never watched it before, so you guys agreed to watch it on your way home. You were on your phone, trying not to pay attention to the fact that Colby deliberately decided to sit next to you even though at the time most of the seats were not taken. Sam and Kat took care of bringing snacks for everyone, and the movie began.

At first, everything was cool. The movie was rolling, Kris and Kat were gasping and you were giggling at how edgy the whole thing was. By the time you reached the half, Colby also got his legs under the blanket and placed a hand on your thigh. You bit your lip, instantly overthinking it and feeling nervous, but you decided to brush it off. The movie went on but you were more distracted with the guys' banter than the movie itself, trying not to focus on Colby right next to you--who was also bantering. And it was working until his hand, which had never left your thigh, suddenly squeezed it hard but not enough to hurt you, however still provoking for you to open your eyes widely. You instantly looked at him, who was casually staring at the movie on the screen while eating some popcorn with his other hand. This. THIS. This you could simply not put yourself through. "Hey Colby, help me make more popcorn in the kitchen?" You asked as you stood up suddenly. The dark haired boy looked confused but nodded and added a "sure" to the gesture. You headed to the kitchen right away---which was a considerable distance away from the rest of the guys---and stood besides the counter, your arms crossed. "What's up?" He asked unceremoniously. Your eyes went wide again in disbelief. "´Whats up'?" you replied angrily. "Listen Colby, I'm fed up with this. I'm not just another one of your girls that you can play and confuse, okay? So drop it."

Colby looked fazed now. He certainly seemed like he wasn't expecting such an outburst.

"Listen, if this was about the couch-" but you didn't let him finish.

"This isn't just about the couch thing, Colby. This is about everything that's been happening lately. The looks you give me, the things you say. Everything! I'm fed up, I don't understand you! You hook up with so many girls, why must you bother me?" Colby looked at you as if you were speaking some sort of different language. "I think I'm in love with you." Was his reply. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Him? In love with you? Imposible. Unthinkable. This had to be some sort of elaborate joke.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked in return, no longer angry but deeply confused as you crossed your arms and looked up and down to him, not recognizing what was in front of you.

"It's just-" Colby seemed frustrated, almost as if he couldn't find the right words, or translate his feelings into coherent thoughts. "It's been a few months since I started thinking this. If you weren't around, I'd miss you. I'd always want to tell you everything about out investigations before anyone, or anything good really. I've been with other girls, I know, but only to try and get you out of my head... which obviously hasn't worked."

"And you expect me to believe this is why you've been all flirty and touchy? because you're 'in love'? C'mon Colby!" You mumble exasperated, so much information overloading you. "That makes no sense, I mean, why did you never tell me if you're so madly in love?"

Now Colby seemed to be the upset one. "Just like you’re doing now, I didn't think you'd take me seriously."

"So you decided touching me just now was a better course of action? Bravo." You were starting to get mad again, you really thought he was not being for real. But what was this then? A prank of some sort?

"I couldn't help it okay?! It's like my body can't help it, I wanna touch your skin... not even in a perverted way. I just... want to be near you, feel the heat of your body."

Okay. Maybe he was serious. There's no way he'd say something like that just because. But then, what did all of this mean? His words left you completely speechless, so you did what any human being would've done---leave the room in complete silence. You went up the stairs and got into the first room you found. You turned on the lights and realized it was actually Colby's. You were about to retrace your steps when Colby came in too and closed the door after himself, looking at you with a dark gaze. "Did you just run away from me?" he asked, visibly hurt "I'm not gonna bite you, I just confessed my feelings for you for fuck's sake."

"I didn't run away, Colby, I just... need to think. Digest everything."

"What's there to digest? I've seen the way you look at me, Y/N. I know you feel the same way, I can feel it." As he said this, he came closer and closer to you, making your body shiver and the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Cole." You, however, stuttered. You'd no idea why were you being so stubborn. If he was telling the truth, which it seemed like he was, this was the best case scenario you had always wished for.

"I think you do, Y/N. You're doing it just now." Right after saying that, he leaned in for a kiss.

But he didn't kiss you right away, moreso he waited for you to lean in too. And oh boy did you. You leaned in right away, waisting no more time. Your hands were cupping his cheeks desperately, and one of them passed to grasp his dark black hair, in need of more. His hands were on your waist, bringing you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. You could feel his hardness inimical to your lower belly. You stopped the kiss and looked up at him, your faces only an inch away.

"What are we doing..?" You whispered.

"What we should have done months ago" After saying that he kissed you again, this time more passionately, more instenely. He moved to his front, making you move as well, until you fell onto the bed. "Do you want to do this?"

Did you? That was a good question. You definitely did, but was it wise? Everyone was just downstairs, probably wondering what was taking so long. Plus, what would this mean? Would this make you a couple? You meant, after everything he'd said this couldn't possibly be just sex. But you really wanted to do this... just the thought of his terse pale porcelain skin against yours, his growls and whimpers, his member inside you...

"What does this mean, Colby?" You asked, unable to let your worries go for the heat of the moment. He seemed to think about it a few seconds before answering.

"All I know is you mean everything to me." He replied simply. Did he mean it? You'd known Colby for years, he wasn't the type of person to say things he didn't mean, he was actually known for being very upfront and honest about everything. Okay then, that decided it.

"I wanna do this, Colby. I want to do this so bad, but I don't want it to be meaningless."

Without any other single word, Colby got on top of you and started kissing you again, roughly. You did know he liked his sex rough, which was good because so did you. You could feel his hands going up and down your body, one of them reaching under your shirt and grabbing firmly one of your breasts, pinching your nipple. You moaned against his lips.

Eagerly, Colby broke the kiss and looked at you with lustful eyes. He reached the border of your jeans with his hands and unbottoned them, taking them off swiftly. Now you were only on your panties and top, since you decided to not wear a bra under your hoodie today. You gulped, almost unable to contain your ardour for his skin. But it felt different, it felt... special. This wasn't just any guy about to fuck your brains out, this was Colby. Your friend for years. Your closest comrade. You were a bit scared, sure, but it felt real. And you had a hunch he was feeling the same.

Colby got off the bed and kneeled in front of you, looking at your blushed face from in bewteen your thighs. "May I taste you?" He asked, taking your panties off. You nodded but he shook his head. "I need for you to say it outloud so I know you're sure, I don't want you to regret any of the things we're about to do." 'Everything we're about to do? What on earth is he planning?' you thought. You also loved the fact he was looking for enthusiastic consent, which you immidiately gave. "I do want you to, Colby."

Right away, he buried his face in your pussy and started licking your clit, drawing circles around it with his tongue slowly at first, hightening the velocity by the second, making you moan moderately loudly. With two of his long fingers he started to finger yourself, hitting you with the most magical combo you could've ever dreamt of. You could feel his fingers deep inside of you, and that alone was driving you crazy, but his tongue too? Your moans were getting louder and you were quick to whimper "I'm getting close."

But then he stopped. You instantly opened your eyes and looked at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?" You asked him reluctantly.

"We can't have you finishing so fast, can we?"

He whooped out his enormous cock and pressed his tip against your entrance while he looked at you, silently asking for consent. You nodded your head yes and he pushed. Now his tip was pressed against your entrance and he groaned. "Are you ready?" to which you whimpered a 'yes'.

Without further ado, he pushed his big lenght inside of you, slowly but fully, and you moaned loudly once again. He started thrusting at a slow pace but eventually reaching a faster one, all of his dick coming in and out, his balls creating a noise when they hit your ass. It was all so lewd yet it felt so... romantic. It felt special, real, meaningul. Colby leaned in and kissed you, your tongues sparrings with one another. His hand cupped your cheek lovingly as he fucked you fast and rough. He then stopped and turned you around, which you took as an indication to get on doggy-style and so you did. He started thrusting you from behind and gave you a very light slap on your right cheek. You loved it.

"Harder." You whimpered. And harder he went. He gave you another spank, but this one was loud and hard. You gasped. He then gave you another one and another one. With your hand, you reached to your crotch and started stimulating your clit while he fucked you. You could feel the orgasm building up. "Colby, I'm close." You moaned. Colby's reply was stopping, again, and turning you around.

"I wanna look into your eyes when I make you finish, baby." And now he started fucking you again, but this time it was slower, deeper. He caressed the skin og your breast as if you were going to break, which had an incredible difference with the previous moments. But you liked it... no. You loved it. "Y/N. I'm in love with you."

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body started to shake in a very well known climax sensation. Your moans were incontrollable and you could feel Colby's body tensing and shaking as well. You felt new warmess inside of you, liquid and thick. He was filling you up. Finally, he let himself fall on top of you, softly, and cuddle you.

"Colby."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something when the door suddenly opened. It was Sam. As he saw you he seemed to be confused for a few seconds, but then his face turned from that to surprise, and very quickly to understanding, as if he had just connected some dots. He turned around and closed the door, through which you could hear him yell "Found them guys! They're busy."

Everyone downstairs burts into laughter and you blushed violently. Colby just smiled and looked at you. "Totally worth it."

[rinhaler]

As promised!!! Since I love your writing, I had this imagination spark while listening to Chase Atlantic's "HEAVEN AND BACK" song, oddly to say I associate Rin Itoshi in every CA songs. Basically could I request a steamy one-night stand of him meeting reader in a big crowded bar where Rin is likely a bass guitarist? Sounds cheesy of it but XD

GLAD U SAID BASS PLAYER MY BOYF PLAYS BASS 😭 sorry this took SO long to post but I hope u like it :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, alcohol consumption, (kinda fast) enemies to lovers, fingering, love bites, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess etc.), squirting.

words: 2.2k

It’s been years since you’ve been to a gig. Especially one like this, in a dingy dive bar for a barely known local band. The guitarist is a friend of your cousin’s. And she just about begged you to go.

The place is pretty packed and the music definitely isn’t the worst you’ve heard. In fact, you found yourself swaying your hips and tapping your toes along to the beat. As the night went on and on, you were surprised to find that they were actually good. Good enough to be searching for their latest single when they promoted it at the end of their set.

“Play nice please,” your cousin begs. “I really like him, and I think tonight might be the night.”

“I knew he wasn’t just a fucking friend.” you laugh. She crosses her arms across her chest as embarrassment surges through her, but you still decide to tease her. “You really needed me to help you get some dick?”

“Shut up!” she blushes. “You always have guys falling at your feet so I thought it might rub off on me.” she pouts.

You clear your throat when you notice the guy in question heading your way. She turns around, instantly, smoothing her hair down and putting on the highest, girliest voice she can muster. He seems interested enough without her needing your help, but you decide to stay a few extra seconds for moral support. She giggles at every sentence and smiles giddily whenever he speaks.

“Tone it down, you’re good.” you whisper in her ear before slinking away to the bar.

You signal for a drink, thankful for the low-cut top you’re wearing as everyone else seems to be instantly ignored in favour of you. There’s a scoff beside you, one you choose to ignore until he watches you receive your pint of beer.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“No.” he responds. “I’m jealous of your drink, princess.”

“Excuse me, can you get this guy a beer too?” you yell. The bartender nods with a smile and quickly acquiesces. “Will that put a smile on your pretty face?”

He smirks but shakes his head as he ignores you. He thanks the bartender as he receives his own drink, the frothy head attaching itself to his lip before he licks it away. He grunts a little as he feels a passerby knock into the big black case on his back. It’s only then that you notice it, and pieces begin to fall into place.

“Oh fuck. You were in the band.” you smile excitedly as you angle your body to face him. “I wasn’t gonna come tonight but I’m glad I did.” you giggle as you pull up your phone to show the bands single saved in your music library.

“Thanks.” he nods. “Why did you come?”

“Uh my cousin is trying to fuck the guitarist.”

“You’re Ada’s cousin?” he asks, expression changing to one of slight annoyance. He takes another swig of his beer before elaborating. “Zantetsu hasn’t shut up about her and she’s always crashing our practices. I hope they get it over with, it’s getting in the way.”

“Oh you’re a serious musician. Gotcha.” you roll your eyes. “You know you play the most boring instrument out of everyone, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Drummers are the hottest, guitars are the most iconic, everyone’s drawn to the singer. And then there’s… you. No one can even hear you over all of that, you know.”

He scoffs once again. You can tell he wants to fight you on it and fill your head with facts about his instrument of choice. But it’s almost like he already knows you and how stubborn you are. He could tell you anything he wants, but you’ll die on the hill you’ve decided to climb just to piss him off more.

“They’d sound like shit if it wasn’t for me.” he mumbles before taking another drink. “The bass is the most important part, you’re clueless. It’s like you’ve never listened to music in your life.”

“Clueless?” you repeat. “Besides, you’ve got a pretty face. I’m sure if your attitude wasn’t so rotten and you were the lead singer you’d be drowning in pussy.”

“I do alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You squint your eyes sceptically. There’s no doubt that he has the potential to pull a girl or two. And, admittedly, you’ve had one very hostile conversation with him. But you can tell from his sulky demeanour that any woman he has a chance with is likely scared off by his attitude.

He tries to ignore you for the remainder of his drink.

God, he tries.

But he’s overwhelmed by the desire to put you in your place.

“I—”

“There’s no way you’re getting girls.” you interrupt him immediately. “Like, no way. Maybe one or two, but you’re not doing better than the lead. He’s gorgeous and he’s the face of the band.”

His smile is wicked as he holds his near empty glass, swilling the golden liquid around the bottom before he puts it down on a coaster. “You really don’t get it, do you?” you’re a little taken aback as he bites his lip whilst looking at you from the corner of his eye.

His expression makes your heart beat a little faster. You find yourself shuffling in your seat as you see just how strikingly handsome he really is when he’s trying. And then it hits you, he’s trying. He’s showing you what he’s capable of and you’re falling for it. Even with the knowledge, it’s too late. All you can think about his that sharp jawline and striking stare.

“You know what they say about bass players.” he says quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. His barstool spins so he’s facing you. You take a sharp inhale as he slowly leans in towards you, the smell of beer on his pretty lips makes you heady and excited, waiting with bated breath for him to continue. “They’re good with their fingers.”

You can’t stifle a laugh as he pulls away, giggling like your cousin had been moments prior whilst flirting with the guitarist. It’s embarrassing, letting him see you reduced to this after trying to irritate him. You clear your throat and try to gain your composure.

“You’re disgusting.” you respond.

“Mmm, you want to find out though, so,” he shrugs, finishing the last dregs of his drink. “I’ll wait by the entrance for ten minutes, if you don’t come find me, I’ll leave without you.” he walks away without even looking at you.

You don’t get a chance to say a word before he seamlessly weaves through the crowd and out of sight. Without thinking, you’re already on your feet and checking the time.

Ten minutes.

You rush through the bar to find Ada, tapping on her shoulder to pull her attention away from Zantetsu. “I’m leaving. Seal the deal, please.” you wink. She nods, laughing as you kiss her cheek and rush towards the entrance.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you saw his face light up when he realised you were actually going to take him up on his offer. He plays it off, though, trying to appear cooler and more aloof as you approach him.

“It’s barely been two minutes.” he tells you.

“I’m not gonna let you hear the end of it if you’re all talk.” you smirk.

The minute he gets you inside of his apartment, you can’t keep your hands off each other. Your lips are on his in an instant, your breath stolen as he lifts you from the ground and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist while he carries you into the kitchen.

He helps you out of the vest top you’re wearing when he sits you down on the counter so you’re down to your jeans and bra. You tilt your head as he peppers your neck in a combination of soft and sloppy kisses.

Your heels fall off without effort as you instinctively open your legs, rolling your hip against his clothed abs.

“My roommate is out,” he tells you quietly, still kissing you all over. You moan softly as he starts leaving soft bite marks across your skin. “He’s such a clean freak, he’d lose it if he knew—”

“It’s okay,” you giggle, you cup his face and direct him to kiss you again. “Help me get my jeans off.”

He wastes no time unbuttoning them and yanking down the zipper. He keeps his eyes on yours as he helps you shimmy out of the wide-legged jeans, smiling at you as you both hear them crumple on the ground.

“Gonna show me what a stud you are?” you ask, spreading your legs to reveal your dark, lewd panties. There’s a glint of amusement in his eye, which soon turns into a toothy grin as he runs his finger along the damp slit. “Fuck,”

“You’re soaking for me already, good girl.” he tells you. He begins to rub your clit over the lace covering your flesh, and you’re immediately putty in his hands. Your legs quiver slightly, and you rush to close them, but he pries them apart before leaning in to kiss you. “Keep them open for me.” he demands before slipping his tongue between your lips.

“Haah.. haaaah~!” you whimper, his featherlight ministrations seeming like magic as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” he grunts, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties before he begins to tug. “Off. Get them off.” he demands, ordering you to wiggle on the counter until he manages to peel them from your cunt and slip them down your legs. He distracts you with a kiss as he shoves them into the back pocket of his jeans.

Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as he resumes circling your now bare clit. Your face is picturesque, he thinks, as your eyes become heavy and your pants are more uncontrollable.

“Are you faking this to piss me off?” he wonders. You shake your head slowly. “You’re so sensitive…”

“S-Shut up,” you bite your lip before giggling. “Haven’t gotten any in a while.”

“Well we can’t have that. Better make up for lost time.” he grins, fingers traversing from your throbbing clit to your entrance. His jaw hangs low, moaning in faux sympathy as he starts to stretch you immediately with two fingers. “You’re so tight baby, takin’ me so well.” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for a response before his head sinks to nestle in the crook of your neck as he assaults your skin with a cacophony moans and sucks, decorating your flesh with his name in a purple and blue masterpiece.  

Your cunt squelches as he presses his fingers deeper and deeper into your gooey interior, eagerly searching for your sweet spot and hellbent on targeting it. He hears you squeak, body almost falling limp with a particularly delicious curling of his fingers. You feel his smug expression against your pulse point, but instead of mocking you, his canines gently graze against it.

“She’s so loud for me, baby. Your sloppy little pussy loves me.” he breathes. You throw your head back as he continues to delve deeper and deeper until you can no longer fight off the urge to scream his name.

“FUCK, Rin!” you cry. “There! R-Right there!”

“There, princess?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical. He already knows what you want and what he needs to do. You’re happy you goaded him. But he’s happier to know he’s proving you wrong. “You’re squeezing so tight… won’t be able to play with your pussy or my bass if you break my fingers.”

“Sto- stop. Goddddd Rin I’m gonna c-um. Gonna cum!” you warn him, as if he didn’t already know. You wrap your arms around his neck in a needy display that makes you sick, but you don’t care enough to stop. He doesn’t mind, either. Making out with you passionately, swapping spit as drool dribbles and pools from each of your mouths. His lips remain connected to yours by a single string of spit as you break away to moan through your high.

He swallows them, though. Transfixed by the feeling and pride that you’re offering your prettiest sounds for him to devour while your legs quiver violently on either side of his hand.

You throw your head back as your pussy begins to squirt and douse his fingers. He doesn’t even flinch, immediately using his free hand to swipe across your clit to extend your pleasure and further the mess spurting from the apex of your thighs.

“She really likes me, baby.” he smirks at you, an expression so smarmy you’d punch him if he hadn’t made you feel so good. “You came so fast for me.”

“You’re welcome.” you giggle, leaning forward to kiss him. “I got what I came for so I’m gonna leave now.” you tell him as you pretend to free yourself of his hold. He shakes his head, lower lip tugged by his teeth as he tries to supress a smile.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Nowhere near through with you yet.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: alhaitham x gn reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: alhaitham answers a seamingly meaningless question while cuddling with you

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 562

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: that this is the second time the reader is akin to a cat in an alhaitham fic is pure coincidence I swear. No beef vs dogs

"What animal would you be?"

Kaveh had asked this on a stray night, a couple drinks in, buzzed and free but not sobbing-drunk as he always is. He had meant it as an innocent question, a fun fact, and said that he would love to be a lion, coincidentally his Darshan's insignia, because they looked cool—well, he listed a lot more reasons, but that's what it boiled down to.

Alhaitham that same night said it was meaningless to answer. It's not like one would be able to achieve such a thing–morphing into an animal–anyway. Thus, he did not answer, and neither had you at the time, since conversation had moved on quickly after Alhaitham had shut his former roommate down.

However, despite his claims of it being meaningless, it seems to have stuck to his mind. He finds himself pondering the question whenever his mind drifts off work, which is a rare occurrence in itself, since he is a very focused individual.

Would he be a dog? Absolutely not. A crow? No, he didn't much care for shiny things. On the broader spectrum, a solitary animal? No, he had you.

The question, after everything, proved to be quite challenging.

The answer finally comes to him on an empty weekend afternoon which he's got no choice but to fill with physical contact from his undoubted "love of my life"—he says it that way, but he's got plenty choice and he chooses without hesitation.

Alhaitham's holding you, and you are merely enjoying your time together, when he says, "I think I'd be a cat."

Quickly recalling the conversation, you perk up to follow up, "Yeah? How so?"

"They're solitary beings, to a point, both enjoying alone time and company." He nods to himself, "They have fine taste, unlike dogs, they groom themselves and display a sense of discipline regarding so. Plus, if I really was a cat, I would have nothing to do around the house except lounge around. I wouldn't have any work to do, which is always a plus."

"To be fair, Haitham," You snicker in return, "if you were any animal, you wouldn't have to work."

"I meant that as a cat, you don't even have the burden of "tricks" automatically placed on you." Of course he thought it through.

"Guess you're right." You snuggle closer to his chest, and he thinks that's that.

But then you're perking up again, pulling away from his tight embrace, turning it loose as you meet his eyes. "I think I would be a cat too."

"Oh, yeah?" He shifts too, interestedly.

"I'd get to show you my love that way." You grin up at him, and he can't help but to smile back, despite the lack of elaboration so far. "Cats kiss each other by licking, I think, and they cuddle all the time. Could you imagine laying under a stray ray of sun, together?"

Strangely enough, he can.

There's the warmth of the summer, or of heat in the winter, on his fur, hot but pleasant, and he's got yet another source of heat between his paws, so to speak. He can also imagine himself with a nice black coat, and you with an orange one. It's a nice thought, oddly domestic.

"Yeah." He hugs you closer, the thought freshly laid to rest behind his closed eyelids, and you can tell he's satisfied.

Finally, that's that.

[digital-domain]

Purpose

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.4k

You can have you soul back, if you wish. But really…why would you even want something like that?

Tags/warnings: yandere, manipulation, power imbalance, angsty as hell, Alastor owns reader’s soul, reference to Alastor destroying other souls, shadows being far too tangible for comfort

A/N: This was supposed to be a short, simple little thing in my notes app. It did not stay that way for long. I swear I’ll write for someone else after this one (this might be a lie, haven’t decided yet)

You can’t believe that you asked. It was a sort of trance that brought you here, that forced your steps down the hallway, that raised your fist to his bedroom door - and it was your entire fist that knocked, not merely the knuckles of your hand. Like you were threatening to break the wood from its hinges if he didn’t answer. But he wasn’t angry when he let you inside. Only bemused. And even now that you’ve done it, now that you’ve somehow managed to get out the words that have been churning in your mind for months…his demeanor has barely shifted at all. Although of course, it could be an act. It’s still hard for you to tell.

“Is that truly what you desire, my dear?” Alastor’s smile, which you expected to fade somewhat, or at least twitch at the corners in a telltale sign of annoyance, is just as broad as it’s ever been. He towers over you, his hands folded behind his back. “Think carefully, now. It’s already rare for me to allow someone to escape - unheard of, in fact. But taking someone back would be even less likely, so if there’s any chance at all ”-

“I’m sure.” You set your jaw, and refuse to look down, even as the glow in his eyes becomes almost too bright to bear. Even as something stirs in the swamp behind him, threatening to draw your gaze away. “I want my soul. I’ll give you anything to have it back. I’ll”-

“No need to elaborate, darling.” He sounds calm, and just as surprising, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying. “I assure you, I have no interest in any offer you might have had planned. If you want your soul, you can have it.” 

You freeze, your mouth still ajar. It takes you a moment before you can speak again. “Really?”

“Really.” His head tilts slowly as you continue to process his words. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes.” You’re deeply confused, in fact. You were expecting to have to haggle, if not to beg. You were certainly expecting him to be upset. It shouldn’t - it can’t - be this easy. 

“I give you my word. If you wish to leave, I’ll let you.” He pauses. “However. ”

This is a trick. It has to be. Your eyes dart around the room, as if a map to his true intentions might be lying somewhere nearby.

“It would be irresponsible of me not to help you consider your options. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret. So…tell me.” He sighs, and simply stares for a moment before brushing the tips of two fingers up the line of your jaw, from your ear to just below your mouth. “ If you were to go…” He taps the pads of his fingers gently against your cheek, and lets his hand fall to his side. “What, exactly, would you have to gain from such a thing?”

You blink, still reeling from his feather-light touch. This is not a question you expected to answer, and you stay quiet for a moment too long.

He leans over you, and lowers his face to your ear, as if he’s about to tell you a secret. “I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t think you’ll like it very much…but then again, people never enjoy hearing the truth.” There’s a buzz of static, he disappears and reappears behind you, and you’re left too disoriented to respond. “I think you’d be quite miserable, if you went through with this impulsive little idea of yours.” 

It wasn’t impulsive. Saying it out loud was, without a doubt. But the idea itself has been there for a very long time. 

“Would you like to know why I think that?” 

“No.” You’re not sure, really, whether you’re responding to his words, or to the hand that has landed on your waist. “You’re wrong.” His grip tightens, tugging slightly on the fabric of your shirt, but there it is again - that odd, detached state of mind that you fall into when you need to do something, and quickly, before you think about it and lose your resolve. “I’ll be miserable if I stay. I’ve already been miserable for a long fucking time.” You uncurl the fist you didn’t realize you had clenched, bring your hand to his wrist, and tug it sharply away from your waist. You barely even register your surprise when he lets this happen. 

He reappears in front of you, and waits silently for you to continue. 

“I didn’t think it would be like this.” Your eyes wander to the desk against the wall, to the ledger that you know contains the list of souls under his command. He’s allowed you to witness what happens to the souls - to the people - that displease him, and on more than one occasion, he’s enlisted your help in cleaning up the mess. You always got the impression that he didn’t particularly need your assistance. That it was more about the fun of watching you squirm. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“How interesting.” He leans forward, eyes gleaming. “I must be a better judge of character than you, then. Because you have never once surprised me.” Without warning, he takes your hand, tugs you close enough to put his other hand on the small of your back, and half-drags you to his desk chair, which he kicks around and deposits you into. 

You glare up at him, hands braced tightly against the armrests, but he only pulls his hands behind his back, and sighs.

“Well, my dear. I would have merely asked you to sit down - as one should do for someone who’s about to receive unfortunate news - but it seems that you’re in a rather oppositional mood. So.” He gestures in your direction, and something slithers over your waist, binding you to the back of his chair. 

Before this all began, you would have struggled. Now, you barely glance down. “Fuck you.”

“Shall I bind your tongue as well, darling?” A dark coil, made of the same unnaturally smooth, unfathomably black material as the first, curls up from behind you and begins to inch its way up your neck. “Or perhaps do away with it altogether?”

You press your lips together, and shake your head. 

“Hmm…if you’re sure.” The second coil retreats back into the shadows, and Alastor looks down at you with an expression far too appreciative for your comfort. “I do love a captive audience,” he muses. “But what I said before does still stand. If, at the end of this little talk, you still wish to leave, I’ll happily release you.” He gestures broadly with an open palm, as if presenting you with some fabulous gift, then quickly flips his hand and points at you, his finger perfectly still in midair. “But first things first. I asked you a question some time ago, and you would do well to answer it.” He stands perfectly straight, and once again interlocks his hands behind his back. “Take some time to gather your thoughts, if you must. I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite hard into the inside of your lip, and swallow your bloody saliva down with all the things you’d like to scream at him. Instead, you avert your eyes, and quietly repeat the question you’d been unable to answer the first time around. “What do I have to gain?”

“That is what I asked, my dear.” The tendril around your waist tightens slightly, as if to force an answer out of you.

“What do I have to lose? ” You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, and force the deepest breath you can manage in and out of your lungs. The air feels heavy and humid, and smells of long-rotten vegetation - or perhaps a half-destroyed carcass, decaying somewhere in the bayou. “When I did what I did…when I gave you my soul…I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought that if I did it, I’d feel safe enough, or - I don’t know - good enough, to make a life here. But I don’t have one outside of you.” You suck in a sharp breath, all too aware of how stilted your sentences are becoming as they pass over the growing lump in your throat. “I live here because of you. And I barely leave because of you. I don’t spend time with anyone else, because I never know when you’re going to show up, and I don’t want to make friends and then watch them get roped into whatever shit you make me do next - and I can’t sleep, because - because you’ve woken me up before, and when you do that”-

You trail off completely as you remember the last time he did this to you, the images in your head far too clear for something that happened in the dark, when you were only half awake: Hand over your face in your dream, falling to touch your shoulder with just enough force to wake you and send you bolting upright. Rise and shine, darling. Smile somehow more vivid than the red eyes glowing above it, spreading wide with a manic delight that you knew was real, too real, and far too close. I’m going to pay someone a visit. They’re not aware of it yet, but I’m afraid it just couldn’t wait. Shadow, on the wall, one that shouldn’t have existed in such a dark room, blacker than you thought anything could ever be. It’s going to be a night to remember, my dear. I wouldn’t have you miss it for the world.  

You don’t want to picture what happened next. In your mind, you skip to when it was all over. When he took your hand, still shaking from the things you’d been forced to witness, and held it tight as he scratched that poor soul’s name out of his ledger. When he set down his pen, which was still dripping a dark red liquid that barely resembled ink at all, and began to turn the pages - you knew what he was looking for long before he found your name, written in impeccable cursive, glowing slightly as he guided you to touch it. I think it looks quite lovely in my hand. Whether he was talking about his handwriting, or about your face, which he’d reached up to touch in that moment, you do not wish to know. Don’t you agree?

Now, you shake your head, as if amending the answer you’d given him that night. You don’t like how you’ve conditioned yourself to say the things he wants to hear. To believe them when you say them. “I knew I’d have to do some things for you. But…” You swallow hard, because you can’t imagine he’ll have any sympathy for you if you cry, and you don’t want to find out. “I didn’t think it would be like this. I didn’t think that it would become my entire purpose.”

“Hmm.” His sigh is light and airy, with none of the weight that your words carried. When he does speak, the condescension is unmistakable. “Tell me, then.” He crouches down in front of you, leans forward, and rests his forearms on your thighs; his elbow digs hard into your leg as he raises his hand and props his face up on his fist. His grin still doesn’t waver, and his eyes appear wider from this angle, shining with something that is, perhaps, meant to resemble sympathy. “If you chose to leave…what would your purpose be then?” He tilts his head, until it’s his cheek resting against his fist, and waits.

And you are silent. Because somehow, in all your fantasies of escaping, you never managed to get to that part. The part where you lived your life, with no one to guide you but yourself.

You don’t know what you would do. But surely, surely, it would be better than this. 

He lowers his voice, and finally, you see his smile recede slightly. It becomes softer, and the glow in his eyes fades somewhat, and it’s all so unexpected that you don’t even question whether it’s real. “I know a lost soul when I see one, darling.” With his other hand, he lazily traces a path up and down your thigh. It would be almost soothing, you think, if it wasn’t him. “There’s a reason I wanted you. And a reason I keep you so close.” He sighs, and you can smell his breath, the hint of whiskey that doesn’t come close to masking the familiar rancid scent beneath. But there’s something sweet there, too. That’s new. “I think,” he murmurs, “that you have more to lose now than you ever did before.”

You try to tell yourself that you don’t want him to keep talking. That you want him to disappear now, and for good. But memories of your old life - your old after life, before he took over - are beginning to press their way forward. They make your stomach churn in a different way than any of his cruelty. 

“There’s also a reason - the same reason, in a way - that you were so easy to win over.” He opens his hand, and lets his cheek rest against his palm. There’s nothing dangerous about the way he’s looking at you now, or at least, nothing outwardly menacing, and you find yourself thinking about the night he approached you. Before anything about him seemed dangerous at all. When his appearance in your life seemed like a glorious stroke of luck.

“It was only easy because I didn’t know anything.” You’re disoriented, looking down at him, and it takes away whatever resolve you had left; your voice comes out quiet and hollow. “I hadn’t been here long. Everything about this place scared me. And I was alone…” You weren’t with anyone that night, but that’s not what you mean. Your chest seems to tighten as you remember those early days. The paranoia that haunted your every step, convincing you that something awful was about to step out of the shadows at any moment. The panic of not knowing how you fit into the world around you, and being sure that you would never truly know. The pure hopelessness of being consigned, for eternity, to the one place where no one in the world has ever wanted to go, and knowing that you could blame no one but yourself.

Alastor raises his head, slowly, and lets his hand drop gently against your thigh. “Well, my dear.” His palm touches first, and his fingers fall lightly, their touch barely perceptible at all until he presses them down in an almost-reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone anymore, are you?” 

“No." You barely even remembered how it felt, until this moment. To be lost. To have nothing, not even the nightmares of the present, to justify your existence. You didn’t think about it.

You didn’t let yourself think about it. Because thinking about it would mean -

“That’s right. You’ll never be alone again, if you don’t wish to be.”

It’s fake, this comfort. Always has been. But you can’t ignore it, now - the way you want to believe it. If it wasn’t from him, you’d have nothing to comfort you at all. You find your mind wandering to your name in his hand, glowing in his book, and wonder if anyone else will ever think of you enough to write it down.

“As for fear… ” His voice is so soft, now, that you feel the need to quiet your breathing. To inhale slowly, between words, and exhale carefully, lest he pause at a hitch in your breath. “What do you fear most, at this moment?” 

Again, you are silent. This time, it’s not because you don’t have an answer. It’s because the one you have seems far too dangerous to say out loud. 

If you leave, and things are exactly how they were before…or worse…

“Uncertainty is a terrible thing, isn’t it?” He pauses, and glances to the side for a moment before speaking, his gaze snapping back into place so quickly that you barely catch its shift. “I’ll gladly admit to planting the thought in your head. My having done so doesn’t make the idea any less real.”

The tendril binding you to your chair disappears. It takes you a moment to notice the absence of pressure on your abdomen. Even then, you do not move. You keep yourself in place, sitting perfectly straight, because you don’t know what will happen if you don’t. 

You stay exactly where you are, even as he rises to his feet and turns to the side, leaving you a clear path to the door. You watch, motionless, as an arm made of shadow extends along the wall and wraps its long, distorted fingers over the doorknob. 

“Walk away from me now, if you wish. You have my word that your soul will depart along with the rest of you.” The door creaks open, in time with the parting of his teeth, and the appearance of his staff in his hand. Its head pulses with a faint green light. You stare into it, and wonder if it’s your soul that you see flickering in its midst. 

“And if I don’t?” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the gap between the door and its frame narrow slightly. And again, slightly more.

“To be entirely honest… I can’t imagine that I’ll ever feel inclined to give you another chance.” The light on his staff grows larger and brighter, and shifts towards you, as if daring you to pull it out. “On the other hand…” He leans forward, and tilts his head, his spine contorting with the sideways motion until his mouth is directly beside your ear. “If you do leave, that door will close behind you. And it will never open for you again.”

The green light ebbs, just a bit, and you think about the first time you saw it. That night was cold, and damp, the kind of weather that eats away at you slowly, sinking its way under your clothes and skin bit by bit, until you can’t even remember a time when you were warm. The kind of weather that seems to suck the color out from around you, leaving you stranded in a world of gray and black and muddy, desolate brown. The place inside you where you imagine your soul once resided felt heavy, just as waterlogged as every other bit of you. 

And it seemed to lighten the moment you shook his hand. The moment you traded…

It was more than your soul, you think. It was the things you feared. The things you despised in the world, and yourself. They’re all gone, now, because now, there is only one face that makes you feel these things. It’s better like this, you think. 

It’s soon to be out of your hands, either way.

The door eases shut, and you close your eyes, because you do not want to see the green light fade. It’s better not to see. Better to pretend that it was never there at all.

“Well done, my dear.” The filter has dropped from his voice. It was there, distorting his every word, until now. But why say anything about that? You keep your eyes closed, and sit still as he traces the back of his hand down the side of your face. Thinking about flinching away, but doing nothing at all.

“Stay for as long as you’d like.” He sounds different, still. Not sincere, perhaps, but closer to it than he was before. “You’ve gone through quite a lot tonight. I expect it will take you some time to feel like yourself again.” He takes a step back, but remains close, and you don’t have to look to know how intently he’s watching.

There is not much left to watch. You slide your hands down from the armrest, and clasp them together, eyes still shut tight. Head down. If you stayed in this room until you felt like yourself, you think, you’d never leave.

Then again - if you wanted to feel like yourself, you would already have left.

[tarjapearce]

Could you elaborate more about the fight Miguel had with your family that was mentioned in the soccer family proposal imagine?

Ayyy! It's the perfect chance to get the angst out of me jsksj. And of course, no relationship is perfect 💔.

What caused the fight Pt3

Gabriel's eyes settled on the both as you entered Miguel's apartment. Solemnity and listless faces dragged inside.

Gabriel was as perspicacious as his elder brother. A habit rubbed on him through the years of sharing the apartment and drunk in mezcal and tequila talks.

You were teary eyed, unable to look him for more than a couple of seconds before acknowledge him with a lip tight smile and follow Miguel to his room like a scolded puppy. The room felt smaller, crumpling around you, almost suffocating. A couple of your belongings scattered around the place.

So far the only indicators that a woman occupied a spot in his life. Silence felt so deafening it crawled and bit on your tremorous skin. Dread had made itself comfortable in your guts along anxiety ever since you left your old house. Cause you'd certainly wouldn't able to call it home.

And after all these years the little to no improvement had only made you oath to yourself that you'd stay as far as possible from them.

You'd notice the white of his knuckles gripping so tightly at the wheel, that when you tried to get a hold of his hand, his hand recoiled from yours. An appalling contrast from hours ago where he'd held you and gave gentle touches to ease and relief your nerves.

You had warned him, and still the both got burned. Him specially. It felt like the person you had as a mother figure was doing it on purpose to upset you and him.

It couldn't be that bad between the both, right? If he was honest, at first he thought that nothing but a small fight had ensued and that you were a little immature about it. But as your relationship kept growing you'd tell him just the highlights of your mother's behavior.

Something that he actually related way too well. He knew that speaking of your family was still a sore point, something you were treating with therapy.

"What's wrong, Miguel?"

"Nada." (Nothing)

"Mentiroso. ¿Qué te pasa?" (Liar, what's wrong?

Silence. You were done with it.

"You haven't spoke much ever since we got back from my old house. You're not... even looking at me!"

"Your family thinks I'm a freak."

You frowned and shook your head.

"And I apologize for that. I warned you about them-"

"Thanks for the fucking late warning"

His massive back heaved with subtle anger as it turned to you. His hands in his waist.

"Miguel..." Your eyes went wide at his words, head buzzed with his hurtful words.

"I bet you didn't even tell them about me."

His accusing tone was certainly tugging too hard at your heart seams. "I barely keep communication with them, Miguel. You out of everyone knows it!"

"Are you ashamed of me?" His self doubt threw daggers at your heart with each syllable that formed the question.

"W-What?"

"¿Qué no oyes? Te avergüenzas de mí o qué?! (Didn't you hear, are you ashamed of me or what?!)

"Le bajas a tu tono que no eres mi papá. No le permití jamás levantarme la voz para que tú lo hagas ahora." (Chill your tone down, you're not my father. I never allowed him to do so for you to come at me like that now.)

"And now you're scared of me"

"Listen to yourself, Miguel! Pull your head out of your ass for a second and listen to how you're talking to me! Haven't I been there for you and with you since last year?"

Gabriel gave a silent whistle as your fight grew loud enough for him to hear everything outside Miguel's bedroom door. He retreated to his room out of politeness.

"Yeah, we've been-"

"Then why you act like I'm being a burden to you all out the sudden? Why are you acting like I'm the one that hurt you?! You know that I'd never do that!. I'm not my family, Miguel."

Your voice cracked.

He shook his head. He had seen the way everyone stared at him when he tried to open the beer with his teeth. Fearful, disgusted.

The exact way he was looking at you.

To say it hurt was an understatement. He was deliberately prying open your chest and ripping your heart out while showing off and marveling at the process of such act.

"You... You don't wanna be with me anymore?"

The question sent a painful jab to his chest, but his wounded ego had taken all the controls on his rational side.

"Maybe it's time for you to get someone that's fucking normal. I'm clearly not. So why staying?"

A hiccup.

"Because I love you, you fucking idiot!"

A sob, and his heart sunk deeper.

Apologize. Now.

His mind chanted but his pride joined in the maneuvering of his spilled and jagged emotions. Adding more dry bones to the fire.

"But clearly this... this isn't working out, isn't it?"

"Clearly."

Your head nodded as your arms braced your quivering form. A meek protection from his cutting words.

"Sorry to have wasted your time then." You spoke in between angry sobs as you removed the necklace he once gifted you and shoved it back to his hand.

His bottom lip pursed as he saw you picking up the little traces of you in a haste. He went for your shoulder gently.

"Mira, yo-" (Look, I-)

You recoiled away from him as silent tears kept rolling down your face. Some watered the carpet underneath your feet.

"You've said enough."

A way too polite 'Don't Touch Me"

You picked up your things in your arms, messily. The room was clutching at your throat, cutting bit by bit your breaths, but Miguel's indifference was the one that made your head spin from the sudden lack of air. He was killing you with his suffocating coldness.

You hadn't mind the little brostbites he'd gave you, but this one had been too bad for you to keep holding it up. The burn had been too much. Too fast and too deep for you to properly process. All you knew is that you needed to get out.

Now.

Bundling up the things in the cardigan, you went out his bedroom's door.

Stop

His steps followed you, but this time he was the one unable to catch up. You were already closing the main door with a quiet close.

His hands trembled as they found their way on each side of his hips. Gripping and provoking enough pressure to at least feel a fraction of the pain he just put you through.

The necklace in his hand still warm. His own heat dulling yours. Just like your smile. Just like you. Just like every damn thing that made him feel good and happy.

Self sabotage was his best trait. Something he clearly forgot to warn you. But it was late.

The texture of the metal chain crunched underneath his fist.

Too late.

[skaruresonic]

The common rebuttal to "this reads like fanfic (derogatory)" is "read better fanfic," which is true in certain cases, but on the other hand, there is some grain of truth to the idea that you can tell when someone's primary mode of literary analysis is fanfic instead of... well... literally anything else. It's okay to like or even prefer fanfic, but if you want to take your craft seriously you also need to read books, dude. Published books will teach you a lot of stuff fanfic doesn't, like proper dialogue formatting and how to introduce your reader to unfamiliar characters. Even the crappiest book (well, if it's not After or 50 Shades, which started off as fanfic to begin with lol) will have been subjected to some sort of editing process to ensure at least the appearance of proper grammar. That's not a guarantee with your average fanfic, and hence why you can't always take all your writing cues from fanfic because it's "so much better" than commercially published original fiction or whatever. Frankly, fic writers tend to peddle some absolutist and downright bad takes sometimes. "Said is dead" is a terrible rule, though not because said is invisible and a perfectly serviceable tag; that's just part of it. Dialogue tags are a garnish, not a main dish that can be swapped out for more ostentatious words. If your characters murmur and mutter instead of simply saying stuff, your readers are going to wonder why nobody speaks up. "'I'm explaining some very plot-important shit right now lol,' she elaborated," likewise, is a form of telling. Instead of letting the reader extrapolate that "she elaborated" via the contents of the dialogue itself, you're telling them what to think about it. And that's why it's distracting: your authorial hand is showing. Writing is an act of camouflage. You, as the writer, need to make your presence as invisible as possible so as to not intrude on the reader's suspension of disbelief. That's the driving reason behind "show, don't tell." And overall, everyone could stand to cut down on the frequency of their dialogue tags anyway. Not every exchange needs "he said" or "she whispered" attached as long as you establish who is doing the talking before the exchange. Some people will complain of confusion if you go on for too long without a dialogue tag, and that definitely is a risk, but at some point you also need to resist the temptation of holding the reader's hand. If they can't follow a conversation between two people, chances are they weren't meeting you halfway and paying that much attention in the first place. In fact, you don't even necessarily need action beats in between every piece of dialogue, as Tumblr writing advice posts will often suggest as a fix. Pruning things often cleans them up just fine.

Another fanfic-influenced trend in writing is, I guess, beige prose? A heavy focus on internal narration with lots of telling. It's not a style I can concretely describe, but every time I click on a non-mutual's writing, I feel like it always has, like. This "samey" voice to it. There's no real attempt to experiment and use unique or provocative language, or even imagery half the time. It's almost a dry recital of narration that doesn't leave much room for subtext. I see this style most often in fanfic where you can meander and wax poetic about how the characters feel without ever really getting around to the plot. And it's like. DO something.

Other tells that the author is taking their cues from fanfic mores rather than books: >>too much minute description of eyes, especially their color and their movement >>doesn't leave much room for subtext (has a character speak their every thought aloud instead of letting the reader infer what they're thinking via action or implication) >>too much stage action ("X looked at Y. Y moved to push their seat in. X took a deep breath and stepped toward Y with a determined look on his face. 'We need to talk,' he said.") >>tells instead of shows, even when the example is about showing instead of telling ("he clenched his teeth in agony" instead of just "he clenched his teeth") >>has improper dialogue tag formatting, especially with putting full stops where there should be commas ("'Lol and lmao.' she said" instead of "'Lol and lmao,' she said." This one drives me up a wall) >>uses too many dialogue tags >>"em dashes, semi-colons and commas, my beloved" - I get the appeal but full stops are your friends. Too much alternate punctuation makes your writing seem stilted and choppy. >>"he's all tousled brown hair and hard muscle" and "she's all smiles and long legs." This turn of phrase is so cliche, it drives me up a wall. Find less trite ways of describing your characters pls. >>"X released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding" >>every fucking Hot Guy ever is described as lean and sinewy >>sobbing. why is everyone sobbing. some restraint, pls >>Tumblr in general tends to think a truism counts as good writing if you make the most melodramatic statement possible (bonus: if it's written in a faux-archaic way), garnish it with a hint of egotism, and toss in allusions to the Christian God, afterlife, or death. ("I will stare God in the face and walk backwards into hell," "What is a god to a nonbeliever?") It's indicative of emotional immaturity imo, that every emotional truth need be expressed That Intensely in order to resonate with people. >>pushes the "Oh." moment as the pinnacle of Romantic Epiphany >>Therapy Speak dialogue. why is this emotionally constipated forty-something man who drinks himself stupid every morning to escape gruesome war memories speaking about his trauma like a clinical psychologist >>"this well-established kuudere should Show More Emoshun. I want him to break down crying on his love interest's shoulder from all his repressed trauma" - I am begging u. stop >>"why don't the characters just talk to each other?" "why can't we have healthy relationships?" I don't know, maybe because fiction is not supposed to be a model for reality and perfect communication makes for boring drama?

>>improperly using actions as dialogue tags ("'Looks like we're going hunting,' he grinned") >>why is everyone muttering and murmuring. speak up >>too many adverbs, especially "weakly" and "shakily." use stronger verbs. ("trembled" instead of "shook weakly") >>too many epithets ("the younger man" or "the brunette detective") >>too many filter words ("he felt," "she thought," "I remembered")

>>no, Tumblr, first-person POV is not the devil; you're just using way too many filter words (see above) and not enough sentence variation to make it flow well enough. First-person POV is an actually pretty good POV (not just for unreliable and self-aware narrators) if you know what you're doing and a lot of fun crafting an engaging character voice. Tumblr's hatred of first-person baffles me, and all I can think is you would only hate it if your only frame of reference was, like, My Immortal. Have you tried reading A Book? First-person POV is just another tool in your toolbox, and like all tools, it can be used properly or improperly. But it's not inherently a marker of bad writing. The disdain surrounding it strikes me as about as sensical as making fun of the concept of characters. Oh, your work has characters in it? Ew, I automatically click off a fic if it has characters in it. like what.

[txttletale]

could you elaborate on your thoughts on boom and 73 yards ( i agree with you i am just struggling to put into words why.)

boom was whatever. the initial conceit of the doctor being trapped and having to stay calm was really cool! i really like that. the ambulances that euthanize you if you're not deemed worthy of medical care and the tacky chatgpt hologram ghosts were both really cool ideas. it just doesn't stick the landing for me, the twists are contrived and fall apart given any thought whatsoever. like what the fuck were any of the soldiers Doing if there just straight up weren't any enemies. it's a twist that sounds cool to say more than it has any meaningful impact on the story or the stakes. i guess 'the arms manuifacturer created a fake conflict' is the intended emtional stakes there but that would hit like a hundred times harder if it was an actual conflict between two factions and people were dying, right? like if anything sending a christian militia to blow themselves up tae fuck on a nowhere planet instead of presumably killing actual living people is an improvement, surely?

also the resolution was dumb as fuck lol i am a huge hater of power of love saves the day shit not because i'm a cynical misanthrope but because it never fails to make me say 'oh so i guess nobody ever loved anybody before lol' and this is no exception like if one chatbot can shut down the whole operation beacuse he loves his daughter are we meant to believe that no other parents or hell nobody who loved anybody else for any reason died in this fake war before? it's cheap and schmaltzy and unearned. anyway the first twentyish minutes of this are all-time great doctor who and gatwa/gibson were incredible in it but it absolutely falls apart into a confused pileo f some of the worst Moffatisms at the end

73 yards on the other hand was incredible! obviously like it requires you to approach it with a different mindset to most of doctor who, right, doctor who usually furnishes you with the big explanation scnee where the doctor says 'well the ghosts were actually particle wave vectorforms created with the necros radiation from the god-king's techsceptre' or whatever--this is the usual narrative mode of sci-fi--but 73 yards is fantasy, right, this is the twilight zone, this is 'wouldn't that be fucked up?'. i interrogate the technical and logical specifics of boom so much when i think about it because that's the language boom is speaking, boom is framing itself within this logical, a-to-b worldview, the satisfying click-together puzzlebox. but 73 yards is a nightmare or a folk tale, right? kate stewart¹ says it herself, 'when faced with the inexplicable, we make up rules and apply them to it'.

so yknow reading it that way it all clicks together beautifully, right, (apart from russel t davies' embarassing swing and miss at Political Commentary in the middle. we get it davies you wrote years and years. we know. trust me we know). the doctor and ruby disrupt the binding circle, free mad jack, and are punished -- the doctor, as perpetrator, with being banished (perhaps in jack's place) and ruby with her worst fear coming true constantly, until ruby defeats mad jack, re-sealing him and fixing what she broke, at which point the circle rewards her by reversing the punishments. and the core horror i think is very effective and unsettling! the idea that there is something that someone could say to turn everyone against you, the closest people to you in your life, your own family, the institutions that are meant to deal with the exact problem you're having--that's fucking terrifying! and yknow i think especially as an autistic trans lesbian something that speaks to me a lot

so yeah. i think that boom establishes its logics and framework and then trips and falls onto its face while 73 yards does the same and then makes perfect use of them. that said i think in 20 years people who are autistic about doctor who will be like 'did you know in the 2020s there were two episodes in a row where the doctor caused the entire plot to happen by stepping on something' and thjatll be the main thing they're remembered for

[carrotkicks]

24/05/2010

06:54:23

TRANSCRIPT START

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Okay, I started the recording. What do think we’re expecting from – 

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Well, this certainly isn’t something you see everyday.

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Oh my god… what is this?

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Bodies, Atsushi-kun. Really, really dead bodies.

A murder scene like this comes once a blue moon.

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

… 

Have you ever seen anything like this before, Mr. Dazai?

[DAZAI OSAMU]

No time for that Atsushi-kun! Get that camera out, you know what to do. 

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Hh... Okay, deep breaths. Through the mouth.

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

[Dep. MINOURA]

Oi! What are you two doing?

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Ah! He-hello, we were ju-just –

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Deputy Inspector! Hello, do you remember us? We’re from *rustle* the Armed Detective Agency, you commissioned us for this investigation? 

[Dep. MINOURA]

The ADA.. That’s right, you’re that freak from the river. We specifically requested Edogawa, not you. 

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Ranpo-san would have loved to join you here today, but he was obligated to other arrangements and asked me and my associate, Nakajima Atsushi, to go in his stead. But I assure you can trust me with this case. You are looking at the second greatest detective at the agency, after all.

[Dep. MINOURA]

Hmph, very well. Demonstrate your deductive ability. You, kid. Get back to work. 

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Ah, right!

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Of course.

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

07:23:14

[DAZAI OSAMU]

It seems the victims were impaled quite rapidly. The material they were hung from is a blend of polyester and… *sniffs* wool. It’s in long strips, seemingly torn from a longer sheet. It’s the kind of textile you’d find on a winter coat. It’s far too warm for this sort of cloth. 

[Dep. MINOURA]

How do you figure? 

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Oh my coat is made of the same material. 

*click* *whirr*

Anyways, the way these bodies have been sliced looks like they were cut by the fabric itself. On some of these dismembered parts, there are traces fibers along the serrated edge. 

…

This is the work of something inhuman. 

*click* *whirr*

[Dep. MINOURA]

That’s impossible.

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Is it? 

[Dep. MINOURA]

*grumble* Edogawa would have at least given us something that was grounded in reality to work with. 

…

The effort is appreciated, Dazai. Tell your photographer to give us his copies and get the hell out of here. 

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Sure thing, Inspector-san!

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

*click* *whirr*

Hey Atsushi-ku– AH

*click*

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Oops, sorry Mr. Dazai!

*whirr*

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Right in the eyes! I’m blinded! I’m blind!

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Really sorry! I was really occupied with these photos, I didn’t see you! Really– ah. What’s with the scary look?

[DAZAI OSAMU]

*hiss* next time pay more attention to your surroundings protege-kun. Careful where you point that flash. Whatever. We’re gonna blow this joint. 

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

So soon? 

Thank goodness.

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Yeah. We’ve done as much investigating as we could for now. 

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Do you have any ideas as to who caused this Mr. Dazai? This crime scene is… more elaborate…  than anything that I can imagine. 

[DAZAI OSAMU]

I just might… Atsushi-kun I’ll be leaving you here. I want to do some further sleuthing.

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Huh? You’re taking on more work on purpose, Mr. Dazai? That’s… new.

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Yep! I trust you can make it back to the Agency on your own and log the evidence for us At-su-shi! You are our star at documentation!

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

Wait–

[DAZAI OSAMU]

Bye now, Atsushi-kun! 

[NAKAJIMA ATSUSHI]

There it is. I guess I never had a choice huh? I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Dazai.

*rustle*

*click*

END TRANSCRIPT

24/05/2010

07:32:46

27/05/2010

Mr. Dazai has been in and out of the office since Monday. I’m kind of worried he’s avoiding me, because I tried to speak with him and he just brushed past me. Maybe he’s just stressed from this case. With this job as a crime scene photographer, I’ve seen some truly horrific sights but I have to agree, there’s no way a human being could have caused this sort of brutality. The problem is, that it just makes no sense. I wonder how he’ll figure this out. In other, better news, Junichirou will be coming to the office after his school tomorrow. I want to see if he can help me fix my camera. It’s been really finicky since Monday, and I can’t figure out why. Maybe the internal components got a bit corrupted or something. In any case, I hope it’s not too difficult of a repair.

That’s all for today, then. See you around!

N. Atsushi

NEXT

[moonlightshaiku]

Oops!

Spock x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: second hand embarrassment, puke

Ao3: N/A

Notes:

I just like the idea of accidentally giving spock a vulcan kiss, okay????

Tag List:

You knew that Mccoy's response of "Well be more social, then," was a result of him being busy. Not paying attention. But, you'd taken it to heart.

Being alone in your room so often had tanked your mental health. Introverted or not, part of "self care" is letting out your thoughts and feelings.

You can't help but think that self care is too complicated. Hygiene in itself is a fifty point list.

The best plan you had was to introduce yourself to someone. That in itself is difficult. There are too many options and techniques.

It was hard when it was just humans—or at least, mainly humans—back on Earth. But in the Enterprise? With even more races and cultures? Squeezed in? Together?

You enter the lift, blandly speaking out your destination. It's only when you notice the shoes next to you, shining, that you realize you have a chance to just— do this. Get it over with.

The anxiety swells in your throat, and you can't help but think it's not worth it. It'll take so much effort, and if you don't say anything, they'll never know.

"Good morning!" You chirp, before you can put to much thought in. It's much more gruff than you meant. You realize, as you swallow, that this is the first time you've spoken today.

You almost wonder if they're going to reply, but then you see a hand.

It barely takes a second to connect the dots. A handshake! Easy.

In your excitement at the ease of this venture, you bring your right hand to meet their left—and—oh.

Wrong hand. Your hands are touching. Theirs is straight, yours across it. Your ring and little finger are touching the side of their hand, your thumb tucked over their's.

You glance up at them, you don't make eye contact.

Your first two fingers presses against their last.

His last. His last two fingers.

He's male.

"Oh sorry, wrong hand!"

A Vulcan male.

He's Spock.

"Oh shit."

You jerk your hand back.

"The crude wording is not needed, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Spocckkk." You draw out through your teeth, voice high pitched.

"Yes?"

The doors open, no one is there.

"I am. Fuck, I am sorry. It wasn't— fuck, sorry."

The door closes. The lift remains still.

"I didn't mean to—" you take a breath. "It wasn't my intention to—" you pause.

His eyebrows raise, your heart beats faster.

Can he report you for harassment over this? It was just a handshake— be pretty fucked up if he could.

It would be pretty fucked up if he couldn't, too. Damn.

He probably should report you.

He won't.

"Kiss you?"

The words feel like bile in your mouth.

Or are you about to puke?

"That's not a question. I did not mean to phrase that as a question." You attempt to repair quickly. "I did not want to kiss you."

Oh that sounds plan rude!

"Or, er— you know what I mean."

You blink at him. How long have you been talking?

"Are you done, Lieutenant-Commander?"

You stay quiet, and after a few moments, you realize that it's a genuine question.

"You can— you can call me Doctor. And yes. Sorry."

He nods. "Doctor. It was a mistake. It is of no consequence, and does not alter my opinion of you."

You nod, anxiety not fading. You do, however, remember to breathe.

"Can I make it up to you?" Is your timid reply. You find that Spocks eyebrows can reach impressive heights.

"I suppose so. However, I do not see a reason that 'making it up to me' is needed."

You let out a breathy chuckle after a long moment of silence, and it does good to ease the tightness in your chest.

"Okay." You breathe. "When... do you have time?"

Spock doesn't take any time to think. "Tonight would be sufficient."

You nod. "My quarters."

He nods.

"Okay, you'll probably have to add another bead, so it'll fit. Let me—" you shift closer to him, taking a look at the bracelet in his hand. "—look at it."

It's only slightly too small for him, now. He'd decided to use the small glass bead in an elaborate pattern of rust, royal blue and copper. You had used the large plastic beads, and jokingly put an S bead on the bracelet. Baby blue.

"I do not see the point in making bracelets, Doctor."

You laugh. He's been happily putting beads on a string. He'd taken around ten minutes just choosing colours.

"Only idea I could come up with, really. Part of human culture."

You lean over, shoulder bumping his. "Okay, that looks good. Can I check it?"

Spock's eyebrow twitches. "Yes. That is agreeable."

"Alrighty." You gently grab each end of his bracelet, and he sticks his hand out. You bring the bracelet up, cupping his wrist like a U.

"Huh." You huff, scooting forward. "Okay, yeah, that's good. Want me to tie it?"

You glance up, making eye contact with Spock. The green of his face makes your eyebrows crease, but his face stays impassive.

He nods.

You promptly begin tying the bracelet, tearing your gaze away from his.

Once you have it double knotted, you reach over to the table, retrieve the scissors, and grab his hand.

Once you've snipped the excess, you hide the knot under a bead.

"Doctor."

You hum. "Yes?"

When looking to Spock, you are met only by his unwavering stare and green cheeks. No words.

Your gaze travels down, your hand holding his.

"Oh fuck me."

"That does seem to be the message you are sending, Doctor."

[oh-stars]

Ignorance is Bliss

E is for Elaborate

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | G | 459 words | cw: N/A

---

“Please do not elaborate.” 

“But–” 

“No,” Steve says, eyes closed as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I do not want to know.” 

There’s a rustling, then some heavy footsteps as someone steps in front of him. Delicate hands touch both of his elbows. “Baby,” Eddie coos softly. 

“Nope.” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“Looks bad.” 

“Your eyes are closed.” 

“I’m scared to open them.” 

Eddie makes a noise of distress as he forces his way into Steve’s arms, head tucked under his chin like a troubled cat. “Stevie,” he whines, swaying them slightly. 

Steve’s helpless to wrap his arms around Eddie, feeling the spikes of the costume and something… wet. He wrinkles his nose, but keeps his eyes screwed shut. “I really, really don’t want to know,” he tells Eddie, even as he kisses the side of Eddie’s head (or at least… he hopes he did). 

“You’re reading into it.” 

“Don’t you think it speaks for itself?” 

Eddie huffs, nipping at Steve’s collarbone. “It’s art, Stevie.” 

“Are you two going to wrap it up or not?” 

Steve opens his eyes without hesitation to glare in Gareth’s direction, then immediately regrets it. He’s still wearing nothing but a jockstrap and covered in some kind of goo. Suddenly the popcorn ceiling is the most interesting thing in the world. 

“Shut up, man,” Eddie huffs as he peels himself away from Steve. 

He looks down and really looks at the… monster costume Eddie’s wearing. Honestly, the whole set up reads as some weird porno shot, without the sexy monster costume. Now that’s something Steve would be open to seeing, just to see what Eddie could do with it, but no that’s not what they’re doing. Instead, Eddie’s in a weird Godzilla-like vampire knock off costume and Gareth is his… sacrifice? 

Steve’s too scared to ask. 

He drops a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Go… do your thing,” he says, “but I am getting far, far away from here and your half-naked friends.” 

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for bringing this,” Eddie says as he takes the bag of stuff he had left behind from Steve’s hand. He kind of forgot he was holding it. “See you tonight?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Steve kisses him again, tasting the makeup covering Eddie’s lips. “Just leave the costume at home, yeah?” 

“You got it babe.” Eddie takes a step back and puts on the monster mask, clipping it to the headset he’s wearing. Before Steve can slip back out the door, he lets out a squawking roar and stomps toward the fake fire Jeff’s crouching near. 

Steve is open-minded to learning about Eddie’s interest, he is, but nothing could pay him to try and understand what the fuck Doug was thinking with this student film. Nothing.

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 9)

Tw: monty being a fuckin creep, vomiting, the girls are fightingggg, so blood and violence, yves being a dick and elitist, using the word queer in a derogatory manner

DAMN i was expecting the votes to be like to go to the uni cause Yves is hottest choice rn

anyways if u guys read the original series where Monty was from, u would know he's like a sub but his behavior depends on the reader, he's actually a switch

tanks for reading, pls send in anon asks, reblog or comments i love 2 hear yalls thoughts and it keeps me going PLSPLSPLS I AM DESPERATEEE

Part 10

The mall it is. You've been visiting the university too much to escape your home and to take your dreaded exams, despite having air conditioning, you're going to feel miserable there. You barely have friends in the university aside from Yves. A change of scenery would be nice, to note down the things you wanted for yourself.

You tried to decide how you feel about Yves. The urge to run away from him and hide is there, but it's not as strong anymore. Because he already saw it all. The mold, your room, your tears, your puke... you can't possibly embarrass yourself again to that degree, right? The worst should be over.

And, he did say it himself; he is interested in you too. So... it should be safe to proceed with this weird relationship. You think. He's already doing way more than what a lover typically does, let alone someone who you barely went on a first date with.

You shouldn't be afraid of bumping into him. He's not going to bite your head off, you hope.

And speak of the devil, you received a text from him.

"(Name), this is Yves. I hope you slept well. Please reply to me as soon as you wake up."

You bit the inside of your cheek, you held onto your bag tightly as the bus drove over a hump.

It's not like he could see that you read it. You don't know what he is going to say next, once you respond.

But it's rude to just leave him hanging like that. He's probably going to find out you're ignoring him anyways.

Might as well text him back. You told him that you're now awake. He must be a fast typer because you received a message a few seconds later.

"Good afternoon, how are you feeling?"

You replied that you're feeling fine.

"I assume you are currently resting at home?"

You don't know if you should lie. But then he could easily find out the truth by asking your housemates. So you let out a defeated sigh and told him the half-truth. You said no. That was it, you didn't elaborate further.

"Where are you? Did you at least apply sunscreen?"

You replied that you're now getting off the bus. You're going to text him back later. After that, you put your phone into your pocket.

You walked away from the bus stand and looked at the billboards littered all over the area. It takes a six-minute walk to get to the Mall, maybe a bit longer because your usual path is blocked by a construction job. The workers gave the pedestrians an alternative pathway to travel.

As you start walking, you wonder why was the bus stop never built directly in front of its entrance. It's such a nuisance to get there if you don't own a car.

You frown because the sun is beating against your head, you're among a group of people being funneled into this other path and you're starting to overheat. You remembered Yves packed a UV ray-blocking umbrella, so you went ahead and took it out. You opened it and shielded yourself from the rays, sighing in relief as you felt coolness instantly wash over you.

You were minding your own business and fighting your own inner demons until suddenly a large hand clamped itself onto your shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp and a jolt at the unexpected contact, this cannot be Yves's because it's too calloused and careless, mildly hurting you in the process.

"Joe?"

Who?

You turned whipped your head to the back and saw the person who paid for your poisoned meal. He took your umbrella off your hands, making you hiss at the sun.

"It really is you!" His eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth curled up into a wide, happy grin. "How ya' been? I didn't see you yesterday. Where were ya?"

You eyed him up and down, he's in uniform.

"I'm on my break right now." His hand guided your back. "C'mon, let me treat you lunch."

You said that you had food poisoning from the place you ate with him. And you asked what he meant by "Didn't see you yesterday".

His jaw dropped in shock at your words.

"It really sucks to hear that, so that's why you look a lil' too thin today. I guess you're just not used to their cookin'. I was fine and dandy." You and him seem to move along with the crowd aimlessly.

You repeated your question about what he meant by not seeing you yesterday.

"I came by your school 'cause I got you some Chinese. I couldn't find ya' and no one seems to know who the hell was I talkin' about. Why didn't ya' call me? I was waitin' all night for your voice."

Luckily you gave him the fake name of "Joe M." on your first meeting with him. But it's not like he would have gotten any information on you anyway, you're invisible in your university. Unless he happened to come across Yves, which you doubt he will divulge him about you.

You just said 'oh'.

"Hope you're feelin' better though. Hey, I know a great place to get some hearty chicken soup. It's gotta be good for your belly, it sure helped me when I'm sick as a dog." You took notice of his deepening southern accent.

You're starting to feel uncomfortable around this man, he's wrapping his arm around your shoulder like he's your boyfriend.

You said that you were full, you had something to eat earlier.

"Aw shucks. That's fine, I'll just hang out with you till my break's over." He ruffled your hair affectionately, laughing as you tried to smoothen it out.

You don't like him. Who does he think he is? You're barely even acquaintances with him. But you think it's safer to play along until you find an opportunity to escape, there is no way you could fight off a 6'5 man who lifts steel pillars for a living.

"You got any plans this weekend? I wanna take you out to have fun, you must've spent all your time studyin', and that's good! Education is important. But you gotta loosen up a little 'cause life is short!" Montgomery is either oblivious to or disregards your uncomfortable body language.

You said you made plans already. He momentarily looked dejected, but he reverted back to his cheerful self when he thought of something.

"What about next week? I heard there is a festival goin' on by the pier. There's going to be a Ferris wheel, cotton candy, funnel cakes--"

You decided to rip the bandaid off and straight up tell him that you're not interested in pursuing a relationship with him. Since there were witnesses, you wriggled out of his hold and waited to see what he would do to you. Hoping that he would just respectfully leave you alone but expecting to be angrily punched right in front of everyone.

He was stunned, speechless for a moment until there was a strange glimmer in his eyes that was concealed by his shaggy, brown hair.

"...You're playing hard to get."

A horrified, incredulous look crossed your face. Absolutely not! What makes him think of you that way? You took a couple steps backward as he tried to get closer.

"I see how it is, sweetheart. You want me to chase you, don't ya'?" He playfully pinched both of your cheeks. You wince, struggling to pull his hands off.

You genuinely do not understand why he has this impression of you. As anyone would do, you vehemently denied it.

"Aww, look at you. Red-faced and all." He giggled, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you away from the main foot traffic so he could toy with you in private. "If you weren't into me, you would have left me to die that night. I may not be the richest or the most handsome..." his smile faltered when it came to the topic of his looks. "...but I know you saw something in me! I'm gonna make sure you don't regret saving me!" You're already regretting being born.

You called him crazy, anyone would have helped him! You're no one special, he teasingly rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, beautiful. Anything to help you sleep at night."

You were adamant that you're not interested and you already have a boyfriend! But this doesn't seem to faze him, he just bent down to your level and placed his hands behind his back.

"Oh yeah? Where is he then? Get outta here, you don't have one. At least, not yet." He winked at you.

Yeah. He is impossible to reason with.

You argued that you do. In fact, he is right behind Montgomery!

He's definitely not believing you, but he turns around anyway to see... no one, as expected.

"I don't see him, do you-- huh?" He was momentarily dumbfounded when all there was in front of him was air.

You managed to blend in with the crowd and successfully entered the mall. You ran into the nearest retail store and hid behind one of the shelves. Everyone was too busy shopping to care what someone shaking like a leaf was doing crouching in the baby and maternal department.

Your hand trembled as you pulled your phone out to see Yves sent you another text.

"Take care. Send me a text message as soon as possible. I will give you a call fifteen minutes later if I do not hear from you by then."

It's been 12 minutes since he sent that text. The next reasonable course of action is to seek comfort and safety from Yves. You thought Montgomery was unhinged and delusional, he thinks you're his just because you saved him that night. You cared as much as everyone else, no one wanted to see another person die if they could help it! But he took it as some ultimate love confession for him.

Then you realize that you should have run as soon as you first rejected him. You hit yourself on the head, he must have thought all the attention you gave him trying to explain yourself was a green light for him to go forward!

You called yourself stupid for not catching this earlier. There's not much you could do now except tell Yves you don't feel safe.

You texted Yves your exact location, even down to the aisle and section. Your texts are a series of panic-induced typos begging him to pick you up because you're scared.

"I will be there in 15 minutes. Is it safe for me to call you?"

You disregarded that text and just dialed his number.

"(name)?" It was so good to hear his smooth, calm voice. Your blood pressure momentarily dropped but rose back again after remembering why you called him in the first place.

You frantically explained what had happened, even your first meeting with Montgomery and the takeaway that gave you food poisoning. Spilling everything even though you didn't mean to, but you're just scared and trapped in a store. You felt upset that he had the umbrella, you apologized and-

"Raise your hand above your head for me, please." He cut you off. You did exactly what he asked, now distracted from your ranting.

"Inhale, following my count." He counted up to four.

"Hold." He counted to seven.

"Exhale." You breathed out for eight seconds. He repeated the cycle a few more times until he could tell you calmed down. Montgomery wouldn't find you from where you're hiding.

"Very good." He praised. "You may put your hand down."

You forgot about that, so you quickly retract your arm to your side.

"I will stay on the line with you until I arrive. Do you understand, (name)?" You gulped and said a shaky yes.

"Stay where you are. You're safe there." He continued. Yves sounded so confident in his answers that you can't help but trust him fully.

You wished you had friends. You wouldn't need to solely rely on him if you did.

"What did you think of the breakfast I made for you?" He asked, in a tone and cadence as if he was casually chatting up with his partner about their day. But you can tell he's speeding through the highways by the intense humming of his car engine.

You said that it's nice. You thanked him for taking care of you.

"I'm happy you enjoyed it. I will be making chicken soup for you tonight, did you apply sunscreen before leaving the house?"

You paused for a while, trying to remember what you did. You eventually tell him no.

"It is important for you to protect your skin. Remember to do so next ti--"

The call suddenly dropped. Your heart started beating wildly again, what happened? You pulled your phone away from your ear and looked at the screen.

You let out a visceral scream that caught everyone's attention, your phone battery is dead.

Seeing that you caused a scene, you flee the store out of embarrassment, forgetting about Yves telling you your original spot is the safest place for you to be in. Now with no means of contacting your savior and being out in the open like this, your brain starts to short-circuit. You begin running aimlessly in no particular direction.

All this stress and explosive physical exertion on you right after a bout of illness is making you queasy again.

But you kept going, just... roaming around while periodically looking over your shoulders. Customers and staff alike were staring at you, thinking that you were suffering from some sort of inner turmoil or drug abuse issues. However, they knew better than to intercept.

However, you focused too much on your back, and not too much on the front.

You slammed into a sturdy pillar, lost your balance, and fell back onto your rear.

"Whoa! You alright?" Except that pillar can speak. And it was the last person you want to see right now. Concern riddled his face as he crouched down to help you up. "This is fun and all, but you gotta watch where you're goin-"

At that moment, your stomach decided to empty itself onto Montgomery's chest. He grimaced as you continued to spew and release more vomit from your mouth.

--

Yves knows where you are. He knew your phone battery died, Yves is just mildly annoyed he didn't catch the fact that one of your room outlets was faulty. It so happened to be the one you used to charge your phone.

Yves pushed the door of the mall's clinic open, glaring daggers at Montgomery as he spotted him waiting on the bench, covered in your puke; noting his filthy fingers wrapping the handle of your bag. He was taken aback by this sudden hostility from an apparent stranger, he looked at Yves confused, what did he ever do to him? Was he offended that he happened to be covered in someone else's throw-up? What a stuck-up bitch!

Yves took his wallet out of his handbag and walked up to the receptionist. He shared a few hushed words with her and spared a couple of unkind glances for Montgomery. The woman behind the counter had both eyebrows raised momentarily before she nodded and picked up a phone. While speaking to someone unknown on the other side of the line, she accepted Yves's credit card.

Soon after, she handed him a clipboard and a pen. He had to sign something before receiving a receipt.

Montgomery looked him up and down with equal animosity, his eyes trailing behind Yves as he took the seat opposite of him.

The dark-haired male elegantly crossed his legs and rested his hands on his knee. Now a blank expression took over his beautiful face. Montgomery took note of his feminine demeanor including his usage of makeup. He somehow deluded himself that he was better than Yves even though he was hunched over, resting his forearms on his thighs while spreading his legs.

Montgomery tried to look away and ignore this stranger. But he couldn't, because Yves was burning holes through his head with his constant stare.

This really ruffled Montgomery's feathers. He's clearly trying to start something.

"What the hell is your problem?"

All eyes landed on Montgomery. Young or old, they're now invested in this sudden outburst.

"What do you mean?" Replied Yves calmly as he tilted his head to the side to feign ignorance.

"You're lookin' at me like you wanted to fight!" Montgomery finally sat up straight while accusing Yves. Meanwhile, the graceful man placed a hand on his chest to express disbelief.

"I do not understand this explosive reaction from you, I have done nothing wrong." Yves's long eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, already winning the hearts of the public. It ticked Montgomery off so bad. For some reason, this androgynous person is making him angrier than usual. Maybe it's because Yves's old money aura reminded him of every city girl and boy who fucked him over emotionally, socially, financially, or physically.

It was quite unusual, Montgomery would usually just not engage with these citizens. But today, Yves is exceptionally infuriating while doing the least. He even smelled the same as those rich bastards, they all must be using the same cologne.

A mere five minutes had elapsed since they first met, yet Montgomery despised him with every fiber of his being.

Yves knows his own effect on the construction worker.

"Don't play with me! You had that stupid look on your face, what have I done to you, huh!?" He rose from his seat.

A ghost of a smile graced Yves's otherwise serious face. That simpleton took the bait.

"Please calm down. You're causing a scene out of nothing." Yves continued provoking him. Mothers began to leave the room with their children, and other patients quietly changed their seats to be further away from the two men.

"Why you-" Something distracted him from his rage.

Yves turned his head and saw you slowly dragging yourself out of the hallway, carrying a prescription slip in one hand and cradling your stomach in the other. You look pale and exhausted as you limp towards the waiting room.

"Joe!" Montgomery called out for you. "Are you alright? What did ya' doctor say?"

You were spooked, you froze in your tracks. Not noticing that Yves is a few steps away from you.

"Dear." You snapped your neck to the source of the quiet but assuring voice. Yves is now standing tall, his arms open for you to run into.

And so, you did. You buried your face in his chest, refusing to see the other man. Yves had a pleased smile as he picked your prescription script from your hands, he slid it into his handbag. Right after, he wrapped his arms around you.

The room was eerily quiet. Everyone was holding their breaths, wondering what was going to happen.

You felt Yves stroke your hair. But you couldn't see or hear anything. So you lift your head a little to see what was going on, he rested his palm on your shoulder.

Montgomery has his eyes open so wide staring at your boyfriend. His mouth is open but soundless. The veins on his forehead and arm were throbbing while he trembled uncontrollably.

"Do you know him, my love? He seems dangerous. You know you shouldn't mingle around men like him, they're usually raised by dysfunctional families- sometimes, they don't even have one." Yves asked you, soft enough for no one else to hear, but loud enough that his pathetic excuse of a rival absorbed every word. This was the last straw for Montgomery.

Finally, he dropped your bag to the ground before launching himself against Yves. Your boyfriend pushed you out of harm's way as he allowed himself to get tackled by the unstable male.

Yves closed his eyes as he took a devastating punch to the face, he was flung to the side from the force and it left a reddish mark on his once pristine face.

"Fuck you! The fuck you mean that's 'your love', you don't mean shit to them!" Montgomery yelled in Yves's ear, and a struggle ensued between them.

Screams and shouts filled the clinic, and the patients present all ran out of the room. Those who stayed tried to film the tussle. Some doctors and customers poked their heads out of the consultation rooms to see what the commotion was all about.

Whereas you grabbed your bag and went outside, securing your safety behind the tempered glass walls.

"You think you better than me?! I'll teach you a fucking lesson to be humble!" Montgomery swung at him again, but Yves dodged in time and utilized his long, slender legs to trip him. Now that he has gotten what he wanted out of this scenario, Yves allows himself to defend his own body.

He got up fairly quickly and tried to land another punch, but Yves grabbed his wrist on time and used minimal force to twist his arm against his back. Montgomery cried out in pain as his limb was contorted to an unnatural position. Being an opportunist, Yves took his chance to strike his broken rib using the side of his hand.

This made Montgomery's legs buckle on itself. You silently cheered for Yves as he subdued the creep on the cold hard tiles.

He pressed a heel against his chest, right behind on fractured bone. So Montgomery was powerless against him.

Yves reached for his handbag and pulled his phone out. He dialed emergency services and reported Montgomery as being aggressive, being a danger to the general public.

"Bullcrap! Fuck you asshole! I will kill you!" Screeched the man currently being stepped on and humiliated in front of his object of obsession. Unfortunately for him, the operator heard his threat towards Yves, increasing your boyfriend's credibility.

He tried to grab his leg, but Yves only drove his sharp heel deeper into his ribs, knocking the air out of him and making stars appear in his vision.

At the same time, the mall security arrives with their batons.

They took over from there, it took more than ten of them to try and get Montgomery under control. He was like a bull seeing red, only goal was to try and disfigure the pretty boy's face as much as possible.

He was forcefully expelled from the premises while kicking, howling, and straining. You saw the tears of anguish in his eyes as he cussed everyone out for treating him as subhuman, he wished horrible fates on all who witnessed but stood by. He was shouting incoherently about having everything stolen from him by the rich, he had one thing good going on but a billionaire had to come along and take you away from him.

He vowed to take what was rightfully his and punish the bad, especially Yves who he referred to as "That fucking queer freak".

Eventually, though, his yelling became inaudible as he got further and further away. The others returned to their day, dispersing as nothing else interesting was going on.

You walked up to Yves, who is now gently dabbing his bleeding nostrils with a folded piece of tissue. He smiled at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

"Well done." He praised. Disposing of the soiled napkin into a trashcan nearby.

You said you didn't contribute to anything good. In fact, you're the one who caused all this.

"Don't think too lowly of yourself." He picked up a hairbrush from his bag and started fixing your hair. You looked at his face.

The patch around his nose and under his left eye is already starting to bruise, swelling to a degree that he can only see out of his right. Red dripped down his chin and onto the floor, splattering into many dots.

You look around and see the broken pot, flipped chair, and scattered magazines.

You shudder, asking Yves if you could go home.

"Not yet, (name). The police should be here soon, they have to take my statement." He invited you into his arms, and you snuggled into him as his blood dripped onto you too.

"I packed you something to eat." He softly pried you off him. Reaching for his handbag once again, he retrieved a square container before handing it to you.

You opened it to see a sandwich. It's intentionally bland to accommodate your current weak stomach. As if on cue, your belly growled. However, Yves stopped you from devouring it.

"Always sanitize your hands before eating." He squeezed a good amount of hand sanitizer on your palms. Yves only handed the meal back to you after he was satisfied with your application.

You sit on a chair as you take bites off it. Yves sat next to you too, this time he was tidying his luscious black hair with the same brush and compact mirror.

You continued munching on as you heard distant sirens growing louder.