#and search something in that page is a living hell

[melodiesinmotion-if]

Extra Content: The interview in which St. Skeleton tells their origin story and lets the world know they're not as picture perfect as their fans may think.

(Side note: because Star/Dallas' name changes based on their gender, they have been labeled as "SD" for the sake of leaving them neutral.)

“We’ve done, like, 100 fucking interviews this month,” Violet whines; her big, brown eyes searching the room for Valen, St. Skeleton’s manager. She’s a no-nonsense woman normally, but for reasons unknown, she has a soft spot for Violet. The lead singer knows this and loves using it to her advantage.

Across the room, Jagger loudly sighs and flips the page of his novel - some beat-up, pulp fiction paperback. He’s perched on an amp stack, curly black hair falling into his scowling face. Annoyance builds inside her as she glares at him.

“If you’re gonna talk shit, actually say something-,” she starts. A soft hand falls to her arm as Mikki shakes their head. They look desperate to stop the emerging fight quickly.

“V, please don’t,” they whisper. “Not today. We don’t need the bad press right now.”

They’re right, as usual. She nods and gives their hand a squeeze, a silent promise to try and be on her best behavior.

“Not after that shit you pulled last night,” Jett snickers. Her head snaps towards the guitar player. He’s leaning against the door frame casually, nursing a bottle of whisky.

Ryder laughs as he and Aspen continue editing last night’s concert photos. They’re off in the opposite corner, trying desperately to work with the makeshift table they’ve made from equipment cases. “I have some pictures here if you need me to jog your memory. Pretty good shit.”

“Oh, fuck you guys!” Violet attempts to pout, but can’t stop the smile from forming. She was pretty fucked up last night. Apparently, you’re not supposed to give tourists a strip tease while standing in a hotel fountain. Or in public, for that matter. But you know what? She gave those tourists the show of their lives for free. They should be thanking her.

“’Sides, Valen’s in a meeting. Looks like you’re gonna have to do the interview today, princess.” Jett drawls, taking another sip of whisky.

SD, who’s hanging halfway off the recliner by Violet, flicking a pink lighter on and off, perks up. “Oh! Since Valen’s gone, does that make me honorary band manager?”

“No,” the room says in unison.

Before anyone can do anything else, the room’s side door swings open. A petite, woman in a black dress and high heels struts in; her press pass swinging slightly as she moves.

Trinity James, a reporter for Sonic Pulse.

No one misses the way Jett straightens - signature smirk crawling up his lip. “Well, hi, darlin’.”

“Hm,” she deadpans, pulling a chair to the middle of the room. “Come on, I have a flight to catch after this.”

Those at the edge of the room scurry towards the couch where Mikki and Violet sit. Jett takes a seat on the armchair of the recliner, moving SD’s legs into his lap. Aspen hovers beside the couch, Jagger takes the empty spot beside Violet, and Ryder drops to the floor. He doesn’t need to be here, but why pass up the opportunity to listen?

She pulls a recorder and notepad from her bag and sets them up quickly, obviously ready to be finished with this interview.

“What’s her problem?” Violet hisses towards Jett. He laughs as his hands form devil horns behind his head. Mikki glares and swats towards him. Either unaware of or unbothered by the interaction Trinity hits record and the interview begins.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks, eyes flicking between Ryder and SD; the two shift uncomfortably where they’re seated, unsure if they should answer any questions.

“They’re my assistant,” Violet points to SD before pointing to Ryder, “and he’s our photographer. They’re just here to observe.” Beside her Mikki smiles, visibly proud of her for taking charge, and being respectful.

Trinity nods but seems to brush Violet off. “You two can talk, you know? People are so nosy. They love feeling like they’re getting an inside look from someone other than the band members. Feel free to jump in whenever.”

The two turn towards Violet, who shrugs her shoulders.

“Great, it’s settled.” Trinity scans everyone before explaining how things will work. “I’ll start with basics questions then we’ll jump into the nitty gritty of it all. Feel free to answer any question unless it’s addressed to one person. Got it?”

Without waiting for an answer, she continues. One month later the interview is published in what becomes the highest selling issue of the decade.

+++

Sonic Pulse, Issue 244, October 20xx.

Getting to Know St. Skeleton.

Trinity: “Let’s go down the line. Introduce yourselves to readers who may not know you. That includes you two extra special guests.” Violet: “I’m Violet Graves, but everyone calls me V. I’m the lead singer of St. Skeleton.” Jagger: “I’m Jagger Golding. I play bass in St. Skeleton.” Mikki: “Hi, I’m Mikki Riot. I’m the drummer for St. Skeleton.” Jett: “Jett Stryker. I play guitar for St. Skeleton.” Aspen: “I’m Aspen Blitz. I play rhythm guitar for St. Skeleton.” Star/Dallas: “Uh, I’m SD. I’m Violet’s assistant.” Ryder: “I’m Ryder Reyes, private photographer for St. Skeleton.”

TJ: “And how’d you get into that, Ryder? Being the photographer, I mean.” RR: “Oh, um, well I’ve known the band since they formed and I’m shit at anything musical, but my pictures don’t suck so…here I am.”

TJ: “Tell me about how the band formed. It was in a bar, right? Very rock and roll.” JS: “OH! Let me tell you! So here’s how it went down. Jagger, Mikki, and me were at this bar in our hometown-” JG: “The Velvet Alehouse. Cool place.” RR: “Love that place. Aspen and I used to go a lot.” AB: “I want to go back!” VG: “That place fucking raised me. I had my first bathroom hook up there.” MR: “Oh, god. With that one blue-haired fucker. They were so douchy.” SD: “Not me, if that’s what you’re thinking! V and I have known each other forever. She could never get me anyway.” VG: “Right…” JS: “ANY WAY. As I was saying. Jagger, Mikki, and me were at The Velvet Alehouse and this girl gets on stage and starts singing for open mic night. Holy fuck, she totally bombed it. I’m talking ‘cats fighting in an alley’ bombed it.” VG: “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, it wasn’t that bad.” AB: “Oh, V.” JG: “It was pretty bad, dude.” JS: “The worst!” VG: “I was fucking nervous, you assholes!” JS: “Doesn’t change the fact that it sucked. So after V gets up there and bombs it-“ AB: “And gets booed off the stage.” SD: “Holy shit that was brutal.” JS: “Holy shit, she did get booed off the stage. I totally forgot about that. So she runs off the stage and all her friends are just fucking standing there speechless. They’ve got their cameras out and this sash that says it’s her birthday. So we’re all instantly feeling so fucking bad for this girl who just embarrassed herself on her birthday. So I march outside, where she’s puking her fucking guts out might I add, and I-” VG: “You know what he fucking does? He laughs! He just fucking laughs. I’m having the worst day of my life and this asshole just stands there and laughs.” JG: “You should have seen her face. I thought she was going to kill him.” VG: “I should have, our lives would be easier now.” JS: “Love you too, V.” JG: “While my dick-head of a brother just stands there, drunk as shit, laughing at her, I try to let her know it wasn’t that bad-” MR: “You’re a fucking angel, Jagger.” JS: “I bet I can name a few people who think otherwise.” JG: “Oh, fuck you.” JS: “Careful, man.” VG: “Relax.”

TJ: “Please, continue, Jett.” JS: “So. I let V know that we want to buy her a drink for her birthday.” SD: “You think the performance was bad? Wait until you hear the next part.” JS: “We all head back inside to meet up with her friends and you know, fuck around some, and we can’t find them. We just see SD sitting at the table alone.” SD: “All her other friends left. They just up and left, didn’t say shit to me. Took all her birthday presents too.” VG: “And that’s not even the worst birthday I’ve ever had.” MR: “To make a very long story short, we ended up meeting Aspen and Ryder that night while we were all drinking, and everyone just hit it off. Later we took off to another bar, got fucked up, and the rest was history.” JS: “We realized V actually could sing when her nerves weren’t interfering and knew we needed to jam together. St. Skeleton was born not long after.”

TJ: “And how long ago was that?” VG: “Ah, it’s gotta be 5 years ago at this point.”

TJ: “Let’s talk about St. Skeleton currently. You released your second album ‘Born To Be’ nine months ago. Your lead single ‘To the Grave’ skyrocketed your group into stardom.” MR: “This was something we didn’t think would happen so early in our career, but it’s been amazing. We’re doing so many things that we’ve all always dreamed of.”

TJ: “I can’t help but notice you seem to disagree, Jagger. Not into the fame thing?” JG: “What? Uh, I mean, it’s fine. Overwhelming I guess.” TJ: “You’re one of the biggest groups on the planet and…it’s fine?” JG: “That’s what I said, yeah.” JS: “Forgive my brother, he’s an asshole.” JG: “What is your fucking problem today, dude?” VG: “Can you two relax? What the fuck?”

TJ: “It’s a bit weird for bands this young to be fighting so much.” JG & JS: “We’re not fighting!” VG: “They’re fine. It’s a twin thing, you know? They fight I guess.” TJ: “Sure. You know what? I think I have what I need.”

[samtamdan]

Some of my favorite Tyzula fics

For @closetsof-backlogged-dreams

"Tyzula things" by EmberCartwright

"Azula's end" by mcdn11

"Puppy love and strawberry mochi" by arktikos

"Fate is cruel" by BeyondTheSea13

"Lost wishes" by FanfictionVillainess

"Midnight hours" by Nikkel

"The fire in my eyes" by huhyouexist

" A new way to remember " by holmesfreak1412

" Heartstop " by holmesfreak1412

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

[angel-sweets666]

Break up

katsuki bakugo x reader

Bakugos been distant which ends up in you two breaking up, learning to live without him was difficult

Warning: angst, break ups, arguments, mineta. (This is a mineta hate page🫶🫶) probably badly written argument but it’s more for practice

Bakugo and you used to be probably the cutest couple 1A had ever seen. He would carry your bags, help with your homework, hell he had even figured out how to threaten izuku into switching seats with you so you two could pass notes in class. You were practically best friends with Mina because of bakugo, you had a group of boys (bakugo, kirishima, Denki and sero) who would come to the rescue if you or Mina were afraid or uncomfortable of someone, usually mineta. Everything was great! Until it wasn’t

Bakugo began to grow distant, his usual warm and loving behavior towards you shifting to something colder and more indifferent. It was like a switch had been flipped, and the boy who once made you feel like the center of his world now treated you like an acquaintance, or even less. The cuddles in your dorm, which had been a nightly comfort, stopped altogether. He no longer accepted the lunches you made with such care, brushing off your efforts with a curt nod or a distracted "thanks."

He didn't wait for you or Mina when the lunch bell rang, a small but significant ritual that had always been a highlight of your day. Instead, he would storm off on his own, his mind clearly occupied by something that didn't include you. It was like he was building walls around himself, shutting you out bit by bit. The boys, Kirishima and Denki, noticed the change immediately. Their concerned glances back at you two during lunch were hard to miss. They would wave, trying to get you and Mina to join them like usual, but you felt too disheartened to follow.

Mina, always perceptive, linked her arm with yours and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay," she whispered, her eyes full of empathy. "We'll just hang out together today."

You forced a smile, grateful for her support but unable to shake the growing ache in your heart. The cafeteria felt larger and lonelier without Bakugo by your side, and the absence of his presence was like a constant, gnawing void. Mina did her best to keep the conversation light and engaging, but even her bubbly personality couldn't fully lift the cloud that hung over you.

You sighed heavily and walked into the common room, feeling the weight of a particularly rough day of training pressing down on you. It seemed like the past few weeks had been nothing but a series of bad days strung together. Inside, you found Sero hanging from the ceiling with his tape, while Denki and Kirishima were busy playing Uno. Sero, suspended above like a makeshift Spider-Man, noticed your dejected expression immediately.

"What's up with you?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. Kirishima and Denki looked up from their game to see you standing there, looking defeated.

"Nothing… just a bad day," you sighed, moving toward the kitchen area in search of some instant noodles. The prospect of a quick, comforting meal was the only thing that seemed remotely appealing.

"You've had a bad day for the past two weeks," Denki remarked, leaning back on the couch and taking a sip of his Coca-Cola. His casual observation stung because it was true; your mood had been in a steady decline for a while now.

"I know… it sucks," you grumbled in response, frustration lacing your voice as you rummaged through the cabinets.

"Is it because of Bakugo? You should talk to him!" Denki suggested, trying to offer some well-meaning advice about your relationship.

Kirishima, always quick to tease his friends, pointed out, "To be honest, man, I don't think anyone in this whole dorm wants your relationship advice when you can't even pull that green-haired chick from 1B." His comment earned a fake offended gasp from Denki, momentarily lightening the mood in the room.

The sounds of their playful banter and the ease with which they interacted only amplified your frustration. Their happiness and carefree attitudes were a stark contrast to the turmoil you were feeling inside. It wasn’t fair – why did everything have to be so hard for you?

As you prepared your noodles, you couldn't help but let your mind wander back to Bakugo. You missed him more than words could express. His absence from your daily life was like a constant, gnawing ache. You longed for the days when he would greet you with a smirk and a teasing remark, when his presence alone could make you feel like everything would be okay.

You slumped down at the kitchen counter, stirring your noodles absentmindedly. The warmth of the broth did little to soothe the cold emptiness that had settled in your chest. Sero, always perceptive, swung down from the ceiling and landed gracefully beside you.

"Hey, if you ever need to talk, we're here for you," he said softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Kirishima and Denki echoed his sentiment, their earlier teasing replaced by genuine concern. "Yeah, we're your friends. We care about you," Kirishima added with a supportive smile.

Denki nodded, his usual playful demeanor subdued by the seriousness of the moment. "We're here for you, no matter what."

Their words were a small comfort, but the underlying issue remained – you missed Bakugo. You missed his rough edges and his rare moments of softness, the way he could make you feel safe and cherished with just a look. The rift between you seemed to grow wider with each passing day, and you couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness.

As you finished your meal, you realized that no amount of comforting words from your friends could fill the void left by Bakugo's absence. You needed to figure out a way to reach him, to bridge the gap that had formed between you. For now, all you could do was hold on to the hope that things would get better, and lean on your friends for support as you navigated this difficult time.

“nah, it’s good advice.. I’ll talk to him. If you hear yelling from us just… I dunno come check on us, or get Mina.”

So you made your way towards the elevator and down the hall, clicking the button that had the number four in big bold writing. Bakugo and you both lived on the 4th floor of heights alliance. (I’m being fr when I say I googled this) and walked to his dorm, knocking lightly on the wooden door “katsuki? Hun?” You called out “yeah? What?” He yelled back at you, sounding annoyed. “Can we talk?” You asked softly, trying to simply be nice to him “we talk everyday!” He just sounded so annoyed. “No like.” You sighed “can we talk.” You said it in a different way so he got the idea. Bakugo huffed on the other side of the door “yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He grumbled out, unlocking his door and letting you inside.

The blonde flopped back onto his bed and rolled onto his back to look at you. “What’s up?” he asked, the once loving look in his eyes now replaced by a cold indifference.

“What’s going on, Bakugo? You keep distancing yourself from me,” you said, frustration bubbling up. “I haven’t seen you actually try to talk to me in two weeks!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s going on, I’m just tired. Still love you,” he mumbled, but you couldn't tell if he was lying.

“When you’re tired, you used to cuddle me and sleep. Now you ignore me completely—”

“I said I'm just tired, damn it!” Bakugo suddenly yelled, causing you to wince.

“What the hell, Bakugo! I’ve been nice about it, trying to understand!” you retorted, your voice rising in pitch.

“I’m just… I don’t have time for you, okay?” he snapped, his tone as harsh as ever.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, feeling a sinking sensation in your chest.

“I don’t have time for you! You distract me from being the number one hero. You're nothing but a distraction!” he screamed, picking up a small stress toy that you got him and throwing it at you, narrowly missing your head.

“What the hell, Bakugo! Who the fuck throws something at their partner?”

“Me! Because you’re being annoying! I’ll talk to you like I did before when you stop being such a distraction!” He groaned and tried to turn away from you.

“Will you? Will you really? I don’t trust you anymore!” you yelled, your voice cracking with emotion.

“If you don’t trust me, let’s break up then!” He stomped over and got right in your face, his eyes blazing with anger.

“FINE!” you shouted back, but you didn’t move.

“FINE!” he roared, his breath hot against your face.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ve done nothing but support you, and this is how you treat me?”

“You don’t get it!” he yelled. “Every time I look at you, I see all the things I’m failing at. I can’t afford distractions, not now, not ever!”

“So I’m just a failure to you? Is that it?” you shot back, your voice trembling with hurt and rage. “I thought I was someone you cared about, someone you loved.”

“I did love you! I do! But I can’t do this right now,” he shouted, his voice breaking slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability.

“Love isn’t something you can just turn off, Bakugo! You don’t get to use me and then throw me away when it’s convenient for you!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m not using you!” he yelled back, but there was a crack in his voice. “I’m trying to protect you, damn it! From me, from this life, from everything!”

“By pushing me away? By treating me like I’m nothing?” you cried. “That’s not protection, Bakugo, that’s cruelty.”

“I’m doing what I have to do to be number one!” he roared, his fists clenching at his sides.

“At what cost, Bakugo? At the cost of everyone who cares about you?” you asked, your voice softening with sadness. “If you keep this up, you’ll end up alone.”

“Maybe that’s what I need to be!” he shouted, but there was a hollow ring to his words.

“Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’m gone,” you said quietly, turning towards the door.

Bakugo stood there, breathing heavily, watching as you walked out of his dorm. “Don’t come back!” he yelled after you, but the words felt empty.

You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing in the hallway as you walked away, each step feeling like it was ripping your heart out of your chest.

as you went down the hall towards the elevator, you saw Mina try to rush down the hall. She also lived on the 4th floor and she heard everything “*name!*” she called out “what happened? One minute the 4th floor is peaceful then I’m hearing you two yelling! I think they even called mr aizawa!” She sounded panicked “we broke up.” You muttered “huh?” The pink haired girl asked “we broke up Mina, me and bakugo. We broke up.” You reiterated to her “you’re kidding…” she looked like she felt nothing but pity for you, pulling you into a tight hug. You sobbed into her shoulder as the reality sunk in…

the next day, aizawa pulled both you and bakugo aside.

“I understand you two have broken up, however I need you two to be civil. I can’t have you two yelling at each other during class time or during school hours. Keep your relationship problems out of school” the blunt man said in his usual gloomy voice “and with that, I’m changing your seating plan so you two don’t see each other.” He handed you two a piece of paper with the same exact seating plan, except you and bakugo were on opposite sides of the room.

“Tch.. whatever” bakugo grumbled and walked Into class, you stared down at the piece of white paper “yeah this is good” you nodded and also walked into the classroom, mr aizawa following behind you.

the tension in class was sickening, everyone had heard of your breakup and nobody wanted to say anything that would set you two off

minetas ugly ass turned around and faced bakugo with a grin “I heard of your breath up, females am I right?” “Shut the fuck up you purple bitch.”

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 6

previous part

tw: gore, violence, blood, ghost makes a return ooo, please be warned! <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Simon had never felt such a boiling rage to the point his blood was bubbling, ready to explode out of his body and paint the walls of your apartment a crimson red that would stain the chipped-away white with messy splatters. It simmered hotly beneath his scarred skin, sifting through his veins like wildfire and egging him into dangerous territory.

He was no saint. He killed people for a living. He took the money of pathetic, lowly people who had the coldness in their heart to request his favor in killing somebody they didn’t like. Lawyers, CEOs, big name people who ate with the silver spoon embedded in their teeth and tainted their smiles with a greedy unnerve.

So no, Simon was no saint.

But he’d certainly ruin any chances of redemption when he got his hands on the coward who’d brought you harm.

Simon didn’t need payment to seek him out. He didn’t need a stack of cash waved in his face, or a bank transfer notified on his phone.

All he needed was to see the pretty girl in tears and blood, lying broken on the floor like a toy, used and tossed aside – worthless, undeserving. His pretty girl.

You were enough to tear down the concrete walls he’d encased around himself, built with his own bare hands. You were enough to wake the flame in his soul, to remind him just what he was capable of.

Simon was tired of killing those who did nothing to him. Sure, many deserved it, but they hadn’t done anything to him. He was a mediator. A spectator. He was a part of a story as a side character, only rising from the shadows to cut that story short and end it with bloodshed and a transaction. Their pages were quipped, torn from the spine of the book with no prospect of a completed ending.

Now, the plotline had changed.

He had the upper hand in this story. He was able to rewrite it without the complications of another’s orders. And he’d be damned if he didn’t tear the man who hurt you right out of the pages.

Simon didn’t want to leave you. He knew how disoriented you were from the fists that had put you through torment – torment he wasn’t there to protect you from. You were dazed and lost, hanging on by the thin of a wire that Simon was the one desperately clinging to.

When he had patched you up and put you to bed, he waited until you succumbed to the exhaustion and fell asleep for him to strike.

He was a man on a mission. A dog off its leash. His nose flared from under his mask as if he was a damn K-9 tracking down his suspect.

He searched through the entirety of your apartment, tearing it to bits in order to find a hint, a clue. All he needed was one quick search of your phone through your blocked numbers to find what he needed.

There was no contact name. No indication of who this man could be.

But a phone number was enough, and when he texted it to Gaz with the demand of finding it out for him, it wouldn’t be long until your ex-boyfriend would be another name on a crumbling gravestone.

Gaz was quick to find him the information. No questions asked, and that’s why Simon loved working with him. He minded his own, and trusted him to complete a job alone. He was good at tracking information for Simon, good at all that he did, and he was sure as hell good at picking up on the signs that Simon was involved in something, or someone that made him bend the fabrics of reality for them.

The name left a bitter taste in Simon’s mouth.

Phillip Graves. American. Bastard with a sharp tongue and a cockiness that’ll get him killed.

Ghost could make that happen.

The man walking down the streets, prowling with a threatening cloud of smoke around him wasn’t Simon.

Simon was the one who tucked you into bed, who wiped off every dot of blood that tainted your pretty skin. He was the one who watched over you in the corners of the night, making sure you got home safe, making sure you were keeping up your end of the deal.

He was the one who you baked pastries for, and didn’t have the heart to tell you he didn’t have a sweet tooth. He stuffed his mouth full of every single crumb despite the fact, just to see you smile.

He was the one who thought you were beautiful at first glance, and didn’t have the capacity to take your money and rid the world of a human being carved like a piece of art in a mausoleum. He was selfish, and he wanted you.

The man in the reflection of every store window as he strode by was Simon no more. Simon was gone, tucked away in the back corner and replaced by the brute of a man he’d been before you.

You were Simon’s religion, his reason for salvation. He’d bow at every altar, pray to every God with his blood stained hands clasped in a plea, just to worship you – but Ghost wasn’t a religious man, and he garnered no peace from anyone. Not even you.

Simon was the one who would protect you. Ghost was the one who would kill for you.

All Ghost had on the screen of his phone besides a name, was an address. It was a temporary one, judging from how recent your ex had moved into it, and the thought of it caused his teeth to grit in annoyance.

The fucker was staying close to you, with intentions so sick it could only make Ghost’s fire burn into grueling embers. He was stalking you, tracking you down, plotting.

Ghost knew exactly what he needed to do to ensure your safety. He made a promise to you, a promise that he hadn’t vocalized but rather slipped in when he made that deal with you. It was written in small lettering, so small so you’d gloss over it and he’d be able to hide away the watchful eye he had on you.

Finding Graves’ apartment was an easy feat. He nearly laughed at how effortless it was to stalk his way up to the apartment building that was somehow even more rundown than yours. But it made sense – Graves wasn’t planning on staying for long, and he was going to flee after latching his grimy hands on you once and for all. He didn’t need a fancy apartment to stalk his claim.

On normal jobs, Ghost was discreet. He’d figure out an alternative for breaking into one’s apartment or home, one that required no curious eyes or witnesses to see. He was quiet, like a shadow moving across the walls in dark anticipation.

This time around, he found himself stomping right up the musty stairwell, boots clattering along every step that creaked beneath his weight. He was an incoming storm the way he clouded over the hallway with impending doom, rain clouds hovering over him with lightning prepared to strike at any given moment.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t wait or stall.

He kicked at the door with the heavy soles on his feet, wallowing in every crack and snap the door made under its sudden force. It withered, flying off of the hinges and slamming up against the wall as it smacked open.

The apartment was a shithole. Messy, cluttered, and uninhabited. Dust collected on every surface, furniture bare from every room, and all that was used was an old mattress with blankets to keep Graves warm from the chill of every night.

Graves stood in the aging kitchen, cooking up something that made Ghost’s nose flare. The bastard didn’t deserve to have an appetite after what he had done to you. He didn’t deserve to use his tongue, didn’t deserve to keep his teeth.

Stood like a deer in headlights, Graves quickly regained his composure, sneering at him with a mock threat made Ghost snort.

“What the fuck?” Graves shouted in a fit of anger, stumbling in the kitchen as he caught himself from the sudden surprise. His narrowed eyes stared Ghost down, taking in every inch of him.

A looming mass with a skull painted mask with eyes that could kill. Graves would be a dead heap on the floor if that was so.

“You,” Ghost spat. He walked slow and dangerous, darkened glare focused on Graves without a single intent of leaving. It was cold, piercing, full of millions of daggers that he wished could mutilate Graves in front of him. “You should’ve gotten a more secure place.”

“The fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

Graves was tougher than he thought, Ghost had to give him that. He didn’t cower in fear, nor did he try to run like most people did. Ghost was a force to be reckoned with, and looking at him was like looking the Devil himself in the eye.

Ghost continued stalking towards, like a predator to prey, every step calculated. His boots were like hell’s bells ringing as they hefted with every step, stomping clouds of musty dust around his ankles. It was enough to have Graves leaning back, the action so small Ghost would’ve missed it if not for his keen eye and trained skill.

“You touched her,” he stated. His tone was so calm it caused unease to smother the room, suffocating the two of them in a thick cloud. “You hurt her.”

It took a second for Graves to understand, and when he did, he scowled, perfectly aligned teeth just begging to be knocked in. “You’re Simon.”

“Ghost,” he was quick to correct. “Not Simon to you.”

Graves laughed mockingly, the sound more like a scoff as it escaped his thin lips. “Oh, right. She calls you Simon. Little whore, that one is. 

Ghost stopped when he was in front of Graves. He peered down at him with a thirst for blood glimmering in his eyes, locked in on Graves’ own and burning the retinas with the flames that danced around his pupils.

“You hurt her,” Ghost repeated. “I don’t like men who hurt women. Don’t like men like you.”

Graves’ expression soured and he stared up at Ghost with a mix of confusion and offense. He was trying to read Ghost from under the mask, see what was burning in those embers of his, but he only saw rage. A calm, brewing rage that held no remorse and no sympathy for a man like Graves.

“I’m going to rip the flesh off your fucking bones and pluck every single one of those teeth out with my bare hands,” Ghost threatened, and it was only then that Graves showed a single sign of fear. His lips twitched, hands flinching at his sides as if debating on whether or not he could throw a punch at Ghost and scurry his sorry ass away.

Back to his town, far away from this shitty apartment, and far away from you.

He didn’t know Ghost never left a job unfinished. Not until he was left a bloodied, gory mess on the floor of his kitchen, face unrecognizable, tiles stained with the red he had colored your own bathroom the night before when he laid his hands on you like the weak link he was. Graves’ eyes were glossed over, lifeless, staring blankly into the pit of Ghost’s as he took each and every brutal impalement from the kitchen knife Ghost had snatched from the counter.

Ghost didn’t falter, nor did he stop until the fire in him slowed to a stop, leaving behind nothing but ash and debris. He stared down at the man who had hurt you, watched the way his blood seeped into the grout of the tiles like a sponge absorbing water.

It was a picture Ghost never wanted you to see. A side he never wanted you to take a glimpse of in fear of you running.

Ghost wasn’t religious. He didn’t worship you like Simon did. Wouldn’t get on his knees for you and beg for forgiveness for his sins.

Ghost was hungry. Starved. He’d shed the whole town’s blood for you. He’d bury every fucking soul six feet deep if it meant none of them would have a chance to hurt you.

When you woke up from the deep slumber you found yourself in, everything ached. Your body was crying for help as it twisted and stiffened when you sat up in bed.

The apartment was quiet. Cold. Simon was nowhere to be found, nor did he leave you a note when you got up to look for it. The kitchen was void of his presence, void of the banter you two had shared just nights ago when you baked for him and he sat with an admiring gaze.

Last night began to resurface, and your mind flashed you the ghostly images of Graves’ face as he stood over you, lips pulled into a menacing sneer, bitter laughter leaving his lips as he kicked and slashed every part of your body. He didn’t leave a single bit unscathed from the torment, and you felt the weight of it with the way your skin hissed when it tugged or how your nose gasped for air beneath the swelling and ache.

Bile filled your lungs as you replayed the painful memory and recalled every hit and strike he laid upon you. Recalled Simon not answering the phone, not showing up until the damage was done.

Your legs moved before your mind did, and they took you back to that very bathroom where you were nearly left for dead. The contents in your stomach were minimal, and when you emptied them out into the toilet, you were left dry heaving and begging for air. Pangs of grueling pain fluttered in your stomach, and the butterflies that once flew freely had turned into overbearing moths that were desperate to get out.

You didn’t know tears began to flow down your cheeks until they caused your open cuts and wounds to sting. They cascaded in waterfalls, bathing you in a cold, sticky sheen of despair.

Your mind was angry at Simon, but your heart longed for him. The loneliness of the bathroom as the tiles dug into your bruised knees was just an aching emphasis that he wasn’t there to fill that void, to help pick you back up like he’d been doing ever since the two of you met.

Anger you could get over. The hurt of knowing he didn’t answer your call, you could get over.

But the yearning in your heart was something that no amount of anguish could get rid of, for it filled you up like an overflowing glass, pouring and pouring over the rim until you couldn’t take it.

So you waited. And waited. You laid curled up in the same bathroom he found you in the night before, all the way up until he showed – because even if it was late, it was always.

Simon was a mucked up mess when he came ducking into your apartment the same way he left. His hands, covered in dried, cracking red, and his shoulders pulled taut with unfurling tension were the first thing you saw when he entered. His eyes had immediately searched for you, and just like before, willed himself to you like a moth to a flame when he saw you in the bathroom once again.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted softly. His voice sent warmth through your bloodstream, lighting you up from the inside and out. “What’re you doin’ in here?”

Simon crouched to your level, lifting a hand to grace it across your features before it froze up and dropped away when the sight of red reminded him of the sins etched into his skin. The sins performed by Ghost, with Simon seeking redemption.

“You weren’t here when I woke up,” you sniffled, a pathetic sound leaving your mouth, almost like a hiccup. It shattered Simon’s heart and buried a knife through the arteries.

“M’sorry sweetheart. M’here now, I promise. I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised, and blood be damned, he wanted to touch you, to reach out to you and cradle him in his loving light.

So he did.

You didn’t flinch away when he shoved aside his worries and placed calloused hands on each side of your face. You stilled, melting into him like a child would its mother, sinking yourself into the tranquil solace of his touch. It chased your demons away, filling you with angelic purpose.

When you allowed yourself the brief slice of heaven in the form of a man, you worried your gaze on the blood that soaked from his hands and up his tattooed arms, lacing him with a layer of damnation. Your eyes trailed up, slow and unsteady, before reaching his eyes, which were softened and filled with apologies.

“What did you do, Simon?” you asked in a whisper, and for the first time, he flinched as if you burned him.

“I took care of it,” he assured. “I handled it.”

The it being him. The him being Graves.

Simon didn’t go into the details, but he didn’t have to. Given his track record and the reason as to why the two of you met in the first place, you could assume the worst – but really, it was far from it. It was a taste of freedom.

You would no longer have to walk on eggshells, or peek around every corner. You wouldn’t have to remain bound to shackles that were never meant to be chained to you in the first place.

Simon freed you from the demon you were indebted to, and he did so without a single ounce of hesitation or regret. He’d do it all over again if it meant releasing you from hell and showing you a glimpse of heaven. He broke the contract you signed when vulnerable, and freed you from a lifetime of purgatory.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, and he smiled under his mask. You could see the faint imprint of his lips curling up on the edges, and the crows feet that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Nobody hurts my pretty girl. They’ll be sorry if they do.”

My pretty girl. His pretty girl. It was a claim, one that didn’t feel like a trap that will lure you in and sink its teeth into you, but it was also a declaration of his devotion for you. It posed the option to back out, leaving you no longer bound like you were with Graves. A choice.

Your hand moved on its own accord, and it sauntered its way up Simon’s arm. Fingertips brushed along coated and marred skin, until they rested on the bottom of his mask. You heard him inhale a sharp breath, but made no move to stop you, so you continued.

Grasping on the hem of the mask that laid upon his throat, you lightly tugged it up, and up, until blond hair fell in short tufts along his forehead. The mask fell to the floor of the bathroom where you both resided, but that wasn’t what you focused on, no.

You were seeing his face for the first time, all of it. Not just his mouth where he’d nurse a cigarette, or would stuff your crummy pastries. You saw every blemish, every scar, every bit of stubble that poked from his skin. His cheekbones, high on his face, and his eyebrows, thick and unkempt yet soft and lax without a hint of daunt or upset.

The fingers that had taken off his mask with such care slowly traced along his features, grazing the plush of his lips, to the prickle along his jaw that scratched your fingertips in a way that had you smiling.

Simon was unsure why you smiled, but he offered a pleased one back, his shoulders releasing the tension that had stiffened them before.

“You’re pretty, Simon,” you complimented, and your eyes watched his lips as they parted into a laugh. Teeth, aligned and pretty, making him light up the entire room in a luminescent glow.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Thought you were the pretty girl, sweetheart.”

Your smile grew, nearly cracking the cuts littering the skin of your lips.

“Your pretty girl,” you reminded, and he gazed at you in a mix of adoration and amusement.

“My pretty girl,” he repeated.

The way he said it, so sweet and treacly, caused your mind to fuzz over with unrelenting homeliness. This was what it felt like to be loved, to be cherished, to be at home.

“Can you say it again?”

Simon beamed. “My pretty girl.”

You sucked in a breath. “Again.”

He leaned closer, his own fingers cradling the plains of your bruised face and layering the black and blue with tender touches and glimpses of a world where your skin would never feel the tortures of pain again, but rather longing and care.

“My pretty girl,” he repeated one more time, and by the last syllable, his breath was fanning across your face, warming you and nuzzling you with unfathomable fondness. “I really want to kiss you. You know that?”

Your eyes fluttered as you stared at him, feeling those moths transform back into butterflies from the simple weight of his words, swarming you with a never ending fervent.

“Would you do it if I said yes?” you managed to murmur through your newfound shyness.

“I’d be an idiot to ever deny you, sweetheart,” he muttered sweetly, and with no more words needing to be said, he pressed his chapped lips to yours, taking you with such gentle care it left you dizzy.

Home was where Simon went, and to Simon, he’d go with you to the ends of the Earth if it meant you’d follow him.

With close to three days left of your deal, he had high hopes you'd pull through.

posting this and running away (also thank u to my bbg abby for the BAR of a line about you being simons religion I LOVE U)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)

Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.

It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.

…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.

What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.

He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.

That’s when he received the letter.

A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.

König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.

He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.

The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.

König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.

He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?

König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.

He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…

A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.

But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…

There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”

There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”

Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..

So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”

[hysteria-things]

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍🌫️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

[deadandphilgames]

A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)

Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.

In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright. My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.

Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.

It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.

This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.

Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.

All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.

Love and good luck.

- Dan

[kivino]

Platonic!Task Force 141 x Eastern European!Reader

Word Counter – ~1.9k

Summary – a compilation of headcanons about how reader’s Eastern European background would affect interactions with Task Force 141 during an undercover mission together.

Tags/Warnings – Gn!reader, Eastern European!reader (obviously), Platonic!TF141, fluff, mostly.

A/n – RUSSIANS DNI (this is a personal boundary, so I ask you to respect it, if you don’t like it just scroll past this post). Very self-indulgent. Just showing more love to my fellow Eastern European readers. Since it is mostly based on my own experience growing up as a Ukrainian, I’m sorry if certain things don’t resonate with you! This whole thing was made for fun and fun only.

So, let’s assume our beloved Task Force needs to go undercover to get some information on Makarov and his merry band of goons. Obviously, they can’t do it without at least one team member, who is familiar with the way of living in Eastern Europe. So, naturally, Laswell introduces you to them – born and raised there, ready to help them and stop your sworn enemy from escalating an already pretty shitty situation.

“So, allow me to introduce your new team member for the duration of this mission” Laswell nods to the door when you walk in, saying your name and callsign, already catching some looks full of curiosity from Task Force 141.

First thing they noticed about you? Resting bitch face for days. Who needs a mask when you have a death stare that will give the heebie-jeebies to most if not all of your teammates? However, they feel even more taken aback when you suddenly greet them with a warm, welcoming smile and a firm handshake, not a trace of that sour expression on your face.

One would think that you’d spend hours preparing four of them for the mission by teaching them language, helping to memorize names and faces of contacts, Makarov’s trusted allies, and potential targets. Naturally, you did your job, but those precious hours were also spent with you standing next to a whiteboard, ranting about the politics and societal issues of your country, explaining certain national jokes, and teaching them swear words or poetry you studied at school. But hey, they’re not complaining (maybe a little).  

They were skeptical about this whole deal at first. However, there was a shared understanding between the four of them that they needed to do whatever it took to stop the spreading of Makarov’s influence and diminish his resources in other countries. With time, however, they’ve found things that made their life in a completely new environment a bit more enjoyable and interesting.

Soap would pick up on your native language the fastest out of the Task Force. Under all these jokes and goofiness Johnny’s a smart guy, inquisitive as hell too, which makes a pretty good mix. He’d try to write down how you pronounce things in his sketchbook, dedicating pages upon pages to making a small vocabulary of what you say, searching up the translations of words any chance he gets. Convinces himself that it just helps him to get more into his new way of life, and not at all because he likes seeing you all excited when he slips a word in your language somewhere in the conversation.

“So how do you say it?” he points to the sentence, messily scribbled on the page with the ballpoint pen he slipped from Gaz. There is a slight frown between your brows – the word looks unfamiliar, more like gibberish than something in your language. You can practically feel the gears in your head screech and come to a halt as you drill Soap’s handwriting with your eyes.

“Oh, wait. You made a mistake here. No wonder I have no idea what this is.” You quickly take the pen and scratch the right version of the word on the paper, while Johnny chuckles at your brutal honesty. He doesn’t say anything though. Some time passes and you’re already correcting other words he wrote down, explaining the right way to say them. And you can feel a pleasant warmth spread in your chest when you can see Soap’s utmost attention directed at you.

Johnny can’t help but feel that moments like these were somewhat of a way to bond for you two. He’d jokingly offer to give you some Scottish classes each time you playfully flick him on the forehead for a word he pronounced wrong. He never expected you to take him up on the offer until the five of you got stuck in a countryside safehouse and essentially had nothing to do while waiting.

On the topic of Eastern European countryside, Price is not an old man by any measure, man’s not even forty yet, but it would grow so massively on him that it’s concerning. When you finally got a good, reliable contact that gave you some useful information you had to lay low for some time in a safe house not far from one of many Makarov’s places where the next weapon deal would be held. And while you waited several days for his people to show up there, obviously almost all of you were bored out of your minds. Not Price though. The man went exploring. Of course, taking you with him (he only wanted company on his small journey through the cozy countryside, don’t blame him).

Soon enough, during your walk you two come across the abundance of berry bushes and fruit trees everywhere, and while you pick something to munch on from them constantly, Price only scolds you. You smirk in response, giving him a handful of ripe mulberries, your lips and fingers now a dark red color from the juice.  

“It’s going to rot if nobody eats it. People who plant these trees would rather someone enjoy them instead of fruits just falling on the ground, getting squished, and going to waste.” And Price takes note of that with a small smile. Soon enough the two of you find a spring the whole village uses, a willow standing tall beside it, providing shade for you two to rest, chat a bit, and cool yourself off with fresh water. The fact that there are not many people around also doesn’t miss him. It’s quiet and peaceful, Price finally feels like he has room to breathe with his whole chest.

“You know, I could get used to a life like this.” Price finally mutters, enjoying your simple, comforting presence, walking along the river shore, and hearing the distant sounds of a train passing through the village. You look at him with understanding in your eyes, as you see the tension in his shoulders finally slipping away. Your captain relaxes, which is a pleasant change of pace from the frown on his face that you got used to.  

All five of you had to live in the same apartment in an old panel building closer to the edge of town. Not the best place to live, but a good opportunity to blend in with the locals and find leads on Makarov’s criminal “friends”. More than once you’ve found yourself sitting together with Ghost on the balcony that creaked with each blow of the wind, in complete silence while he was smoking some cheap cigarettes that smelled more like burnt paper instead of tobacco.

“Can I join you?” Your voice is a quiet rasp, as you lean against the doorway, pushing the mosquito netting to the side. You couldn’t sleep. Not when the whole world will go down the drain if you fail your mission. Not when it’s been a month already and it felt like you were still right where you started.

“Knock yourself out” the man shrugs, patting the stool near him. You shuffle your bare feet on the newspapers that were laid out on the balcony floor, plopping down on the seat, your eyes immediately getting glued to the view, enjoying the breeze that seeped through the open window. You two sit in silence for so long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, quite on the contrary – weirdly calming and serene.

After that night these nightly smoke breaks became a sort of tradition for you two, a way to wind down after a long day. Ghost would nod towards the balcony, a silent invitation reserved only for you. Regardless of whether you’re a smoker or not, occasionally he would offer you a cigarette from his pack or a hit from the lit one. A gesture of camaraderie.

“Thought you’d be more talkative.” Ghost’s voice sounds gruff after the whole day working your asses off just to discover the lead that you had was absolute bullshit.

“And I thought you weren’t a type for small talk.” You grumble in return, just as annoyed about coming back to this dingy apartment with nothing.

“That I am” He lets out a low chuckle, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray in his hand, avoiding eye contact with you.  

Kyle found himself liking your cooking above everything else. The way he would eat anything thrown together in a hurry by you was quite flattering. So soon enough you offered to teach him how to make some of your favorite national dishes, and he couldn’t say no to your offer. So, you decided to start easy – picking out the fresh ingredients. And where do you go to do that? Not a grocery store, no way in hell. The market filled with tons of people is the place you need. A lot cheaper than your usual supermarket too.

The number of times you got discounts for fruits and vegetables on the market from older women just for Gaz’s pretty eyes was insane. He would just blink at you with confusion written all over his face anytime you glanced at him with that smile and refused to explain why you spent a lot less money than expected on the fresh vegetables. At some point, Gaz even questioned his ability to count before you told him just not to worry about it since you got a “very special bargain”. And, obviously, Kyle was the one carrying the plastic bags filled to the brim with fresh produce.  

“You know, your version of the dish is not half-bad,” You say, licking the spoon and giving Gaz a wide smile, which he immediately returns to you tenfold. Spending time like this with him was a pleasure. Each minute spent together made you loathe even thinking about the time when you’d have to part ways and you won’t be able to teach him your cultural cuisine like this anymore.

“Well, I have a great teacher to thank for that.” Gaz gives you a charming smile, so glad to finally have a distraction from the constant looming presence of Makarov in his thoughts. Right this moment he caught himself thinking that he was happy they had you here with them. It would be a lot harder if not for you supporting and guiding them through everything. He felt…thankful.

You’d bring the whole Task Force to different cafes that serve your country's most famous dishes, but Kyle would be the one to enjoy these outings the most, barely raising his eyes from the plate to participate in the conversation.

“Wow, are you in a hurry or something? The food won’t run away from you.” You chuckle, while Kyle ignores the odd saying coming from you and continues to eat with the huge appetite he had ever since this undercover mission started.

However, nothing lasts forever, so after finishing their business with you, getting all the information they needed, and “cleaning up the mess” Task Force 141 bids you farewell, returning to their usual duties. Saying goodbye is never easy, even if you knew each other just for several months you still got attached to them, just like they grew very fond of you (as much as some of them hated to admit that). But hey, they promised to visit you after they finish up with Makarov. They promised. And the four of them keep the promises they make.

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request!

[mykoreanlove]

Unraveling fate

It is said that humans live a blissful life as souls up in the sky before they decide to incarnate onto the earthly realms. 

Up there everything is effortless and sweet, so perfect that we couldn’t ever imagine it properly. Yet, they decide to give up their eden perfection to come down to earth. Why you may ask?

Because they get bored. Too much of anything is deadly, even if it’s something as precious as blissful love. 

Hence, they make plans to come down to earth in order to play. Some souls are rather boring, whereas other souls are quite dramatic - making up a full play for them to enjoy. They look for other souls to play their part - mothers, fathers, villains or lovers. 

„You’re gonna do this to me and I’m gonna do that to you and we may hate each other for a while but in the end it will be all so sweet“, they giggle while making plots. What they don’t know though is that once their souls incarnate back to earth, they will forget everything they once knew - scheming plans included. 

The states of feeling mighty and powerful get replaced with vulnerability and insecurity, divinity in exchange for humanity.

A deep sigh escaped Eun Woo’s lips as he watched you cry into your pillows for the fifth time this week. 

„What’s wrong?“, his friend asked concerned.

„It’s y/n.“, he answered flatly.

„What about her?“

Eun Woo turned around and mustered his friend, thinking of the right words to predict his dilemma.

„Do you remember when she used to be with us up here?“

His friend nodded silently.

„Back then we made the perfect plan. We created our own drama, so to say.“

„What was it about?“

Flashbacks of those times entered his mind, filling his heart with a deep longing.

„Are you really sure, y/n?“, Eun Woo whispered while placing delicate kisses on your neck.

„Yes. I want to do it like that this time.“, you nodded enthusiastically.

„My love. Let’s go through the plan once more, then.“

„I will incarnate onto earth and live a miserable life. I will fail in love over and over until I can’t take it anymore. I want to discover love as a fragile, little human. I want to understand their pain and their agony. I want to be miserable, utterly miserable. I want to build my own hell and I want to understand how I’m doing it… And then, once I’m ready, then you show up, BOOM, the love of my life - in heaven and on earth and you rescue me from my deep despair and then we can be..“

„Happy.“, he interrupted. 

A big smile formed on your face. 

„Yes. Happy.“

„So, why are you so sad then? The plan seems solid.“, Eun Woo’s friend remarked.

„Somehow it’s not. She did fail in love. A lot of times. But somehow she can’t get past that stage..“, Eun Woo explained.

„How can that happen? Isn’t it written in the stars, like destiny?“

„It should be, yes.“

Both stayed silent for a while and thought about ways to resolve this. 

„Can’t you just swoop in and rescue her?“

He shook his head sadly. 

„Why not?“

„Because she wouldn’t let me.“

„Let you? Aren’t you like… her soulmate?“, his friend asked confused.

„I am. And because of that I will always find my way back to her, heaven or earth, doesn’t really matter. But she’s not ready for me, yet.“

„How can you tell?“

Eun Woo walked over to the shelf where he was keeping his collection of your play. Each act carefully documented, each act waiting for its grand finale. He came back with a heavy book, searching for the right pages.

„Do you know when souls finally find each other?“, Eun Woo asked.

„No idea.“, his friend remarked.

„It’s when they’re ready for one another. Now tell me - do you think this sounds ready?“, he asked as he pushed the book over to his friend.

It’s official - I am unlovable. Seems like everybody and their mother can find the love of their lives but not me. I’m not meant for love. I’m meant for heartbreak. Because that’s what men do - break your heart. First, they use me for sex and then they dispose me like a tissue. Reject me. Abandon me. Block me.

Relationships suck. Love sucks. This is too hard and it always ends in pain. Fuck this shit, I’m going to die alone. Because apparently nobody wants to be with me. Or get to know me. I’m just not someone you fall in love with.

„Yikes“, Eun Woo’s friend flinched. „Gotta give it to her - she does sound like a real human though.“, he drily remarked.

Eun Woo rolled his eyes in frustration. This shit was eating him up.

Even if he descended onto earth now and forgot about all your pain, he would never be able to get through to you. 

„Men really did a number on her, huh?“, his friend asked. 

„It’s what she wanted. Some drama to enjoy our love more. And drama she got…“, he explained sadly.

„So what are you going to do?“

Eun Woo averted his gaze back onto you, watching you from above as you cried and cried and cried. 

„Waiting for a miracle, I guess.“

„Aren’t you tired of waiting?“

„What else am I supposed to do?“, he snapped.

„The plan is already rigged, you said so yourself. Can’t you use that to your advantage and rig it further?“, his friend proposed.

Eun Woo thought for a second - could he really do that? Go against fate like that? 

Your sobs made his stomach churn once again, he had to act, no matter the consequences.

„Come with me“, he demanded as he left the room.

„Where are we going?“, his friend called after him.

„Rigging the fucking plan.“ 

[princessbrunette]

https://www.tumblr.com/princessbrunette/738697343618121729/i-feel-like-im-writing-too-many-asks-so-sorry-if

now i cant stop thinking about mechanic!jj hes the only one on the island who doesnt try to scam you and hes honestly kinda astonished at how bad you let your car get 😭 but hes so sweet and he gives you a discount and makes you promise to always come to him when you have trouble

youre always finding a new way to repay him 🫶🏽 and he loves when you bake the most -🐰

i loveeee mechanic!jj ugh cries !!!!!!

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎀˚. ✩

standing infront of him in your lil pink top n skirt, swaying on your feet as you explain your car troubles and he’s just leaning against a car, listening intently nodding— but in his head he’s like ‘oh i know literally any other mechanic would scam the living hell out of this poor girl’

“yeah and last time i got my oil changed they charged me $200–”

“woah w-woah hold up— they what?” his head whips towards you at lightening speed because there’s no way. “you didn’t pay that right, please tell me you flipped ‘em off n’drove right away.” he gestures the driving away with his hand and you tilt your head, brows furrowed.

“i thought it seemed fair at the time…” hes already shaking his head, walking towards you as he pulls a little notebook out his pocket, flipping up a page and scribbling something down on it.

“nah, nah, nah. that can’t run. you get car troubles again n’you call me directly, okay? i can’t with a good conscience let these assheads scam anymore more money out of a pretty girl like you, ‘kay?” he looks dead serious and you just nod, feeling a little warmer at the compliment he slipped in.

“thank you…” you search for a name tag.

“oh, jj. jj maybank.” he holds out a hand for you to shake, before looking at it and seeing that it’s covered in grease. he retracts it, wiping it on his pants with an awkward grimace. “ah, probably shouldn’t—”

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎀˚. ✩

[chrzzboo]

Hii! I saw that you’re new to the space! Welcome ☺️

I’ll request a Gavi fic where he is a secret admirer to Y/N who is an influencer online. One day in the locker rooms the boys find Gavi looking through her TikTok’s or instagram page & he immediately shuts his phone off not wanting any of them to know his little crush (or have any of the guys know who she is bc he wants to keep her all to himself and gatekeep her bc he knows how the guys are) but they see enough to know who she is!

The guys realize how serious he is about his crush on her so they always tease him about her. One day when the team is training Y/N goes live and the guys immediately log into their fake accounts and start commenting on the live asking “what do you think about Pablo Gavi” “do you like FC Barcelona” and questions like that. Gavi goes livid lmao and Y/N reads and answers the comments since there’s so many comments flooding in her comment section bc of the whole team commenting.

Thank you 🩷🩷

My fanboy

Summary: Pablo’s teammates find out about his crush and can’t stop teasing the poor boy.

Reader x Pablo Gavi

Note: Thank you so much for welcoming me and thank you so much for your great request. I absolutely loved your idea! Hope you guys like it! 🫶

Pablo was visiting his parents in Sevilla since he had a break from football. He was in the living room watching whatever was displayed on the tv. His sister was sitting next to him watching something on her phone. Pablo was kinda invested in whatever was playing on the tv but he couldn’t concentrate since the volume of his sister’s phone was way too loud. “Aurora can you lower the volume I’m trying to watch something” He groans at his sister. He frowned when she didn’t reply too invested in her phone. “Aurora?” He tried at least two more times but still no reply from her. Annoyed he took the phone out of her hand. “Pablo what the hell? Devuélveme mi teléfono!” (Give me my phone). Still with her phone in his hand Pablo moved away so she couldn’t grab it. “I have been calling you for the past 5 minutes to lower your volume but you were too invested in whatever you’re watching on your phone” Aurora smiles sheepishly. “Ow my bad I didn’t hear you, but give me my phone back I will lower the volume estúpido.” Pablo gave Aurora her phone back but can’t help but ask what had gotten her attention so bad that she isolated herself from the real world. “What were you even watching that was so interesting that you didn’t even acknowledge me calling you?” “I’m watching y/n’s live” “Who?” Pablo asks. “Y/n, she’s a famous influencer living in Barcelona I absolutely love her. She shares makeup tips, fashion tips and she’s just so down to earth. I absolutely adore her!” Aurora scoots a bit closer to her brother showing him what she was watching earlier. “Look this is her isn’t she gorgeous?” Pablo looked over to his sister’s phone, his eyes widening. He would have sworn that he had never seen such a beautiful girl. He was mesmerised by her gorgeous smile. “She’s very beautiful indeed.” Pablo mumbled quietly. “What was that Pablo?” his sister asked, not catching his words due to his low volume. “Nothing” Pablo added fast. His sister shrugged not really interested in what he said since she wanted to carry on and watch the live. Pablo looked at his sister’s phone one more time and immediately took his phone to search for you on Instagram. He started scrolling through your posts, and boom just like that he became obsessed with you and your content.

That was several months ago, his little crush grew day by day. He's so invested by everything you do and post on your socials. I guess you can call him a fanboy by now. He would comment on all your posts leaving sweet messages and compliments, he would watch all your video’s and live's obviously with his fake account. Even though Pablo is pretty famous he was too scared to shoot his shot with you so he thought it was better for him to crush on you from a distance.

Currently Pablo was sitting in the locker room, noticing that he still had 10 minutes left until his training started. So he took the time to check your socials to see if you had posted anything. Pablo was too busy scrolling through your posts that he hadn’t heard some of his teammates enter the locker room. His peace was quickly disturbed by Pedri grabbing his phone out of his hands. Just now Pablo noticed that some of his teammates had entered the locker room. “Pablo we have been calling you for 10 minutes.” Ferran exclaimed. “What were you even doing on your phone that you didn’t even acknowledge us?” Fermìn added. Before Pablo could even come up with an excuse Pedri started talking. “I know exactly why he wasn’t paying attention, it looks like our little Pablo has a crush” Pedri smirks and turns Pablo’s phone to the rest of the boys so they could see what Pedri meant. “Isn’t that the influencer y/n or something like that?” Balde says. “She’s very fit and beautiful my sister adores her.” Was heard from Ferran. “Well she’s certainly very beautiful but it’s clear that Pablo has a crush on her.” Pedri smirks earning laughs from the rest of the boys. Pablo took his phone out of Pedri’s hands and started denying everything since he didn’t want to tell his teammates and since he wanted you all to himself hence that’s why he didn’t like how the boys were talking about you earlier. “That’s no one, I don’t even know anyone with the name y/n” Pablo says with flushed red cheeks. The rest of the boys started laughing hysterically. “Pablo do you seriously think we would believe that, you were literally blushing like a little girl when we mentioned her” was heard from the younger one Lamine. “Nah for real hermano you can’t fool us! Have you tried shooting your shot perhaps?” João added with a teasingly tone. Pablo didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to answer but as if his prayers were heard Xavi came into the locker room calling everyone over for training. Pablo let out a big sigh knowing that he had a long day of training a head with lots of teasing from his teammates.

The boys didn’t stop teasing Pablo, they took every opportunity to embarrass him with his little crush. If Pablo didn’t do well or missed a shot his teammates would say stuff like: “If y/n saw how you missed that goal she would block you on all her socials.” Or “He wouldn’t miss this if y/n was here.” Or “Pablo you need to train well for the next match because maybe y/n will be there”. The teasing went on and on the entire training long. At the end all the teammates picked up on what was happening and also started teasing Gavi. It was safe to say that Pablo would never be left alone. During the break Pablo and some of his teammates went to the locker room to cool down for a bit. Pablo’s phone was on the bench next to him when his phone suddenly lit up. Before he could grab his phone Fermìn who was sitting next to Gavi took his phone and shouted for the rest of the boys to hear “Oehhh would you look at that Pablo’s crush is live on instagram.” Pablo groaned to himself forgetting that he had his post notifications on for you. “Should we go into her live and ask her a bit about our little Pablito?” Ferran said which the rest of the boys agreed to. Pablo knew that he couldn’t tell them off because they wouldn’t listen to him anyway. In the meantime all the guys went on their fake accounts to comment on your live. Pablo saw all of them on their phones and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t shitting it right now. He watches you on his phone reading the comments. “Do you know Gavi?.” You read out loud. Pablo froze not knowing what to do or think. “I do know him he plays for FC Barcelona right?” “Oi Pablo see she knows you exist.” Was heard from Balde. Pablo rolled his eyes at him but couldn’t hide his excitement knowing that you knew who he was. “Do you find Gavi handsome? Would you go out with Gavi? Would you date Gavi? Alright guys I don’t know what’s going on or what the hype suddenly is about commenting about Gavi but let’s just keep it with the main topic of this live which was: what is the best makeup primer.” Was heard from your live. Pablo looked at his teammates annoyed. “See now you guys have scared her away.” “No Pablo we’ve only helped you now you know that she knows you.” The rest of the guys agreed to Pedri’s words. Rolling his eyes Pablo left to the field again.

After training it was time to go home but obviously not peacefully for Pablo with all the teasing. Pablo was getting dropped off by Pedri since his car was at the garage getting fixed. He was sat in his former designated seat next to Pedri. Pablo knew that Pedri was going to say something about his crush. And boy he was right. “So hermano it seems like you like that girl a lot.” Pedri says with a teasing smile on his face. Gavi sighs “To be honest I don’t think it’s a crush anymore.” Pedri smile drops realising that Pablo’s feelings are actually more serious than a small crush, now he was starting to feel bad for all the teasing. “What do you mean by that hermano?” Pedri asks even though he knew exactly what Gavi meant. “You know exactly what I mean cabrón.” “It started of with a small crush but afterwards I started realising that it was more and I know it’s weird since I’ve never spoke to her and don’t even know her properly other than her social media personality.” Pedri looked at him with wide eyes not expecting his best friend to be so serious about it. “Have you tried messaging her, I mean there is no way that she doesn’t know you.” Pedri exclaims. Pablo sighs “I haven’t, I’m too scared to do since I’m not made for rejection.” Pablo laughs. Pedri looks at him knowing that Pablo doesn’t want to continue this conversation so he changes the subject but promised himself to take matters in his own hands.

The next day Pablo was sitting in the locker room getting ready, he was pretty early so not everyone was around. Only Pedri, Ferran, Fermìn, Balde, Lamine, Frenkie and João were present. The same boys that were the first ones to tease Pablo about his crush. Pedri had told the rest of the boys about the conversation he had with Pablo and the boys felt bad for teasing him so bad yesterday so they wanted to help Pablo shooting his shot. On the other hand, Pablo was actually kind of confused since the guys hadn't teased him or said anything about his crush on you. But those thoughts were interrupted by Ferran. “Yo Pablo hermano can I use your phone real quick mine needs to charge I just have to search something up.” Pablo didn’t think much of it and gave him his phone. Ferran took his phone and started typing. Pablo grew suspicious after the rest of the guys joined Ferran and started whispering stuff to each other. “Alright you guys what is this all about and why are you being so suspicious.” The guys quickly shut their mouths and Ferran gave Gavi his phone back with a light smirk. “Hermano don’t be mad but we couldn’t stand seeing you like that.” Pedri says with a smile. Gavi looked at him in confusion but that was quickly replaced by fear. He knew exactly what these guys were up to. Pablo opened his instagram and went straight to his dm’s, and boy he was right they did exactly what he thought they would do. But before Pablo could even get mad at them the guys ran away to the field. Pablo was left sighing to himself, what was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just delete the message because then he would be called a coward by everyone. So he left it, hoping for a reply from you.

Y/N'S POV

I was currently setting up everything that I needed to film a new GRWM and Q&A video since my fans asked for it. I love my job, I was so greatfull for everything that I achieved and all the support I’ve got. Sometimes I still can’t believe that I’ve gotten so big on social media but regardless I’m so proud of myself. While I was doing my makeup and looking through the questions I’ve found a comment asking me if I preferred Pedri or Bellingham. I wanted to answer by saying none of them I would rather pick Gavi since I’ve always found him attractive and had a crush on him. But I decided not to use that in the video since I didn’t want to embarrass myself or cause any controversy. After I was done filming the video I immediately started editing the video since it’s a lot of work and since I’ve wanted to upload the video later tonight.

It’s been 5 hours and I’m finally done editing. I always forget how much time it takes to edit. Walking out of my office and grabbing my phone I walked to the kitchen to get something to drink. While I was pouring my drink I noticed that I hadn’t checked my phone yet so I wasn't really surprised to see some new messages since I wasn’t on my phone for a good 5 hours. Scrolling through my notifications there was one message that caught my eye. “No way this can’t be.” I looked at the name with wide eyes. It was Pablo fucking Gavi that had sent me a message. Not wasting anytime I replied to him.

BACK TO GAVI

Pablo was back home now, he totally forgot about the stunt the guys pulled on him earlier. He was planning on having a chill night, doing nothing and just relaxing in his sofa. His peace was quickly disturbed by his phone making noise notifying him that someone sent him a message. Not thinking much of it he grabbed his phone but he nearly dropped it seeing that you had replied to him. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The y/n had replied to his text. Pablo was over the moon by this but he quickly composed himself and replied to your text.

Y/N’S POV

Ever since Pablo reached out to me we had been texting and FaceTiming non stop. We have so much in common it’s actually crazy. Whenever I talk to him it feels like we’ve known each other for a very long time but in reality it has only been 4 months. Now I’m getting ready to go on a date with Pablo. I’m very excited but also nervous it’s been a while since we’ve gone out mainly because of our busy schedules but we’ve both made time for each other and I couldn’t be happier. Adding some finishing touches to my makeup and clothes I get up to grab my purse and head downstairs. I check my phone noticing that Pablo had sent me a message.

Walking to his car I see Pablo patiently waiting for me. He looks so handsome. I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head and enter his car. “Hola Pablo!” “Hola mi estrella!” Mi estrella a nickname he gave me because in his eyes I’m the star of social media. That nickname never failed to make me blush. “Te ves hermosa esta noche” (You look beautiful tonight) I swear if I was standing I would’ve folded right there, but I composed my self. “Thank you Pablo, you look very handsome as well!” I could see a little blush forming on his cheeks. He cleared his throat trying to sound as normal as possible. “Are you ready to go mi estrella?” “Yes let’s go!”

We’ve arrived at this beautiful restaurant, we were sitting in a hidden corner so no one could notice us and so we could have some peace and quiet. The date was amazing, we’ve talked for hours, shared some dumb jokes and we talked about what we've been doing for the past few weeks as if we hadn't talked about it every day on FaceTime. But regardless it was amazing and I had a great time. After we finished our food we decided to go for a little walk since the weather was perfect for a walk. Pablo showed me some nice places since he knew Barcelona better then me. And that’s how we ended up in this nice park sitting on a bench near the water enjoying each other’s company. I’ve never really realised until the last few weeks that I’ve actually fallen in love with Pablo but I was too shy to tell him about it so I just kept it to myself. It was quiet until Pablo started speaking. “You know, I’ve been following you for a long time even before we started texting.” I looked at him in shock I didn’t expect him to know me way before we started talking. “You did? How come you never told me?” He stared at me for a few seconds before talking again. “I mean I didn’t want to scare you away since it sounded kinda weird.” I looked at him confused. “What do you mean weird? There is nothing wrong with that, I mean I’ve been following you way before we started talking as well.” Now it was Pablo’s turn to look at me in shock. “You did? Wow, I didn't know. If I had known that before, I wouldn't have been a coward and would have sent you a message myself. I looked at him confused. “Pablo what do you mean by that?” Pablo looked at me with wide eyes forgetting that he didn’t tell you about the actual story of how he messaged you. “Well you see like I mentioned earlier I knew you way before I sent you a DM, the reason was because I had a crush on you and I was basically one of your fanboy’s.” He admitted shyly. I could see him turning red I couldn’t help but laugh at him, not believing that he actually had a crush on me. “That’s very cute Pablo but that still doesn’t explain what you meant earlier, something along the lines of being too coward to text me.” He looked at me before explaining further. “Well my teammates got to know about my crush and wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. One day they asked me if I had tried shooting my shot with you but I told them I didn’t because I was scared of rejection. So they took matters in their own hands and tricked me by asking me if they could borrow my phone and without me knowing they had sent you the DM.” I looked at him with wide eyes not expecting all this. “Before you say anything I just wanted to tell you that I’m very grateful for that.” My heart started beating faster when he suddenly took my hands in his much larger ones. “Because if it wasn’t for them I wouldn’t have met such an amazing person like you. Y/n I mean it when I say that I’ve never felt something like this to any other girl. You’re kind, beautiful and on top of that very talented. In the past I was a coward and I’ve learned to not be one anymore so I just wanted to let you know that I’ve fallen in love with your beautiful personality, your gorgeous smile and just you in general. Y/n you don’t have to say anything if you don’t feel the same way but I just wanted to get it off my chest.” I looked at Pablo with big glinstering eyes, I couldn’t believe this. The guy I’ve fell for has feelings for me? Without any thoughts I did the first thing I could think of. I grabbed his face in both my hands and smashed my lips on his. This kiss was amazing, it felt as if we were the only people in the world and nothing else mattered. The kiss was slow, gentle and most importantly full of love. This moment simply felt magical. We pulled away both catching our breaths when Pablo looked at me and started talking again. “So does this mean you will be mine from now on?” I smiled at him looking into his beautiful eyes. “I would love to be yours my fanboy.” Who would’ve imagined that the teasing of Pablo's teammates would bring us together.

The end.

[circeyoru]

Hello~ Small thing but I’ve been thinking about Alastor in the Unwanted Soul series trying to get Reader to sing and dance with him. I feel like Reader would refuse to do that stuff but sometimes he catches them humming, especially anime OSTs lol. He doesn’t know what song it is but he’s happy to hear it anyway.

OH OH AND HE’D BE REALLY HAPPY IF THEY ABSENTMINDEDLY HUMMED A SONG HE’S PLAYED AROUND THE HOUSE BEFORE. He’d be so touched, like, they like the music he likes lol. Even better if they heard the song between him and Vox over the radio/TV and was humming that or any other song Alastor sang.

Sorry, just wanted to talk about that cuz obviously music and singing is really big in Hell and Alastor clearly loves that stuff. He’d be psyched if Reader enjoyed his songs or joined in with him but it’s highly unlikely Reader would actually sing or dance with him. I love this series and I agree with the other Anon that this is my favorite series. I keep checking your blog for updates. Thank you for writing for us!

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}

I'm literally treating these asks as trivia. Interesting but too small of a part to put in the story.

But, thanks for your words! Really!! I'm happy writing these parts and answering your questions for this! I can't stop saying that I never expected this series to blow up like this. so THANK YOU guys again!! (I need to learn more 'thank you' words...)

Back to the ask.

Now Reader/you are something that has a thing for music. There's no specific type you like but if it vibes with you, you like it. You're aware that Hell's a musical place, you got quite the shock when Lucifer first sang to you when he was trying to convince you to live. Yeah, awkward...

You just accepted it afterwards.

Ho ho, you hum and sing. On the spur of the moment. You even dance too, your memories good that you can replicate dance moves after vibing with the song and dance chorepgraphy. You did it anytime at home.

That is, before Alastor came into your life.

You kept these to yourself, or you would shut the door and ward off Alastor with your pages. Then you can do it. Sing and dance. But, of course, Alastor knew this little habit of yours and didn't point it out so he could enjoy it without you taking more measures to hide it. You hum in front of him, while he doesn't know what music you were humming, he enjoys it altogether.

This breaks when Alastor gives you his soul. It was a somewhat normal day, the trigger point was you putting your foot down and telling (not asking) him to leave. He just breaks off into a song, specifically *Stalker's Tango*. Take it as an intimidation tactic, but he was being very convincing. You were aware of his love for you and want for your attention, so it wasn't scary but annoying to you. (hope you guys read part 4 already) You return his declaration with a song of your own *I Can't Decide*, you accepted his soul to show him his mistake, not knowing that it was his plan for you to care for him.

Yeah, Alastor was eating it all up. The fact that you counter with a song too. Music to his ears. The fact that you were thinking this much about him. It's good. A good start.

You know how his radio could talk and play tracks (in the pilot)? Now Alastor plays romantic songs here and there in your home, though careful not to drown out your videos and music. He did a double take when he heard a double of the songs he was playing, it came from your room, then there was your soft humming. He'd lean against the wall next to your door and listen with a fond smile. He was aware that you could more easily do things on your own, like searching up the songs he played without asking him, then here you were enjoying it in secret. He won't say a word, treating it a secret between you two.

Alastor gave you a radio that connects to his staff, sometimes letting you listen in on the songs and as a way of communication. You only knew that when you heard his reprise of Charlie's *Inside Every Demon Is A Rainbow*, you won't admit to Alastor that his version was better and more accurate. You were actually hooked on *Stayed Gone* and hummed it a few times, especially Alastor's ending verse. You and Alastor reenacted the whole song when he was allowed to visit you, but since Alastor was interested to see you singing his verses, you sang his parts and Alastor sang Vox's. It was heaven-sent. He was somewhat offended that you liked *Hell's Greatest Dad* though, cause you were more hooked on Lucifer's beginning verse.

Now though, Alastor asks for your hand to sway a bit. You comply and Alastor would be humming some song, he makes an effort to take an interest in your songs because you were secretive on your interest. He tries (and purposely fails) on singing your songs, then you'd be correcting him and teaching him with a teasing side smile. He doesn't care for the songs and music, he cares that you like them.

[stirthewaters]

Too Sharp to Touch pt.6

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, Wednesday-level threats 

Summary: Wednesday practically flips the school upside down during her search for her missing typewriter, and lo and behold look who comes to help her? None other than you.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

Wednesday was losing her mind.

And no, it was not as pleasant as she had imagined it would be.

It was missing. Gone. Almost as if it has never been there in the first place. 

Her typewriter - her precious, prized typewriter - was missing. 

The Addams was one who favored neatness and precision. Everything had its place and every place had its thing, ensuring that no time would be wasted and that there was no confusion in where something could be placed. If she needed something, it would be there. That was that, and that was the way that she liked it.

It was why Wednesday had a specific folder for her homework assignments, as well as one for her investigations, and another for story drabbles and ideas, all stashed carefully under her desk in their drawer where they could be easily accessed when needed.

So when the raven entered her shared dorm after a rather successful day of classes, pulling out her folder full of notes for her novel as she prepared to engage in her writing hour, when she spotted the lack of a typewriter beside her box of written pages, she was baffled. At first.

Without hesitation the first thing Wednesday did was meticulously search through every inch of Enid’s side of the dorm. The Addams hunted through every inch of pillows, nooks, crannies, and crawl space, though her attempts came to be in vain. She was unsurprised, albeit; she never truly believed that Enid would have taken it, even as maybe a prank, since the werewolf knew how much her typewriter meant to her, but everyone was a suspect when it came to things like this.  

And so the mystery began.

Of course, Wednesday loved a good mystery; she found nothing better than discovering the culprit of a complicated and mysterious case, one that would take experienced detectives hours to crack; seeing the fate of the culprit as their punishment was carried out - it was a wonderful feeling. It filled her with a sense of satisfaction.

And wouldn’t you know, the very first person to offer their help was you. You were eager, that she was sure of. It was unnerving how quickly you volunteered to help her solve the case, this tiny grin on your face every time you asked her about what the latest thing was she’d uncovered, but you weren’t the focus of her attention.

As much as she hated to admit it, Wednesday knew that Nevermore was a big school and having a werewolf with a good sense of smell would be helpful in her case, so she reluctantly allowed you to assist her, convincing herself repeatedly that it was only because she wanted to humor you.

Even worse? You weren’t that bad. She already knew you weren’t incessantly cheerful like Enid was, but you behaved yourself better than she’d expected, especially for you. It was odd, to say the least, to see the change in your behavior. Other than that, you did add helpful points to the conversation, and one or two of your suggestions weren’t as irrelevant as she’d expected.

Although Wednesday knew for certain that her typewriter had not been carelessly misplaced, she decided it wasn’t the worst of ideas to check anywhere it could have been misplaced, despite her insistence on the fact that she would never do such a thing. How could one misplace a large, expensive, prized typewriter that was only used in her dorm and her dorm alone? Impossible.

And so, the raven became sure that her assumptions had been correct from the start; foul play was indeed the only cause of her sudden loss and without a doubt when she would uncover the culprit at hand she would make their life a living hell. 

On her own the raven cut through her suspects list, starting with Bianca herself. Her week became festered with interviews as she took her time planning to take aside one of her friends (a term very loosely used), and question them mercilessly. Well - Bianca at least. The siren may have done her a favor or two a ways back but Wednesday was most certainly not one to allow mercy to anyone, especially under the circumstances. Unfortunately despite her flawless interrogation, the raven found Bianca empty handed. Ironic.

“What about Xavier?” That was your suggestion you offered when you approached her afterward, already peppering the raven with questions with that same small smile on your face that made her stomach twist.

“Xavier has no motive, Y/N, do you know anything about the pursuit of criminology?” Wednesday muttered, pulling the shoulder straps on her backpack tighter. “Use what’s left of your brain and actually think about possible suspects with valid intentions.”

Just as she expected you were already going for a kick to her shin, which she promptly dodged, continuing to walk down the hall while you surely sulked behind, most likely due to your failed attempt.

“I don’t have all day to play games and the gap is getting narrow.” Wednesday huffed, almost muttering to herself at this point as her fists clenched. “There’s an answer here.”

“What about Thing?”

Your voice broke her out of her thoughts as you jogged to catch up with her, walking alongside her as you spoke.

“He’s still pissed at you for giving him the silent treatment last week.” Your hands waved around excitedly as you talk, something that only very briefly distracted the raven.

“A punishment well deserved for an appendage who thinks it is appropriate behavior to provide useless information instead of helpful resources.” Wednesday’s eyebrows furrowed in slight annoyance as she recalled why she had refused the hand permission to assist her when she had performed her bloodstain analysis research on you in the woods a week prior. “He knows better than to hold grudges against an Addams.”

“He is an Addams, Wednesday.” The raven could practically hear you rolling your eyes as you spoke. “He’s part of your family but I wouldn’t put it past him to nab your typewriter to get revenge.”

“Couldn’t even think of the inevitable punishment he would receive,” Wednesday muttered with an eye roll of her own. “Ameuter. I’ll make sure he receives his consequences.”

The raven turned direction swiftly as she swerved from her original destination, already on track to Ophelia Hall as you caught up, the smile you had worn so frequently abruptly fading. Odd. She tried to focus on walking instead of your uncharacteristic silence. You were thinking. That she could tell.

“You’re going to like- hurt him? Right now?” You looked at her, your eyes searching hers. The raven kept her eyes ahead on the path, the students around her instinctively carving a path as she plowed through. “You can’t like- put him in timeout or something?”

Wednesday gave you a look of disgust as her lip curled into a grimace. “Y/N, suggest such a weak punishment like that again and I’ll make sure you understand an appropriate consequence.” She immediately shut down any nagging thoughts reminding her she’d never actually-

No. She needed to focus. This was not about you.

She veered the corner, before stopping in her tracks and spinning to face you with a glare. “Are you going to trail after me like a lost puppy or go make yourself of use?” Your face of insignace would be almost comical if she wasn’t so irritated with Thing. “Do as you please. I have business to attend to that will not require your inexperienced assistance.”

You huffed and folded your arms, grumbling something under your breath that the raven was almost positive was something contradicting her statement, but you nodded and turned, heading back down in the direction which you had come.

She threw open the door to her dorm, instantly spotting Thing on Enid’s bed with the blonde herself, discussing a nail care magazine the two were flipping through.

“That’s a good point, Thing, but this green might suit your complexion better,” the werewolf pointed to something on the glossy page, the hand tapping rapidly in response. “I absolutely am an expert at this, Thing, I know more about fashion than you.” A few more taps. “That’s vulgar coming from you.”

Wednesday stormed over to the bed, promptly yanking the magazine out from under Thing and handing it to the bewildered Enid, the appendage tumbling to the floor.

Before he could scuttle away the raven bent down and grabbed Thing in her hands, holding him up to her eye level as she glared at him with murderous intent. “Tell me where you put it or you’ll be receiving another scar to add to your collection.”

The appendage tapped rapidly on her hand, interrupted by Enid who stood and hurried over, laying a hand on Wednesday’s shoulder. “Willa….? What are you doing-?”

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the hand as she met Enid’s worried expression, gesturing toward Thing with her head as she hissed, “my typewriter is missing and I wish to know why Thing took it.”

Enid paled slightly, which was confusing to the raven. “Don’t be sensitive, he’ll be receiving the attention that he clearly so desperately wants.”

Wednesday was already reaching into her pocket for her handy pocket blade that she carried on her at all times but was met with Enid’s hand on her wrist. She stiffened slightly and shot the blonde a glare, though she didn’t pull away. “Don’t interfere, Enid, I know what I’m doing.”

Yet, the werewolf didn’t move, eyes wide and face pale, mouth opening as if she wanted to say something before closing her mouth again as her gaze flitted from the hand and then back to her. “You said he took your typewriter?”

Wednesday nodded, pressing the tip of her knife to the crook of Thing’s thumb as she spoke in a dangerously low voice. “Start talking.” The hand responded with rapid and wild gestures, flailing in her hands as the raven’s fingers curled tighter around the appendage, pressing her knife firmly against his thumb, close enough to draw blood. 

“Don’t play dumb, Thing, answer the question. Where. Is. The typewriter?” Wednesday hissed, applying a little more pressure as the hand squirmed, signing wildly. Her grip faltered just slightly at the hand’s pleas; although pathetic and shameful, especially for Thing - they seemed authentic, which caught her off-guard. Shaking off her thoughts, Wednesday pressed the knife back against Thing’s smooth palm.

“It wasn’t Thing-” Enid blurted out, and Wednesday paused, slowly turning her head to stare at the blonde, eyes narrowing slightly. “It wasn’t-” the blonde trailed off with a frustrated sigh, rubbing her neck in what appeared to be an anxious gesture. The raven slowly lowered the hand, already realizing that Enid wasn’t lying. With a reproachful expression she set Thing back down on the bedspread, ignoring the hand’s rapid tappings of indignance.

“Explain. Now.”

Wednesday stared at the Enid with a glare, not budging as she folded her arms and waited for the blonde to explain, exhaling sharply through her nose. The werewolf fidgeted around with a guilty expression before groaning,

“Look, I told her that it was a bad idea, but she didn’t listen-” the blonde pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration and guilt, looking back up at Wednesday after a moment as she continued. “And you’re not allowed to murder her, but-” Wednesday didn’t even register the rest of Enid’s sentence as the answer hit her like a stab in the abdomen. You. Of course it was you. Why else would you volunteer to help her when you could’ve been off doing your own thing? That small smile she had always seen on your face when you had offered your advice? Now the mischief and deceit made sense. The fact that you had paled when she’d mentioned getting her revenge on Thing for your crime? How could she have not put the pieces together?

Even more infuriating, your advice and ideas as well as what you had suggested for suspects and information - they had all seemed so valid. How could you of all people be so foolish and yet infuriatingly genius at once? 

It was admirable.

No doubt about it, Wednesday was going to kill you. 

—————

pt.7 here!

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

The Lipless Man: From the casebook of Akechi Kogoro

Translated by Alexis J Brown

[His] thirst for revenge had been inhuman. He was either insane or pure evil. A vampire that fed on fear. How could any harbour such hatred, no matter how badly they felt wronged? Tsunekawa, and even Akechi, recoiled at his speech, which sounded like a curse reverberating from the bowels of hell.

People can bear any horror, no matter how terrifying, as long as it remains in sight. But when something dematerialises before their eyes, like white breath on a frosty day, panic can take hold in an instant.

‘I’ve a funny feeling you’ve both been pulling my leg,’ the Inspector said, strolling in the direction of the temple gate. ‘Both of us?’ Akechi asked, smiling in his customary way. ‘You and the lipless man.’ ‘Ha! What an extraordinary idea!’ ‘It’s like the two of you are playing your own peculiar game. Every hunch you’ve had has been miraculously spot on. And as for the ghoul, somehow he knew it would be you who’d dig up that coffin. He predicted as much in his letter. How could that be, unless you’d both planned it in advance?’ It was not obvious whether the Inspector was joking or not. He looked at Akechi with an unnatural smirk on his lips. ‘Maybe we’re the same person. Like in one of Maurice LeBlanc’s Lupin stories. By day, I’m an amateur detective, by night, a murderous fiend. What a set-up!’ Akechi laughed, long and loud, and eventually Tsunekawa had to join in. ‘Speaking of works of fiction,’ the Inspector said at last, ‘This case has had its own cast of bohemian characters. Artists, writers, and the lipless man himself.’ ‘That may well be intentional. Great criminals have fantastical ambitions...'

There is a dark side to life. An evil lurking in the shadows. Whatever horrors envisaged by the most demonic poet, they're nothing to what takes place in reality.

For hardcore Edogawa Ranpo fans:

One character in this story appears to be loosely based on Edogawa Ranpo himself! Sonoda Kokkō, a writer of detective fiction, is described in the novel as follows:

It appeared Sonoda Kokkō had written bizarre short stories for a select audience with a taste for his brand of grotesque nonsense. He’d produced one piece of fiction a year, often surprising his editors who’d completely forgotten about him. Nobody had known where he lived or what he looked like; not anyone at the magazine that published his fiction, and certainly not the general public. His manuscripts were never sent from the same post office twice, and his fee had always gone back to whatever post office that had been. His landlord and neighbours hadn’t even been aware he was a writer. He’d no friends, and had always kept his doors and windows locked whether he was in or out. All anyone knew about him was that he’d been a loner. ‘The property we searched was in a very desolate part of Ikebukuro. A small detached house. When we looked inside, it was like wandering around a haunted mansion. There were skeletons hanging in the closets, dolls heads, wet with red ink, left on all the tables, and coloured woodblock prints of the most bloodcurdling scenes plastered on every wall. I’m sure you get the picture.’ ‘Fascinating,’ Akechi nodded keenly. ‘His shelves were filled with books on criminology, criminal history, and true crime stories. In the drawers of his desk were pages and pages of unfinished manuscripts...

At one point in The Lipless Man, a story written by Sonoda Kokkō is referenced and used to discover the hiding place of the book's villain. I won't spoil the surprise entirely, but the short story by Sonoda Kokkō is remarkably similar to a famous story written by Edogawa Ranpo!

The Lipless Man was published in 1930, and four years later Edogawa Ranpo moved to a home in Ikebukuro where he lived for the next 31 years. The building where he lived is now The Edogawa Rampo Memorial Center for Popular Culture Studies (The Edogawa Rampo Residence). You can find learn more at their website: https://english.rikkyo.ac.jp/research/research_institutes/rampo.html