hi guys! first off, happy early christmas to all those who are celebrating!
Im making this post to announce that this blog will be going on an indefinite hiatus until further notice. i truly truly truly appreciate each and every interaction that ive received on this platform be it in the form of followers, reblogs or likes <33 but there’s no denying that i don’t post at the rate which i used to and thats because my interest/passion for tumblr has been on a decline.
These days, logging into tumblr has been quite disheartening as most if not all of my favorite writers have deactivated/deleted their blogs. furthermore, the tagging system in tumblr which i use to find fics to read is constantly filled with irrelevant posts or fics that simply aren’t how they used to be (at least for me) Whilst i truly appreciate the messaging function on tumblr, I simply do not have the motivation to remain on this site any longer.
Of course, this doesn’t discredit the amount of love that ive gotten for my fics in the past year, so you’ll be glad to know that I am still writing! just merely on ao3 where you can find me as @solarisensun or click here
once again, thank you all for supporting my little blog! all of my works will remain up should you ever wish to revisit them again!
before I disappear into the oblivion I’m making this post to hold myself accountable!! Upcoming fics still be a yandere deity scara + my academic rival au with Dottore!!!
- random fic that i concocted cause i couldn’t get the concept out of my head
Al-Haitham breaks all workplace rules for his favorite employee
Warnings: NSFW, slight jealousy/possessiveness, mentions of clubs + threats (not at reader)
As much as Al Haitham wishes to deny it, your presence always seems to draw his attention no matter the situation.
The click clacks of your heels descending the stairs immediately disrupts his usually unwavering focus as he forces himself to read the first line of his email for the second time. Unfortunately, his brain is once again distracted by how he knows that you are approaching from behind. Knows that if he turns around, he’ll see you in your green bartender uniform with the logo of his bar printed right above your right breast.
And for some absurd reason, the uniform, despite being intended to make you look professional, instead makes you look like you just stepped out the page of a 1950 pin up girl magazine. Smart and professional is the last thing that anyone would use to describe your current attire. A spark of annoyance oozes down his spine when he catches himself thinking of you, and he hasn’t even actually seen you yet.
before I disappear into the oblivion I’m making this post to hold myself accountable!! Upcoming fics still be a yandere deity scara + my academic rival au with Dottore!!!
- random fic that i concocted cause i couldn’t get the concept out of my head
Al-Haitham breaks all workplace rules for his favorite employee
Warnings: NSFW, slight jealousy/possessiveness, mentions of clubs + threats (not at reader)
As much as Al Haitham wishes to deny it, your presence always seems to draw his attention no matter the situation.
The click clacks of your heels descending the stairs immediately disrupts his usually unwavering focus as he forces himself to read the first line of his email for the second time. Unfortunately, his brain is once again distracted by how he knows that you are approaching from behind. Knows that if he turns around, he’ll see you in your green bartender uniform with the logo of his bar printed right above your right breast.
And for some absurd reason, the uniform, despite being intended to make you look professional, instead makes you look like you just stepped out the page of a 1950 pin up girl magazine. Smart and professional is the last thing that anyone would use to describe your current attire. A spark of annoyance oozes down his spine when he catches himself thinking of you, and he hasn’t even actually seen you yet.
In an effort to rid himself of those thoughts, he hunches even further over his laptop. But it’s even harder to ignore your presence when every other red-blooded male in his bloody damned bar has already noticed the way you saunter behind the bar as they perk up like hounds.
Already, a young man has shouldered his way to you with a swagger in his step Unable to help it, Al Haitham yanks his gaze from his unread email to watch the way you rest your elbows against the bar as you lean forwarded to gaze up at him with that shy little smile dancing on your lips. Of course, the man drinks up your doe like gaze like its fuel to his ego.
Al Haitham glances away and wipes a hand over his mouth to conceal his annoyance as a heavy exhale rolls through his back. He rolls his shoulders back in his suit and takes a sip of whiskey.
You’re irritating. That’s right. Maybe he just doesn’t like the way you laugh so loudly at whatever the man tells you. You’re bad for him. Bad for his self-control, and for his image. The scowl on Al Haitham’s face deepens when he realizes that he’s staring at you again. It’s not as if he can tell you off for not doing your job because that’s what you are doing. Flirting with the customers gets the bar more cash, which means more revenue for him. But do you really have to lean that far across the bar to let the man whisper something in your ear that closely?
Irritation, hot and itchy, creeps back down his spine. Finally, you seem to notice that your boss has been glaring holes into the side of your head as your bright gaze finds him across the room. You don’t break eye contact as you bend down to pick up a glass, all while the man talks your ear off.
His jaw ticks. But Al Haitham refuses to be the first one to break eye contact. At least not until you smile at him and give him a twiddle of your pretty nails when the irritation in him morphs into something much more… electric.
Your only response is a terse nod as Al Haitham slams his laptop shut. He’s not going to be able to get any work done if you’re here. Instead, he opts to pulls out his phone.
“Nilou.” His voice is too sharp, too tense.
“Yes, sir?” Nilou replies over the phone, her soft voice filled with confusion.
He exhales through his nose to soothe himself. To tune out another round of giggles that erupt behind the bar. “I want the uniforms changed.”
“In what way, sir?” Nilou asks, the puzzlement still evident in her tone.
“Changed?”
Al Haitham flinches a little when he hears your voice echo just behind him. Steeling his nerves, he turns around and fixes you with a steely look. “Swap the skirts out for pants.”
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
He looks down to the sinful piece of fabric that hugs your thighs.
Before Nilou can offer a reply, he hangs up the phone.
Across the bar, you raise an eyebrow. “Why the sudden change?”
Al Haitham feels his fingers twitch at your casual tone. It’s rare that people, let alone his employees, dared to speak to him so leisurely. He had half a mind to teach you how to address your boss properly. Maybe with that stupid skirt hiked around your waist and your palms against the counter as he spanks your-
He forces himself to come to a screeching halt.
Instead of enacting his fantasies, Al Haitham glances at you with an almost bored look. “I thought that it would be a nice change once in a while. Also, it’s sir. It’s inappropriate to address your boss so casually.”
“Well,” you pipe back, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to issue sudden changes in the dress code without consulting your employees first.”
The image of you across his lap and his handprint across your ass resurfaces like an insistent plague. Curse you and your stupidly smart mouth. Though he can’t deny the amusement that he enjoys whenever the two of you quip at each other, nipping at each other’s heels. Testing to see which one would stumble first.
“Talk back to me like that again and I’ll put a dent in your salary.” An empty threat. You both know it as clear as day.
Your brilliant smile blossoms from the glow of a flickering candlelight to the roaring rays of the summer sun. “And risk losing all your customers?” you tease him. “We both know how much they love my drinks. I’m the best bartender you have up your sleeve.”
Your drinks aren’t the only thing that keeps them coming.
At that, his amusement quickly withers away.
Before he can say anything more stupid, Al Haitham scoops up his laptop and rises to his feet. “You’d better start serving them then.” It’s a bitter sentence, delivered through his clenched teeth.
“Wait-”
Without sparing you another glance, he strolls out of the bar. Barely resisting the urge to slam the door on his way out.
—
It’s a Saturday night when Al Haitham next drops by his bar. Usually, he preferred spending his weekends in his study. But word had spread that the Fatui would be dropping by town. Despite the alliance treaties that he’d signed with them, it wouldn’t hurt to be extra careful around his long-time business rivals. Plus, he was hoping to glean some extra information out of his guests.
The magnetic roll of bass vertebrates through the room as Al Haitham is escorted to the VIP booth that is usually only reserved for the most esteemed of guests.
He feels almost out of place here. Despite owning the entire establishment (and the street that it’s on), Al Haitham has never quite gotten used to the rowdier nights that occur in his club. It’s not as if he doesn’t appreciate the sight of the dancers or the music. But something about the primal atmosphere just makes him wish that he was back in the peace and quiet of his study, with his chosen book open on his lap.
Don’t worry. Al Haitham straightens the non-existent wrinkles of his shirt. You’ve got everything under control.
As he pushes the heavy curtains open, he instantly sees Ajax, the 11th Harbringer, with a glass in his hand and those intense blue eyes fixated on a scene in front of him. The younger man takes a sip from his glass. Yet, not once does his predatory gaze shift. It is unlike Ajax to not even notice his presence, and curiosity jerks Al Haitham’s gaze to where Ajax is looking.
Al Haitham feels his throat dry up.
His ears ring with all the blood that rushes up to his head. Al Haitham’s heavy stare rolls across your body as you extend a leg mid-air, with both of your hands wrapped around the pole. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, you make your way down the pole in time with the music. Whilst just seeing you in uniform has his slacks tightening, the sight of your ass in those thongs and your breasts practically spilling out lacy bra has him hard to the point of insanity.
When your body reaches the floor in a graceful descent, Al Haitham has to lift his attention to the multi-colored spotlights in the ceiling to take a slow, deep breath and to stop himself from drooling over you like a pervert.
Why are you here?
Only after his second breath when he finally meets your electric gaze. Your eyes spark with amusement. You know. You know exactly what you’re doing with your boss. You know just how much you get on his nerves. Do you know that he’s thought about you every hour over the past three days? Do you know how his stomach tenses whenever he thinks of you?
As if reading his frayed mind, you rise to your knees, sliding them open to reveal that darned thong that barely covers anything as you lean against the pole without a care in the world. The heat burning in your gaze makes his fist curl deeper. You really are going to set him ablaze.
He takes in your… costume. The jade green set is complimented with trims of red lace around the edges. A perfect match to his eyes. The realization digs its sharp claws into him. On the stage, you continue to slink your way over on your knees. The sight of your ass in the air tugs on his cock as lust crawls under his skin.
And he tenses when you reach the edge of the stage. Gracefully, you make your way down in those ridiculously high heels. Click clack, the familiar sound makes his jaw clench.
“Al Haitham.” He’d nearly forgotten that Ajax was also in the room. How ironic. He’d just frowned upon the Harbringer’s foolishness for not noticing his presence.
“Yes?” Al Haitahm feigns indifference in his voice as best as he can.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you had such a gem hiding here?”
All of a sudden, he’s hit with an impulse to smash a glass over the ginger’s head.
Before he can reply, the brush of your bare shoulder against his forearm causes the words to choke up in his throat.
Already, Ajax’s attention has shifted over to you. His manic grin is a little too wide for Al Haitham’s liking. And there’s that hungry glint burning in the Harbringer’s eyes that Al Haitham knows all too well. It’s the exact same gleam that licks in his irises whenever he thinks about you.
“Hello gorgeous.” He hears Ajax tell you. “What’s your name, hm?”
Just as Ajax’s fingers are about to close around your bare waist, Al Haitham grabs his wrist in a deadly iron grip, stopping the latter in his tracks. “No touching.”
Ajax studies his face for a beat as a slow grin tugs at his lips. “I was just going to ask for her name. It’s not everyday I meet a woman as stunning as your employee. Perhaps you’d prefer if I took her out on a nice dinner first?”
Red mist swallows Al Haitham’s vision. “Get out,” he rasps.
When Ajax doesn’t move, he leans forward, making sure that the Harbringer sees the animalistic fury roaring in his eyes. “Get out before I send your body back to Snezhnaya in a coffin.”
As soon as the door closes behind Ajax, his fingers find purchase at the nape of your neck as he yanks you towards him. “When did you turn from a bartender to a fucking stripper?” he demands. Never in his life has he swore. Not until now.
A flash of surprise darts across your delicate features at the unusually rough timbre of his voice. Despite the fact that he’s practically breathing flames into your face, you merely shrug. “I tried telling you about it the other day. Nilou needed a replacement. And I stepped in to help her fill the spot.”
For a tense moment, the two of you glare at each other. Al Haitham is all too aware of your soft breasts pressing into his chest. The way you're looking at him underneath those long lashes, and the pout of your bottom lip that tempts him to brush his thumb across it. He’s so hard that he can’t even think straight.
He cocks his head, tension lining each plane of his broad shoulders. The raging fury in him solidified into something much more familiar. “Are you wet?”
Finally, your insolent facade crumbles into dust as you let out a squeak. “What?”
“If I push aside those pathetic strings that you’re wearing right now, am I going to find you wet?” He repeats the question, slowly and calmly.
Your skin feels all too warm from his touch. Carefully, Al Haitham drags his calloused palms down, savoring your soft flesh until they rest at your waist, where he guides your half-naked body onto his lap. Almost instinctively, your hips rock forward along the hard plane of his thigh. And his second curse falls out of his lips in a breathy whisper when he feels the warmth of your pussy pressed against his slacks.
He’s probably breaking every workplace rule imaginable. But with the way your body feels against his, Al Haitham can’t quite bring himself to care. Already, he’s planning on the next time he can get you like this in his bed, naked and under him. It was like giving a recovering drug addict another good snort of crack. There was no turning back in his maddening obsession. But this time, he was glad to be able to drown in it.
His wandering hands cup your breasts through your bra. Resting ever so lightly on your hardened nipples poking through the sheer material. Your back arches forward as he watches you with an intensity that makes you shiver. Without warning, Al Haitham squeezes.
A little unexpected motion that has you keening like a kitten for her master.
Cruelly, he bounces his knee upwards, forcing another mewl out of your painted lips. One of his hands tangles into your hair, pulling you forward until your parted lips are almost brushing his. Until the both of you are breathing the same air. He can smell your stupid perfume clouding his already disorientated senses.
“U-Usually, I get paid for this.”
He gives you a half-hearted scowl. “I’ll triple your next month’s salary.”
Your head falls against his shoulder with a whimper as you continue to buck your hips forward, leaving a wet stain across the material of his pants. He doubts that you’ve even heard his offer. “Are you going to come on my thigh?” Unable to help himself, Al Haitham wraps his large hands around your waist and presses you down against his thigh, making sure that the seam of his pants catches against your clit.
You respond with a strangled whine, your fingers scrabbling for purchase against his shirt.
As you reach your high, Al Haitham captures your lips with his, swallowing all your moans as your orgasm forces you to melt against his chest. Though his cock throbs in his slacks, demanding for attention, he rests his forehead against yours, drinking in the lust in your eyes like a starved man. The smell of your sex fills him with a deep hunger that prompts him to tighten his grip around your still trembling body.
It takes every ounce of self-control in him to keep his voice steady.
“The next time you strip for another person, I’ll have their eyes gouged out of their skull.”
That dottore concept has me feelin some type of way 😩
click more for a sneak peek! scholar dottore vs his academic rival fic is in the works <33
Outside, the snow blankets the streets of Snezhnaya as the moon casts its silvery glow beneath. The gentle glow against the harsh, bitter landscape of Snezhnaya paints a captivating picture of a Tevyat’s infamous nation. Few have managed to venture so deep within Snezhnaya to be blessed with a glimpse of its icy landscape. Yet, holed up in the icy castle of the Tsarita, Dottore pays no regard to the beautiful snowy scenery just outside his window.
It’d been a long long time since he had any regard for the fleeting beauty around him.
Instead, his bright eyes are feverishly scanning the scroll clutched in his gloved hands as he devours each line and word. Finally, after a whole decade of cold trails and empty leads, he has something to grasp on. The scroll is a raven message from one of his Fatui subordinates whose name he couldn’t be bothered to learn. But the content of the message? That is something that Dottore has been dying to know.
Upon finishing the message, he sweeps his arm in a wide arc across his cluttered table, sending countless loose papers and pens onto the ground. Nevertheless, Dottore continues to rummage around until he finally gets his hands on a piece of empty paper that isn’t covered in scribbles or colored markings.
He’s shaking so hard that it takes him several frustrating tries before he can put his pen to paper and write down his reply. The nib of his pen nearly rips a long gash across the paper as Dottore’s mind moves at a speed that his hand had never been quite able to catch up with. And it takes him even longer to calm himself down long enough to seal the envelope and send it on its way.
As Dottore watches the raven soar into the night sky, its figure is gradually swallowed up by the gray snow, he can’t seem to stop the manic smile that spreads across his face. His fingers tighten around the edge of the window sill when he imagines the future that would come true in just a few days. He laughs, giggles, a little hysterically.
For the first time in years, Dottore feels as if he’s alive again.
Finally, the two of you were going to be reunited.
so i came from ao3 after i read your fic white lies!! i was about to send in a long ass comment about how amazing it was but i decided to stalk more of the author’s works first - and my heart literally stopped when i saw orphan account 😭 i spent a good few seconds staring in disbelief at my phone bc no!! i have to tell the author just how much i loved the fic!! and then i saw your note about your tumblr and boy, i’ve never typed so fast without typo in my life. i love love love white lies. the plot, the smut, the wordings, the pacing, the twist!! my god. there’s something so deliciously good abt incest fics that just scratches my brain the right way. it’s the taboo-ness of it that some genres just don’t manage to capture. ofc i don’t condone it irl but fiction and reality are two separate things! so. i wanted to say i love white lies. just. so glad i decided to click it while i was searching for fics. from the beginning to the end, it had me hooked. and the smut was just *chef’s kiss* perfect. it made me feel things in a way smut fics rarely do. your characterization of diluc and kaeya were so on point i just. i am at a loss for words. i loved it. have i mentioned how much i love your fic? because i love it a lot. it doesn’t even need a part two because that ending was so good already (but ofc i wouldn’t be opposed to a part two 🤭). i love it. so much. in fact, i love you. i hope your day is great and will continue to keep getting better. your fic has singlehandedly roused me from my depressive episode, and idk what it says about me as a person that an incest reader insert diluc fic managed to do that, but yes. your writing is impeccable. phenomenal. gorgeous. stunning. perfect.
oh my god first of all tysm for taking the time out to write all of this <3333 and yes!! i am 100% against incest in any shape of form irl but when its fictional? that's a whole diff story! esp when it comes to daemon and rhaenyra from hotd Back to your message, once again ahhh thank you for your kind comment on white lies im really glad that you liked it! it was a fic that i initially wrote just to explore diluc's character as a whole and decided to throw in kaeya bc why not?
it's rare that I get such long and sweet replies and I'll treasure this message forever and ever.
Yknow I used to read fics where shorts ride up yada yada and I always thought that it was kinda unrealistic bc how do shorts ride up so high???
but I recently got a new pair of sleeping shorts and oh my gosh these mfers ride up SO high everytime I wake up the waistband is literally at my stomach
ok hear me out... an academic rival/enemy au w dottore at the sumeru akademiya but his obsessive drive to surpass your intellect gradually transcends into something much more twisted...
OKAY what about big brother Suguru and his weird friend Satoru who sits a little too close and let's his touches linger a little too long. Suguru-nii's friend who insists you call him Nii-chan too because he's over at your place so much he's basically your brother anyway. "O-Okay... Nii-chan." you whisper as he pulls you in for another hug.
You tell Suguru you don't really like how touchy he is but he ignores your worries. "He's just friendly." or "He just loves you as much as I do." You learn to avoid Satoru as often as you can.
But it's impossible to remove your self proclaimed brother from your life. In fact, he gets more and more overbearing.
Until one day you wake up naked with Satoru inbetween your legs kissing all up from between your thighs, over your stomach and to your face. You scream for Suguru who enters with a sigh, berating Satoru for waking you up so suddenly.
You start to struggle but you're tied to the bed. You realise you don't recognise the room at all, it's dark and covered in photos of you that you never knew were taken. Photos of you sleeping, in the bathroom, out of friends. Clothes you're missing, panties that had disappeared, all presented around the room.
Now they can protect you from all the weirdos on the outside forever in their secret hideout. ❤️
warnings: step-incest, NSFW, noncon, yandere themes (whats new), i got a little carried away w this
suguru appears to be the lesser of two evils. whilst your new brother is aloof and stoic, you appreciate the fact that he keeps to himself most of the time. though you often feel scrutinized under his cold, calculating gaze, suguru has never once overstepped his boundaries.
the same cannot be said for his best friend.
to say that gojo satoru makes you uncomfy is the least of your worries. initially, you'd brushed off his hugs as nothing more but an attribute to his outgoing personality. but that doesn't explain the casual kisses he presses to your cheek- close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth, his bold fingers toying with your collar, the hem of your skirt, the occasional explicit picture that somehow 'accidentally' slides into your messages at 3am.
and the fact that he'd squeeze your cheeks between his fingers until you give him a meek 'nii-chan'
after weeks of putting up with gojo's antics, you finally muster up the courage to knock on your brother's door. suguru is as unmoving as a rock as you tell him about gojo. the more you blabber on, the more insignificant you feel under your brother's narrow gaze.
suguru simply shrugs when you are done with your tale. one look into his dark gaze tells you that you will gain no sympathy here. "gojo has always been friendlier than most." he waves a hand in the air to dismiss your concerns. "you're reading too much into it."
"besides, what would you have me do?" suguru questions pointedly as his gaze hardens. "tell him off like he's a kid?" his voice is filled with irritation.
“i-” you begin. “he’s harmless,” suguru cuts in before you can finish. “are we done? i have matters to deal with.”
immediately, you shrivel up. the hurt look on your face causes suguru’s glare to soften just the slightest bit. “don’t worry about gojo.” in a rare moment of softness, suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. the whisper of his fingertips against your cheek prompts a shiver to run down your spine. the dark look in suguru’s eyes is indiscernable. “i’ll talk to him about it.”
the next day, gojo corners you against the wall the moment you dare to step out of your room. before you can even flinch, both his arms have closed around you, keeping you boxed under him and left with no choice but to stare into his crystalline blues.
"heard you ran your mouth about me yesterday," gojo muses. immediately, your breath hitches at the implication behind his words. "painted me out to be a nasty pervert, didn't you?"
"n-no!" you shake your head frantically. "i didn't say that."
"yeah?" gojo cocks his head with a grin that's a little too wide. "that's not what i heard. you really hurt my feelings you know. don't you know that i've always protected you like my lil sister?"
all sense of bravado that you'd embodied yesterday fades into thin air the moment gojo leans in. "you gotta make it up to me," he tells you in gleeful tone that doesn't sound the slightest bit hurt.
"how?" you ask wobbly, anything to get out of this situation as soon as possible.
gojo smiles down at you. "give me a kiss."
when you lean in to peck his cheek, he tuts you. "on the lips, darling."
"what?"
the stunned look on your face prompts gojo to sigh. without warning, without permission, his long fingers cup around your chin and he angles his head down to press his lips against yours. despite your pathetic attempts to pull free, gojo simply takes your muffled whimpers and the way your fingers fist around his shirt as a sign to lean even further down.
it almost felt as if he needed the breath that you were holding, like it belonged to him. there was nothing gentle about the way your back slams against the wall as gojo takes your face between his large hands. dimly, you register a low groan that rumbles at the back of his throat before he pulls away.
looking at him scares you. the way his pupils have been blown out so wide that you can see your own distorted reflection in them. the imprint of his fingers seem to burn into your skin.
he lets out a little breathless laugh, the grip around your face tightens like he’s restraining himself from doing anything more. “that was a kiss that i wanted.”
you flinch when gojo leans in closer, half expecting something to happen again. instead, he merely whispers into your ear, “see you tomorrow night.”
I love your work so much! Would you be open to writing something with Overhaul? Maybe some medical kink stuff? I want to wake up strapped to a gynecological chair with him doing weird experiments on me. Hehe 🤤 Thanks!! It's okay if you don't feel inspired by this, I'll read your writing no matter what!
warnings: non con drugging, use of medical syringes, unethical medical ministrations lol
no worries babes <3 this is def something unlike what i usually write but overhaul has always been one of my top favs in bnha!
you know that feeling when you wake up from an absurdly long nap? the type of nap that makes your mouth feel like sandpaper, and your limbs are practically aching from the awkward position that you've somehow managed to fall asleep in.
worse of all, the pounding headsche throbbing behind your temples is enough to have you wincing at the slightest movement.
"oh?" a low, cordial voice calls out amidst your fuzzy hearing. "you've finally regained consciousness."
huh?
the flaring pain makes it hard to think especially when paired with the glaring lights overhead. groggily, you instinctively raise a hand to rub it across your forehead, only to find your movement cut short by the harsh bite of leather that digs into the soft flesh of your wrist as it keeps you bound to the reclined chair.
in the midst of your confusion, it takes several moments before your panic blossoms from a budding petal into a full blown blaze. but when the sleepy haze dissipates, the truth dawns upon you. Not only is your hand immobile, but all four of your limbs have been bound to the chair, making it impossible for you to move. upon closer observation, you can't help but notice that you've been stripped bare, leaving only a thin hospital gown that does nothing to protect you from the chilly freeze of the ac on full blast.
but it's not the cold that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
the soft patter of footsteps temporarily snags your attention away as a tall figure steps out into view from behind your chair.
he clicks his tongue in annoyance when he notices your increasing heartrate on the monitor. "perhaps it was better to leave you sedated, hm?" steely gold eyes meet yours, and your breath hitches at your throat. “i certainly prefer it when you were more quiet and docile. you were so much more agreeable when sedated.”
the dark hint in his tone of voice was a clear indication that he was no stranger to this. fear rises in you like a monstrous wave.
"O-Overhaul?"
From behind his pristine white mask, he seems to smile. "What happened to Dr. Overhaul?"
On the monitor, your heartrate picks up in speed.
"What are you doing?" you squeak when your doctor spins around to pick up a syringe. Once again, you tug fruitlessly against your bindings, only to be met by nothing but the creak of the chair that renders you immobile.
Overhaul looms over you. Everything about him seems too pristine to be real. Too clean, too perfect, too empty. Without warning, he grabs you by the chin with his gloved fingers as your question goes unanswered. His icy golds cut through you so deeply that it almost feels like his unwavering stare is reaching into the very depths of your soul. It certainly feels as if there’s a cold grip around your thundering heart right now.
A thoughtful look seems to flash across his gaze. "Just as I thought," he mumbles under his breath. "Nothing happened.” It takes you a moment to realize that Overhaul’s line of sight has drifted to his own arm. There’s a hint of wonderous fascination tinged in his breath. “You truly are special.”
“For so long, I’ve searched for someone like you. I must find out why.” The syringe pinched between his gloved fingers inches closer as you bite back a rising scream. You can see the unadulterated terror of your own face reflected in a distorted mirror of his syringe. In a far distance, the monitor’s beep turns into an incessant high pitched whine.
“Overhaul, please” you sob. But your doctor doesn’t even flinch.
His eyes crinkle at the sides as the needle pierces your skin.
