#⛧ answered. ���— 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖍.

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@pistachiofudge asked: stilettos tap against the tile floor as michelle has her arms crossed over her chest, a little pout to her lips. to call her jealous is an understatement - the way these fangirls are worshipping sam on the other side of the room soon has her taking action as she takes a few steps of determination, nearly bumping one of these girls out of the way as she interrupts the conversation. "want to get a drink, babe?"

             Samael loves his fans, he does, but there's only so much he can take before his anxiety starts to act up. It's been a long day     ——    he performed once earlier in the evening, and now he just wants to go back to his hotel room and decompress. Excitable chatter bombards him from every side, and he's masking his discomfort well with a polite smile, nodding along to the honeyed words thrown his way.

             A very pretty woman hangs off one of his arms, and another rubs at his chest, making him wince before covering it with a smile as he takes a step back. It doesn't deter the stranger, who plasters herself back in place, and Samael sighs and rolls his eyes when she's not looking. Some people know nothing of boundaries...

             He's nearly jumping with joy when he hears the telltale sound of high heels hastily stepping in his direction, hiding a smirk as Michelle forcefully injects herself into the mostly one-sided conversation. He chuckles as he nods, detaching himself from the strangers with an apologetic smile.     ❛❛   Sorry, ladies, we'll have to continue this later...   ❜❜     He says, with no intention of continuing things later. He takes Michelle's hand in his own and squeezes. To anyone with eyes, it's clear where his real interest lays     ❛❛   Let's go get a drink.   ❜❜     

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@emnesias asked: both hands cradle samael's face, and james knocks their foreheads together. "you're a wonderful, wonderful, man. you know that don't you?" james asks, stealing a slow, passionate kiss from samael's lips with a hum. "my wonderful sweetheart," he coos, "you're the best man i know..."

             There's an  ACHE  in Samael's heart as he soaks in James' warmth, his honeyed praise. Samael doesn't think he's worthy of such adoration     ——    that what James says can't possibly be true. The rockstar wants to protest, to lament about how rotten he truly is, that no one should waste such pretty words on someone like him. Instead, he smiles, and though the moment is horribly bittersweet, Samael can pretend for a second that he's worth James' love.      ❛❛   I don't deserve you.   ❜❜     He murmurs, hating the burning in his eyes because he knows he's about to start crying. So, he wraps his arms around James and buries his face against his neck.      ❛❛   ... Thank you.   ❜❜     

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@stevenharrington asked: ❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜

             Samael had initially tensed when Steve was suddenly in his space. It's not an unwelcome development, as Samael has been battling his weird, sappy feelings for Steve for a while now, but he hadn't expected Steve to suddenly make a move. Samael blinks when Steve speaks up, and once the musician realizes what's actually happening, he's soon blushing and rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest. He feels pretty silly.     ❛❛   My hair doesn't need fixing, love.   ❜❜     Samael admonishes, petulant, but makes no move to remove Steve's hand from his curls. He may be a bit disappointed Steve wasn't actually trying to kiss him, but he relishes in the gentle brushing of Steve's fingers through his hair. He'll take what he can get.

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just samael n his big brown eyes against the world ….. 🥺

no bc ur so right u get it... his eyes are so big and brown... bros got baby cow eyes...

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❛ today just ain't your day, is it? ❜

𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 . . .

       Samael's sitting outside a bar on the brick steps leading up to it, his lips in a deep frown as he uses a wad of brown paper towels from the dingy bathroom to scrub at the stale beer soaking his shirt. He looks up when he hears Donnie's accented voice, and lets out a scoff of a laugh as he shakes his head, damp curls sticking to the alcohol that had splashed on his face.      ❛❛   What, you don't think I like having beer thrown on me?   ❜❜     He asks dryly, and there's no bite in his tone despite his sarcasm; he never has an attitude with Donnie.

       Samael sighs, giving up on his attempt to sponge up the moisture in favor of running a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed. He was having a good time with Donnie, enjoying a few drinks, chatting... When someone approached them, a pint of beer in one hand and a sneer on their face. Samael feels  STUPID  to think they were a fan.     ❛❛   Not everyone appreciates the artistry of my work, love.   ❜❜     Samael laments, his tone quiet and bitter... To him, every criticism is a reflection of his father. 

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❛ are you happy here with me? ❜

𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 . . .

       The question rips Samael from his empty-minded practicing, fingers stilled on the strings of his guitar, paused in their strumming. He blinks a couple of times, dark brows scrunched together before his expression softens.      ❛❛   Oh, darling... Come here.   ❜❜     He sets his beloved instrument aside haphazardly, in the moment uncaring for it, as there are more important things to worry about. Samael is quick to stand and collect Ethel into his arms, wrapping them around her snugly as he rests his head against hers.

       He holds her for a moment, relishing in her warmth, before pulling away to properly see her, guitar string-calloused hands gently cupping her soft features.     ❛❛   Of course I'm happy... You make me happy.   ❜❜     He says in an almost hushed tone, his thumbs stroking over the freckles on her cheeks.      ❛❛   In fact, there's hardly anywhere else I'd rather be than here, with you.   ❜❜     Samael adds, lips in a warm smile, doe eyes twinkling with adoration.      ❛❛   Maybe I don't say it enough, but I love you. You mean so much to me, sweetheart.   ❜❜     

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@spiritdreamt asked: percy steps forward so that she's standing toe-to-toe with him, her grin more confident than she actually feels. "well?" she asks. "are you gonna kiss me, or do i have to do everything myself?"

             There's a soft smirk that lacks any sharpness on his features, and his eyes are twinkling as he reaches out to rest his hands firmly on Percy's waist, ringed fingers tapping along her hips.     ❛❛   Hmm... I do love a woman who takes charge...   ❜❜     Samael drawls teasingly, his lower lip between his teeth as his gaze flickers down to Percy's mouth before his smile grows as he's cupping her face with one hand.

             He hums, relishing in her gentle, earnest stare, before leaning down to press their lips together. He's incredibly gentle, thumb rubbing her cheek as he deepens the kiss a bit, tilting his head as he urges her body closer to his own. His fang nips her lower lip, and his tongue flickers out to soothe the sting before he's pulling away with a smile and a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.     ❛❛   I've been wanting to do that for a while now...   ❜❜

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@havvkinsqueen asked: [ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver

             The silence between them is comfortable, but Samael is grateful when Chrissy begins to fiddle with the radio. (He needed the distraction). The sudden muffled music that fills their space has Samael looking up from his notebook, dark brows raised as he listens in.

             A grin springs onto his features when he recognizes a familiar guitar chord, and he's quick to reach over to turn the volume up.     ❛❛   Holy shit, no way, it's my new single!   ❜❜     He admonishes, the rush of hearing his own music on the radio never fails to make him giddy.

             Samael sits up, holding his hands like he's holding a guitar as he nods along to the song. He holds Chrissy's gaze as he mouths along with the lyrics, lips curved up as he winks, then points to her, before throwing his arms up with the chorus of the song. He giggles, shaking his head, his entire body vibrating with excitement. 

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@stabtheory sent: [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] sender strokes receiver’s hair

             When he feels fingertips gently carding through his curls, Samael blinks before he turns his head to the young woman sitting next to him. One of his brows raises along with the edge of his mouth, exposing a sharpened fang.     ❛❛   You know, most people say something before they touch my hair...   ❜❜     He muses, his tone thick with amusement.     ❛❛   I admire your bravery...   ❜❜     He's not kidding about admiring her boldness, he's so used to people tiptoeing around him, too scared to make any sudden move     ——     when really, he's just like any other guy who can sing... So, yeah, this is definitely a welcomed change. He tilts his head inquisitively, chocolate eyes glittering.     ❛❛   Can I buy you a drink?   ❜❜  

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              ❛❛   ... is it weird I want you to win me that frog?   ❜❜     Samael points to the aforementioned amphibian plush, its features remarkedly blank and even a bit goofy, making the musician grin as he turns back to his company. Sameal hasn't been lucky     ——     he'd never been to a fair in his life before now, and he's never been particularly athletic, so the games aren't easily won for him... Good thing he's not above begging.     ❛❛   Pleeeease?   ❜❜     And he's using his infamous puppy dog eyes now.  @whitelace

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let me make it up to you .

𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 . . .

              It's very rare that anything really gets under Samael's skin     ——    he's usually pretty damn good at regulating his emotions, it's come with years of therapy and hard work... It's hard to piss Samael off. So, as he stands at the mess of his guitar, the one he's had since before his fame, his eye twitches. It was a gift from his aunt, to celebrate his joining her band, and he can still remember how happy he was to accept it. How it had been the first real gift anyone had ever given him... And now, it's broken into pieces at his feet. Samael feels hot rage bubble up inside him, his hands trembling as they curl into fists at his sides. 

              It doesn't help that his aunt is gone, too. Died not too long ago in a hospital, Samael at her side from a canceled tour with her old, withered hand in his as he wept for her... There's no way he can replace the guitar.

              He takes a deep breath through his nose, trying his best to calm himself down. There's a stinging in his eyes as tears begin to prickle his vision, and he has to look away from the mess before he bursts into tears. Summer's words make him sigh, and he grits his teeth as he rubs over his eyes, scrubbing the moisture away. He shakes his head, turning away from both Summer and the guitar.     ❛❛   I need some space.   ❜❜     Comes his clipped reply, murmured out, lacking the amused inflection he usually pours into his responses. 

              He's not mad at Summer... Frustrated, yes, but he's moreover mourning the loss of one of the only physical things he actually gives a shit about... Summer doesn't know the semblance behind the instrument. He probably thinks it's just something Samael can easily replace... Samael knows it's not right to take his feelings out on Summer     ——    no one deserves to be yelled at the way Samael did when he was a child     ——     so, he wordlessly heads to his room, and the second he shuts the door, he's sliding down it and crying into his hands.

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❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜ ( from jonah )

𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘 . . .

       The other man's words evoke a snort from Samael, and he's snickering as he takes a drag from the blunt Jonah had so graciously offered, the smoke filling the musician's lungs beautifully.      ❛❛   People say I'm bad, huh?   ❜❜     He's smirking, and his head tilts inquisitively as he squints, then purses his plush lips to let the smoke slip free.

      ❛❛   I'd love to hear what else they're saying.   ❜❜     He drawls, demurely, before his grin returns, and he's chuckling as he passes the blunt back, letting their fingers brush before leaning back against the wall behind him.      ❛❛   Enlighten me, sweetheart.   ❜❜     Sure, he could easily search himself up on Twitter again for the quick answer, but part of him wants to hear what Jonah has to say, and if any of it's different from what Samael expects. 

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night terrors. from lumine !

𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖋𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊 . . .

       Samael whimpers in his sleep, dark brows furrowed as he rolls to his side, then his back, then his other side, the blankets encompassing his form tangled around his long limbs. Sweat beads on his forehead, making his bangs stick to his face waywardly, and he grunts as he shakes his head from side to side. In his subconscious, he can feel the cool pressure of electrodes pressing against his skull, and when he tries to close his mouth, he whines when he feels the bite of leather. He's dreaming again, sent back to the worst time in his life     ——     at Psalms North, England's 'finest' conversion therapy camp. 

       His wide, tear-filled eyes plead with the doctor responsible for his torment in the sleep-induced illusion, and a flash of dread hits him like a splash of acid at the malicious grin donning the man's features. That grin was real, and still haunts him. Samael squeezes his eyes shut, and when the electricity courses through his brain, he screams, bolting upright. He's surprised when the bindings meant to hold him down don't work, but even more stumped and relieved to find he's in his bedroom in the dark. Lumine lays beside him, but she's awake now, startled out of sleep by her boyfriend's outburst.

       Samael opens his mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is a broken sob. He melts as Lumine consumes him in a tight embrace, letting himself cry against her neck, his body shaking violently as he clings to her for dear life, his tears soaking her soft shirt.      ❛❛   I'm so sorry,   ❜❜     He says between his cries     ——     he hates that he woke Lumine up, hates that he's burdening her with his baggage.

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❛ you think i’m jealous? ❜

𝖛𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 . . .

       ❛❛   Mmm, no, I don't think you're jealous...   ❜❜     The musician begins, a look of contemplative neutrality on his features as he examines the chipped black polish coating his nails. He just had them done, yet already, he's fucked them up slightly... Oh well. He glances up at Summer, full lips forming a cheeky smirk.     ❛❛   I know you're jealous.   ❜❜     He adds, eyes flickering to the somewhat famous man who tried (and failed) to get into Samael's pants, the poor guy sitting at the bar with a metaphorical rain cloud over his head, mopily nursing a glass of whiskey.

       Before Summer, Samael would have probably would have taken the man up on his heated offer to spend some time together, but Samael's loyal, contrary to what the tabloids may claim. To the public eye, he doesn't have a lot of morals. He can thank his music for that... And the numerous mistakes of his youth. Samael's attention is back on Summer, and Samael's smirk softens as he reaches out, his finger hooking in one of Summer's belt loops to draw him closer.     ❛❛   But you don't have to be, you know...   ❜❜     You're the only one I want. 

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