#all the bands were on time UNTIL Mayhem

[fireflowersims]

I have now seen the band Mayhem live. I walked away like three songs in.

Their egos were the size of a fucking planet and their music was mid. Fucking asshats, showing up late. Let's be real: Mayhem got famous for all the murder and other crime, not their music. The sound and light people did most of the work.

If you want to go see Mayhem: save your time and money for a better band. There's better black metal bands out there.

[avephelis]

RISE TWITTER QNA! no major news or announcements, but here's a list of new information and confirmations:

S3 could be brought back as a retro show in the future, but it probably wouldn't happen anytime soon (focus is on mutant mayhem at the moment)

it was never decided whether capril would be friends or girlfriends (due to rise's focus on platonic relationships)

council of heads! they're in power, but a lot of influential yokai (like big mama) aren't easily controlled, and "game the system"

despite not having his dual katana, supposedly f!leo DOES still have mystic powers

ron corcillo would love to see a spin-off focused on the caseys (if rise were ever continued), and likes the potential of a raph + casey vigilante duo

the turtles got their names after splinter's love for renaissance art

big mama's henchman WAS planned to be the missing sister, and rather than venus de milo, she would've been named after a female artist (possibly frida kahlo)

for halloween: raph dressed up as a kitten, mikey as a lion, leo as a rockstar, and donnie as j. robert oppenheimer

the mystic weapons stolen from draxum acted as a conduit to help the boys unlock their innate mystic powers with a "little boost"

they didn't realise mayhem's potential as a character/force until too late, but it could've been fun to do some stories of him being an operative (a la perry the platypus)

there weren't any planned stories for side villains (aside from the foot's cupcake shop), most focus was on the turtles

not much on casey jr's backstory, just that cass and the turtles were fighting the krang and leo raised him as a warrior. casey jr only has brief memories of cass from when he was very young, and was mostly raised by leo

there were definitely six baby turtles (two sisters)! and the turtles were gonna split up to rescue the one with big mama and the one in "the dimension", but they never planned much of it out

there's most likely a time gap between the rescuing leo and the ending scene of the movie, as "after a fight like that, [everyone] would definitely crash and need some recovery time"

there would've been more big mama in future episodes, and stinkbomb was planned to return

since the turtles became known to the public at the end of the movie, they'd have to fight to retain their reputation. this and their reception to criticism/backlash would've become a major arc.

on brother rankings: mikey is definitely raph's favourite, and they all look up to raph

the stronger someone's ninpo is, the greater the drain on their energy is (as seen with f!mikey and karai)

there wouldn't be much threat on villains going after casey jr's future intel, because most of it would've been rendered obsolete

nickelodeon would never give up the rights to rise, but they could license it to a partner company (such as IDW for a comic!)

as previously mentioned, the 2nd sister would've been trapped in "another dimension" and venus/frida would have to be won over by "helping her see that she had been brainwashed [by big mama] as a child" (and redeemed)

given more time, the show would've fleshed out: the hamato story, the hidden city's origins (krang spaceship that crashed into the crying titan being the source of the ooze, its fuel being what gave the yokai mystic powers), and would've used the rat king (who ron corcillo would've liked to be a powerful yokai with rat-like abilities and some form of mind control, who could've threatened the council of heads for power in the hidden city)

as far as we know, the turtles (aside from leo's spanish) only speak english (and even their english is sometimes a bit off)

rise probably wouldn't have ever "gone dark", but after the turtles were publicly known and full-time heroes, it might've had more of an extended plotline

the turtle's casual clothes somewhat reflect their music tastes (r&b for raph, glam rock for leo, techno (and 80s) for donnie and boy band for mikey)

future heights: mikey grew a bit and then shrunk under mystic strain, leo was at least 6ft, donnie a little taller than leo, and raph at least 6'6

mikey's powers could get pretty intense, which could've resulted in some multiverse episodes (ron corcillo would be most inclined to do a 12 crossover, but any could work). while leo portals short distances, mikey's cross space and time (with great effort)

given more time, how the turtles met april would've been fleshed out

in terms of how they take after splinter: donnie and leo have a lot of his cockiness, raph his courage and sense of duty, and mikey senses him missing his family (which is part of the reason of why he tries to hold everyone together)

given more time they would've done more with the transfer of leadership from raph to leo (and originally the plan was to draw that out over S3, rather than the abrupt S2 ending). they would've been co-leaders for a while, and at times mikey or donnie would lead (they aren't really a group with just one leader archetype)

there were plans for april to have more time with the specific turtles other than donnie (like how the gumbus was focused on her mikey and leo)

the cast's mystic abilities would've increased over time, and splinter has a lot of power that hasn't been revealed (as he spent a lot of time in the hidden city in his past)

venus/frida would've been very disciplined and so serious that's she's funny, and the dimension sister would've been "a little kooky"

there weren't really any plans on how the turtles would look in cloaked human forms, just that they'd resemble lou jitsu and may be inspired by their VAs

mikey is the only brother who can fully pull all his limbs and head into his shell (being a box turtle)

any usagi appearances would be a rights matter, and depend on collaboration

on timelines: april is 16 at the start of the series and 18 in the movie, but exactly how much time passes isn't confirmed

ron corcillo would've liked to do more donnie + raph episodes, like one where despite how donnie considers himself smarter, raph ends up beating him in common sense and emotional intelligence

f!leo didn't go with casey jr to the past due to being mortally wounded in his bleeding side

given more time there would've been more flashback episodes with the turtles at various ages

though he'd never admit it, hueso has a close relationship with leo

in early S3 there would've been an episode of setting up the new lair

mystic warrior f!mikey is pretty old (maybe in his 70s), and is strong enough to use basically any mystic power, but at great cost to him physically

no major plans with bishop, but once the turtles became more well-known he could be a bit of a thorn in their sides (like j. jonah jameson to spiderman)

there might've been some redemption from big mama, but also some relapses into her "villainous ways"

given a full season, karai would've been alive for longer, and would've trained the boys for a number of episodes

confirmation that some of early s1 aired in the wrong order (which the writers weren't happy about)

in rise, there's always an unpredictability as to how sentient a mutant will turn out to be

raph probably wouldn't be super uptight about swearing, provided the boys weren't offending anyone

there weren't any plans for romantic relationships (and DEFINITELY never an april-turtles love interest), but if they had ever tried something eventually it would've been with the same species

there were no specific plans for alopex, rita, or rennet, but anything's a possibility

in terms of the 1000 years ago krang/mystic timeline, the spaceship crashed first (possibly spawning the yokai), and other krang followed it, drawing in the invasion

that seems to be about it but if there's any more i'll do a reblog with additions

[kykyonthemoon]

An Unexpected Dinner

As a reward for working so hard lately, he plans an unexpected dinner for you.

❀ Xavier x Reader/MC, Rafayel x Reader/MC, Zayne x Reader/MC

❀ Domestic fluff, cooking time, soft and sweet

❀ Requested by Trâm Hoàng

❀ Masterlist

❀ Request a fic

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

You came home after a tiring day of overtime. Your plan was to make a simple dinner, then a long sleep until morning to recover. Yet from afar, you witnessed a plume of black smoke rising from your residence.

Based on the location of the black smoke, you knew right away that the troubled residence was one level above yours. That was precisely the house of…

“Xavier!”

You cried out, almost a scream. You took off running in that direction. The building's occupants remained oblivious to the situation, and your first concern was locating Xavier. He had the day off. He's probably still inside.

The fire alarm in the hallway was still silent since the smoke had not yet extended to that area. You impatiently rang the doorbell, then slammed your fist on the door while calling Xavier's name.

A few minutes later, you heard the door open from inside. You were welcomed with the sound of the fire alarm along with a plume of smoke and a burning stench. Amidst the chaos, Xavier's face emerged, with black streaks running across it and his hair disheveled and coated in white powder. He was also wearing an apron that was scorched at the hem and blood was seeping from one of his fingers.

“Xavier!” You grabbed his body and observed. “You're bleeding!”

Xavier saw then that a deep and lengthy cut had been made on his finger. He brought it up to his eyes, then put it back down.

“Let me get your first aid kit.” You said, one foot stepped inside but Xavier pulled you back.

“Don't go in there.”

"Why not?"

Xavier must have been attempting to disguise some humiliation based on the way he was acting. He remained silent and continued to hold your arm tightly.

“Why is your apartment in this state? Is there a Wanderer?”

You had checked your watch on the way here. This area was still pretty safe. You just failed to see why Xavier came to be in this situation. What could possibly bring such suffering upon such a respected Hunter as him?

You peeped inside. By then, the fire alarm had been fully deactivated. There was still some smoke in the kitchen, and the air smelled burning. You removed Xavier's hand that was placed on you and ran inside. While the crisis was soothed by the fire hose, it also unleashed an unparalleled mayhem over Xavier's entire kitchen. But it might have probably been chaotic the moment he had decided to cook something in here.

Xavier trailed you, wearing an unsettling, guilty look.

“You… What were you doing in here?” You questioned, no longer trusting what you saw. There was flour all over the counter and floor, and something in the oven had burnt black and melted into a deep pool of sugar. Dishes, pots, and pans were arranged on the counter as though he was either planning to inventory the kitchen utensils or planning to throw them all away.

Without waiting for his reply, you already grasped the situation. With a heavy sigh, you turned back to face him and said:

“I thought we agreed that you should stay out of the kitchen?”

Xavier gave you an innocent, almost sinless look.

“Um… I'm sorry… Since you often come home late from work these days, I thought… I could make you a surprise dinner, along with some desserts…”

You turned back to look at the kitchen. The "dinner" he spoke of lay still in the pan, its contents so burnt you could no longer discern what it was.

You took Xavier's hand away. "Let's go. To my place.”

Xavier let you lead him back to your apartment and obediently sat down on the sofa while you went to find the first aid kit. You cleaned his wound and then applied a band-aid on it. After giving the band-aid a close inspection, he turned to face you and grinned, saying:

“These bunnies are so cute.”

You didn't say anything, just turned away to pack first aid supplies back to where they belonged. Xavier's voice still rang out monotonously:

"Thank you. And… I'm also sorry since I wanted to surprise you, but ended up causing you more trouble.”

You remained silent the entire time, in part because you were too concerned about him and, because of the anger you felt when he ignored what you said and went into the kitchen. Even though he had good intentions to take care of you, the thought of him being in danger put you in great panic.

“Do you think these are good bunnies?” You gestured at the bandage on Xavier. When you asked that, he seemed a little astonished, but he nodded. "They listen to me and don't run around the kitchen making a mess," you went on. "Unlike a certain bunny I know…”

Xavier showed an apologetic face. “I'm… sorry…” Then he took out a few chocolates from his pocket. They fit easily into his strong grasp. “These are free gift with baking supplies… At least we still have this for dinner.”

You chuckled as you glanced at them and then back at him.

“Leave the dinner to me. But this..." You held Xavier's wounded hand. "Are you hurt?" You asked.

With a cooing voice, Xavier nodded like a toddler and said: "It's very, very painful."

You laughed. Hundreds of Wanderers had been defeated by this young man, yet he suffered a simple cut.

“Then leave dinner to me. As for this wound..." You stopped for a moment to raise his hand very close to your lips. Your fingers gently rubbed his hand, then you kissed the rabbit band-aid. “Get well soon.”

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

You immediately ran to Rafayel's studio after his text message. He only said it was an emergency and needed you to be there at seven o'clock.

The entrance to the studio was unlocked. You entered cautiously. To be sure there was no danger here, you looked around. Rafayel was nowhere to be found when you searched the gallery and living room.

Impatient you were as you had no idea what could happen to Rafayel. You were about to call out his name, but at that moment, you heard a noise from the kitchen. You crept closer, afraid that there was still danger there. You entered the dining room to find everything redone, including roses, unlit candles and the circular dining table with two chairs facing each other. You grew even more curious about why Rafayel wanted you to come here so urgently.

Through the open door, you caught a glimpse of Rafayel's back on the opposite side. He was staring at a pot on the stove. The steam and smoke released cause the temperature in the kitchen to gradually increase. It was easy to see that Rafayel was sweating profusely on the back of his shirt. You breathed a sigh of relief. He was still safe even though he had not sensed your presence yet. He continued his story as if there was another person in the kitchen.

“…You know, when she's shy, her face is as red as your color when you're steamed.”

You frowned. Who was he talking to? And about who?

“These days, she's a little bit slimmer now than she was. She often leaves early and stays at work late. Her missions must be very stressful. Unlike you, so fat and round, you almost don't fit in my pot."

You heard Rafayel tapping the ladle on the contents of the pot. The smell of boiled crab and seafood filled the kitchen. What was he doing here?

“Anyway, thank you for coming here. Please help her gain a little weight. I love giving her plump cheeks a poke to watch how she reacts. Haha…”

It was not a surprise to you that Rafayel talked to himself. But to the crab he was cooking?... You wondered what would be better, to let him finish his meal or to come in and say hello?

“Do you think she will come? Since she's so busy, I'm not sure. What if she really ignores my messages? Then it'll just be me and you, and all the seafood I've prepared for her... Well, she'll definitely come, right?"

It turned out he had tricked you into coming to the studio with that text message. To get Tara to assist you with the last thirty minutes of work, you had to bribe her with boba tea. Then, you had to rush as quickly as you could to see him. You coughed loudly in the kitchen, signaling your presence there and that you knew his entire plot.

Rafayel gently turned around, as though your presence hadn't startled him.

“Oh, how come you're here so early?”

As if nothing had occurred, he grinned. Additionally, he was wearing a vibrant apron, on which you could very well assume he had painted it himself.

“Hurry and take a seat. Everything has been prepared for you. All that's left is this crab."

“You called me here for this emergency matter?”

Rafayel blinked. He carried the ladle in one hand still. “Ah, that's right. This is truly urgent.”

"Seafood? Flowers and candles? You cooking? Rafayel, what's going on?

Rafayel set down the ladle and moved in your direction. “Since you've been working so much lately, I thought a surprise dinner would make you happier.”

You clenched her fist and gave Rafayel a painful blow in the chest.

“Ouch!”

"You idiot! I ran for my life here immediately after that message. I thought something happened to you… If something really happened to you, then I…”

Rafayel raised his hand, not to ease the pain you just gave him, but to squeeze your wrist.

“Are you so frantic… because you're worried about me?”

Rafayel gave you a very affectionate look. A grin formed at the corners of his lips. The hand that was holding you moved along your wrist and hand, trying to soothe the anger in your heart. You admitted, you worried about him like crazy. You thought of all the bad things that could have happened to him on the way here. As for him, nothing happened to him except that he probably had told the crab many nasty things about you.

“Next time, I will just ignore you.” You pulled your hand away from Rafayel. He released his grip on you only to encircle your waist with both arms.

“If I hadn't said it was urgent, would you have come so quickly?”

“You just need to say you have a hearty seafood meal…” You grumbled, but enjoyed the sensation of rubbing against him, even though his body now smelled of boiled crab. “I wouldn't miss a single crab for anything.”

You heard Rafayel burst into laughter. “Then milady, would you help me set the table? Your crab will be ready soon.”

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

You were a bit surprised because Zayne had asked you to come to his house on a weeknight. He would typically be really busy at that time. You got off work early so you went straight to his house. Zayne was a little taken aback to find you waiting at the entrance that early hour. Nonetheless, you were just as astonished to find him in casual attire, wearing a dark apron without patterns.

“Oh… Sorry I'm a bit early. I didn't know you were busy in the kitchen..."

"No problem." Zayne replied. He invited you into his house. “I'm preparing dinner. For you."

“For me?” You were taken aback since he had made no mention of having supper together. His message was quite brief, giving you the impression that he needed to speak with you in person instead. However, you were delighted since he was taking great care of you.

“I’m so happy right now. I didn’t expect the busy Dr. Zayne could make dinner for me.”

“You’ve been working extra hard lately. It’s my job as your physician to make sure you eat well and enough.”

You beamed, “I’m really grateful.”

Zayne replied with a smile and returned to the kitchen. You trailed closely behind. You took a look at the tidy kitchen, filled with the aroma of food, making your stomach rumble.

“Do you need my help?”

You approached him, waiting for instructions. On the stove was an extremely delicious grilled salmon. It also caught your attention that several of the other dishes were nearly done. A basket of veggies, golden egg rolls, and miso tofu soup were served.

Zayne motioned for you to turn to face the spice cabinet as his fingers deftly encircled the chopsticks.

“Teriyaki sauce.”

"Coming right up." You cheered and went to look on the shelf for exactly what Zayne needed. You had spent enough time here to be familiar with his well-kept kitchen. He focused on dinner without saying anything else. Every now and again a drop of sweat showed up on his forehead.

Zayne was far more skilled in the kitchen than you were. You simply hurried around the kitchen assisting him with various tasks. After the meal was cooked, he gave you the task of setting food on the table.

“Take caution. It's hot.” Zayne warned you carefully, but you still clumsily allowed your hand to come into contact with the boiling soup pot.

You jumped up and made a loud "oops" sound. Zayne frowned, immediately moved over to stand next to you, and grasped your hands with red fingers.

"Hot, hot, hot!"

You attempted to rub your fingertips together, but the scorching sensation persisted. Zayne held your hands open and looked down.

“It's not serious. Just a little bit of irritation. Can you put your hands in—”

Before he could finish speaking, you perked up on tiptoe and put your crimson fingers to his earlobes. Zayne alerted with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Healing myself." You laughed aloud. The sensation of burning in your hands eventually subsided. As a little child, Grandma had taught you this trick to treat burns when you accidentally touched something too hot. Zayne knew that too. To save you the trouble of having to stand on your tiptoes, he drew closer.

"Are your hands feeling better now?" His voice was really soft as he asked. Your face felt the sudden rush of his breath, your body temperature raised even more.

"Just a little." You replied while pretending to grimace. “If someone could use his Evol, maybe it would heal faster?”

Zayne sighed, but you could see a faint smile forming on his lips, and his ears began to flush. A cold touch reached your hands, followed by a pleasant feeling when the skin no longer burned.

“Can you let go now?” Zayne asked, and you felt regretful when you had to let go.

“Thank you, Dr. Zayne.”

A hand of yours was grasped in Zayne's big palm. He caressed each finger and whispered:

“I can't always be there to take care of you. Don't be so careless next time, promise?"

[a1ecmcdowell]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTWO !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART TWO. should run for the hills !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, proper introductions. sassy!reader. fictional locations. maybe improper ballet terminology. reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 1.4k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. this was going to be sm longer but i decided to split it up into two very sorry </3 it just feels right in my head! considering what the chapter titles are ... hehehe ( i am posting the masterlist today so u will see )

ㅤIT was routine at this point; getting out of class and heading to destiny dance studio before you made it home across the street. you practically couldn’t sleep without needing your muscles to feel like they were giving out first — so, like clockwork, there you were, again.

and there he was, again. 

he was a lot quieter — and much more reserved — when it was just the both of you. whether it was you leaving destiny, or about to head in, he was there at least once, a cigarette dangling from his plush, pink lips. 

he never spoke to you, though; never offered up the name of his, never made any effort to be anything besides the annoying lead singer of the band next door. all he did was watch, smoke curling around his mouth as his eyes drank you in. 

you passed him — an addition to your routine at this point — as you round the corner of destiny, key already having been plucked from your pocket. your hair was still tied in that tight bun from school that day, finding it easier to just wear it until dance practice rather than take it down and try to put it back up again. 

and all was the same, him lingering by the glass double doors of sunset blvd without so much as a breath in your direction… until, it wasn’t the same. his lips split as you stood outside in the chilly night, and for the first time in a week, words tumbled out of them.

“this place better be paying you for keepin’ ’em in business, at this rate,” he mutters, and on his exhale, the translucent gray smoke dances its way over to you.

you wave it away with your free hand, swatting at the dissipating smoke, and he’s got the audacity to stand there and laugh about it. his laugh is deep and throaty, probably rumbling in his lungs. 

“is something funny?” 

and there was that little quirk to his lips, dimples embedding his cheeks, as he turns that amused expression onto you. “you are such a prissy little thing,” he muses, fingers curled and tapping against one of his thick biceps. 

“because i don’t want to get secondhand smoke? makes me prissy?” the key is literally in the door, already twisted and unlocked. the only thing keeping you out here is that pull to him — the one that’s debilitating you from calling the cops on the band practically living in the abandoned building next to you. 

he shakes his head, one side of his nose and lip scrunching up as if he was thinking about it. “nah,” he says finally, “you’re a prissy little thing for many reasons, that’s just one of them, i think.”

you are bristling. this man who doesn’t even know you, is causing you more issues than anything related to dance in the last year, who could be in jail right now if you weren’t so generous— making assumptions about you like he had the right to? 

“i am not prissy,” you snap back at him, your words as venomous as a snake bite. you cross your arms firmly over your chest, your mouth puckered in a furious pout.

that just seems to make him even more amused; his leg falls from where it was braced on the brick wall behind him, letting his back collide with the wall as he snickers. 

“oh, and you’re proving it so damn well!” he exclaims, the sarcasm dripping from his words like the venom was dripping from yours. he drops the cigarette onto the ground, stomping its cherried end out with the toe of his boot. “standin’ there, fuckin’ pouting away… downright precious, lovebug.” 

lovebug, it seems, was your breaking point. something cracked like the facade of normalcy you were keeping up to maintain around him, and now he’d crossed that invisible line. or tried to, since you were finally yanking the key from the door to the studio, and stomping off inside. 

maybe, looking back on this moment, you would let yourself realize this moment for what it was. you would take the fact that, while you usually lock the door behind you, this time you didn’t. and you could blame it on your mind being preoccupied with your one-sided fury, but in reality, there wasn’t any way that it was an accident. 

there was that pull, and it sank its teeth into your unsuspecting skin. 

you’d only just sat your bag down on the ground by the entrance, just to the right of the balance beams, when the second set of footsteps starts to echo behind you. when the door latches for a second time. 

“so, this is the place that gets all of your attention,” his voice drawls, and you barely even get the moment to spin around, hardly even get your mouth open to tell him off, when he’s adding, “expected something raunchier.” 

your hands immediately fall on your hips, and he’d never admit it, but he thought it was adorable, and you’d never admit it, but you could tell what he was thinking just by the way his eyes fell to your clenched fingers around your waist.

“what the hell does that mean?” you ask, just as incredulously in your tone as your widened eyes were when they locked onto him. 

him, who stood there with nothing but a shit-eating grin on his face. his boots were going to scuff up the floor, and then how would you explain this? that the man staying illegally next door followed you, and you didn’t turn him away? 

“just the way you are,” he hums, shoulders lifting in another nonchalant shrug. “thought you’d have at least one filthy secret up in that pretty little head of yours, but… turns out you really are just a sweet little thing.” 

“i’m sorry, when did i start giving off the impression that you knew me, or that i wanted you to?” 

“i’ve always liked a challenge,” he pushes back, his large hands curling around the balance beam nearest to him, leaning over it like he was physically crossing the line that divided you both. “especially when they’re all dolled up like you are.” 

you decide, then, like a split second, rash decision, that the best method of dealing with him is to just ignore him. you bend at the knees to start to unzip your bag and pull loose your pointe shoes, and—

it’s almost indistinguishable. almost barely audible over the sound of her rifling around. but there it was; a sharp, guttural inhale. 

oh, jesus christ. “gonna have to give a man a little warning before you go getting on your knees for him,” his voice drawls, “not that i mind.” 

“i don’t even know your name,” you fire back, as if that’s the only comeback that you could even think of in your adrenaline-amped mind. he was getting to you, gnawing on your bones to the point of awareness, whittling you down. “and you’re standing there, accusing me of trying to—” 

“jensen,” he interrupts, his fingers tapping along the balance beam, trimmed nails scratching its wooden surface just enough for the sound to echo around the room, just like his voice. “and you never asked.” 

“i wasn’t ever planning on it,” you say, and you try to shoot him a glare from the ground, but all that does is make his eyes flare, bright and glimmering with something you didn’t even want to address. “was hoping you’d all be kicked out by now, so i never have to deal with you again.” 

his laugh is loud and echoing throughout the room, those dimples dipped into his cheeks as deep as his voice, the crinkles around his eyes only serving to make you angrier. 

“you would, huh? wish the worst for me?”

you don’t even dignify him with an answer. really, fueling whatever plan he had with following you in here was probably in your best interest. 

“don’t blame you,” he continues on anyways, as you’re kicking off your tennis shoes and lacing up the pointes, “i’d run for the hills too.” 

there’s something about how he says it, though, in that soft voice so at odds with the deep, rough one he usually bore, that makes you pause. not because you want to give him any more attention than he’s already gotten from you, but because of something far more concerning.  you didn’t want to run.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

support me ( n get early access! ) on patreon!<3

[world0fmadness]

DISGUSTING KIND OF LOVE

pelle “ dead ” ohlin x reader

♡ general dating headcanons for pelle!

୨୧ such a talented soul… there is only a tiny mention of his suicide but much more mention of his self harm! it would be kind of hard to make this without mentioning that unfortunately <3

♡ view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: disgusting kind of love by old funeral - what did you see by cemeteries

୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧

୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧♡୨୧

♡ let me be honest, you probably are not majorly fond of øystein or really any of the other members of mayhem…

୨୧ no matter how untrue and more complicated it really is, you would just absolutely hate how he seems to encourage pelle to self harm way too much on stage and almost doesn’t even try to help him after the concert ends

♡ you have heated arguments with øystein about him seeming like an uncaring piece of shit a lot, usually whilst pelle just stands off to the side, staying completely silent and not wanting to get in between you two, not wanting to possibly just make things worse

୨୧ again, it is a very complicated situation and you most likely just feel a such a major protectiveness over pelle that it blocks out your ability to see things fully, blocks out your ability to see how complicated it all is with the band and how they handle his self harming tendencies

♡ it really just blocks out your ability to see that øystein and the other band members did care, at least for the most part, they just were not the best at showing it sometimes

୨୧ you likely absolutely refuse to call pelle “ dead ”

♡ the nickname just makes you upset and almost sick because pelle is certainly not dead to you, you know better than anyone that he has a personality, he has interests, he is not dead yet… so he is and always will be just pelle to you

୨୧ since to you it seems like almost no one in the band actually gives a damn about pelle and his health, you are usually the one waiting for him backstage with antiseptic wound wipes and bandages after an obviously eventful mayhem concert…

♡ of course, you have begged pelle many times to stop hurting himself so frequently and so deeply on stage but he just does not listen, it is in part just who he is and seemingly being egged on by the other band members and fans in the crowd certainly does not help the situation

୨୧ you give up after asking him to stop too many times, eventually just accepting that this is who he is, at least for now, and always just do your best to fix him up afterwards so that he never has to go to the hospital or lose too much blood

♡ i cannot see pelle being super sexually active with you, it is not that he does not find you attractive because he absolutely does, he finds you to be the most beautiful thing person he has ever seen and you look almost angelic to him, but he is just too malnourished all the time and you probably do not want to take away the small amount of energy he does have…

୨୧ the only times you guys do have sex is only when pelle initiates it, usually letting you know he feels like fucking by getting especially grabby with you, way more touchy than usual and staring at you until you feel his big blue orbs almost burning into you before you ask him what he wants

♡ pelle really likes to draw you, he has a whole sketchbook reserved just for his drawings of you!

୨୧ he never lets you see it though, he only lets you pose for the drawings sometimes but usually even the drawings are completely candid with you being unaware he is even watching and drawing you, unaware that his curious eyes are studying your every flaw and feature

♡ i can actually see pelle being pretty romantic in a strange way! he is definitely not your usual romantic type but he definitely actually tries a whole lot

୨୧ usually by gift giving! he will approach you with his back slightly slouched and head hanging low before showing you his hand which holds some kind of animal bone! well, you hope it is an animal bone, anyways…

♡ you always thank him before giving him a soft kiss on his pale cheek and he just nods his head before wandering off again with rosy red blushing cheeks or sitting down next to you and watching you

୨୧ usually you make the bones into pretty necklaces or little bracelets, wearing them proudly, thankful for his gift even if others might call it creepy or weird

♡ whenever pelle sees you wearing the necklace or bracelet, it always brings the tiniest but most genuine smile to his face! it makes him feel so appreciated and loved

୨୧ pelle is not super into pda, he is pretty shy and he just really likes to keep some things reserved for just the two of you, special for just the two of you

♡ the most at peace you ever see pelle are the rare times he actually sleeps…

୨୧ you like to admire him as he sleeps, slowly running a finger across his nose bone and gently brushing your fingers through his long blonde hair whilst being mindful of any small tangles, wishing you could just take away all of his troubles in life

♡ you really like taking pictures with and of pelle because i feel like deep down, as much as you hate thinking about it, you know there is a possibility he will not always be with you so you like to collect as many sweet memories in pictures as you can, just in case the worst comes to be…

୨୧ it is kind of rare but sometimes, just sometimes pelle will flash that big open mouthed smile at the camera for you, though most of the time it is just a small grin or a completely blank but intrigued face

♡ pelle really likes to write letters to you, he feels like he is not great at expressing his love and need for you through speaking and physical touch so he will often write it all in a letter and give it to you, pouring so much emotion into the paper through the ink of his pen

୨୧ you absolutely keep all of the meaningful love letters in a little lock box under your shared bed, pelle does not know about that though…

♡ if you are a night owl like him, which i feel like you kind of have to be, at least sometimes, in order to date him, you guys go on a whole lot of walks through the forest at night

୨୧ it helps calm the jumbled mess in his mind and you notice that, you see that, so whenever he is especially down and not looking too great, you always offer to take a walk with him…

♡ pelle does not talk much on these walks and neither do you but it is not an awkward silence, it is more so the peaceful kind, a calm and comfortable silence as the surrounding trees blow in the gentle wind

୨୧ you only ever speak up to point out any animal bones you see buried in the leaves which pelle promptly bends down to pick up and store away in the pocket of his tattered jeans, mumbling an almost unintelligible “ thank you ”

♡ those late night walks become some of your best memories with him! memories of peace and serenity, love and care <3

[mvlvrr]

⋆｡°✩ melodic mayhem ⋆｡°✩

guitarist!kaiser x f!reader <3

summary; kaiser, the lead guitarist of some stupid garage band, makes it big and leaves you in the dust. finally seeing him again after years, old feelings bubble up between you two and nothing short of mayhem begins to happen, in the confines of a public bathroom.

. . . .

“kaiser, your food is at the door!” you yelled from upstairs, but to no avail. kaiser and his ‘band’ used your home’s garage to practice, and they were as loud as they were good. “fucker.” you sighed, getting up out of bed and leaving your phone on your pillow. trudging down the stairs, the cold floor practically freezing your bare feet (you wished you’d put on slippers), you approached the front door and huffed again.

reaching for the doorknob, you opened the door a bit, looking at the man who was holding two bags of chinese food.

“sorry for the wait,” you said softly, taking the bags from him and handing him money. your money. money that should have been kaiser’s. once the door shut, you grumbled to yourself. “fucking freeloader.”

hoisting up the bags of food, you walked into the noisy garage, and yelled over the sounds of the drums and guitar.

“kaiser! shut the fuck up for a minute, will you!?” he finally heard your voice, and stopped playing, along with his few other friends. the only one you knew was ness, nicer than kaiser but a bit awkward around you.

“oh, it’s you,” kaiser grinned stupidly, before eyeing the food in your hands. “that’s mine, right? thanks, pretty.” he set down his guitar gently, walking towards you and taking the food from your hands with narrowed eyes and a shit eating smile.

“uh,” ness mumbled, before speaking up to kaiser. “don’t you think you should pay her back, man? she always pays for our food and she lets us use her garage.” kaiser shot a glare to ness, eyebrow raised.

“pretty girl over here doesn’t mind,” kaiser answered, speaking for you before setting the food bags on a nearby folding table.

your hands clenched into fists. this bastard, always taking advantage of you. never paying you back. filled with frustration, you turned on your heel and stormed back into the house and upstairs, flopping onto your bed and screaming into your pillow once his stupid guitar was playing again.

. . . .

over the course of months, kaiser continued to use you and your kindness to his advantage, using your feelings for him as a stepping stone. kaiser knew you liked him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t like you at least a bit. but he wasn’t going to let you get in the way of his dream of getting it big someday.

everything was normal, boring, even, until kaiser got a call saying they wanted him and his band to preform at a gig. one call turned into three. three turned into seven. until he was being asked by producers to sign a record label with them.

kaiser never texted you thank you, never called, or visited. you heard his music, saw him on the news, articles, everything.

it hurt, knowing he’d just left you by yourself after everything you’ve done for his stupid ass. scrolling through yet another article about him on your laptop, you decided it might be good for you to get out tonight. after all, you’d been cooped up in your house the past year while kaiser’s been famous, moving on while you’re stuck in the same place.

after a nice, hot shower, you dressed yourself up in your finest dress, heels, and did your hair and makeup. you were going to look your best tonight, no matter what. it was something you needed to feel confident.

you snatched up your purse and phone, walking out of the house and locking the door behind you. making your way to your car, you couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward in your own skin. when was the last time you’d actually tried to look your best? whatever. that didn’t matter now.

driving to one of the biggest bars in your city, you parked in the parking lot and shut off the engine.

around the parking lot, couples and groups were scattered, smoking, making out, popping pills, and drinking.

you sighed. you desperately needed a drink or two. walking into the bar, the first thing that hit you was the music playing in the background. you froze. live music. but..

it was kaiser’s voice. kaiser’s song. kaiser. kaiser and ness and those other shitheads who messed with your head. walking through the crowd and brushing shoulders with countless people, you stopped right in front of the stage, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed as you saw him.

. . . .

kaiser had to admit, when he saw you he was shocked, pleasantly surprised, and annoyed. he had wanted to get over you, that’s why he never called. he wanted to focus on getting famous, not on a girl. but you weren’t a girl, were you? no, not anymore. you were a woman, that’s for sure.

once his performance was over, kaiser pushed his way through the crowd and found you, about to leave.

he gripped onto your wrist, yanking you back towards him.

“long time, no see, pretty,” kaiser said slyly, grinning cockily and ignoring the girls swooning over him behind. “how’ve you been holding up?”

“let go,” you said sharply, trying to pull out of his grip, and failing. “kaiser, i’ve been shit. not like you give a fuck.” he paused. you were really that affected?

“of course i ca—”

“if you cared you wouldn’t have left me in the dust,” you interrupted him, glaring up at him with anger. despite his better judgment, his cock stirred in his jeans as he looked down at the fiery expression on your face and the scowl on your lips.

“you’re sexy when you’re angry, pretty,” kaiser muttered. your cheeks turned a bit pink, and he relished in the pride of flustering you. that is, until you snapped back.

“if you’re just trying to get in my pants, i’m not interested,” you grumbled back in reply, sighing heavily. “look, you left me by myself after i gave you food, paid for your shit, and let you play in my garage. can your tiny brain wrap around why i might be a bit upset you ghosted me after all of that?”

kaiser did not respond right away. he thought about what you said. he knew you were right, and he did feel like a bit of a dick, but he didn’t just want to get in your pants. he did, but he wanted to have a relationship with you again. just seeing you brought those old feelings back to the surface..

“kaiser?” you snapped in his face. “pay attention when i’m talking to you.”

kaiser nodded obediently, sighing dramatically. “yes ma’am, no need to get angry. please, let me take you to the bathroom? it’s not like anyone would hear us!”

you were completely stunned. “do you have no shame?” you asked, flabbergasted, while he just smirked and dragged you with him to the family bathroom and locking the door. he turned to you.

“let me make up for lost time. let me treat you.” kaiser’s voice, for once, was sweet and genuine, and you practically melted. with a curt nod, kaiser smiled, pushing you gently against the wall. he kneeled before you, pulling your panties down and off of your legs completely, before lifting you up with ease, one hand holding you up by your ass, the other putting one of your legs on his shoulder, squeezing the fat of your thighs and looking up at you as he nudged your dress above your hips, admiring your puffy folds, already slick for him.

“pretty girl,” kaiser praised, before leaning in and licking a stripe along your clit. you twitched, eyes shutting and hand going into his hair, pulling on the strands as you whimpered shamelessly.

kaiser prodded his tongue into your cunt further, feeling your walls clamp down on his tongue like a vice. he continued to lap at your pussy, and when you began to grind on his face, your clit rubbing on his nose, and your whimpers more frequent, he knew you were close.

with a small cry, you came undone on his tongue, yanking on his hair as your juices coated his face and dripped down his jaw. he finally pulled away, smirking up at you.

“do you forgive me now?” kaiser asked with a sultry tone, gently thumbing at your clit while you whined and trembled from the overstimulation.

“no,” you said mockingly, voice trembling. kaiser smiled warmly at you, placing a kiss on your thigh.

“considering how wet you are, i think she forgives me.”

. . . .

[space-mermaid-writing]

Nesting [IronStrange]

Summary: Tony had never shown tendencies to nesting - upon now.

Author's note: This is pure fluff. Beta by my mutual in crime for any vampire/werewolf related content: @harpywritesfic

 Masterlist | Werewolf Tony Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 0.8k

Nesting

Stephen entered the lab and noticed the lack of noise immediately. There wasn’t any music blasting at a deafening volume, no steady droning from the small torch Tony regularly used for soldering circuit boards. There wasn’t even the beeping of one of the bots, moving around and causing mayhem.

At the first glance Stephen thought Jarvis had been wrong and there was no one in the lab.

Jarvis was never wrong.

Looking around, the sorcerer noticed a pile of bed linen, that wasn’t usually down here, on the couch in the back of the room. The couch where Stephen normally sat when he was keeping Tony company; reading a book or meditating.

He strongly suspected Tony had bought the couch for Stephen specifically. One day, when Tony had invited him to come over, it had simply stood there.

No one else used the couch.

No one else spent as much time in Tony’s personal lab – besides Peter. But the boy was always working on some project; either alone or together with Tony.

Sometimes Bruce was here, but he and Tony were usually busy with some science talk.

So that left Stephen to be the only person that came here without actually using the lab for its purpose.

Since the couch was now occupied by the bed linen, that was where he went.

Maybe Tony crashed down here, passing out from too much work and not enough sleep. But why go to all the trouble going upstairs and getting the sheets, only to come back?

Stephen got his answer when he stepped closer and the pile suddenly started moving. The head of the werewolf poked out, letting out a small hum when he saw his mate.

By that sound alone Stephen knew something wasn’t right.

“Tony?”

Getting closer, the sorcerer also saw that the pile also consisted of clothes. Mostly Stephen’s shirts from the past days and his night robe. There were also a few band shirts from Tony thrown in. But only those Stephen sometimes borrowed after leaving the bed and before he showered.

He took in the unusual scenery and slowly it dawned to him.

“Are you nesting?” he asked surprised.

It wasn’t a common behavior of Were’s; mostly done by younglings. Tony had never shown tendencies to that upon now.

Stephen sat down on what small space was left next to the big Werewolf and all that stuff on the couch. Tony whined, apparently not happy he was out of reach, and he moved and tossed until he had his head on Stephen’s lap.

The sorcerer buried his hand in the soft fur and massaged his head; especially the part around the ears, like he knew Tony liked.

That seemed to relax the Were, who closed his eyes and melted against his mate’s touch.

“Talk to me, Tony.” There was something wrong, but Stephen couldn’t put his finger on it. He needed Tony to use his words.

But the werewolf disagreed, huffing, and refused to shift back into a human.

Well, Stephen would not force him. So he did the next best thing: sit and wait; and continue to massage his head.

_______

About an hour went by until Tony moved again – when he finally changed his form.

Judging his reaction it actually took him a moment until he realized he was back into his human skin. His body did this sometimes, when Tony was around Stephen and very relaxed.

It was mostly involuntary, which made him grumble softly, yet he made the best of the situation and used his hands to rearrange all the things he had dragged downstairs so that it surrounded him and Stephen.

The sorcerer watched him. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Missed you.” Tony sounded hoarse and Stephen doubted it came from being a wolf. Even if he had stayed in that form for the whole five days the sorcerer had been off-world.

He moved the back of his hand gently on Tony's forehead. The werewolf was radiating heat. Way more than usual.

“You have a fever,” he stated.

“Weres don’t get sick.”

That wasn’t true. They were still part human. And that part could get sick.

“I’m just warm, because I snuggled here,” Tony added. Maybe because he sensed that Stephen didn’t believe him.

“And why, pray tell, did you drag my stuff down here?” Stephen asked him.

“There’s also some of my stuff.” Tony pouted. “Because I was cold. And I missed you.”

Finally satisfied with the setting around them, he returned his head into Stephen’s lap, snuggling up to his mate.

Stephen had stopped messaging him when Tony had shifted. Tony took Stephen’s hand and moved it back onto his head, prompting him to continue.

“Mhm,” the sorcerer just hummed.

Not sick his ass. Good thing he was still a doctor.

[earlgreytea68]

its just one of those days where ive had coffees for closers on repeat

sighhhh

have u ever done an analysis of the song? if not what r ur thoughts?? hope ur having a good day btw xx

Ugh, this song is such a gutpunch. I've talked about it briefly in the context of how it reworks lines from Pete's poem "to you (unfinished, off the top of my head)" in THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE:

He does the same thing with the lyrics he borrows for (coffee’s for closers). Pete’s poem sets the tone for fairy-tale storytelling right at the beginning: “It all started with some friends and a van, a kick drum inside my ribs, preaching electric into a microphone stand.” These beginning images are fond: holding up red cups at house parties, falling asleep together on the grass during festivals, laughing. But Patrick carves those lines out and brackets them with “I will never believe in anything again, we will never believe again.” What an answer to this poem out of Patrick: to take those words and slap them between endless proclamations of not falling for that fairy tale again. Even worse, he tops it off with a rewrite of the “read the charts” line: the poem reads “you can get lonely when u only read the charts.” This feels like more on the theme of “you can get everything you want [but it’s never enough], but it won’t actually make you happy.” You can read the charts, and FOB would be on top of them, but it’s lonely up there, and you need more than that. But the line in (coffee’s for closers) goes: “Only get lonely when you read the charts.” The movement of that “only” shifts the line for me. There are a bunch of ways to read it, but for me it reads like: “You only get lonely when you remember you’re in a band. You’re so busy running around being the life of the party, you’re never, ever lonely unless you’re paying attention to your band.”

The thing is, I consider that poem a fond and wistful love poem from Pete to Patrick, trying to reach across a great chasm, and at first the pain of it is how Patrick initially writes songs that take those lines and rejects them, twists them, spits them back out. Eventually he doesn't. Eventually he soothes the lines back into answering love songs. But in the beginning, he writes songs that are fiery rejections of the mood of this poem, and (coffee's for closers) is one of them. Pete's poem reads all us believers still believe. Patrick in this song writes, over and over and over again, slamming it home, I will never believe again. Take that, Pete Wentz! Never! Again!

To me it's just a brutal song about hating how everything turned out but not seeing a way out of it (I want everything to change and stay the same). The Genius annotation says throw your cameras in the air is about how people always film concerts these days, but I think that's wrong. I mean, maybe, although the song was written in 2008 when cell phone taping was still a fairly new phenomenon. But I think this line is really a rumination on fame, on feeling like everywhere you look there are cameras in your face, and it's not about concerts, it's about your life. Girls used to follow you around...until you got cold, and you were no longer the current big thing, and then it's lonely there in the spotlight, where no one's having a good time, the hands they wave in the air are all cameras pointed at you, hoping to catch the next mistake, and everything that was supposed to be good and great, all those pretty promises Pete Wentz made back in the summer fest days when you fell asleep on the grass turned into this. You've become something I don't even recognize, and I'm just your mascot, some laughable gimmick everyone makes fun of, and you love the mayhem more than the love that was all around you, you threw all that love away like you didn't even want it, and I will never believe in anything again. Change will come, and nothing good is going to come of that, either, because you don't like things the way they are but you know that changing them isn't going to turn out well, either.

This song is just so much. It's so angrily hiatus. It's such a demonstration of how much they had broken down around each other.

But it's okay. Because on the other side of it, eventually, Patrick takes this same poem and makes it into "Favorite Record," so it turns out all right in the end. Happily ever after (below the waist)

[blackdollette]

Hi hi :3 can I get groupie!reader x euronymous where she finds him after a show and all they want to do is please him (with a hint of euro taking advantage of them)? <333

ask & you shall recieve. :) (this was a rlly good idea, i had a lot of fun writing this)

"you're the bad boy that i've always dreamed of." | euronymous

queen of disaster - lana del rey

soft goth!female!reader x euronymous

contents: public sex, degradation, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, no aftercare

you pushed your way through the crowd to get as close to the front of the stage as possible. when you finally got close enough, you glued your eyes onto him. the hot guitarist who was playing a solo at that moment.

you sighed as a stupid little grin spread across your face. you took in everything about him. his long black hair. his black & white makeup. and his leather outfit. he was the most perfect man you had ever seen.

you knew he wasn't the type for romance, but you could picture it perfectly. the lord of black metal with his little goth girlfriend. it was meant to be. you were perfect for each other.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't notice when the song ended and the band had left the stage. you were a little disappointed that you'd missed the last few minutes of the show, but you'd never seen euronymous up close before, so you were on cloud 9 as you left the area.

you dodged a few guys throwing glass bottles at eachother as you walked into a dark alleyway with a bench in it. you sat yourself down and glanced at your watch. mayhem would be heading to the bar any minute now, and you didnt want to miss a single thing.

you quickly stood up and walked out of the alley. you caught a glance of the van that they were driving, already heading to the bar. you sped up a little as you walked down the busy streets, your desperation growing by the minute.

you arrived at the bar, panting and brushing your hair out of your face. you walked in and scanned the entire room until you saw him. he was drinking a bottle of beer and laughing with the rest of the band.

you sat at an empty table and watched him, making up a plan in your mind to interact with him. you had never been this close to him before, so you knew you couldn't back down.

you ordered yourself a drink and sipped it slowly, still keeping a close eye on him. after a few moments of this, he stood up from the table and started walking toward you. you knew he was making his way to the restroom, but this was the perfect time.

making sure to time it perfectly, you stood up from your table at the same time that he was crossing your path, colliding with him. you fought back a grin as his hand accidentally brushed over a patch of skin underneath your skirt. he looked livid as he brushed himself off.

"what the fuck, man?!" he exclaimed, looking you right in the eye. you shivered a little as you made direct eye contact with him. you opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. only a little croak from the back of your throat.

he growled a little before pushing past you and storming off, but before he could get far, you grabbed him by the sleeve of his leather jacket.

"i-im so sorry about that. im so clumsy." you giggled nervously, but he only narrowed his eyes at you, annoyed. he pulled his sleeve away from you. "whatever." he rolled his eyes before attempting to walk away, but you started speaking again.

"i-i can make it up to you..! i'll buy you a drink. i'll do anything at all." you pleaded. your desperation was no longer hidden. his eyes widened a little at this.

he glared at you, but it looked like he was checking you out. his eyes wandered up and down your body, stopping at inappropriate places. you noticed this, and it made you a little self-conscious. a sly little smirk spread across his face.

"so... you're a desperate little whore, aren't you?" he asked in a low voice. you don't know what to say, so you just stay silent as his eyes continue to roam across your body.

"you want to make it up to me, hm?" he asks, still not making direct eye contact with you. you nod eagerly.

"come with me." he says before walking out of the bar. you scurry after him, not wanting to irritate him once again. he leads you into another alley. he leans against the wall as you catch up to him.

he grins a little before speaking. "i saw you watching me at my show tonight." you felt your heartbeat get quicker. he saw you. when you don't respond, he continues speaking. "you seemed to really like my solo. i even thought you had an orgasm right there." he chuckles slightly.

you get a little embarrassed, so you kick a little rock that was sitting by your foot. when you say nothing, he turns you around and pins you to the wall.

"you know, i usually tell all my little groupies to burn in hell, but i think i'm gonna have a little bit of fun with you..." a sinister grin appears on his face. you would be trembling with fear if this wasn't what you've been dreaming of for years.

he lets go of you for a moment. "here's how you can make it up to me: take your shirt off." he leans against the opposite wall of the alley, watching you with lust and desire.

you freeze for a moment. this is really happening. the scenario that you've touched yourself to hundreds of times is finally coming true. you throw off your black tank top, leaving you in your tight fishnet top, your tits completely exposed to him.

his grin widens as you obey his command. he walks up to you until he's got you pinned to the wall again. his hand slowly travels down your body until it gets to the bottom of your tiny skirt.

he gets straight to business, moving your black thong to the side and pressing his middle finger onto your wet clit. it doesn't take much to turn you into a moaning mess as he starts fingering you.

"so fucking wet for me already..." he chuckles softly. he puts his other hand on his bulge. you look down to see it, suddenly being filled with hunger for him. but you wanted nothing more than to please him. you wanted to be used by him.

"get on your knees and make yourself useful." he leans against the wall as he watches you obey his command. he can't help but stare at you like a predator watching its prey seeing you in this position.

you look up at him with pleading eyes, as if you were begging him to let you suck on his cock. he unzipped his fly and lets you do the rest.

your hands shook as the reality of the situation sunk in. you were living out your biggest dream. you could not screw this up. you had given blowjobs before, but would the lord of chaos himself expect something different?

you decided not to waste time overthinking things. you pulled out his dick, flinching slightly as his length almost hits you right in the nose. you go slightly cross-eyed looking at the red, throbbing tip.

you can tell that euronymous is getting impatient, so without warning, you open your mouth and deepthroat the entire thing, hearing a squelching noise at the back of your throat.

euronymous throws his head back with a grin, groaning quietly. "m-mhm... just like that, whore..." his hand finds the back of your head, slowly guiding it up and down his cock.

you realize that you've lost all control of the situation when both of his hands are tugging at your hair, pushing his whole length down your throat and pulling it out again repeatedly. you had black mascara dripping down your cheeks. you choked on his cock whenever he pushed your head down again, but you love it. and he could tell. you wanted to be his little fucktoy.

"a-ah... fuck... y-you're pretty good at this..." he says as you use your tongue a little more, tracing every vein and lapping circles around the tip. euronymous gets lost in the feeling, his entire body feeling the sensations that you were giving him.

just as you felt his cock throbbing in your mouth, signalling his orgasm, he pulled his dick out of your mouth, panting. your spit falling down your neck, going down to your chest.

euronymous pulled you up and shoved you to the wall, your back facing him. he felt him grab your hips and run his hands down the fabric of your short little skirt.

you yelped as you felt a sharp sting right on your ass, a red hand mark immediately being left there. euronymous chuckled softly as he tore off your thong and fishnet stockings.

you stuck out your ass a little so that he could have easier access to your throbbing cunt. he noticed your desperation, and as much as he wanted to tease you, he was just as hungry as you were.

he lined his cock up with your entrance, one of his hands keeping a grip on your shoulder, the other on your hip. he pushed his dick inside of your tight pussy, groaning at the warm feeling.

you moan at the slightly burning sensation of this, but before you can adjust to his size, he's already fucking you senseless, using your body for his own pleasure.

you were his little doll, and that meant that he didn't need to make sure you came too. you were only there to please him.

as your moans gradually got louder, euronymous stuck two of his fingers down your throat. "be quiet, you little slut. you wouldn't want to get caught, would you..?" a few tears roll down your cheeks as his motions get even quicker.

he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing it just a little as his dick started to twitch inside of your cunt. you wanted him to cum inside you. you wanted it so bad.

"want me to cum inside of you, hm..? want to be filled up with my seed..?" he words get shakier as he tries to keep his composure. you choke out sobs as you nod frantically. you didnt even care if you didnt get to cum.

you feel his hot breath hitting the back of your neck as he gets to his release. his moans are uncontainable. he bites his lip as a loud moan exits him. you immediately feel his hot cum hitting the deepest part of your pussy.

this was enough to send your orgasm running through your veins, but as soon as it was about to hit, he pulled out and let go of you, zipping his softening cock back into his pants.

you whimpered as you had your orgasm denied, your legs shaking furiously. he simply looked at you and grinned. "thanks for that, doll. hope to do it again sometime." that was the last thing he said before walking out of the alley. you sunk to the ground, tears still falling down your face as he left you there, sad and alone.

author's note: thank you so much for the request! i had lots of fun writing this one, so that's why its a little long. but i hope you all enjoyed it!

[baldurs-gape]

Cornered Animal

How they got into such situations was beyond explanation. Then again, they were a band of strangers held together by the flimsy filament of hope that, together, they could win against something as sinister as mindflayer tadpoles. Despite their collective bravery and idiocy, sometimes running was their only real option. Whoever had left Gale in charge of finding an escape root was a fool. The group ended up cornered in a room, high up and with no way out other than the barricaded door. In short; they were trapped.

"Can't you conjure up a portal or something?" Shadowheart hissed as she eyed the door. It was barely holding in place as it was whacked, smacked and barrelled into by their enemies.

"Not any more, no!" Of all the times for Gale to pout about his lost capabilities, now wasn't the moment. The door cracked under another brutal hit. "Mystra-"

"Fuck Mystra!" Astarion stepped past Halsin and pulled one of his daggers out. "Fuck her, fuck you and most of all, fuck the Absolute." Under his breath, he growled "stab me" at Halsin. When Halsin didn't move, Astarion grabbed the dagger and thrust it into his own chest, face twisted into an enraged snarl. The cries of outrage were drowned out by the sound of the door smashing open. In the following mayhem and dust, the party briefly lost track of each other.

Yells of "got them" and "cornered like rats" rang out as Gale, Shadowheart and Halsin were surrounded. Five against three wasn't bad odds except they were tired, out of spells and potions. Plus, Astarion was nowhere in sight.

"Dead. We'll come back for valuables later." Such an assessment was almost undeniably chilling to hear. There was no way Astarion could be dead. Yet, as they all looked, there he was, dagger hilt deep in his chest, slumped against a wall, eyes open and unfocused. If only their captors would be kind enough to at least close his eyes, make the sight that little less harrowing. Instead, their five assailants turned to the living.

Behind the five, Astarion remained still. Until Gale could have sworn he saw a blink, a subtle turn of Astarion's head. Desire, shock and fatigue had to be playing tricks on him. Wrenching his eyes back on their captors, Gale had to blink. There were only four.

Halsin was already taking a mental inventory of his items. Surely he had to have a scroll of revivify somewhere. Or Shadowheart would. They had to be able to bring Astarion back. Though, a small part of him was rather miffed that Astarion took the easy way out, so to speak, and avoided confrontation. They really could have used another body in the fight that was to come.

The leader was rambling on about taking them to be blessed by the Absolute. Something about true souls and Halsin almost wished he had a tadpole, just so he could get the idiots off his back.

"Tie them up." Short, sharp and to the point, the order was simple yet there was a problem. For the three potential captives only two of the group stepped forward. In fact, there were only two idiots flanking the leader. Surely there had been five a moment ago.

Turning around to survey the room, nothing seemed out of place. Dead body still slumped against the wall, no sign of the two others. It was too early to call them missing, probably gone to scout further ahead without permission. To be certain, the leader peeked out of the room.

A whisper of displaced air ruffled Shadowheart's hair. She watched as a shadow flitted past and dragged her would be captor down and behind a crate. It left Halsin and Gale to turn on the remaining one with the last of their strength. Overwhelming them wasn't difficult but the leader turned back just in time to catch them redhanded.

"You!" A sword rose in challenge right as Astarion stepped out from the shadows behind, dragging the dagger from his chest.

"Hello, darling," he purred before he plunged it into the last survivor's neck. The assailant went down without a chance of retaliating. After pulling the dagger free and wiping it on the dead's clothes, Astarion sauntered up to Halsin and presented it with a small flourish. "You dropped this."

In exchange, and unexpectedly so, he was yanked into a tight hug, wrapped in strong, thick arms.

"Don't scare us like that again. I really thought you were gone."

The airy laugh from Astarion covered a lot of emotions. "Darling, do you forget where the heart is? I was nowehere near. But I wouldn't say no to a healing potion, given that it feels a little rude to ask for a nibble."

If only they'd had one. Alas, healing was going to have to wait until camp. Until then, Astarion was flanked by Gale and Halsin each holding one of his hands, reminding themselves that he was still there and still theirs. Left to scout ahead, Shadowheart made a quiet vow to find a spell that would silence any noises coming from their tent that night. She had no doubt it was going to be loud.

[plusvanity]

Do you have any thoughts or analysis on necrobutcher?

I'm not fond of Jørn nor Jan (Jan is worse in my opinion), but I find it interesting how his friendship with Øystein gradually deteriorated.

I find it easier to part Mayhem in two sides: the ones who cared and were 'in it for real' (Øystein and Pelle) and the ones who were there just to 'pass the time', so to speak.

Musically speaking, he doesn't stand out with anything, he's rather a typical example of a 'basic bassist' and his lyrics were at best mediocre at best.

Now, returning to his personality, he seems rather lazy and disinterested to contribute with anything for the band, I mean, he wrote the lyrics in the beginning but other than that I feel like the hard work of maintaining the band fell on Øystein. This is not too surprising because, after all, Øystein was the leader, and his word was more important than Jørn's at that time. Also Jørn's trivial interests in partying and doing drugs/ smoking weed with Jan inevitably brought them closer to one another.

I don't blame Øystein for losing patience with him because it seems like he drastically changed his priorities after his girlfriend got pregnant (this is understandable though), but basically, it looks like he abandoned the band completely. I'm not here to judge his life's decisions and I won't do it, but Øystein seemed reasonable enough to understand Jørn's struggle, so what I believe that drove them apart was Jørn's lack of motivation to keep playing and coming to rehearsals when the band was in a financial impasse.

He states that he tried to help Pelle with his self-harm behaviour by giving him duller knives that wouldn't do much damage. He also helped Pelle get unemployment benefits from the Norwegian state if I remember things clearly. If he did so, this is the only good thing that I can tell about Jørn (even if by a 'good thing' I refer to something that it's common sense and expected to do for a friend in need, not such an act of charity that he kinda seems to portray, but I digress).

I find it a bit far-fetched that he states how 'he was like Pelle's best friend' or 'Pelle was like a little brother' to him because it is clear that they weren't that close. Pelle talked far more often about Øystein in his letters than he did about Jørn (if he even talked about him at all). But this statement is very expected for someone who lived after half of the band died tragically and is able to speak his own truth, a truth that cannot be verified in any way, shape or form.

What pisses me off is his statement about 'wanting to kill Øystein too' and 'being on his way to do it, but damn, Vikernes did it first'. This is obviously a cheap try to gain attention, shift the story focus on him, put him in a somehow heroic light, and milk the band's history for money even more. I don't believe he was in any way after Øystein. Øystein was probably a long-forgotten name in his mind at that time, but if a great opportunity to remain relevant in the scene occurs, Jørn will be more than ready to come up with such shock-value statements.

I don't like how he says that 'Dead (refferd to his stage name for the shock-value again) liked to fuck with people'. It's just another example of Jørn trying to milk Pelle's story.

'A couple of times I felt like cutting myself too', he says in an interview very firmly, after that he pauses, sighs and tries to come up with a narrative that supports his declaration. It's very obvious that he is not true. Naturally, I wouldn't comment on this particular subject, but the fact that he stated so many shocking facts about him and the band (now that the band is famous, of course) makes me think that most of what he says is said to sell. (on his way to kill Øystein, on his way to harm himself, etc, etc. )

It's hard for me to explain body language especially because my English is bad, but the way he talks and presents himself, he seems chronically tired and disinterested until the opportunity for a few minutes of fame occurs.

The way he talks about 'Dead' being a character who wanted to freak people out is not how one would refers to their friend, but to an soulless icon or a stranger.

This is embarrassingly long now, but this is my take on Jørn. Not the worst name in the story, not the best either.

[angelsanarchy]

Alkaline: Euronymous x Y/N Series CH 30

Tagging: @ophelialaufey @madamemaximoff06 @forever-not-gonna-sink@ajmiila02@liquidsmoothdomme@shady-the-simp @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27 @shroomje

Oystein got home and could tell something with Y/n was off. He had heard bits and pieces from Hellhammer but Y/n was adamant that she didn't want him to do anything about it. He knew Y/n wasn't afraid of him but he knew Varg was a violent person with a short temper. The last thing he wanted was for her to set him off by showing no fear. He thrived on shit like that.

He had called Varg and asked him to meet with him to discuss the album and when he caught sight of him, he tossed the copy of Kerrang on the table in front of him.

"You know this is bullshit right?" Varg sat down clearly pissed.

"What are you talking about? You're on the fucking cover? What else could you ask for?" Oystein asked confused.

"Your name is all over the thing. You didn't want any of this going to the press, I took it there and it's just another thing you get to take credit for like you're the brains of this whole thing." Varg's disdain for Oystein had grown so much in such a short time, he knew that whatever he said would only make things more hostile.

"Look, I didn't ask you here to argue about pointless things. I wanted to-"

"I'm going to release my own music on my own label." Varg cut him off.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oystein asked.

"It means I don't need you anymore. You'll have to find some other idiot to steal from." Varg pressed. Oystein shook his head at him.

"I haven't stolen anything from you Varg." Varg started ranting about the money that was used to make Mayhem's album and Oystein pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He knew the money panned out in the end with having Varg join the band but it was pointless to try and sort things out at this point.

"You know what? I think that's a great idea. I think you should release your music on your own label, you want to quit Mayhem, that's fine. We can finish the album on our own and even kick you out some of the profit from what you've already put into." Oystein folded his hands in front of him and Varg shook his head.

"You're such a sellout." Varg chuckled.

"What else do you want from me man? You're getting everything you want-"

"I want for people to know that you are a poser. I want people to know that the so called creator of pure Norwegian Black Metal betrayed it with his bullshit lies and deceit." Varg's words were harsh but Oystein knew he didn't care what Varg thought of him.

"I want your whole world to burn to the ground and people to see you for who you truly are. A weak, pathetic hack who profited off the death of his friend and is run around by the cock on a leash by some Itzig." Varg spoke with such disgust about him but it wasn't until he mentioned Pelle and Y/n that he felt himself grinding his teeth and clenching his fists.

"I know what you said to her and that's the end of it. You want to come after me, tell people I'm some piece of shit poser, go ahead. But you approach Y/n again, you so much as breathe on her and I'll kill you myself." Oystein spoke softly so the people around them couldn't hear but Varg laughed.

"Just because you boasted like you puppeteered your little buddy Pelle into blowing his brains out, doesn't mean you've got even an ounce of killer in you, Oystein." He mocked. It was becoming increasingly hard to maintain his emotions.

"You want to see the killer in me, keep it up. There's only one thing in this world that I would kill for and that's Y/n. I will do whatever it takes to protect her, even if that means sitting in a cell next to you for arson. You can believe that above everything that's ever come out of my mouth." He held Varg's gaze and he knew that Oystein was serious. He didn't fear him but he knew that he had the capability to end his career before it even started if he ended up in prison for the church fires.

"Well I hope you're also willing to die for her as much as you say you would kill for her." Varg pushed away from the table and left the magazine and the necklace he had given him when he first joined the band sitting on the table. Oystein watched him leave with his hood up, making sure no one saw his face and he sighed. He felt a little bit of the weight lift off of his shoulders. He felt like he had just broken up with someone but that someone hated his guts and wished nothing but the worst for him.

Oystein pulled his wallet out and looked at the picture he had put in there of himself, Pelle and Y/n the first night he wore the corpse paint. He felt a pang in his heart for those times. Everything seemed so much easier then. He wished he could go back and change things. He felt himself getting emotional and jumped up from the table, grabbing the magazine and necklace and trashing them on his way out of the restaurant.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Reunited

Part 24

Illumi x Reader x Feitan

part 23

part 25

warning: feitan is mean and ungrateful but what did you expect, he’s a lil gremlin! reader gets bitten and scratched cuz he’s wild 🙏

taglist: @tsukilover11 @mercyboluthecrazychicken @sxyriii @shidoni-san @living4tomrua @lemonslut @honeylunalove @sugarrushdaydream

if you’d like to be ADDED to the taglist, please comment a red heart ❤️, make sure you’re able to be tagged/mentioned, and have your age in your bio(IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE TAGLIST, YOU DON’T NEED TO ASK TO BE ADDED AGAIN!!)

3 years ago

The summer air was suffocating. (Name) had long since abandoned her long sleeves and fluffy blankets, exchanging them for tank tops and sheets.

The girl continued her work of peeling apples. If she wanted to finish her next batch of apple butter before her journey into town next week, she’d need to peel until she couldn’t anymore.

“Reports of the notorious band of thieves, the Phantom Troupe, wreaking havoc in the next city over have reached-“

(Name) switched the channel of her small bear up radio. She didn’t want to hear about some thieves causing mayhem. The girl had already pushed the name out of her mind by the time she continued her work.

As the day wore on, she felt herself grow tired. She’d peeled around 60 apples. (Name) tossed the remaining bags of fruit into her fridge, setting the cut apples to boil on the stove.

‘Mmm, I think I’ll go dip my feet in the river while this boils. I deserve a little relaxation!’

(Name) slipped her flip flops on and ran outside, sliding down the hill and to the river’s edge.

It was calm and quiet, the sound of crickets and the sight of fireflies soothing to the girl. The water was surprisingly cool against her skin, causing her to jump lightly upon contact.

She sat down on the rocky riverside, dipping her feet into the water. “Ahh, now this is nice.”

For a moment, all of her worries of making ends meet and supporting her family melted away, the feeling of the river’s water lapping at her skin allowing her to forget.

But this wouldn’t last long. (Name) opened her eyes at the sound of something bobbing in the water. She turned to look down the river, narrowing her eyes to get a better look.

‘Is that an alligator? No, it couldn’t be, that shape isn’t right…’

(Name) stood and shook the water from her feet. She walked along the riverside until she was close enough to see what was floating on the surface of the water.

“Is that… oh my god!”

(Name) threw off her shoes and jumped into the river, swimming to the center to grab at the shape slowly sinking into the water. It was a person!

She swam back to shore, pulling the man up onto the rocky riverside. He was breathing, thankfully, so she wouldn’t have to do mouth to mouth.

“Let’s get you inside…”

She half carried, half drug the body to her porch, setting him down on the wooden floor as she scurried inside. She quickly turned the apples off before they could boil over, and rushed into the bathroom for her first aid kit and towels.

Not only was he absolutely soaked, but his body was covered in wounds, ranging from small cuts, to gashes. His arms were in the worst of shape though, having turned a strange purple color.

“Ah, he’s shivering. I gotta get him warmed up before he gets sick…”

She pulled at the man’s clothes, muttering an apology under her breath as she began undressing him.

—————

(Name) sighed, setting the small man down on the bed in the guest room. Thankfully she’d just laid out fresh sheets.

The girl didn’t have any men’s clothes for him, so she settled on pulling a pair of her pajama pants over his otherwise naked body. So far she had avoided looking at anything private, and she was planning on keeping it that way.

“Mm, his shirt was destroyed, but his pants and boxers can be washed and dried. Better than nothing, I guess.” She set aside the wet clothing for later, focusing on his injuries.

He had a large gash on his chest. It would need stitches, something (Name) could handle. Any other small cuts and bruises could be treated with a bandaid or salve, but his arms… that’s what she was most worried about.

His arms didn’t appear to be broken, but the purple color was throwing her off. He had also grunted in pain when she’d touched him, the only reaction he’d had the the entire time.

She decided to wait until he woke up to address his arms, setting some packs of ice to help with the swelling.

(Name) got to work stitching up his wound, being as gentle as possible. After that, she wrapped his chest in gauze, tending to his smaller cuts with some antibacterial spray and bandaids.

He had some glass stuck in one of his legs, which she had to pick out as well. Just what in the hell happened to this man to be in such bad shape?

She wanted to call a doctor to come check him out, but she had so signal so far out from town. She’d have to wait for him to wake up and be stabilized before she could leave, and that worried her.

After a few hours of tender care, (Name) covered him up and turned off the light. His breathing had evened out, his chest rising and falling softly.

When (Name) was finally able to climb into bed, she realized she hadn’t taken the time to really take in his appearance. She’d been so focused on saving his life she hadn’t even thought to get a good look at him.

‘That’s alright. I’ll take a good look at him tomorrow…’

—————

Sun filtered in through the curtain drawn window, causing the sleeping man to groan and attempt to raise a hand to his face to block out the light.

He regretted this immediately.

Indescribable pain shot through his limbs, causing him to scream out in agony. He cursed in his native tongue, struggling to sit up.

The door in front of him bursted open, a short, plump woman running through.

“Holy- are you okay? You’re awake oh my-“

She paused at the wild look in his eyes. The man growled, struggling to back away as he practically barked at her.

“Stay back.”

(Name) held her hands up in surrender, giving him the space he requested. Once she was a good distance away, he relaxed, but only slightly.

“Where am I?” He had an accent that (Name) couldn’t quite place, but it was nice.

The girl looked from his face to his arms, concern written across her face. “You’re in my home. I found you in the river last night.”

He frowned, sweat beading down his forehead from him straining to get up. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m (Name).”

His next question came fast. “What you want from me?”

She paused, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Nothing? Why do you ask?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “No one helps for “nothing”. What, want information? Better kill me, I don’t talk.”

She blinked before waving her hands frantically. “Kill? Whoah I’m not gonna kill you! I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t want anything from you.”

Although he could tell she spoke the truth, it didn’t do anything to ease his suspicious. “Don’t… don’t come near.”

He felt his eyelids grow heavy. He had just woken up, but he was still exhausted. The weight of his body slowly sunk back into the bed, the man falling back into a restless sleep.

(Name) stood still until his breathing returned to normal. She then walked over and placed a hand on his forehead.

‘He’s burning up!’

She rushed out of the room and returned to place a damp rag on his head, replacing the melting bags of ice on his arms as she did.

‘Hmm… I’ll make something easy to eat for when he wakes up.’

She settled on some homemade chicken noodle soup. She’d recently culled some of her meaner roosters, so she had some left over chicken sitting in her freezer.

“This will do. I hope he’s not allergic to any of this…”

(Name) was able to get a better look at him this time. He was relatively small, shorter than her definitely, with black hair that fell past his cheeks and a pale complexion. She couldn’t place his eye color, they were either a dark shade of gray or a light shade of purple.

The next time the man woke up, it was night. By the looks of the sky outside, it had just become dark out. He could hear the sound of the woman humming, the clinks and clanks of dishes being washed reverberating down the hall.

He was able to sit up with minimal pain this time, the bags of (now melted) ice dripping to the floor. The rag that had been placed on his forehead fell into his lap as he observed his surrounding.

The room was plain, having blue walls and no decorations. Next to him was a night stand with a cup of water and a straw. Had that woman left that there?

‘Need to call boss. Doesn’t know what happened.’

He looked around, spotting his phone next to the water on the nightstand. It was broken, and even if it hadn’t been it wouldn’t have worked because of his dip in the river.

The man thought back to his fight, and how he’d gotten there.

Chrollo had ordered him to steal an expensive relic from a local gang, which Feitan thought was child’s play. Although only Feitan was ordered to take the gang out, the news reported that there was more than one spider ransacking the town. He wondered how scared they would have been if they knew all that damage had been caused by him.

Feitan only ran into trouble when a nen user skilled in paralyzing peoples bodies was able to grab his arms. The limbs quickly turned purple, but Feitan was able to kill the man with little to no further injuries.

He dropped the relic off at the designated spot before walking along the river. Feitan hadn’t realized how badly injuried he really was until he felt himself sliding down the hill and into the river. He passed out before he could swim to the surface.

Thankfully, he was light enough to float down until (Name) spotted him.

‘Careless. Should have contacted Boss beforehand…’

He looked down at his arms, gritting his teeth. It seemed the persons nen hadn’t disappeared after his death. From the small amount of information he’d heard, the paralyzation could last up to 4 months. ‘Stupid. Could have been more careful.’

He wanted to slam his fist into the wall, but knew that would only make things worse. Feitan instead took a deep breath.

His mind wandered back to the woman from the previous day. His arms were next to useless, would he have to rely on her to eat? Feitan didn’t want to. He couldn’t believe that the girl had no ulterior motive, it just wasn’t possible. No one helped others without looking to gain something, at least not in Feitan’s world.

The sound of the door creaking open caught his attention. He’d been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard her approach the door.

“You’re awake! That’s good, just in time for dinner.”

The girl walked in carrying a plate with a bowl and piece of bread on it. She sat it down in the man’s lap as she situated herself in the chair she’d placed beside his bed.

“Can you move your arms?” she asked, picking up the bags of ice.

“No.”

She nodded. “Alright, then I’ll feed y-“

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no, are you not hungry?”

She reached out to place a hand on his forehand. Maybe he had a fever that was upsetting his stomach! But before she could place her palm on his head, he lifted his head and bit her hand.

“H-hey!” She pulled her hand back and held it to her chest as small droplets of blood beaded to the surface.

“Don’t touch me.”

She could feel the venom dripping from his words, an unspoken threat laced in between them. If she touched him, he’d hurt her.

“But if I can’t touch you, I can’t help you. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, I-“

“Stay away.”

Something about that man felt dangerous, like she was a gazelle standing in front of a lion. His eyes pierced into hers, telling her that he wasn’t someone to be messed with.

(Name) sighed and stood up from her chair. “I’ll try again later. Goodnight.”

She took the bowl and left the room, turning the light off behind her.

Feitan woke up feeling better than he had when he fell asleep, and weirdly not hungry. Out of habit, he attempted to lift a hand again to block out the sunlight, only to be reminded of his condition.

“Fuck…” he groaned, sitting up. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, taking tentative steps towards the door.

He paused for just a moment to look over his attire. Hanging dangerous low on his waist was an oversized pair of sweatpants, with some kind of cat cartoon character he didn’t recognize. They were much to big for him, the drawstring pulled tight to keep them from falling down his hips.

‘If Uvogin or Shalnark saw this, wouldn’t hear the end of it.’

Unable to open it with his hands, he kicked it open, causing it to fly off its hinges.

(Name) screeched from the kitchen. “OH MY- my door!” She rushed over, glancing between her door and the man in front of her.

“Where the bathroom?”

She blinked. It took her a moment to process his question before she pointed to the open bathroom.

As he began to walk away she stopped him by clearing her throat. “Will you be needing any help?”

He glanced back at her, raising an eyebrow. “What, gonna hold my dick for me?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, just walked in and kicked the door close.

(Name) was left in a stunned silence, staring at the door. ‘Did he…’

She huffed and went back to working in the kitchen. It wasn’t as easy as it had been before she’d had to bandage her hand, but she’d power through it.

——————

Feitan could feel something warm in his mouth, something savory. It tasted good, the man swallowing the liquid in deep gulps.

In his dreams, he was sitting with all of his childhood friends enjoying the soup chrollo had made them. All it was was chicken and water with some sparse seasonings, but feitan enjoyed every second of his meal.

The smallest of smiles was on his face as a spoon was lifted to his lips.

He was still asleep, and (Name) was going to take advantage of that.

She’d propped him up and had slowly been dripping the broth from her soup into his mouth for the past 15 minutes, being mindful of his breathing. For the past two days, she’d been feeding him like this when she could.

He refused to eat anything she offered him, threatening her if she got too close. He always followed through with his words, biting and clawing at whatever skin he could get to.

Feitan didn’t stay awake much, only getting up to use the bathroom before passing out again. She’d gotten used to the man randomly leaving his room only to use the bathroom.

One afternoon after he left, she saw water dripping down his face and onto his chest. (Name) assumed he has been drinking water from the sink. He didn’t even trust her enough to drink the water she had supplied.

This didn’t bother her, though. The kind of wounds Feitan had received, both old and new weren’t the type that littered an ordinary man’s body. He’d had a hard life of fighting to survive, so she didn’t take his harsh words and actions to heart.

(Name) had fixed the door to her best ability to give the man some privacy. She left it cracked open slightly so he could go to and fro without breaking it again. Feitan seemed perplexed by her actions. Despite his less than kind attitude, she seemed unbothered. This freaked him out.

(Name) knocked on the door before entering with a medkit in one hand and his laundry in the other. “Hey. I need to change your bandages.”

He didn’t glance up from looking at his lap, his lips twisting into a deep frown. “I said no touching.”

“Yeah, I know, but if I don’t change your bandages you’ll get an infection.”

Feitan sneered at her, spitting out his words. “Don’t care. Stay away.”

She set the medkit down and placed his laundry on the bed before she sat next to him. Unlike placing ice packs/rags and feeding him, changing his bandages in his sleep wouldn’t be easy. If he woke up, he might seriously hurt her.

“Alright, I won’t touch you, but I’ll need to go to town and get a doctor. If I can’t help you then I can at least get someone-“

“No doctor.”

(Name) raised an eyebrow at this. “No doctor? How exactly do you plan on getting better if I can’t touch you or get you a doctor?”

The man didn’t answer, giving her a glare. “Listen, your three options are to let me take care of you, see a doctor, or die from infection. What’s your choice?”

He looked her straight in the eye as he answered.

“I choose death.”

——————

“God, he’s stubborn. And annoying.”

(Name) loaded her homemade canned goods into her large basket, huffing and puffing over the man’s behavior. He’d fallen back to sleep after his declaration, not bothering to speak on the subject further.

He seemed to be doing alright, all things considered, but his attitude was worsening by the day. He refused to tell her anything, not even his name.

(Name) fastened her basket to her bike and started on her journey to town.

It took around 30 minutes by bike, but stopping to take breaks made it a 45 minute trip.

(Name) participated in a farmers market every Sunday, selling her canned goods to make enough money to support herself and send a little money home to her family every month.

After a long day of selling her goods, she packed up her cash into three plastic jars. One was for her, the second was for her family, and the third was new. It would be her “mysterious stranger fund”, money she’d use for his basic necessities.

She decided to stop by the local thrift store and buy a few different pairs of clothes for the man. It was hard to find things that fit his style. Even in the heat, he’d been wearing a long black coat, so she assumed he liked wearing warm clothing.

She could afford a pair of black jeans, a black hoodie, a few pairs of boxers, some socks, and a set of pajamas. It would have to do until she could come back next week.

He hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweatpants she’d dressed him in his first night there, despite her pleas for him to do so.

Feitan would just scoff, saying that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in his usual pair of pants.

He didn’t seem to like talking, maybe it was because he wasn’t great with words? (Name) really liked his voice though, it was attractive when he wasn’t growling or yelling at her.

She stuffed the jars her loyal customers had returned and the clothes she bought into her basket and started on her way home. It was dark now, but the moon guided her along her path.

——————

“I’m home, I got you some-“

(Name) paused, dropping her basket onto the floor.

The man was sprawled out along the floor, his breathing uneasy and sweat beading down his forehead. It looked like he’d passed out after leaving the bathroom.

She was at his side immediately, hoisting him up as gently as she could. (Name) placed him onto his bed and pulled back his bandages. The woman grimaced at the sight.

“Infected, just as I thought.”

The infection wasn’t bad, but bad enough that if it wasn’t treated, he’d die. (Name) thanked god that she kept antibiotics on hand, running to her bathroom and pulling the out of her mirror cabinet.

“Hey, can you swallow? I have some medicine that will help you.”

The man let out a ragged breath, shaking his head. “N… no. Don’t… don’t touch me.”

He was too weak to fight her, but he still refused her treatment. The girl bit her lip before popping one of the pills into her hand and squeezing his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you die.”

She shoved the pill into his mouth, holding his lips shut as he thrashed, scratching and clawing at her skin. Soon, he lost his strength again and swallowed the pill.

(Name) let go of him, blood dripping down her arms from the wounds he had inflicted. She paid them no mind, leaning him against his pillow and placing a rag on his forehead.

“I’ll be right back with some water and some fresh bandages.”

For the next 24 hours, Feitan was in and out of sleep. Every once and a while he’d feel the cool sensation of water being poured into his mouth, too weak to protest.

(Name) stayed by his side as much as she could, constantly checking his temperature and changing his bandages after applying medicine to his wounds. He’s still bark out complaints and threats, but due to his condition they were now empty.

At one point (Name) was scared he would die, his face turning pale and breathing growing softer. She held his hand through the night, tending to him as gently as she could through his pain.

——————

Feitan woke up to the feeling of someone’s hand in his.

He was still exhausted and weak from the infection, but was able to lift his head enough to see who was holding his hand.

The woman was at his bedside, having fallen asleep while caring for him. Tears fell from her eyes freely as she slept.

Had she stayed with him the entire time? Feitan glanced at his chest, seeing that he was wearing new bandages and a different pair of pants. They were black flannel pajama bottoms, something he wouldn’t usually wear, but comfortable on his sensitive skin.

He noticed his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of his face. A rag laid on his forehead to fight his constant fever, the taste of broth on his lips.

This girl had been diligently caring for him through his tantrums and mean words. Could he really keep pretending she was out to hurt him?

(Name) stirred, her tired eyes opening to see Feitan staring down at her with calculating eyes.

“You’re awake-oh sorry.”

She let go of his hand and wiped away her tears. “Sorry, your health declined last night and I was afraid you’d die, so I held your hand. I didn’t want you to… die alone.”

Feitan couldn’t understand her kindness. Her words did something to his chest that he didn’t like, not one bit. He shrugged it off, leaning back against his pillow.

“… you stayed here whole time?”

It was the first time he’d asked her a non hostile question in days. “Yes, of course. You were very sick and needed my full attention.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, but relented. She leaned closer to look at his face, giving him a sweet smile that unsettled the man more than he cared to admit.

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you whatever you want, if it means you’ll eat.”

Feitan maintained eye contact with her. His body was weak, and he knew he’d need to eat something soon. With the infection and his injuries, he would die if he didn’t consume some nutrients. Although he said he’d rather die than be fed by her, his body wouldn’t allow him to deny his hunger any longer.

“… curry.”

She blinked, leaning back. (Name) tried to hide her excitement over his request for food. “Okay, what kind?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

(Name) was quick to leave after giving him his medicine. He didn’t fight her for it this time, only complaining about the situation.

As she left, his eyes couldn’t help but wander to her bandaged arms, the beginnings of guilt starting to form in his stomach.

——————

“Fei, what was your mama like?”

Feitan and Chrollo sat together under a makeshift shelter, the latter stirring a bubbling pot of soup. Although it was hot, no one ever complained about the food.

They were just kids then, running around having adventures and trying to survive.

“Dunno. Died.”

The young boy didn’t seem to bothered by his own words, looking out into the distance to watch his other friends play.

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

A silence fell over the two, Feitan pulling his knees to his chest. When was the last time someone had held him? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t even know if he’d ever been held tenderly, like he was precious to someone.

As he would grow older, Feitan would be able to hide his feeling of loneliness and need for touch, but now he was a child that was struggling to keep it all together.

Chrollo clapped a hand over his back, remaining silent as the boys eyes brimmed with tears.

Feitan always hated that dream. It made him feel soft and sappy, something he perceived as weakness. The Phantom Troupe’s interrogator didn’t have time for such useless feelings.

He had just woken from his dream, the tears that welled up in his eyes pooling down his cheeks. He hated that he couldn’t wipe them away, cursing his heart.

The smell of food cooking caused his stomach to growl. He was now aware that the woman had been slowly feeding him broth over the past few days as he slept, but that was hardly enough to fill his empty stomach.

Feitan watched through the crack in the door as the girl scurried around the house, picking up little messes as she cooked. It was amusing to watch her bump her hip against a counter and gasp before jokingly wagging her finger at it, as if it could feel shame.

He wondered if she’d act so silly if she knew he was watching.

Feitan stood up and opened the door completely. This drew (Name)’s attention, who glanced his direction before going back to working on dinner.

The man stared at her for a moment before going to the bathroom.

(Name) tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her, grateful that he left as soon as he did. It was hard to cook when you were being watched.

After leaving the bathroom, Feitan did something that (Name) hadn’t been expecting.

The short man sat at the dinner table, staring at her with unreadable eyes.

To say it was unnerving would be an understatement.

When (Name) turned to ask why he was staring at her, he scowled. “Observing.” was all he said.

She sighed and finished up dinner. If watching her would give him some peace of mind, who was she to deny him?

“Dinners ready.”

She placed a plate of beef curry down in front of him, the smell of the food almost causing his mouth to water. “Here…”

She sat next him, scooting her chair closer. He instinctively shrunk back, like a wounded animal. She only waited for him to calm down, stirring up the food to help it cool down.

“Are you ready?”

He hesitantly nodded, leaning towards her with his mouth open.

The first bite was heaven for Feitan. He didn’t know if he’d ever tasted anything better than the curry he was eating then. After that, he was much more receptive to her feeding him, finishing the plate before he realized it.

“Alright, do you want some more? There’s also some pie in the fridge if you want some!”

He didn’t answer. It was already humiliating enough to be fed by a complete stranger, he didn’t want it to last any longer than it had to.

But his sweet tooth would not agree with his brain.

“Pie.” He stated, staring at the fridge.

——————

After his meal, Feitan retired to his room to sleep. Just walking around was exhausting, he didn’t have any energy to socialize with someone he didn’t really like.

The man stared up at the ceiling, thinking back to her face as she fed him. She didn’t look at him in a condescending way or laugh when the food fell onto the floor because it had been too hot. No, she patiently waited for him to finish chewing his food, and wiped his mouth as if she were taking care of someone she cared about a lot.

Of course, Feitan wouldn’t process that (Name) cared for him, a stranger for a long time. It didn’t make sense to him. Why help someone when you stood to gain nothing?

He watched as she cleaned up the kitchen through the crack in the doorway.

‘Strange woman.’

[aqricus]

SAY MY NAME ! feat. xiao

V SAYS . . . “who knew that giving you one little gift would open xiao’s eyes to how he feels about you? but, is it enough to convince him to act on it?”

+ WC . . . 3.6k

+ sfw material. female reader. angst. fluff.

!! this was supposed to be nsfw, but i made it into two parts for the sake of making the plot fit in a way that feels comfortable and fluid to me. the NEXT part will contain nsfw material !!

“if you ever find yourself in danger, or if you cannot bring yourself to do what is necessary, speak my name, and i will appear to you.”

in xiao’s mind, it was but a trivial blessing, a privilege well within his sphere of work and achieved without significant effort. but, as appealing as it may seem to be deemed worthy of wielding his name like a baleful curse, he believes that it is all he can give you. he is clumsy and unversed in matters of human relationships, and he does not serve much benefit in the way of offering applicable advice or the types of elegant, lyrical compliments he occasionally hears pour from the lips of poets and performers entertaining audiences near the boundaries of the city. 

it doesn’t help that you hardly ever find yourself in sticky situations or toeing the line between safety and peril; because, although he is grateful for your security and the lack of harm you face, he simply wishes that he could offer you more. when he first relinquished such a power to you, it was nothing more than a precaution. you’ve never been one to gamble with your life or plunge headlong into potential danger on a whim, instead avoiding trouble within the walls of your picturesque cottage.

in fact, the only reason you even encountered him at all was due to the fact that a band of lawlichurls abandoned their usual routine and began chipping away at the outskirts of the city. you merely happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

he could tell you weren’t an adventurer with a single glance as you thanked him profusely for his intervention. you were frazzled and in clear disarray as you fluttered anxiously around him, hands gripped with a noticeable tremor as you awkwardly attempted to gather the collection of wildflowers and meticulously snipped mint plants that had been stripped from your grasp and scattered about the area during the mayhem. your explanation of the purpose of your whereabouts was linked together into one unbroken, jumbled stream of vowels and consonant. you were tense, movements rigid and tight like the string on a bow drawn taut.

however, it wasn’t until you finally began to mellow out and he dared to step closer, fist stuffed full of stems he managed to snag before the wind could whisk them away, that he noticed how captivating you appeared that night. despite your dress being rumpled and creased beyond simple adjustment, there was no mistaking the charming cascade of the violet fabric around your figure, loose enough for the hem to swirl around your ankles with each gust of wind yet tailored to inconspicuously highlight even the slightest curves embellishing your physique, right down to the gentle bend of your knee as you shifted your weight. 

it reminded him of a sculpture he’d once stumbled upon among the ruins of a forgotten town sunken into the earth—a woman seated upon a pedestal with her head lifted toward the cracked ceiling, draped in overgrown vines and stained with moss yet carved with such care that every smooth edge and shape appeared soft to the touch.

you stood tall, even as the material draped over your body rippled beneath the force of the breeze. you radiated goodwill—your profuse expressions of gratitude, the benevolence that twinkled in eyes far more unguarded than any he’s had the pleasure of meeting in a long time, and especially the kind voice that fussed over blood that didn’t even belong to him until the words of rejection brewing on his tongue withered. 

there he was, soaked in cerise and sharp gaze piercing you to your core as if your flesh were as delicate as gossamer, yet not once did the warmth in your gaze waver. you were afraid, of course you were, he could see it in your eyes, plain as day. but you approached him, regardless.

still to this day, he wonders why.

at the time, when you insisted that he allow you to repay him in some way, he became painstakingly aware of how rough—how calloused and hardened—his hands were compared to yours, which he was positive had never clutched anything sharper than a kitchen knife. he had half a mind to withdraw from your touch; but beneath the silver wash of moonlight, you appeared so serene that he wondered if such an action would be enough to upset you, so he stilled instead. he paid no heed to the figure veiled by your attire or really anything regarding your features. all he could focus on was the manner in which you gazed upon him without judgment, as if he hadn’t just effortlessly terminated an entire band of monsters within seconds, as if his awkward silence and uncertainty when speaking to you didn’t exist, as if his conspicuous appearance didn't deviate from the city's normalcy . . . 

as if he was just like you.

you weren’t keen on allowing him to slip away so easily, either—at least, not without learning his name, which evolved into his favorite treat, which then developed into an invitation to meet the following day so that you could give him said favorite treat as a proper show of your gratitude. he didn’t quite understand what prompted him to take you up on your offer. perhaps it was because of how swiftly the chill of loneliness sank back in as soon as you vanished down the hillside with a secretive grin. maybe it had something to do with how the prospect of being able to ascertain whether or not the uncritical sincerity he’d seen from you the day prior was actually real made the corners of his lips quirk upward.

he may not have accepted an outright wish to meet you, but you piqued his interest. and, if nothing else, he knew that he wouldn’t be entirely adverse to seeing you just one more time before your paths would diverge once more.

but, you clearly had no intention of allowing it to be just “one more time.” time and time again, you would either stumble across him in a stroke of fortune or scrape together a reason to cross paths with him. he could not understand why you were so adamant about being in his presence if not for the need for protection or guidance pertaining to the land. even for the most mundane activities, like filling wooden basins with water near the edge of the river or assisting you with carrying something you clearly could manage on your own, you found pleasure in simply having him by your side, undaunted by and comfortable in even the longest stretches of silence that would settle between you.

he didn’t find it troublesome by any means. rather, he quite enjoyed being in your company, even if his attempts at reciprocating were poor at best. there is no history between you—no bloodstained, fractured past where you’ve witnessed his behavior at his worst or the horrific extent of his capabilities as a warrior. he was simply xiao, an enchanting individual who’s never had the pleasure of tasting a strawberry tart or experiencing lantern decorating but also happens to be your knight in shining armor. 

you made him feel welcome, valued beyond his physical prowess, yearned for in his entirety. and in return, he’d grown to care for you deeply, craving a level of intimacy he’s had yet to explore.

even now, you don’t shy away from him, eyes wide and glimmering with excitement as the weight of his gift to you settles in. “really?” xiao remains rooted to his spot in the grass even as you step closer, close enough for him to count the individual fragments of rose quartz adorning the gold chain hooked around your throat—close enough to touch him, if you so pleased. “so, that means i’ll be able to call you whenever i want?”

he should have anticipated that you would completely bypass the fine details, your brain’s processing capacity reduced to nearly tunnel vision as you zero in on the overarching meaning instead: no more having to hope that you both are in the right place at the right time, no more wondering whether or not he’ll make the first move, and no more having to trek through the wilderness alone. 

he nods and loosely folds his arms over his chest. “correct, but—”

before he can finish speaking, a dazzling smile blooms on your features, and your hand darts toward him without warning. he falls silent at the sensation of your fingers clasping his, drawing his hand into the space between you and cradling it within your own. he can detect a floral fragrance wafting from your skin . . . wisteria. it envelops his senses, intertwining with the comforting presence of your touch to send a ticklish, tingling sensation dispersing through his stomach. he swallows.

“this is so cool!” you squeeze his hand. “thank you, xiao.” the corners of his lips tilt upward into a small smile, and his muscles relax.

but, just as quickly as your grin appeared, it vanishes, along with your touch as you release him without warning. wait. his widen a fraction as he witnesses the warm gleam in your eyes dim into a muted reluctance. you withdraw from him, and in one fell swoop, the candlelight flickering in his chest is extinguished, reduced to nothing more than a cold whisper of smoke. wait. he’s never witnessed this behavior—this uncertainty—from you before. did he accidentally squeeze your hand? did you see something?

“wait, so . . .” you begin hesitantly, and xiao’s hand sinks back down to his side. he feels . . . he doesn’t know. he can’t quite place it, but it leaves his stomach roiling with malaise all the same. “all i have to say is your name, right? just ‘xiao’ and that’s it?”

“uh . . . yeah.”

rejection. he recalls the sting of it in the pit of his stomach, not quite foreign and not quite familiar, but never rendering him as defenseless as he is now. he’s become used to the solitude, accustomed to most regarding him with suspicion or fear. but to be subjected to such kindness from the first encounter, only to then have such a luxury slip from his fingertips without as much as a hint—this is new.

the swelling of your chest beneath your blouse as you inhale is barely noticeable. “have you always been able to hear when i say your name?” you question.

that’s probably the issue, his shoulders square. from what he’s learned from observing humanity, disregard for an individual’s privacy has never been taken kindly. “no, no,” he rushes to placate you. “i can only hear it if i establish a link between our consciences, which would allow for minimal communication.”

“oh . . .” your eyebrows furrow as you mull over his explanation, only for your easy smile to return a moment later. “oh!”  the sight alleviates the coil of tension constricting around his chest, and he exhales slowly, with it expelling the besetting pessimism clouding his psyche. you laugh, and xiao relaxes. “sorry, that got a bit tense.” you dismiss with a breezy wave of your hand. “so, what about in conversation? can you hear that? like if i just mention your name.”

he shakes his head once more. “not quite. it’s more complicated than that. so far, i’ve only been able to hear it in times of desperation or fear . . . or, really just when you need me.” he explains. “let’s say you get attacked or get lost in the woods. you call me, and i’ll hear you. but, if you mention my name in conversation, i won’t.”

“oh, that’s a relief,” you shift your weight onto your right leg. a relief? does that mean she talks about me? xiao can’t help but search your eyes in question, seeking any kind of emotion to hint at the circumstances you may have mentioned his name in. why would you? do you speak highly of him? who do you speak about him to? how do you really feel about him?

almost as if his inquiries were spoken aloud, you shake your head. “i’ve mentioned you to ying’er in the past, but it’s only her, so you don’t have to worry—that is, if you don’t want people finding out about how much time we spend together. i told her all about how you saved me that one day, and ever since then, she’d ask about you whenever i came back late.” still not convinced by the hesitation shadowing his expression, you continue with a quiet chuckle. “it’s nothing bad, i promise. all good things.”

xiao’s chest warms at the confirmation. “oh . . . i see.” a tacit question lingers between the two of you; it rests on his tongue, cumbersome and thick, and manifests in your gaze as buoyant twinkles of anticipation as you await his next words. what do you tell her? it sears the tip of his tongue, dances behind twin rows of teeth welded together. you both feel it, he can tell. but, even as your gaze yields nothing but an earnest clarity, he pensively tucks his forefinger beneath his thumb and presses down, popping his knuckle. he never truly realized how easy it was to be deprived of the comfort of having you by his side. it could happen at any moment; one wrong word, one wrong move, and he could chase you off for good. he’s only just begun to find his place among the outskirts of society—to find his place with someone. perhaps at the moment, it’s better to play it safe and admire from a distance, he reasons, just as he has been up until this point.

“that’s . . . nice. i’m glad.” the delivery is awkward, as well as his words, but he figures it’s better than unnerving you. 

wrong choice. his lips part when you wilt subtly at his lackluster response, shoulders deflating the tiniest bit and smile now tinged with a twist of dry amusement. you don’t seem shocked by his decision to avoid the question, but your disappointment is palpable regardless. “oh, uh . . .”

but, before he can scrape together something else to say, you silence him with a gentle shake of your head. “you know, xiao,” despite your despondency, he can still sense the same warmth in your voice. “i like hearing your thoughts, even if they aren’t anything profound. i just like talking to you.” your eyes meet his. “i ask you questions all the time—far too many, probably,” you huff a small laugh, “and you answer them all. it’s not weird to have questions for me, too.”

but when will i know when i am toeing the line between acceptable and unacceptable? once again, his thoughts remain unspoken. “. . . you would be correct.”

“if you want something, xiao,” you finish, “then pursue it.”

“if you want something, then pursue it.”

at the time, xiao had received your words in stride; but at this moment, as he sits alone, perched upon a low-hanging branch with his back braced against the trunk and one knee drawn up against his chest, he can’t help but consider how ludicrous of a statement it really is. a short sigh is huffed from his lips as he absently twirls the stem of an apple blossom between the pads of his thumb and index finger. the ivory petals stained with blush-pink glow beneath the gentle caress of the moonlight, protruding from the shadowy, muted backdrop of the surrounding vegetation like a sore thumb. he ghosts the tip of his middle finger over the velvety canvas of the petals.

“hey, check it out,” xiao’s eyes bounced from your face to the freshly plucked flower cradled in your palms. “the apple blossoms are blooming early this year! they smell lovely, don’t they?”

you were right. they do.

“pursuing something simply because you desire it . . . what a foolish way to live.” xiao reflects with a wry smile. no one can have everything they wish for; to believe otherwise is not only idiotic, but it also promotes greed. during his lifetime, he’s witnessed his fair share of avarice and power grabs, all spawned from people’s ideas that they were capable of achieving it all; and, just like clockwork, it would bait them into a downward spiral that would result in their own destruction. everyone is dealt their own hand of cards and is born to fulfill a certain purpose, himself serving as a prime example. to crave or demand something other than that would be . . . 

but, then again, isn’t that exactly what he’s doing now? what he’s been doing?

his encounter with you that day was only supposed to be a one-time occurrence. neither of you had any business being involved in each other’s lives; he was slated to remain a finely honed weapon of mass obliteration, and you were to maintain a peaceful life separated from combat. your kind nature was in danger of being tainted by and desensitized to his misdeeds, just as your compassion threatened to dismantle his brutal, black-and-white mentality surrounding the protection of liyue that had been established within his mind longer than you have been alive.

even so, you became a staple in his life in an effort that was not one-sided. you dared to pursue him, and he returned the favor. 

his forehead creases thoughtfully. pursue what you want.

what exactly do i want?

your face flickers through his mind, and his brows twitch. he wants you, he’s come to terms with that. but, what does that mean? what does he want from you? what does he want with you?

if it were as simple as he wished it was, he would find a way to keep you closer, find a way to have access to your voice first thing in the morning and last thing at night. he wants the freedom to dispose of the hesitance that restrains his fingers from brushing leaves from your clothes or from snaking around your waist to steady you whenever you trip. he wants to be able to comfortably ask you for more of that almond tofu you made him two weeks ago. he wants you to call him to accompany you whenever the sun begins to set.

he just wants . . . you. he wants more of you—all of you in your entirety.

however. . . the apple blossom slips from his fingertips, drifting to rest among the grass below. what i want does not matter. to dare to hope for a companion . . . such a desire is far too audacious for someone whose pedestal is composed of severed limbs and lifeless bodies--for a being whose soul is bound to solitude and tongue bound to silence by his karmic debt. perhaps he deserves it, perhaps he doesn’t. he doesn’t really think about it anymore.

but you certainly do not. it would only make way for misery and discontent to bleed into your soul, and he would shoulder the guilt for the remainder of his life.

he swings his legs over the side of the branch and allows himself to plummet through the air before landing nimbly upon the earth below. but none of that matters, anyway, if you do not reciprocate his feelings. without your tolerance of him being further interwoven in your life, he would never be able to completely fulfill his goal of being embraced with wholehearted acceptance. his hands seek anchorage in the fabric of his pants, porcelain fingers twisted into royal purple as he tethers himself back to reality. there are one hundred reasons for you to reject him and one hundred more that prove you deserve someone else, more familiar with affection and expressiveness, someone who isn’t only confident and willing to take charge of the situation when ensuring your safety.

the apple blossom catches his eye from its place nestled among the grass, and he picks it back up. it’s undamaged, still radiant and pure despite the thin, sanguine crescents lodged beneath his fingernails and the papery film of dirt layering his fingertips. 

i’ll leave it here. he twirls the stem between his fingers. there is no reason to risk soiling it.

your smile appears in the back of his mind, nothing more than a brief flicker of a memory.

he stills, and after a moment of silence, he tucks the flower into his pocket.

[shadows-from-helvete]

Introduction about Adam

(before anybody comes at me they are aged up a few years. And I think Natasha should break up with Markus until then and come together with Vanessa. So yea just a headcanon of mine so you don't wonder. Also going to answer any questions I may have about him)

•=Name=•

-Adam Dahl -Also known as Adam the Panther under his old team

•=Age=•

-16 years old

•=Gender & Sexuality=•

-Homosexuell & Non-binary

•=Height=•

-1,71cm

•=Family=•

-Sebastian Dahl (Father) -Natalie Dahl( Mother,left when Adam was 12)

•=Nationality=•

-German🇩🇪(Father side)/Norwegian🇧🇻(Mother side)

•=Home=•

-Is living in Grünwald with his Father after moving back here. In the middle of everything in a small apartment

•=Pets=•

-A 4 year old black male German Shepard named Boomer and a 3 year old female White swiss Shepard named Marshmallow. -An aquarium with shrimp

>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<

•=School & Class=•

-Highschool(Gesamtschule) and Grade 10

•=Relationships=•

-Good friends:Jojo,Vanessa,Deniz,Marlon,Raban

-Friends:Leon(would still kick his ass all the time because he annoys Adam)

-Seem nice: Willi,JoJo's mom, Leon&Marlons dad,Edgar,Deniz Father(dilf energy)

-Finds them weird:Hatschi(doesn't trust him and doesn't know him that well)

-Ew:Markus dad

-Hell na!:Siegers,Natasha

-has crush on:Markus

•=Hobby's=•

-Used to play soccer and be a keeper but after an accident he needed to stop play soccer. The accident was also the reason they moved. -Really enjoys drawing,making music and exploring the forest

>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<>=<

•=Appearance=•

-Skintone:very light(bro doesn't get brown no matter how long in the sun)

-Eyes:Dark moss green

-Nose:more on the average side

-Face shape: sharp

-Hair: longish hair that is black on the roots because the hair colour grew out. Black fades to dark and a bit lighter blue. Bangs are tight back or gelled back. One hair strain in his face.

-special markings: has a birthmark under his right eye

•=Clothing style=•

Style: sometimes more emo sometimes more punk or metal or something between depending on the mood.

-Mostly to lazy to dress up so he mostly keeps it basic.

-Loves his leather jacket,leather boots and battle jacket with lots of patches from his favourite bands like Tokio hotel,Mayhem,Metallica,Nirvana,Skillet Slayer ect.

-Wears eye shadow when he's outside all the time.

-Adam also loves to do corpse paint but doesn't do it that often and if just at home for pictures

•=Backstory=•

-Adam was living with his dad and mom until he was 12. His mother left his father for another man and never came back. It was a pretty hard time for him but he wasn't really sad, just really angry. He changed school one time became they moved into another part of the city when he was 13. He was more an outcast because of his blue hair and the way he was so of course be got bullied which didn't botherd him to much even tho he has mental problems since he was younger and they just got more and worse over time.

-Loved soccer and drawing since he was younger and to that day still draws. When they moved he got into a soccer team and they got along pretty well. At the age of 14 he had his last game. Adam was a keeper and was pretty good at it. He was holding almost everything. His team won the game. It wasn't anything special just a simple game against another team. But one of the members of the other team weren't so happy about it. Turned out this kid was known for aggression problems and so he turned to Adam and yelled at him at first. It was probably a coincidence that he picked Adam . He got closer to him and without thinking he kicked Adam in the kneecap out of anger which made him fall to the ground. Long story short he kicked Adam in such a weird and bad place that his kneecaps were damaged so he couldn't walk properly for a few months and even tho he can walk normally now he can't play soccer or much other sport anymore. This is why they moved to Grünwald and Adam acts like he doesn't know anything about soccer or played it. He thinks its better than explaining why he doesn't play anymore ect.

(Picture of 14 year old Adam before his last game with his team next to him)

-At first the bunch thought the new kid was one of the Siegers because of his style but after JoJo saw Adam with a pigeon he found and talked to him he found out he was pretty cool. So from that on JoJo forced Adam to come to there training a few times or hang out with them because as JoJo means he needs to go out more and be more social.

-2 years after the kneecap incident he tries to go back to soccer even tho it's hard but he tries. Also sometimes asks Willi for advice

(black eye and Bandage because he got into a fight with the Siegers and they kicked his ass)

-he gets along with the bunch pretty well as well as Willi but sometimes he really wants to kick Leon's ass because this little shit can be annoying.

-had a crush on Marlon and Markus and struggles because he doesn't know if he should have something for both.is stupid and doesn't notice the signs

-Extra-

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Faust from lords of chaos. During a black circle meeting reader and Faust go upstairs and do something’s (smut if you want or they could just be cuddling) in Euromymous bed. 🖤🖤

Hello my dear anon thank you fore this cute request (I'm sorry that it took longer but it's finally done). So I hope you like and everyone has fun reading :)

Cuddle Concert

warning : just big fluff and comfort, reader is female, cuddling

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything, it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At night in Oslow, in the part of town that wasn't the best, the party was in full swing in the basement of Mayhem founder Euronymous's record shop. After a successful concert and finishing the new album, they had all come here to party and not too hard.

Loud, fast, hard and dark death metal music came from Mayhem who gave a small live performance for the black circle. Actually it was a simple meeting, a meeting to discuss new albums and just find new ideas with a small concert well almost. Which was only enhanced by the compressed space.

And when Death Metal fans meet, the meeting was forgotten faster than anything else. Besides, the third beer crate was already opened and one or the other had already fled to the sink to empty his stomach.

Pizza was lying everywhere on plates and tables and one or the other piece of clothing had already been torn off the body. Not to mention the cigarettes and joints that were lying and being squeezed out in the drinks and ashtrays.

In the chaos of the singing band, the drunken people dancing and shouting along. Faust and his girlfriend sat together on the old sofa which had seen better days. Both had a beer in their hands and were watching their mutual friends partying around them.

Whether it was the wild roar of Occultus' song or the dancing of Varg who had already blown away one or the other with his guitar. ,,The private concert is always the best," she heard Faust murmur as he put his beer on the already overcrowded table and put his arm around her again.

Nodding in agreement, she grinned at her friends and snuggled up to Faust as she slowly began to feel the effects of the many hours of partying.

Whether it was physical exhaustion, a slightly scratchy voice from the roaring, or just the slight headache that came over her. Putting down her own beer, she ran her hand over her sleep and sighed lightly. A little quieter roar would be nicer she thought, watching Euronymous as he seemed to push his guitar to the limit with his solo.

She felt Faust take his arm away from her and let his gaze wander over her. Before he rose and pulled her with him through the group towards the stairs. ,,What's wrong?" she asked, looking back and forth between Mayhem and him, slightly confused, as she slowly walked up with him.

Not only did she instantly feel air that hadn't been breathed ten times already enter her lungs, her headache lessened and she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. ,,Is it better?" he asked with a grin and climbed onto the bed, which was surprisingly soft. ,,Yep, actually," she replied and came to lie down next to him on the bed. Really soft she thought and adjusted her pillow and was about to lie down again when she felt Faust pull her towards him.

So that she was now lying on top of him and had a warmer, softer, more loving surface to lie on. ,,That's even better," he quipped and chuckled as she pretended to shake her new pillow before lying back down on him. His hands went to her hips, holding her on top of him and tracing small relaxing circles on her body.

Which were more pleasant than Mayhem screaming and singing for hours. ,,I know when you're feeling bad...let's just stay here," he decided and sighed with pleasure before hugging her like a pillow and closing his eyes to give his equally exhausted body a rest. ,,Let's do this until the morning, my heart," she repeated and did the same. She sighed too and made herself more comfortable on top of him before resting her head on his torso and closing her eyes.

The small circles he continued to draw were almost like hypnosis which was disturbed by the quiet heartbeat she heard. As if she were being lulled to sleep by the heartbeat that reflected nothing but peace and love. There was nothing more soothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mayhem-things , @beldamama , @bvg-w1res