#and when in the singing part hes trying to reach some high notes like the girls and its so soft

[no-i-will-not-shut-up]

the vshojou halloween song!!!! god kuro sounds so good in the harmony like you can hear him taking care of the bass and ironmouse in the soprano and zentraya is so smooth

[slightly-knot-insane]

Monk's Temptation (part 3-1)

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ Reader's POV ]

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ art 1 ] [ art 2 ]

a/n: slightly nsfw chapter like the others, but nothing explicit tw: frotteurism

You certainly noticed the monster monk as soon as he entered the chapter house during the choir practice. This small town didn't have a lot of non-humans to begin with, and he was the tallest sentient being you had ever seen, with tiny horns on top of his head protruding through his hood.

When you first saw him, last week, you thought he was really intriguing looking. Kinda cute even though you couldn't see his face in the deep shadows of the hood. Just two dimly glowing eyes. He always seems a bit nervous, though. And his singing... Ooof, his singing is appalling. How did he even get accepted?

Just as soon as the abbess announces a break, you turn to the towering monster behind you. His shining eyes blink, surprised.

"You know," you start, "you have a wonderfully deep voice. It's probably the lowest bass I ever heard. But I feel you don't use your stomach. It's as if you're trying to sing through your throat and that will damage your vocal cords. I know that sounds silly, but next time try to sing from here."

You hold your hand out and touch him just above his belt. Does he have an armor underneath it? It's so... hard. He flinches as if you slapped him.

"Oh sorry!" You truly are - you completely forgot he's a monk. "I'm very sorry! Ah, yes, just try to sing from your belly button. Think about your belly button and pull the voice from there. Do you understand what I mean?"

He stares at you and you feel oddly... small. Is he mad at you? Maybe you shouldn't even speak with the monks at all. But nobody warned you about anything. They just said not to wear uncovering clothes, that's all. Eventually, he slowly nods and replies, with a voice like a streaming thunder. "I... think I do."

You let out a sigh of relief. "Hope it helps!"

You really hope it helps. You can't stand listening to his croaking behind you a minute longer.

The abbess instructs you to sing Carmina Burana, but after just a few notes, she screams: "No, no! The bass is too strong! It falls from above like a storm cloud and suffocates all the other voices."

She marches toward the choral raiser and pulls the monster guy standing behind you. "You are too high! Stand on the step lower, there." She pulls him down, right behind you.

He is lanky but quite big too, so he brushes against your back... assets. You look up and see his hooded shadowed face looking back at you. Was there some saying about gazing into the void and it will gaze back at you?

"What is your name?" you ask him.

His glowy eyes blink again. Or do they? "Atanas," he replies quietly, as if he's unsure about it. There is a low tremble in the way he articulates the last syllable and it makes you shiver.

The practice begins again, and the immediate intensity of Carmina Burana washes over your senses. You full-heartedly sing, until... Until something presses against you. From the back. Did... did Atanas lean closer? It's not just his thick habit touching you. There is something else? Something hard.

Please forgive me, please forgive me, please forgive me, please... You think you hear quiet and breathless chanting behind you. It's overpowered by the song so you can't be for sure. But something is happening against your back. Atanas is... fidgeting? Or is he...?

You continue singing, keeping your back straight, pushing back against the towering presence behind you. He doesn't stop squirming behind you, but he is warm and firm. Such an interesting person, you think to yourself.

Once the choir reaches the beginning of Floret Silva, there is an obvious hitch in his breathing. Almost inaudible, yes, for everyone, but not for you. The fidgeting stops. You look behind your shoulder and up again, into the void... and it is gaping back at you with a crimson glare.

🙘⠀✟⠀🙚

[ next part ]

[thoughtfulfiction]

Dad and Mini’s Weekend

Author’s note: Gameday re-write! Bolt up as always. Hope you enjoy this dad!Justin piece!

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

The toddler stops in her tracks, putting down the purple crayon she was holding to look up at him like he’s offended her. “I’m not a baby, I’m this many,” she informs him, holding up four fingers. He reaches over the tiny drawing table and puts one of her fingers down so she’s only holding three up. They’ve been trying to work on it this week and there is clearly room for improvement.

“You’re right mini, you’re not a baby. Daddy’s sorry, do you forgive me?”

She hops out of her seat, the masterpiece she was creating quickly forgotten so she can give Justin a hug. “I forgives you, but...why do you call me mini?”

“Because,” he begins, laughing when she holds her hands up to be carried. He secretly still really liked to hold her, it was hard to believe the once small, green-eyed miniature girl version of him that he could hold in his hands like a football, was now a fully functioning, walking and talking miniature…person.

He walks the two of them to the bathroom, turning on the light so she can see their reflection in the mirror. ”Look at us, you look just like me. You’re my mini me. My mini.” She stares back and forth between her reflection and his, tilting her head as if that would help her get a better look. “See? We have the same eyes, same nose and—smile? That little hole in your cheek? It’s called a dimple. I have one too. And when I was your age my hair was blonde just like yours.” He pokes at each body part as he lists them off, his heart being warmed at the sound of her little laugh.

“Oh! We match daddy. We’re the same!” Remi kisses him on the cheek.

Justin was in charge for the next few days while you were in Chicago at a work conference. Remi had recruited you to help her make a list of things she wanted to do with him. And he made it his personal mission to get everything on the list done, to make up for all the lost quality time he didn't get to spend with her during the season.

Today, the main thing on the agenda was the aquarium. He strapped her up in her car seat and asked what she wanted to listen to on the way to their destination, secretly already knowing the answer because it had been the same for the last two weeks anytime either of you drove her around.

"The Cars song!"

“What’s the magic word?” He says looking at her through the rearview mirror, waiting for her to understand what he was getting at.

“Um…please?”

He nods and grabs his phone, playing the song on repeat. Remi starts dancing in her seat as “Life is a Highway” plays on the speakers. Justin watches intently as she wiggles her arms and shakes her little body as she pleases and joins her in singing along. If he could bottle up these tiny moments he would and he’d savor them just to be able to look back on them in the future because his mini was already growing up too fast.

Their duet lasted over an hour, driving into Newport from the ranch, and every time they left their home it made him grateful for his purchase to give his family some privacy. Of course he loved meeting fans and interacting with them but he wanted to be present with his daughter and interruptions or a quick selfie here and there got a bit old. And Remi was still trying to wrap her mind around why her dad always had people following him or taking pictures with him so answering those questions was always more fun for you than it was for him. So when he could be in the comfort of his own home, he wanted to be. But then again, if Remi said jump, most of the time he said how high and that is why he had this trip to take her to see some fish.

"Do you see those with the pretty tail that looks like a tutu? Those are called Red Betta Fish, so we can mark off the red square because we found something." Justin points out, handing Remi the marker and showing her the spot on the aquarium scavenger hunt they just checked off. After she was done she handed him the sheet, holding on to the writing utensil. He held out his free hand for her to hold, which she happily grabbed as her dad continued identifying different fish.

Remi looked at the various colors and sizes of the animals in front of her. “Do fishies have mommies and daddies too?”

“They do,” her dad nods, smiling at the fact that his daughter was tugging at his heartstrings due to her care for animals. He saw more of himself in her every single day but it was still mind-blowing.

“Maybe the mama went to work too, like mine. And the one in Finding Nemo!” She muses, looking up at him.

“You’re right! It’s exactly like that.” Neither you nor Justin had the heart to tell her what really happened to the mom when you all sat down for family movie night last Saturday. "Should we go find something blue?"

The toddler could not contain her excitement at the sight of the luminescent jellyfish. "Can we take one home? I want mama to see."

"Mini, I don't think they'd be very happy living at the house, they need lots of water. What if we find one at the gift shop to bring home? I think I saw some with glitter."

She understands immediately, silently wondering if she could let one live in the pool at their other house in California but she forgets her train of thought as soon as she he mentions glitter. "Yeah! I want more sparkly things in my room. Daddy?" He hums, grabbing her hand again, "someone is looking at us."

Justin turns around and spots the culprit, a little boy, maybe around 12 or 13, wearing his jersey. He can hear the dad, at least he assumed, who was telling him to just go up and ask for a picture. Remi pulls her dad over to them, clearly having heard the entire exchange as well.

"You should take a picture with my dad. He's really nice and he'll say yes." She obviously knew he played football but didn't quite understand the fact that her dad was famous. He was literally just her dad and he wanted to keep it that way as long as he could.

The kid's dad smiles at her, asking Justin if it's ok to interrupt his family time. "It's fine," he reassures him, "she insists and isn't the best at taking no for an answer," the quarterback huffs out a laugh. "Do you have your phone on you?" The dad pulls it out immediately, snapping a picture of the three of them as Remi looks on proudly. She definitely got that part from you. The father and son thank him after he signs the jersey with Remi's marker and both duos move on with the rest of their day.

Remi falls asleep on their way home, hugging her new plushie tight like her life depends on it. She's awake by the time he pulls into the driveway, thanking him for the "best day ever."

As soon as he opened the door, she went to her playroom to sit her plushie in a chair so all of her stuffed animals would be ready for tomorrow's tea party. "Hey," Justin pokes his head in, announcing his arrival when Remi doesn't turn around, purely focused on her "stuffies."

"Mini, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

She finally turns, plopping down to sit on one of the beanbags. "Can I have pizza pretty please? With ranch. Ranch is yummy."

"Sure, pizza and ranch coming right up."

"Thank you daddy," she says instinctively, having turned all of her attention back to the table.

Justin closed the playroom door, taking the stairs two at the time to grab his phone from the master bedroom. He clicked on your contact, praying you'd answer asap. "Babe, I really need your help. Remi wants pizza for dinner, how do I make healthy pizza?"

He hears you laugh on the other end of the line. "Oh my god. You know you don't have to give her absolutely everything she wants. I know you said you wanted to make salmon, so just make that. She'll be fine."

"I know but—she really wants pizza," you can hear the slight pout in his voice, reminding you of Remi.

"She also wants to be a unicorn when she grows up."

"I don't think I can make that happen, but I can definitely do some pizza. Can you just send me the recipe, please?" He really was desperate.

You chuckle at his antics, Remi really did have him wrapped around her little fingers. "Fine. Pushover."

"Whatever, thank you. I love you and we'll see you tomorrow."

"I love you too honey. You're a really good dad," you tell him seriously, "Rem has no idea how lucky she is to have you. We both are."

Justin didn't realize exactly how much of a pushover he was until he found himself sharing his bed with a toddler and the blue sparkly jellyfish he bought a few hours earlier and a gray bear named Muffin. Remi had cried sometime after dinner, a tell-tale sign she was tired, complaining that she missed you and his solution to that problem was to let her sleep in your spot for the night. She, of course, happily agreed.

All of the lights were off and he was seconds away from closing his eyes when he heard her giggle. "What's so funny over there little lady?"

"My pillow smells like mama. Like she’s right here.” She whispers in shock and he shakes his head in amusement, both of them drifting off to sleep with smiles on their faces.

The next day, Remi wanted to get into her costume. She’d been watching a lot of Spidey and his Amazing Friends and was convinced that she was Gwen Stacey aka Ghost Spider. So when her grandparents bought her a costume, she wore it pretty much daily. And her dad had to be Thor…for obvious reasons. The superheroes saved the city from the green goblin’s plan to turn everyone into hamsters and then they had to save Muffin from Doctor Octopus’ evil lair.

“We make a pretty good team, Spider Gwen.” Justin says, putting the Thor hammer on the couch.

“It’s Ghost Spider daddy.” She corrects him.

“Oh I'm sorry Ghost Spider. How about you take your costume off and we take a little snack break? Superheroes need food to keep up their energy.”

After enjoying her apple slices with peanut butter, Remi grabbed the list and asked her dad to read off the two things they had left.

"Flowers and slime."

She had added making slime to the list because she learned how to do it in preschool last week and made you stop at the store to get all the necessary supplies. Although he was secretly looking forward to this little science project with her, it was just another reminder that she was much closer to kindergarten than she was to the newborn stage. He followed the detailed directions that Remi got from school and added glue and food coloring to a bowl and let her stir.

“Do you wanna add in the baking soda?” He hands her the spoon and she dumps it into the bowl.

“Uh oh daddy I spilled. I need a tissue.”

“It's okay, we can clean it up when we’re done. You can keep mixing, you’re doing so well.” Justin runs a hand down her ponytail, proud of himself for successfully getting it all, even if it took him three tries. In his defense, Remi had a lot of hair to work with. “Next, we need to add some of this saline solution and mix it with our hands. Are you ready?”

Remi rolls up her sleeves with her dad’s help and digs into the bowl, kneading the slime with so much joy in her face. The orange slime came out gooey and perfect and they played with it for a while, cleaning everything up together when they were done. He loved that she was into science, fishing expeditions, superheroes and of course...football. But she was also a lover of unicorns, princesses, tea parties and all things glitter so they had gone through a plethora of her interests throughout the week.

The last thing on the list was going to the flower shop to surprise you with a bouquet when you came home. He walks into the tiny store with Remi on his shoulders, setting her down so she can smell the roses. "The yellow is pretty."

"It is pretty," he acknowledges, a sense of peace washing over him. Justin felt like he was in a constant state of serenity when he was home, the calm and quiet energy that followed him daily during the offseason was something he didn't want to take for granted.

The store clerk spots them browsing and asks if they're looking for anything in particular. "My mama is pretty, so we need the prettiest flowers in the world for her surprise."

She smiles, placing her hand on her chest at the toddler's words. "Well, I think I have just the thing you're looking for," the clerk crouches down to Remi's level, "do you wanna take your dad and see?"

Remi nods excitedly after looking at Justin to make sure it's alright. He walks behind her to the side of the store where they are shown an expansive array of flowers to make their own bouquet. The quarterback chooses sunflowers, remembering Remi's comment about the prettiness of the yellow, baby's breath and peonies and Remi picks out some roses, ranunculus bulbs and tulips, all various shades of pink. He gave her a fist bump on their way out the door, thoroughly proud of their work.

Before he knew it, you were texting him to let him know you were picking up dinner on your way home while the two of them watched Moana. Usually she’d be up and running around while the movie played in the background but tonight she was focused, cuddled into his side with her eyes glued to the screen. But as soon as you walked into the house Remi ran into your arms, not wanting to let go.

“Oh hi sweet cookie, did you have fun with daddy?”

“Uh huh, daddy is the best! I love him,” she mumbles into your shoulder.

“I love him too, he’s pretty great isn’t he? You’re so lucky sugar, you have the best daddy in the whole world.” Justin walks up to you and wraps his arms around both of you, sandwiching Remi in the middle. He gives you a kiss on the cheek and kisses the top of the toddler’s head. “So…tell me everything. What did you and daddy do?”

She takes a deep breath and you know you’re in for a long story. You catch your husband’s eyes and he shoots you a tight lipped smile as he goes back outside to your car to get your bags inside. Remi doesn’t let you go as you walk her to the couch.

“It was sooooo fun…” she begins, telling you every single detail without missing a beat.

“Do you need help unpacking? You know I have a little experience with it.” Justin smiles, looking down at your suitcase, long after Remi had gone to bed. You weren't going to say no to the help, gesturing for him to go for it. The man grabbed all of your essentials, easily placing them in their rightful places and putting your bags up without breaking a sweat. His tidiness and attention to detail had become even more attractive since you became parents, it really came in handy.

"How was it? Did she nap at all?"

He closes the distance between you and wraps you in his arms, sneaking in a kiss. "Barely. Maybe fell asleep twice for a total of less than two hours the last 4 days."

"I knew that was gonna happen," you laugh, shaking your head, "she was probably scared to fall asleep and miss spending every single waking moment with you."

"Not just 'waking.'" He notes. "She also slept in our bed...said she missed you too much to sleep alone."

"Of course she did, that kid is a genius."

"I swear she's three going on thirty. It hurts to admit but I just kept thinking about how fast she's growing and honestly? Sometimes I miss the baby stage. I—I think I want another kid." Your husband admits.

You look up at him with your eyes wide in shock, "really?"

"Yeah. Remi is...perfect. I just want her to have someone to play with and everything we did this weekend was great but it would be nice for her to have a sibling to do those things with. Hanging out with dad is cool now but it won't be forever."

Pondering his revelation, you bit your lip, taking in his words. "Two kids. That wouldn't be so bad."

Now it's his turn to be surprised, "you sure? I mean we don't have to make a decision right now, it's just-I always saw us having our own little crew running around."

"We did make a pretty cute kid, another one would just add more fun to our lives. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything,” he responds without hesitation. He’d probably carry the baby for you if that was humanly possible.

"This time I want to have an offseason baby, there's no way I'm having another kid in the middle of the season."

Justin's laugh vibrates against your chest as you hug him. "Deal. And maybe this one will look like you a little bit because Remi is all me."

"You carry a child for 10 months, suffer through over 20 hours of labor all for them to look like someone else. This one better look exactly like me or I'm suing you and your selfish genes."

"We'll have to wait and see but I may be seeing you in court."

[aakaneeee]

Round 7 was.. definetly intense and I have many thoughts about it, so I did a whole analysis.. yes it's finally here!

Time to start :3 (I will mostly try to make this coherent and chronologically correct, I might fail though! because we know how freaky i can get when it comes to Luka)

without further ado, let's get into it!

tws: drug use, violence, blood, overall quite gore-ish;

I. ROUND 7

Round 7 starts with a low intro, sung first by Till, Luka following. Till has his energy back, or atleast part of it. Luka, as always, has his perfect voice, but he seems to be a little more expressive this time, as if he's enjoying the performance, just like the lyrics suggest. Everything goes seemingly smooth, and they receive holographic instruments that almost seem to parallel eachother: Till, an electric guitar, and Luka, a violin. And yet, as the second pre-chorus emerges, Luka approaches Till, putting his hands around his neck, a cruel reminder of Ivan. He is... dizzy, to say the least, even getting a nosebleed, but he doesn't stop singing until the very end, even though images of the one he's been taunted with appear on the screen behind them. His eyes seem to light up when he sees a familiar figure in the crowd, Mizi, somehow remembering her even with her hair completely different, veiled, and between millions of aliens. He reaches out, and Luka is obviously at least annoyed at this, either mad that his trick didn't work, or that Till destroyed a perfect performance. Even so, it's too late for Till: Right before getting a hold of Mizi's hand, he is shot in the neck, falling down. Mizi is.. devastated. A flashback of them as kids plays, with a xylophone instrumental. Then, the camera cuts back, from a happy, smiling Mizi, to one crying over Till's soon-to-be corpse. In his last moments, she takes his hair out of his face and cups it. He tries to caress her hand, and then his arm falls next to him as the light fades from his eyes, destined to look into the distance forever. The text "LUKA WIN" flashes on the screen, but even the double-winner is too distracted to care, as in a safe distance, yet right in front of him, is an injured Hyuna, crouched forward, without her usual, characteristic confidence. They stare blankly at eachother as the screen shows new text: SPECIAL GUESTS, paired with photos of a grieving Mizi and a shocked, in pain Hyuna. We are shown Luka advancing as the winner, the last one left, supposedly, and everything goes black.

II. LUKA

(I will have a lot to say for the both of them, unsurprisingly, but I feel like Luka is still a little bit in the lead... again. who is surprised)

From the first frames we see him in, his clothes are obviously more revealing that in previous rounds (using plural since we have seen part of his Round 4 outfit in the intro of ROMH), using not only the usual open back, but also a huge v-cut showing his chest, and his hip open, specifically where his branding is. I imagine Heperu would've chosen this to show off that it's his pet. Not only that, but his surgery scars are also shown off. I suppose it might be something to brag about here? Maintaining a pet human is probably already really expensive, so it's a differentiation of class if they also afford to have surgeries? I see it as probable. When he begins singing, we see something new. He's a lot more expressive, and it carries through the whole round. Not only that, but when his first high note reaches, he almost crouches down forward, as if he was struggling with it (even though he had more difficult notes in round 5.) Personally, for me, I don't think he was going to use his 'technique' from the start. Some may argue that it's his usual, but he got the biggest score in Alien Stage history in round 4 (I may be mistaken) against Durian, and Durian had no dead loved one that Luka could've used against... him? (I'm still confused about Durian, Acorn and.. Tortilla.😭) So he's obviously insanely talented and only uses it when he feels a threat. Most of Luka's actions in Round 7 felt risky, unplanned, and decided on the moment, which really is unlike him. This feels, like one of my previous posts say, like he was drugged, just like Till. In his daze, maybe he considered that Till would stop singing, or maybe, not even sing at all, and that he'll have an easy opponent. But no, Till proved strong, and then, it came to the next possible way he could 100% win: disorienting him. A thing others have pointed out.. Luka's fingers are probably very cold, and it mightve reminded Till that Ivan is a corpse now. One of the most cruel frames of an already very cruel series was, atleast for me, shown in this video: Luka holding in his laugh after his 'plan' (since, as i already said, i dont think it was actually planned) works. For me, it's another piece of proof that he wasn't in his right mind, the carefully built facade of his wouldn't have just broken by his own will. But, even though he could swear it worked, Till doesn't stop singing. Sure, he's dizzy, dazed, but he still is singing. Shock only comes again when Till sees Mizi in the crowd, and anger, or atleast annoyance, is easily readable on Luka's face. He even pauses singing, looking at Till reaching out for his God, always unattainable, now in the reach of his fingers, in a position I could describe as hesitant, confused. Even so, he gets a win as Till gets shot in the neck. Unfortunately, he doesn't have time to revel in the victory, as he watches in shock, as 'the love of his life' appears in front of him, yet at a safe distance, injured. They stare at eachother, but it's different, it wasn't a blank gaze like in Round 5, it feels a lot more vulnerable.

I love how we've been shown past Luka's empty shell this round. Seeing him actually expressing himself, seemingly taking immense pleasure, almost in an euphoric, naive way, in the round around him. There is no way he genuinely enjoys it, or would've enjoyed it without.. exterior measures. We've seen him reacting to cameras around him in Sweet Dream. We can only imagine that was his truly 'sober' state. As I said, it's really amazing how we can see a more candid version of him.

III. TILL

From the start, it seems like Till has regained his spirit back. He's definetly more energetic than in Round 6, his hair is slightly messy again. His outfit, just like Luka's, is more revealing, but his branding has always been visible, unlike his opponent's. He is doing surprisingly well, not going down without a fight, maybe not going down at all! (I love being cruel) He's singing his heart out, every lyric he says showing desperation. And even though he was going so well, everything has an end. Because his declining mental state goes even more downhill as Luka acts like the freshly deceased Ivan, who left him with so many questions and dillemas. It feels like everything is crowding up on him, the huge stage feeling like a small box. His nose starts bleeding, and just as he was about to faint... He sees the love of his life, Mizi, in the crowd. She's reaching out to him. She's there to save him. He reaches towards her in happiness... Except he gets shot right before it. Mizi is finally reaching to him, right how he imagined when he felt like dying, after singing in that damned club. But just as you can't touch your own imagination, you can't touch a God.

Mizi is, and always will be unattainable. The moment he tried to touch her, the Universe is against him, once again. When he wanted to approach her, a powerful light engulfed him. When he died, it was back to pitch dark. In the flashback, it's implied that Till tried to escape, or atleast went against the rules, togheter with Mizi. They seem to be very close, as Mizi trusts him enough to hide, and bury her head into him. It feels affectionate, familiar, something Till holds onto, because he probably considers it one of his best memories. But nothing lasts. From a smiling, happy Mizi, it pans to the new her, now crying over Till, who was taking his last breaths. She gently brushes his hair out of his face, her hand holding it. In his last moments, atleast, he got what he wanted: Mizi's gaze on him, only on him, and just as always, he can't say anything to her. He just lightly chuckles, as his eyes lose light, and his arm falls next to him.

IV. IVAN

His intention was to make Till hate him. That's why he kissed him. He wanted to be forgotten. He already thought Till didn't care that much about him, so surely his actions would make him hate him? Wrong. Ivan was never Till's ray of hope. He was aware of it: Till only had eyes for Mizi. And yet, his death wasn't forgettable, like he thought. He used to mock Sua for her plan, saying that she'll only become trauma, and ironically, he did the exact same thing. Till sees Mizi as pure light, a goddess. Yet, he remembers Ivan in a shaky manner, a dark red veil over the flashback of the kiss. Mizi was his hope, and Ivan was his misery. Unfortunately, Ivan didn't realize this, considering himself to not be grief, but rather, nothing for Till. Oh, how wrong he was.

V. HYUNA

I really like the idea that the Patreon gave us. Its good to be confirmed that Hyuna, just like the others, is truly human, and by that I mean, flawed. Maybe I am interpreting it wrong, but from what my brain cooked up, she was.. somewhat willing to sacrifice a life (either Till or Luka) for the sake of humanity. (again, I might be wrong) We see another side to her in Round 7. She grabs Mizi and looks at her in a pleading way. She knows she's asking of her to see another of her friends die. Even so, she thinks it's better. I'm really curious about what she was doing on stage. Did she go after Mizi, because she saw she might've gotten caught again? Maybe.. she thought that Mizi was actually going to get Till, and she wanted to save Luka, too? You can never know.

VI. MIZI

First of all, she is still naive, which is so on brand for her. She went into a rescue mission, alone, with no weapons except for a smoke grenade. She still doesn't know what she has to do, and it's obvious. It seems like she took another route from Hyuna, who came up on the stage, while Mizi mixed with the crowd. Even so, I'm grateful that in his last moments, Mizi let Till rest. It was such an honest scene and I adored it. What I didn't adore was the parallels between her leaning over Tills body in Round 7, and her leaning over Sua's body in Round 1.

VII. PARALLELS

1. Till reaching towards Mizi, both in his hallucinations, and right before his death, where she still remains untouchable.

2. "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE)

3. Mizi leaning over Sua's body (Round 1) and Mizi leaning over Till's body (Round 7)

4. "In a blink gone!", sang by Till, in this, the visuals parallel his Birthday reveal art.

5. Luka raising his hands to his face, parallels Ivan tracing his hands up his microphone (they even have the same timing from what I've seen).

6. Mizi looking at Till from her capsule in Round 2, with Mizi looking at Till through the screen during Round 7.

7. Mizi throwing the grenade and Till breaking Freddie in Round 2.

8. Luka's hands on Till's neck are a 'gentler' version of Ivan choking Till, so aliens wouldn't consider it as violence.

9. Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother in Round 5 and Luka and Hyuna looking at eachother at the end of Round 7.

10. The way Luka pulls Till's lip down reminds me of that one freaky Luka image..

VIII. LYRIC ANALYSIS

Blink Gone works for all characters, in my opinion. Every one of them lost something, in just a blink.

"The clock goes tick-tock, tick-tock" I can only imagine this referring to the fact that Till's life is soon to coming to an end.

Till sings the more pessimistic lyrics, while Luka sings the ones about forgetting what's in the past and enjoying the moment. As much as he could be taunting Till, he is, in a way, also reassuring himself. To forget everything: perhaps Hyuna. Hyunwoo's death. And not only these, but the experiments, surgeries, punishments he's been through. On this specific stage, he feels like he's truly alive.

As I've mentioned before: "The dark crimson air embraces us" -> "In your place, there's only blood and cold air left" (Black Sorrow) + "Lost in forever's embrace" (CURE).

IX. DISPELLING SOME THEORIES.

1. Till's microphone was closed.

Personally, when I first saw this... I was a bit.. yeah... I know this sounds rude, but I was a little bit startled when I saw how many people agreed😭 The light on Till's microphone is a heartbeat tracker, proven to be right by the fact it turned green when he saw Mizi. Even if it was closed, a microphone doesn't make you sound better. He wouldn't have been heard, which he was, so obviously, it wasn't closed.

2. The competition was rigged in Luka's favor.

I dont personally agree with this, especially considering the aliens' nature. They don't care about humans. I don't imagine them wanting the same winner twice. Personally, I find it more like them to rig it in Till's favor. Imagine: he won his first two round by external factors, a rookie, yet a musical genius, defeating a past winner. Doesn't that sound more like something they could market? This is my opinion, but I can't think about them rigging it in Luka's favor. (yes I made a whole rubric just for 2 theories that kind of..somewhat. annoy me)

X. MY THEORIES (This is MOSTLY incoherent)

First of all, I am sure that something BIG will happen next. They said Round 6 is only the half of ALIEN STAGE, so, without counting Sweet Dream, there should be 6 more videos. Minus round 7, five. Hyuna vs Mizi and then whoever wins versus Luka are only two, so there's no way that's everything thats going to happen. I find it really interesting that were going to have 5 videos with only 3 (SUPPOSEDLY) alive characters. I'm not sure about the theory of "they are still alive", since Vivimeng aren't really.. known for that. I'm quite 50/50 on it. I can't believe we went from "only Sua will die" to "Everyone will die"😭 Thats what I call development. Anyways, I'm just as excited as ever for what's next!

XI. CONCLUSION + MY OPINION

Honestly, I ADORED Round 7. It was so beautiful and gorgeous and deep and I simply love it. Im going to sound like a gatekeeper, or rude, but I'm quite dissapointed in the people that genuinely are starting to harass Luka fans, to say they hated Round 7, to hate on Vivimeng for the decision they made, saying that they destroyed it and that there's no satisfactory ending to it now.. MAYBE I'm just lucky and my favourite character is Luka, so I haven't felt the grief of losing my favourite yet, but even if I did, I wouldn't start blaming the AMAZING creators that work so hard. If you're curious, yes, as a Luka fan, I've been told off, I've been told I'm a horrible person, and it's only been 2 days, which is insane to me. There is just so much more about him than "ooh he's a manipulator!" again, I'm gonna sound extremely rude... I love that there are a lot of fans that came during Round 6, but I feel like the people 'leaving' the fandom right now are those same fans. maybe that's just me and I'm just angry at what's happening right now😭

I don't want to offend anyone, these are just my opinions, please take everything I said with a grain of salt!

( @cherry-blossom-sword80 here it is!! tagging some other people I'd like to see this :3 @verdantlights @sotogalmo @rockwgooglyeyes )

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

Synopsis: Split Rivers Sweetheart, a sweet little Junior who’s the lead singer of the schools show choir. The only issue is a certain head cheerleader has made it her life’s mission to disband your club with her family’s money. Unfortunately for her, you seem to have more support than you realize, maybe even from the golden boy himself. Wally Clark.

Notes: Modern AU! All characters are alive! Mentions of Alcohol, Drugs, partying! Reader and all characters are around 17-18 ish! Most of my inspo for this was from Glee since I’m rewatching the show. 80’s References & so on.

Masterlist // Chapter Four

The air in the show choir room was thick with tension. What started as an ambitious idea was quickly becoming a logistical nightmare. The cheerleaders stood on one side of the room, arms crossed, ponytails bouncing whenever they rolled their eyes. The show choir members stood on the other, looking just as unimpressed.

At the center of it all stood Claire Zolinski, clipboard in hand, her perfectly manicured nails tapping impatiently against the surface. Across from her, Charley had their arms crossed, gaze sharp. Maddie was beside them, shifting her weight like she was physically holding back the urge to say something snarky.

“Alright,” Claire exhaled, looking around at the divided room. “We’re running out of time. We need to at least get through Espresso before practice is over.”

Nicole clapped her hands together, trying to cut through the tension with enthusiasm. “It’s a high-energy song! If we nail the timing, it’s gonna look amazing!”

“It would help if the choreography actually made sense,” Charley shot back.

Claire stiffened. “It does make sense. You just don’t know how to keep up.”

Charley scoffed. “Right, because we definitely spend our time throwing people in the air for fun.”

“You don’t spend your time dancing, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, enough,” you interrupted, stepping forward before the argument could spiral further. “Can we at least try to get through this? Fighting isn’t gonna magically make the routine better.

Claire and Charley didn’t break eye contact for a moment longer before Claire finally sighed and looked away. “Fine.”

Maddie muttered something under her breath, but you ignored it, turning to Yuri, who was adjusting the mic stand. “Let’s start from the top.”

Simon cracked his knuckles, looking more excited for the dancing than the actual singing. “Let’s do this.”

Dawn hit play on the speaker, and the bass from Espresso filled the room. Immediately, everyone scrambled into position.

The first few beats started strong—Simon and Nicole nailed the footwork, and Yuri’s vocals were clean and controlled. But it didn’t take long for things to start falling apart. The cheerleaders weren’t in sync with the choir members. The formations were off. Some of the show choir kids were getting tripped up by the fast transitions.

By the time the first chorus hit, Claire threw her hands up in frustration.

“Stop, stop, stop!” she yelled, reaching over to pause the music. “This isn’t working!”

“Oh really?” Maddie shot back, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I couldn’t tell.”

Claire turned to her sharply. “You could at least try instead of rolling your eyes every five seconds.”

“I am trying. It’s just hard to take this seriously when it’s obvious you don’t actually care about us being part of this. You just need warm bodies to fill your routine.”

Claire’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, something flickered in her expression—guilt, maybe? But it was gone just as fast. “I do care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have come to you in the first place.”

Maddie crossed her arms. “Yeah, well, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Before things could spiral again, Yuri let out a sharp sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Enough. If we’re going to make this work, we need to simplify things where we can.” He turned to you, eyes sharp with decision. “You’re singing all the songs.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“It’ll be cleaner if we don’t switch vocalists mid-performance. It gives the routine consistency, and let’s be real, you have the strongest voice for these songs.” Yuri’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Janet nodded in agreement. “It makes sense. Less moving around for us, and the focus stays on the performance itself instead of worrying about transitions.”

Claire, for once, didn’t argue, just crossed her arms and sighed. “Fine by me. As long as we can actually get through the choreography.”

You hesitated for a moment, but seeing everyone waiting for your answer, you finally nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Yuri said. “Now, let’s actually run this thing properly.”

The two groups exchanged glances, tension still thick in the air, but eventually, they all grumbled in agreement.

“Alright,” Claire said, rolling back her shoulders. “From the top.”

The music started again. And this time, despite the mistakes, despite the hesitations, despite the obvious divide in the room—something clicked.

It still wasn’t perfect, but for the first time, it actually felt like they might be able to pull this off.

By the time practice was over, the tension had eased—but just barely. The cheerleaders and the show choir weren’t exactly friends, but at least they weren’t actively trying to strangle each other anymore. Progress.

As everyone started packing up, Nicole clapped her hands together. “So, I talked to the theater department, and they’re in.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “In for what?”

“The setup for the halftime show. You know how they’re the fastest at putting sets together? They’ll be responsible for whatever staging we have on the field.”

Janet grinned. “That actually makes this a lot easier. They work fast, and they’ll make sure everything doesn’t fall apart mid-performance.”

Claire, still slightly stiff from earlier arguments, nodded. “Fine. But tell them not to overdo it. We don’t need a Broadway production, just something functional.”

Nicole smirked. “Oh, don’t worry. They’re already planning something over-the-top. You know how they are.”

Claire groaned, rubbing her temples, but didn’t argue.

“Alright,” Yuri sighed. “We’ll meet up tomorrow to go over everything again. Let’s hope it actually looks like a halftime show by then.”

With that, practice wrapped up, and everyone filed out—some leaving in pairs, others in quiet groups, all exhausted but determined.

The sun hung low in the sky, streaking the field with gold as the football team pushed through their drills. The air was thick with sweat, the sharp scent of churned-up grass, and the distant echo of cleats slamming against turf.

But none of that mattered to Wally Clark.

Not when the coach was in his face, practically spitting as he yelled.

“Pick it up, Clark! You’re not running plays like you mean them! You want a championship or not?”

Wally gritted his teeth, helmet tucked under his arm, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. “Yes, Coach.”

“Then act like it! You’re the best we got! You don’t bring your A-game, we don’t win. And I don’t lose!”

The words sank deep into Wally’s chest, pressing against the already suffocating weight of expectations. He knew all of this. He didn’t need to hear it again.

But before the frustration could fester, Coach blew the whistle. “Five-minute break! Hydrate!”

The players scattered, some jogging to the sidelines for water, others flopping onto the grass with exhausted groans. Wally exhaled hard, rolling his shoulders, trying to shake off the stress.

That was when the whistles started.

A couple of his teammates nudged each other, smirking as they tilted their chins toward the field entrance. “Well, hello, ladies.”

Wally didn’t even glance up. He’d seen the cheerleaders walk onto the field a million times before. It wasn’t exactly a life-changing event.

But then—

The music started.

At first, it was just a heavy beat pulsing through the speakers. But then, a voice cut through the field.

Clear. Strong. Captivating.

Wally frowned, finally looking up as he pulled his helmet off.

The cheerleaders were moving into formation, rehearsing their halftime routine. The show choir had set up near them, their small group arranged with microphones, preparing to run through the setlist. But Wally barely registered any of that.

Because he was focused on her.

Or at least, he was trying to.

He couldn’t see her—she was too far, blocked by some of the other performers—but he could hear her. And that was enough to make something inside him pause.

She sounded good.

Not just decent, not just okay. Really, really good. Like she belonged on a stage bigger than a high school football field.

And it bothered him.

Because he wasn’t expecting it.

His feet moved before he could stop himself, stepping toward the edge of the field, trying to angle himself for a better look. Just as he was about to get a clear view—

“Clark!”

Coach’s bark snapped him out of it, and he turned sharply, setting his jaw.

“Get over here! We’re going over plays!”

Wally clenched his helmet in one hand, giving the field one last glance. He still couldn’t see her.

But the voice stayed with him.

Even as he jogged back to his teammates, even as the coach started barking orders again—he could still hear her.

And for the first time in a long time, Wally Clark found something slipping through the cracks of football, pressure, and expectations.

Curiosity.

Soft shades of pink and baby blue painted the walls, the warm glow of fairy lights strung along the white curtains casting gentle shadows. Jewelry clinked softly against the edges of a porcelain tray on her vanity, catching the dim light like scattered stars. The room smelled faintly of vanilla and fresh linen, an otherwise safe and dreamy space—if not for the muffled chaos drifting up from downstairs.

The shouting had started almost twenty minutes ago.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Pretended it was just another disagreement, a raised voice or two before everything settled down. But then something shattered.

Your stomach twisted.

You paced the length of you room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know what to do. Could you do anything? If you went downstairs, you might make it worse. If you stayed put, you’d have to keep listening, the weight of every sharp word digging under your skin.

The sound of something else breaking made you flinch.

Your hands shook as you reached for your phone, quickly scrolling to Dawn’s contact. You pressed the call button and brought the phone to your ear, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Pick up. Please pick up.”

The line rang once. Twice.

Straight to voicemail.

You exhaled sharply, throat tight. Of course. It’s late. She’s probably asleep.

The voices downstairs swelled again, and you quickly set your phone aside, not trusting your grip. Instead, you crawled onto your bed, curling up against the plush comforter.

It was all you could do.

Just wait.

Wait for it to stop.

Wait for the voices to drop back down into silence, for the tension to dissolve into an uneasy stillness.

Eventually, exhaustion won out.

Even with the distant echoes of anger in the air, even with the weight pressing heavy on your chest—your eyelids grew heavier. Your body gave in.

And as you slipped into sleep, the last thing you heard was the sound of someone walking away downstairs.

The steady rhythm of a basketball hitting the wall filled the room, punctuated by the occasional swish as it landed perfectly in the small hoop hanging over his door. Wally leaned back against his pillows, tossing the ball absentmindedly, watching it spin in the air before catching it again.

His phone buzzed on his nightstand.

He ignored it.

Another buzz. Then another.

Probably the guys in the group chat talking about practice, or the game on Friday, or something else football-related. He just didn’t care right now. He needed a break. A second to breathe without thinking about running plays, winning streaks, or his coach drilling it into his head that he was the key to a championship.

He exhaled through his nose, tossing the ball a little harder.

His mind wandered back to practice, to the way his coach got on his case about picking up the pace. It wasn’t like he was slacking off, but lately, it felt like no matter how much he gave, it wasn’t enough. The pressure was there, constant, sitting heavy on his shoulders.

His grip tightened around the ball.

Then—his thoughts shifted.

To her voice.

The rehearsal.

That halftime thing the choir was doing with the cheerleaders. He hadn’t planned on paying attention, but he did. More than he wanted to admit.

The sound of her voice had cut through the noise of practice, weaving through the air in a way that made him stop. He hadn’t even seen her—just heard her, like something drawing him in before he could think twice about it.

And now he was wondering.

Who the hell was that?

His phone buzzed again.

He let the ball drop into his lap and ran a hand down his face, staring up at the ceiling, still hearing the lingering melody in his head.

And for the first time all night, it wasn’t football running circles in his brain.

It was her.

Whoever she was.

[joeybrr9]

Part 4 - Poetic Man

Summary: Aurora continues to work on her new album but might have a new distraction

Warnings: None

a/n: So sorry it took so long for this part to come up. Finals week was KILLING me. So excited for Christmas break. Also, what are we all thinking of this break in at Joe's house???

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

“One more time.” Jack Antenoff was helping Aurora put together her 6th studio album. Jack was well known for creating success all across the music industry; the two first started working together for her album “i used to think i could fly.” Jack reached over and put his headset on, signaling to Aurora that he wanted her to sing her song again. “Alright…..let’s do it from the beginning.”

Aurora heard the music begin and took a deep breath.

“You're so dumb and poetic

It's just what I fall for, I like the aesthetic

Every self-help book, you've already read it

Cherry-pick lines like they're words you invented

Gold star for highbrow manipulation

And "love everyone" is your favorite quotation

Try to come off like you're soft and well-spoken

Jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen”

Aurora had very obviously written this song about her past relationship with Paul; it was a song that had become very intimate and personal for her. She hesitated even adding it to the album. Aurora worried once he heard the lyrics she would receive a nasty phone call from his display all his distaste for her work. 

"Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you talk like one doesn't make you a man

You're so sad, there's no communication

But baby, you put us in this situation

You're running so fast from the hearts that you're breakin'

Save all your breath for your floor meditation

You're so empathetic, you'd make a great wife

And I promise the mushrooms aren't changing your life

Will you crash the car and abandon the wreckage?

Fuck with my head like it's some kind of fetish”

Nothing Aurora did in her relationship with Paul was right; whether it was making the wrong dinner plans, flying out to see him on the wrong weekend, interrupting his ‘work time,’ or even just being in his presence, she knew he didn’t want her around. Many people would ask why she stayed with him for so long and there was only one answer, he knew how to manipulate her. When they would have a terrible fight, the next day he would buy her 100 red roses. A big gesture. Love bombing some people would say.

“Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you act like one doesn't make you a man

Don't think you understand

Just 'cause you leave like one doesn't make you a man”

“Honestly Aurora, that might have been the last take.” Jack leaned back with a huge grin plastered to his face high-fiving Mark. Aurora on the other hand felt sick to her stomach, singing such an intimate song had her feelings at an all-time low. She exited the recording booth and was greeted with a bunch of smiling faces. “What’s wrong, we release Espreso in five days and the album is almost done.”

“Speaking of that.” Mark cut Jack off and took a step closer to Aurora. “Have you decided who you want in your music video for your second single? We should probably think about filming it soon.”

“Yeah, I haven’t thought about it yet. Let me get back to you.” She let out a nervous giggle because Mark had already reminded her to pick someone, a month ago. “ Well, on that note I should definitely get going. I have two hungry football players at my house right now.” She quickly tried to grab her stuff without any more interrogations.

“Football players, who is at her house?” Aurora heard Jack but she didn’t have the effort to explain why she had two NFL players staying at her home. 

“I think it’s that Joe Burrows dude and his friend. I don’t know and honestly, I don’t care.” That was all Aurora was able to hear before she let the door close behind her. She got in her car and hit the call button on Ja’Marr’s contact. It only took two quick rings for him to pick up. 

“Hello, my girl. What’s up?”

“I’m heading home right now. Did you guys settle in okay? You didn’t fight him over who gets the bigger room right.” Aurora heard a laugh in the background, assuming it came from Joe her cheeks reddened. 

“No Ma'am we did not start a fight in your home. Did miss you though Rory, thought you said it would only take you a little bit. It’s been five hours. I’m also starving. You don’t keep much food around here, like-”

“Okay Marr I get it, you're a starved man and it’s my fault. I’m only fifteen minutes away so how about we order when I get there, or can you not wait until I get there?”

“I guess, but you better buy some snacks for me. I’m not sure how you survive on wine and ramen noodles.” She let out a little laugh before sighing.

“Snack and dinner. I got it. I’ll be there soon. Love you, Marr.”

“Love you too Rory.” She hung up the phone, taking the exit to her house. Aurora sat in silence in her car, loud silence. For a few moments she thought about calling Ja’Marr back to fill the silent void for the last few minutes of her drive but instead, she pushed the on button to her radio. A random Dua Lipa song filled the car, only making Aurora forget about her thoughts for a couple of minutes. 

Eventually, Aurora pulled into her driveway, seeing her living room lights were on and she could see Joe and Ja’Marr sitting on her couch. A black truck was parked in her driveway, which must have been what the boys rented for the days they were staying in California. She quickly parked her car in the garage and gathered all the stuff to bring inside when she was met with Ja’Marr at the door. 

“Here, let me grab that.” He instantly took everything out of Aurora’s hands. When she was around Ja’Marr he treated her like a queen. “Soooo, I was thinking.”

“Well, that’s never good.” Aurora heard Joe say from the couch. She let out a little laugh.

“Yes Marr, what can I get you to eat tonight? I know I kept you waiting until,” Aurora took a quick glance at the time displayed on her stove, “5:30. Oh my gosh Ja’Marr it’s 5:30. I expected it to be around 7.”

“When I’m hungry, I’m hungry. Sorry girl.” Ja’Marr put his arm around Aurora as the two walked over to the couch. Joe was sitting comfortably watching Spongebob on the TV. 

“Okay boys, what do we want? Pizza, Chinese, Italian, In-N-Out, or Mexican? All of that sounds really good to me so you can choose. Aurora exchanged glances between Joe and Ja’Marr until Joe finally spoke up.

“Pizza sounds good to me.”

“What kind are we getting?” Ja’Marr wasn’t too concerned with the food. He was too busy watching the content displayed on the TV.

“What about pepperoni and sausage?” Joe and Aurora said at the same time. She felt a blush grace her cheeks as she smiled at him. 

“Yeah I’ll order it now-”

“No, I got it. You don’t need to be paying for our food when you’re already letting us stay here for free. I got it.” Joe left to go call in a pizza, leaving just Ja’Marr and Aurora. 

Aurora could see Ja’Marr looking at her out of the corner of her eye. “Instead of staring at me Marr, why don’t you just say whatever you want to?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing his jaw.

“Me and Burrow were talking today. About you. A little bit. Not the whole time. Don’t let it get to your big head.” He gave a gentle push to Aurora’s shoulder making her giggle. “He mentioned that Tee sent him your interview. He seemed to think it was funny, in a cute way. Don’t be embarrassed Rory, he thinks you're cool.” She looked over to her left where Joe was standing in the doorway of her library on the phone. He hadn’t said much, or anything at all, to her since she got home.

“That interview got kinda out of hand. I’m embarrassed he even saw that.”

“You don’t listen. He thinks you’re a cool girl.” Ja’Marr wrapped his arm around Aurora pulling her into him. She was a little curious if Joe was still dating his long-term girlfriend from college. It had been reported a couple times that they had split but Aurora wanted to know from an inside source.

“Um, would he happen to still be dating that one girl from college? Not that I care or anything. I just see a lot of stuff on TikTok. You know.” Real Smooth Aurora. Ja’Marr looked down at the blonde girl with a cheesy grin.

“They did in fact break up. It was all on good terms. Joe is a very focused guy when it comes to football. Not sure that’s what she wanted. Sometimes he needed his space and they couldn’t agree on it. No bad blood as far as I’m concerned.” Aurora nodded her head. “So yes, he is single, Rory.” Ja’Marr poked her sides making her squirm and move away from him. 

“I got three pizzas and an order of breadsticks. Also, Aurora, I noticed you have a lot of wine in your cabinets so I ordered some wine too. Hope you don’t mind.” Joe took his original spot next to Aurora on the couch.

“I could never mind someone buying me wine; that was very thoughtful of you.” She flashed the quarterback a quick smile. 

“Pizza should be here in about 35 minutes.” Joe looked between Aurora and Ja’Marr.

“Did you guys want to put on a movie until then? The group decided to watch The Hangover until the pizza arrived. One of Ja’Marr’s favorite movies.

“Bro, did you see that tiger?” Ja’Marr was clutching his stomach from laughter. Aurora had stood up to get the pizza that just arrived.

“Yes, Marr. We all saw it. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen it about a thousand times too.” Aurora disappeared for about two minutes coming back with all the food. “Alright boys, I’ll let you get yours first.” She set out plates for everyone and a glass for her wine. 

“Here,” Joe reached over to open the bottle of wine he ordered and opened it. “Let me get this for you.” He poured her a glass and got her a couple slices of pizza.

“Um, thanks.” Aurora grabbed the gestures from Joe and made her way back to the couch to finish their movie with dinner. As she was walking back to the couch she overhead Ja’Marr and Joe.

“Try hard?” Ja’Marr scoffed as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

“Dude, she’s just a nice girl. I’m not gonna be rude to someone who’s letting me stay in their house for free. I’ve never met her before either. Good first impressions.”

“You sure it’s nothing else loverboy?” 

“Yes, I’m 100% percent sure. I’m focused on football, not girls.” Joe laughed. Even though there wasn’t anything going on between Joe and Aurora, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She hadn’t been able to move on since Paul and a very small part of her thought Joe would possibly be that person for her. It was a stupid thought anyway. 

Joe and Ja’Marr joined Aurora on the couch to enjoy their pizza dinner and movie. Ja’Marr was able to eat 10 slices of pizza while Joe only had 6. Aurora stuck to her original 2 slices with a bread stick. 

“Sorry to cut the night short but I’m gonna head to bed. Sleep good Rory. Night man.” Ja’Marr ruffled Aurora’s hair and dabbed up Joe. The two were left alone on the couch with the ending credits of The Hangover displayed on her TV. 

After a long couple minutes of awkward silence, Joe cleared his throat. “So Ja’Marr tells me you are working on your sixth album. That’s a pretty big deal.” Aurora took a big drink of her wine finishing off the glass.

“Uh yeah, I am. It should be out sometime this summer. I’m really excited to release another album.”

“He told me you won Album of the Year at The Grammy’s last year. That’s huge. Congrats, I know it’s a little late.” Joe chuckled. 

She swished around whatever was left of her wine. “Yeah, you know, you do something incredible like that and you feel like you need to live up to those expectations again. I just don’t want to let anyone down. I have an amazing producer and if I don’t win another Grammy with this next album I know I won’t only be letting myself down, it will also be hurting him.”

Aurora looked over at Joe and by the look on his Face she knew he wasn’t sure what to say to her singer/songwriter trauma. “Can I get you another glass of wine?” Aurora debated before she answered his question. Did he want to down here talking to her? This would be her third glass of wine.

“Yeah, sure.” Joe hopped up from the couch and walked over to the kitchen. Aurora couldn’t help but observe him in person. He was a good-looking guy; even better in person. 

“Here you go. Tell me more about yourself. How did you get your start in music?” Joe got himself comfortable on the couch; showing Aurora he had no plans of heading to bed anytime soon.

“My first album was “Singular Act I,” so that was obviously my big start. My huge single off of that album was Sue Me. Have you ever heard it?”

“Uhhhh, I don’t think so. Don’t hate me.” Joe laughed, making Aurora crack a smile.

“No hurt feelings. One day I just started posting videos of myself singing on Youtube and it started blowing up. Eventually, a record label contacted me and they wanted to produce a single. Fun fact, it wasn’t Sue Me.”

“Do I get to hear this legendary single?” Joe smirked at Aurora.

“Absolutely not. I like to brush that song under the rug. I never-”

“You know if you don’t play it for me right now I’ll just look it up later. Matter of fact, let’s look it up right now.” Joe pulled his phone out of his pocket and started typing something into Google. Aurora jumped up from her spot on the couch to move closer to Joe.

“Joe stop, I hate that song. I’m not kidding. Listen to it later, not right now.” Aurora reached for Joe’s phone the second she heard the beginning verse to Thumbs playing out of the speakers. “JOE, stop it right now.” Aurora couldn’t contain her laughter at this point. She was leaning over him, grasping for the phone.

“And the bank robbed the people, so the people robbed the bank.” Joe sang along, laughing in Aurora’s face. She took one more reach for his phone, failing, before falling back beside him. After the song ended Joe tuned toward the blonde girl.

“Honestly, I was expecting worse. Not sure what skidledeee deee dat dum means but I can roll with it. Definitely added to my warm-up playlist.” Joe gave Aurora a cheesy smile before bursting out laughing.

“I fucking hate you.” 

Aurora and Joe sat on the couch and talked until 2 am while Aurora drank, not one, but two, bottles of wine. She definitely would feel that in the morning. Joe knew that as the night whet on Aurora had become wine drunk and nothing she said he could take too seriously. She did tell him he had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen, and that the curl in his hair was his best feature. Around two thirty Aurora passed out on Joe's lap while watching How To Train Your Dragon.

Joe carried Aurora up to her room while also trying to figure out which one was hers. When they finally made it there and he had tucked her into bed; it was time for his escape. He felt her hand grasp his wrist. 

“Can you please stay? Please Joe, just this once.” Aurora hardly opened her eyes but that was all the convincing Joe needed to stay.

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Hii, can I request laios (dungeon meshi) relationship headcanons please? Ty!

Ye shall receive, anon!

-Laios being Laios, is extremely dense and blunt when it comes to relationships. He wouldn't even get it, when you flirt with him. Even, if you were being open about it. Everyone else, but him got the hint. Even, when you two were on date he didn't realize it. You had to sit him down, to have the talk about dating. He just had thought you were really good friends. Holding hands, you calling him nicknames.

-Laios gets easily excited about things he likes. Monsters, dogs to mention few. Especially, monsters. He wants you to taste monsters, even if its odd. To him, it is a normal thing. So, he doesn't mention what he is cooking, if you don't ask. Not, because he wants to try to trick you... He is just dense, that he forgets not everyone is accepting eating monsters. But, when you do actually like the food, he will go on a lengthy talk about how he cooked it and what else monsters you two could cook.

-Laios would be delighted, if you wanted to explore the dungeon with him. He enjoys exploring the dungeons, so if you were exploring with his squad he would be overjoyed. He would be protective of you. He doesn't think you can't defend yourself, if anything he would love to see you protecting yourself and others. Protective in the sense, making sure you're fine and not overworking yourself.

-You have to often listen to Laios, info-dump on you. But, it is endearing. As he is sharing his interests, with someone that doesn't think his interests are odd. This does mean, whenever he learns something new about monsters, he wants to share it with you. To add to this, he shares his monster guide with you. He does hope, some of his enthusiasm for monsters will rub on you. If, you start to add notes on his monster guide he will be overjoyed. Finally being able to have a conversation about monsters, with someone other than Senshi and Falin.

-Laios wants to teach you how to handle a sword. He would be patient with you about it... But, he doesn't know how to teach about it. He knows how to handle a sword, but at this point for him its muscle memory. So, its less of Laios teaching you and more of him giving pointers, as you swing the sword around. If, you do know how to handle a sword, Laios would start practicing with you using wooden swords. It was good way for you two, to get closer and to workout.

-Laios has a small wardrobe. He has only few clothes, one casual pair and one more formal. So, when you bring this up with him you have to go clothes shopping with him. Nothing extreme, just some more clothes for him to choose from. He thought, it would be cute to have matching clothes. So, he does just that and got matching pairs of clothing.

-Laios loves to snack, like a lot. He will have snacks on him all the time. Not to mention, he likes to make his own snacks. From monster bits to actual baking materials. He just likes to cook. So, he will share his snacks with you. He tries to keep it a reasonable, so when the mealtime comes around you two will be hungry. Although, sometimes you can't help yourself but snack on them and feed them to Laios.

-Laios doesn't really get how he is supposed to act in a relationship. So, his guide is Marcille... Whose knowledge largely bases on her reading romance books. So, Laios at first tries the most romantic stuff, flower, chocolate and the usual romantic gestures. Once, you told him you appreciated the gesture, but would prefer him to try his own romantic ideas. So, that led to him bringing you monster parts and doing monster mating rituals (I think, that's the right way to put it.) Which, were bit odd. But, it was Laios' who was doing it. So, it was cute either way.

-Laios tries to sing every-now and then. Unfortunately, he can't sing. Not in the smooth velvety way, more of soprano voice. He can reach high notes, which he uses to sing the siren song to flirt with you... Which works. You find it charming, that he sings the song he has practiced for awhile. Even, if everyone else thought he was just wailing.

-Falin and Marcille are important people in his life, so it means a lot to him, if you got along with them. Falin and Marcille are pretty easy to get along at the end of day, but he still stressed out about it prior to you meeting them.

-Laios snores, so you have to turn him to his side in his sleep to make it stop. Only for it to continue a moments later. You get used to it, but others do wonder how you are sleeping with him, when even the monsters avoid his snoring. When you hear Laios counting, satyrs/fauns as opposed to sheep. It was cute and still is.

[motherzhiv]

These Scars (NSFW)

Fandom: BG3 Pairing: Ascended Astarion x named!Tav Tags: Established Relationship, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Astarion's Past Abuse, Astarion Needs a Hug, Bathtub Sex, Pampering, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Heterosexual Sex, Bedroom Sex, Astarion Is Loved, Top Astarion, Mild Gore (tagging gore even if it is only mentioned once) Dom Astarion Word count: 12.655 Part 1 of the ZhivStarion series. Summary: 6 Months after the defeat of the Netherbrain Astarion and Zhivraelle are living in the Crimson Palace. To the public they are the perfect image of sovereignty, vampiric nobility walking amongst rabble. Behind closed doors Zhivraelle is a touch starved mess and Astarion comes to realize that even godlike power will not heal the scars inflicted on his mind. So when Zhivraelle finds yet another servant completely shredded to bits and the Crimson Palace is shaking with the fury of Astarion's anguish she refuses to let him suffer any longer.

6 months after the defeat of the Netherbrain

Zhivraelle laid in her bed, legs up against the bedpost where her head should be and her torso and head where normal people placed their legs. Open scrolls and sigils were floating above her, baring all their knowledge to her but said knowledge was utterly useless for what she wanted to do. Trying to understand the arcane formula of the mirror that allowed her to see her own reflection was as frustrating as tearing someone’s hair out one by one. The results were not happening fast enough. Her crimson gaze wandered off, distracted by a random thought about tomorrow’s choice of vintage and for a moment the mirror and its secrets were forgotten. It was such a boring project in the end that losing interest was easy. It was night. A deep, dark, moonless night without as much as stars in the dark sky.

As if a cloak of shadow of silence had wrapped itself like a cloak around the castle high atop the Lower City the usual sounds of a bustling town such as Baldur’s Gate was not to be heard. Instead, Zhivraelle heard a melody. It had appeared out of nowhere and yet the previous silence felt like the castle had just been drawing breath. Her keen sense of hearing allowed her to perceive a music so…haunting and yet full of emotion, tender and yet intense. It sounded almost like a lament. It was a piano. Somewhat dusty maybe as if used for the first time in decades but still she could hear it loud and clear. The music was echoing off the walls now and every fibre of her mind was with Astarion again. If the castle was singing it meant he was the source.

The melody was ebbing and flowing. Her books and scrolls held none of her attention now because whatever they could tell her was insignificant to what the music made her feel. One piano note was chasing another, evolving copulating until they evolved into a crescendo of such big emotional turmoil that Zhivraelle felt it claw itself into her own heart. The pain was so profound, so raw and real that she rolled to the side and curled up, trying to give herself some form of comfort like she always did. When she thought she could not take it anymore and the boiling point was reached the music stopped. She felt herself exhale a breath she did not know she was holding, propped herself up on her palms to – the sudden bloodcurdling scream of a man tore through the silence. Zhivraelle bit her lower lip. The cry of prey. This was the third one in a month. Trembling she stood up and wrapped herself into a flowy black gown. This had to stop. The servants were only a means to an end, the consort of a Vampire Ascendant did not waste her thoughts on them when her priorities were elsewhere. She would not see him suffer anymore.

The corridor outside her royally decorated bedroom was illuminated by lanterns and she heard the hurried footsteps of servants trying to hide away. Her bare feet whispered over the luxurious carpets as she made her way to his wing of the Crimson Palace. Trembling handmaidens behind a massive pillar were holding freshly folded laundry.

“Madam, you mustn’t! The Master is angry. Marcus, he--,” they whispered, the crisp laundry throwing wrinkles. Zhivraelle was about to reprimand them for deciding what she could and couldn’t do but then she saw their terror. Bitten nails, tears, eyes so wide the whites were visible around their pupils.

“Go to your dorms. I will take care of this.” She sighed and with new resolve continued her path. A howl shook the walls. A scream of such terrible rage that anyone would have cursed her a fool of even considering stepping into the maw of the beast, but Zhivraelle would not be swayed. Her love for him was eternal. Complete. Devoted. On her way she passed the large room that housed the piano. The door was blown out of its hinges and in the doorway laid a corpse. Marcus, a servant boy. Barely off age. His throat was torn out, making it was obvious he had not been killed out of hunger.

Two double doors of heavy dark mahogany were now stopping her. Masterfully engraved with the new crest of Ancúnin they were that one barrier no servant, no visitor would dare to even touch. Zhivraelle pushed them open and was hit with a sight that almost made her lose all her composure. The carefully crafted mask she had put on for the servants was cracking but not because of fear but because of sadness and grief. Royal interior was reduced to splinters, claw marks littered the walls, heavy curtains hung off the large windows in tatters.

In the midst he stood. Strands of silver hair he liked to comb back were hanging into his face. His richly decorated clothing was misaligned. Eyes of burning scarlet were wide and would curse any who gazed into them to a fate of eternal damnation. His knuckles would no doubt be bruised were he not an Ascendant. And then there were those teeth. Astarion’s upper lip was curled back in a snarl, revealing two rows of teeth. Blood covered his lips and chin. Zhivraelle could smell the boy on him. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t have to. Her scent would have been carried to him as soon she had stepped into the room.

“Astarion.” she said softly. Tenderly. “Enough.” She was not reprimanding him. Her words were not meant to control. They never were – at least not for him. The Lord spun around, his body tense like a bowstring. Since his ascension he had masterfully crafted a mask of complete control, but she has always been able to see through it. Gaze behind the exterior and see the pain he was still feeling. The very reason why she always put aside her own need. Her own desires meant nothing to her in these moments because her eternal devotion to him was so profound, so true, so real that she would gladly do so. During lonely nights they came in form of tears because she, too, was not infallible but come morning she was by his side once more as if nothing was amiss.

“I can still hear Cazador.” His voice was hoarse, thick with unshed tears. “Taunting me. Mocking me. Enslaving me. I destroyed him. And yet… and yet…” Zhivraelle closed the door behind her. This was a private moment she would never allow anyone else to witness. The distance between them was soon not existent and her small hand found his cheek. He stilled and blinked; those eyes of red hellfire framed by smeared kohl were staring at her. Zhivraelle remained quiet and let her eyes do the talking. They were so full of grief, full of sadness and sorrow and such pure devotion and something that dwarfed the emotion of love.

Astarion was undone. He pulled her body against his, soft pliant curves against his hard lines and crumbled. His shoulders shook and for the very first time in two centuries he wept. Two centuries worth of abuse, horrors and unimaginable terrors that he had never been able to grief. Zhivraelle remained quiet, the knot in her own throat forming but she pressed her lips together to stop herself from crying. Her fingers combed through the silver gossamer that was his hair, massaged the back of his neck and simply held him in her arms. She would not ask what triggered this. Even before tonight she had never asked, never pushed because she wanted to keep the boundaries he so desperately needed. Boundaries he had never been allowed to have or dream of. Pale manicured fingers caressed his cheek, plush lips whispered away the tears that fell unbidden down his alabaster cheeks stained in red and her tongue tenderly kissed away the blood. Everything else was meaningless, insignificant.

How much time had passed into nothingness Zhivraelle did not know. Eventually his cries had ebbed away, and his marble body had ceased its shaking. His arms a steel, grounding vine around her remained in place but she could already feel him slip away. Astarion cleared his throat. “Now that the dramatics are over, darling, we--,”

She cut him off. “Enough.” Her eyes found his again, peeling away the fresh layer of supposed confidence he was about to apply. He shuddered and the physical strain on him to let go of the performance was visible. She had always been the only one able to so effortlessly whisp away the veil that it infuriated him. Even back then, years ago in that rose garden – the first night he loved her. But love was for children, they both knew that. The bond they shared was so much more than simple love.

Zhivraelle took him by the hand and led him past the ruined furniture. Every step of hers steeped the floor with magic that immediately began recrafting and undoing the leftovers of his mad rage. “Come.” She was leading and Astarion let her. A pale thumb brushed over the back of his hand as they walked. A constant reminder that she was there and would always be there. No matter what nightmare was clawing at his mind.

They reached his bathing chamber. It was made of beige and dark red marble, gold threads woven into every plate. The bathtub was let into the floor and the faucets were made of solid gold. Plush satin pillows were scattered over the floor and shelves above shelves housed a myriad of flasks and bottles. Soaps and oils of every conceivable scent were piled into a basin next to the tub. Large windows of stained glass flanked the room from the left, depicting his ascension. It was a bathroom fit for a king. Astarion rarely used it. Zhivraelle felt him tense up. “Darling--,” But she silenced that too with a soft squeeze of his hand.

With a look out of her loving eyes she disarmed him. “Please trust me.” With words spoken by her goddess-like lips she shattered him. How many times had he asked her to trust him? When he had taken her innocence, all consequences be damned to the hells? When he revealed his nature to her? When she followed him on the path to Cazador’s destruction and his ascension? Astarion exhaled through his nose. Zhivraelle smiled and let go of his hand – for split second his hand jerked forward to hold hers again, but he restrained himself. Her bare feet tapped silently on the marble floor as she busied herself, preparing the tub with warm water, soaps and lit candles.

Astarion stood like a statue and stared, following her movements. The trained reaction of a predator, natural to him. With her back turned to him Astarion watched as her black flowing dress first fell from her shoulders, then her back, her hourglass waist, the ample flare of her hips, the pillowy mounds of her ass and then eventually pooled around her dainty feet. It would have destroyed a lesser man. This was what she wanted, no? To make him so powerless against her charms he had no choice?

“My consort, if you want to seduce me you have to merely ask, and your Lord will provide.” The words were practiced. Studied. Soon she’d be sauntering over with a sway to her naturally tantalizing hips…

Zhivraelle did no such thing. “Don’t be ridiculous. I merely wish to wash you. You built up quite the sweat during your rampage, there is blood in your hair and wood dust clings to you like flies to carrion.”

Astarion’s thoughts came to a screeching halt, and he let out a very uncharacteristic “You… what?”

She turned to him and gave him a full view of her ample cushiony breasts and tucked hairless sex. “You heard me. What scent do you prefer?” The reply was accompanied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

Astarion was so flabbergasted it was hard to keep control of his face. She wanted to wash him? “Preposterous, I would not let my consort do such basic tasks, darling. Is pampering your desire? I can ask for a servant, I am sure they are done cleaning up the meat and bones of poor Marcus.”

Zhivraelle ignored him again. “What scent?” His nostrils flared. Was she deliberately ignoring him? Infuriating woman but be that as it may, slowly but surely, she worked herself through the cracks left by his outburst. “Patchouli. And jasmine.” Zhivraelle reached for the two flasks but before she poured the scented essences inside, she rose an eyebrow. “Because these are the scents I wear or because you like them?”

“Because they smell like the first night you were mine.” Gods above, her smile. The water vapours were soon heady with the scent of grave flower and night blooming jasmine, creating an atmosphere of calm and relaxation.

Once again tonight she closed the distance between them and put her hands flat on his chest. Eyes of purple ruby searched for eyes of burning blood. Her small hands reached for the buttons of his embroidered jacket, and he tensed up again, trying to find in her eyes anything that would make this familiar. Lust or desire perhaps. An expectation? Astarion was not blind. The walls of the castle had whispered of her loneliness. He knew how she stayed away at night, lonely in the bed that was too vast for her alone. And it always brought him to ruin knowing that this was something he could just not provide without… memories. Whenever he made up his mind, willing to finally go to her and make her writhe in pleasure, his muscles tensed and jerking in action – his mind froze. It remembered the chains of his enslavement. The greedy hands.

But there was nothing in her eyes except for unwavering devotion. And so, he let her undress him, unravel him piece by piece. First his gloves, then his jacket. His shirt. His torso bared, her hands went down to undo his belt. Astarion’s mind screamed and roared at him to seize control of the situation, to stop being a weak pathetic boy but gods he was so tired. She must have noticed his internal struggles because Zhivraelle placed the tenderest of kisses on his abdomen — his breath hitched. It did not feel like a kiss of desire. Of lust. It felt like a kiss of devotion. Of worship. Of reverence. He stilled his breathing then and allowed her to continue.

Once there were no barriers between them anymore Astarion was about to bolt. He did not know how to behave. How to perform. Desperate to find some manner of protection against her devotion that was so utterly selfless. He was fine with ruling over subjects with fear. And adoration born from fear. But her reverent devotion — it was almost too much for his tortured mind. He could feel the man he should be claw at the bars Cazador had caged him in. Each tender caress of her fingers on strong athletic thighs as she removed his leather pants caused the man in the cage to ram his fist against the bars. Each time the silk of her flesh rubbed against his flawless alabaster skin that had been battered and bruised by so much tragedy caused him to choke on his sighs. Astarion wouldn’t dare enjoy this. Always a transaction, never more, never anything else …

Zhivraelle‘s palms cradling his face woke him from his tunnel vision. His eyes refocused. The man in the cage threw himself against the bars. No words fell between them and the only sound that rippled through the room was water sloshing when they disappeared beneath it. Zhivraelle let him adjust to the heat and the vapours, ruby eyes swirling with the intensity of her devotion to him. Her worship, her reverence. His body was tense as a bowstring, but she could see that he was forcing himself to remain such. Every fibre of his being wanted to relax but the raw pain in his eyes forbade him. He looked away from her, almost in shame.

„Don’t hide from me.“ her words were soft, tender as the scented vapours that rose in the air, supple as were her curves — at least whatever was visible of them now. “I don’t know how.“ His voice was barely a whisper. His usually so strong melodic voice that commanded hearts. She took his confession and cradled it to her loving heart. „Let me show you.“

Astarion‘s head snapped up and he stared at her, looking, searching for how she could use this to her advantage, how this would give her power over him… only to crumble under the weight of her affection. He didn’t know how to be naked for the sake of being naked with someone else. Nudity was always a transaction. Always a weapon, always for performance … suddenly there were hands in his hair and the scent of rich sandalwood in his nose.

Astarion blinked and looked at her face. Some of her raven hair had escaped the messy bun she oh so loved to wear and her eyes the colour of purplish red rubies were warm like blood seeping reform the vein. Her lips wore a smile. Not a smirk. Not a grin. A genuine smile. Like a lesser vampire burning in the sun, his traumatized battered and beaten self was burning under her eyes and touch. The man in the cage tore as his chains. He couldn’t allow this, had to hide —

Astarion’s thoughts came to a screeching halt when he felt those nails in his scalp. Scratching like they would a cat. The most pleasurable shiver formed at the base of his spine and crawled up, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge. A sigh he could not catch like a moth between his palms fell from his lips. Zhivraelle’s nails moved with deliberation, drawing patterns and circles on his scalp, his hair like liquid silver dripping from her digits. She even scratched and washed behind his pointed ears, massaging the delicate skin there. Too weak to stop himself Astarion’s eyes rolled back, and his eyelids fluttered shut, a guttural moan vibrating through his chest. If it affected Zhivraelle she did not show it …

…but that was only because she had to take all her willpower in her fist and hold tightly. She could not risk reacting in any way that would chase him further into the spiral of self-loathing. Not when he had just made the tiniest, smallest step forward. Taking a cup, she filled it with water and bent forward to place the softest of kisses on his eyelids. When his sole reaction was to stare, she showed him the basin of water. “Close your eyes or it will sting. I need to rinse.”

The small flicker of distrust in his eyes flared up like a candle flame, quick, sharp and extinguished just as quickly. Astarion exhaled through his nose but did as she asked. Warm flowed through his hair, over his face, his neck, his shoulders. Rinsing, washing away, erasing just like her affection for him scrubbed away at terrors and pain.

Zhivraelle combed his wet hair back and tenderly told him to open his eyes. When he did and those thick black lashes framed red rubies forged in the hells, she met his gaze with hers. There was none of their usual sharpness in them. “What are you doing?” Astarion’s voice was a raw whisper as if someone had stuffed his throat with cotton. At least that’s how he felt right now.

“Taking care of you.” Zhivraelle’s answer sounded like she was speaking of something so self-explanatory like the sun rising in the morning.

“Why?” Pale fingers spread soapy suds over his shoulders, kneading the tensed-up muscles under alabaster skin.

„Because no one ever did.“ Astarion choked on his breath and was unmade. Her hands slowly but surely took him apart piece as she washed and scrubbed away the last vestiges of his mental tremors. There was no desire in the way her palms and fingers slid over his wet flesh, no lust. It almost felt like she was exploring.

Hard lean muscles went pliant under her ministrations. Zhivraelle mapped his broad chest, slid her fingertips over the hardness of his six pack and massaged his muscular flank. Her eyes flicked up at him and her smile reassured him while she washed his hairless groin without any sign of the fire that was twisting and turning in her lower abdomen. As quickly as her hands arrived there they left just as quickly to wash and knead his strong thighs and along the considerable length of his legs. With her knuckles she massaged his feet, stretched each of his toes until he willingly held out his other foot. Astarion was working splendidly with her and that brought her such joy that she began humming.

„Done. You’re all clean. How do you feel?“ she asked, undoing her own hair to wash it. Like wet silk her strands swam on the water surface, moving in ethereal waves each time she adjusted her position. Astarion watched her like a hawk as if his sole desire was to burn this very memory into the surface of his brain. The tension had evaporated from his form like the scented vapor raising from the bathtub.

„Like could make the entire world kneel with nothing but a single look.“ The bars on the cage began to bend.

Zhivraelle was glowing, pleased with herself. „As it justly deserves, no?” He leaned against the wall of the tub and spread his arms, utterly content as if the answer she gave was the only correct one. His muscles moved smoothly under his alabaster skin. The clicking of glass vials interrupted their silence and Astarion opened one eye to survey the situation. He saw Zhivraelle pour something scented into her palm before she moved closer to him, her natural scent of jasmine hitting him with full force.

His fingers twitched. He just had to reach out, blast it all. It would be so easy to just wrap his arm around her and bury his face in her hair, her neck, her everything. But when Astarion’s muscles coiled, ready to move the mental vise clamped shut and immobilized him. A soft barely audible snarl moved the air in the room and Zhivraelle reacted immediately.

“Shhh…” she whispered, moving behind him. The expanse of his back opened to her gaze, pulled her in like a month to a burning lantern. The jagged lines of his ritual scars stood out against his otherwise smooth skin, telling a story of tragedy, cruelty and eventual rebirth. “An eyesore, I know.” He said, voice low. Zhivraelle shook her head. “Nonsense.”

What happened next was enough to shatter the last vestiges of Astarion’s grasp on who she was, who he was, who they were. Fate had brought them together, that he knew. He also knew she was his. But the true depths of it came to him in a wave of horrifying realization when he felt her lips tracing his scars. The scars he loved and hated in equal parts. Loved because they gave him unimaginable power and hated because they had been a source of unimaginable cruelty. And yet she kissed them. Worshipped them.

Astarion shuddered but his hands remained unclenched. Zhivraelle moved to hold him from behind then, her chin resting on his shoulder as they gazed out of the window built into the bath chamber. Silence fell and was only interrupted by the soft sound of water when his hand moved to rest on her knee. A fully innocent gesture that held no other intent than to just be close to her. Soft cautious steps…

“Astarion?” she asked softly. “Yes, my treasure?” The burning coals of his eyes slid to the side to look at her. Zhivraelle’s hair was still damp and in this lighting her eyes had the colour of purple and ruby; eyes he had never seen before on a vampire. His fingers longed to touch her tender cheeks, her lips looked perfect to be kissed and bitten. Astarion could almost see a scarlet drop bead on them, the rest coating his fang, he only had to reach out… “I want to give you something.”

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “If it’s going to be more advice on self-care I’m afraid I will have to decline.” Zhivraelle exhaled through her nose and shook her head. “No, not that.” Vampires, as natural stalkers, could be patient. Astarion, at this moment, was not. Zhivraelle didn’t elaborate further, kept the information close to her chest like a precious gemstone cradled in silken pillows. Then she offered the treasure to him. Tender, loving kisses lined the side of his neck. A silent question that Astarion answered with a sigh. This didn’t feel like greed. It did not feel like someone fetishizing his skin, taking pleasure by raking their disgusting mouths over his pale flesh. This felt … good.

Zhivraelle’s heart sang when she felt his fingers on the back of her head. A cautious gesture that became bolder when his fingers began massaging her scalp as her lips delved deeper to his shoulder, teeth nibbling on the meat of his hard muscle. She felt him shudder and sigh. “Why?” The question almost made her choke on a sob. “Because I want to worship you as you deserve to be worshipped. Without anything in return. This is just for you alone, my lord.”

Zhivraelle’s whispered devotion elicited the softest moans from his lips. She smiled and went back up, the flat of her tongue caressing the edge of his pointed ear. Astarion let out an uncharacteristic gasp, his mind fighting a war with his body. A fight he was rapidly losing as flesh began to pull his mind over to its side. He responded to her so naturally that it almost felt as if she had been born for this very moment. To caress and worship him, love him with such devotion that it burned.

“Sit up on the edge for me?” Her breath was soft like silk against his ear and her fingers danced over the scars on his back, taking the pain and purifying it with devotion. Astarion felt something in him crack like an eggshell. The chained man stared at the empty shackle that used to be around his ankle. With fevered desperation he began undoing it on his other foot.

In one fluid motion he pushed himself out of the water, his large form breaking through the surface with a large ripple. Zhivraelle never let go of him, her hand supportive and guiding on his hips. Sat on the edge of the tub that was carved into the marble floor, Astarion was illuminated by the kaleidoscope of colors erupting from the stained-glass windows and Zhivraelle gazed at him with warmth and awe. “The gods should be ashamed to stand in the presence of such a beauty like yours. Such might. Such power. Such focus and ferocity when you have set your eyes on a goal.”

Every word she said was like she was wielding a leather whip, striking at Cazador’s ghost with wild abandon, like a demoness protecting the one she loved most. Astarion almost fell back into a practiced pose, trying to look as tempting to his partner as possible but Zhivraelle disarmed that as well. Standing between his legs in the tub, her mouth was leaning a wet trail on his neck, palms pushing against the vast sinewy muscled expanse of his chest.

“Relax … sit comfortably.” She coaxed him, smiling when he leaned down some, pressing his palms on the smooth marble behind him. He even spread his thighs a touch more. Her wandering hands traveled down his chest, massaging the muscles of his abdomens explored lower and lower until they reached the already hardening base of his cock. Her violet eyes flew up to meet his and the intensity she found there, burning blood rubies looking at her as if she was the single most desirable thing in the world for him.

It almost took her breath away but she controlled herself, hiding her own needs in a box with a large iron lock. Tonight was for him and for him only. He needed this. They needed this. Before she could do anything more she felt him roll his hips into her hand. Cautiously at first as if he was dipping his toes into the territory but soon his hips rolled in earnest, her fingers that she did not move were sliding over the now rock-hard length of his manhood. The skin was like the most luxurious silk and the shape and size of him made her mouth water.

Zhivraelle’s eyes never left him. “Take your pleasure, my lord.” she murmured, her voice like velvet. All this time her hand did not move at all — she needed him to ease into it.

His shapely lips parted ever so slightly and a groan, half stifled half swallowed fell between them. “More.”

Cazador was screaming under the lashes of the whip as flesh was being torn from bone. Zhivraelle smiled, satisfied. Her free hand stroked over the inside of his thigh, closer and closer to his groin where her other hand had begun to pump him slow and intense. She massaged and stroked his heavy balls to which he responded with a deep moan that reverberated through the room.

Her teeth nipped at his jaw. The pillowy mounds of her breasts pressed against his broad chest as Zhivraelle stood there in the tub, pumping him and massaging his balls while Astarion was beginning to be more and more vocal. One moan after the other chased their way from his lips, some more high pitched, some more deep and guttural.

“If I had to choose to listen to one thing for the rest of my immortal life it would be this.” She whispered into his ear, kissing the lobe. The memory of Cazador telling Astarion that his voice sounded sweetest when he screamed dared to intrude into this intimate moment between lovers but the man in the cage, now free of both door shackles, stood and grabbed the memory by the throat, slamming it against the bars of the cage. Cazador’s skull split.

Astarion has never felt such pleasure. 200 years of prostituting himself, serving others in their base desires, learning the pleasures of the flesh in all its details… and nothing had ever felt like this. No, that was not true. The three times Zhivraelle had been in his arms he had felt something.

Her teeth nipped at his bejewelled ear and like an enchantress from some fairytale she moved down, the curves and dips of her body a marvel Astarion never got tired of looking at. Her velvet breath ghosted over his throbbing cock, a drop of precum glistening at its tip and Astarion could nothing but stare down at her. Any more and he’d dig his fingers into the marble.

Her lips, glistening from the condensed water vapor, parted and oh, she took him into the velvety sheath of her mouth.

„Gods—, “ Astarion abandoned all restraint. The cage was blown wide open. Her silken tongue lavished and lapped at the head of his cock, tasting him in the most intimate way and her soft moan, her eyes closed in rapture as she wrapped her lips around him was a work of art itself. Astarion’s fingers wound themselves into the richness of her hair and as soon as she began to move her head he guided her motions, his hips rolling in the same rhythm.

„Your mouth shall be my cradle.“ he groaned, hips moving in slow languid motions. Deeper and deeper she took him until he felt the barrier of her throat. It constricted as she choked and there were tears forming at the corners of her lips, shimmering like the most exquisite diamonds. Astarion held her head there, his voice a darkened rasp as he spoke. „And here I thought you could not look more beautiful but here we are, my consort.“ Elegant alabaster fingers caressed the supple line of her cheek, thumb brushing over her lips that were stretched around his girth as she took him in time and time again with fervour. Was there a thing more bewitching than a devoted woman?

Heavy, thick and hard on her tongue he filled her so completely, so perfectly as if her mouth had been made to suck his cock. Each time she moved she felt every line, every vein, every ridge of him pass her lips and it drove Zhivraelle to such a meditative state that she closed her eyes and focused on nothing else than keeping a rhythm. She used her tongue to tell their story, worshipping every inch of his cock with licks, kisses and lavish attention until the clear precum was leaking with her saliva, dripping down her chin in a lewd display.

Through it all Astarion rolled his hips, the movements calling for her hands like the most exquisite drug would call to an addict. This time she could not help herself and moaned, palms and fingers gripping his hips to feel him move. Gods above, he had such physical discipline that even something as thrusting hips into her mouth was completely fluent. Muscles were moving, constricting and relaxing with perfect precision under that alabaster skin, wrapped around structured hip bones. Narrow, strong, masculine.

Zhivraelle moaned again, adjusted herself and took him deeper, further into her throat until he was buried to the very hilt. She heard Astarion shudder, his previously oh so perfect movements now stuttering, the fingers in her hair tightening their grip to the point of almost pain but oh she did not mind that at all. If anything, it encouraged her.

To work through her gag reflex Zhivraelle focused on breathing through her nose. Eventually he resumed guiding her head and she let him. Soft steps, small steps… but those steps were becoming steadier with each moment passing. Cazador was a quivering pile of flesh on the floor of the cage, brain matter splattered everywhere, ribs and bones jutting out from between torn flesh. The man inside the bars was looking at the opened cage, inspecting the doorframe cautiously. He was still hesitant to step out fully.

Astarion felt pleasure building, higher and higher he went, riding the wave and urged on by the winds she was putting into his sails. His lips were parted ever so slightly and when he knew his climax was not far away his head fell back, an almost wanton moan vibrating through him. Eyes half lidded and burning like subdued embers Astarion could focus on solely one thing – chasing his orgasm that was teasing him, coaxing him, mocking him. Again and again he thrust into her mouth, his cock throbbing and angry for release while the silk of Zhivraelle’s mouth and tight throat vibrated around him each time she let out one of those delicious little moans she had been trying to hide from him so desperately. Wet slurping sounds echoed off the walls, a melody of lewd worship Astarion was getting entirely lost in.

She felt so wet, so tight, so perfect – there it was, there, almost, one thrust, two, three; his orgasm made him see stars. It started the tip of his cock still buried in her throat and then spread into every corner of his body, igniting every nerve. The sound that tore through Astarion was something between a moan and a snarl followed by a gasp. His body was shaking, quaking with the intensity of pleasure that was washing over him again and again in the same rhythm as Zhivraelle swallowed the ultimate essence of his arousal. Eventually she released him in one sensual motion of her lips and placed a kiss on the area between his navel and his groin. Her eyes, the colour of that unusual purplish red, looked up at him with such affection, such devotion that the man in the cage, finally, put one foot forward. Then the next. Then another and eventually he left the cage that had held him for centuries. The cage crumbled, metal bending with a screech, falling apart. Astarion did not look back.

Zhivraelle pulled away from him then. There was no need for gratitude, she would never expect him to mention it. She could see enough in that smouldering gaze of his. “Your bedroom should be fixed.” She murmured, committing his taste to memory. “I’m going to leave you to your pondering and--,” What happened next, she did not expect. Hoped for maybe in the darkest, most secluded selfish corner of her heart. But expect? Oh no.

A strong hand with those long fingers cupped her jaw, Astarion’s touch tender and yet hard as steel. “My foolish, naïve little love.” he whispered, his voice laced with such desire it took her breath away. Her eyes widened, perfectly curved lips parted, and she knelt in the water in front of him, between his legs. It was almost like her body responded by itself, as if some base, natural part of hers had been made for this. “You seem to be under the presumption that you can walk yourself out of here just like that.”

For a split second she did not know how to react, did not know what to say. What could she even say? Astarion took that choice from her. He crashed back into the water, wrapped his arms around her and flipped them around, positioning her in front of him like a doll. His hands moved slowly, fingers ghosting over her neck, the pads of his middle finger pressed onto her pulse point.

Like a fish she gaped at him. “Astarion, what--,” He silenced her with a finger to her soft lower lip and she shut up. Astarion’s eyes twitched as if he was listening to something and he tilted his head to catch an invisible frequence. “Your blood sings, my treasure. I can hear it. It sings of…desire. Devotion.” His eyes held so much intensity, so much burning hunger that she was about to be incinerated by it then and there. At least Zhivraelle felt like that and would not be surprised if she ended up a small smoking pile of ash then and there. Still unable to form words she allowed him to pull her closer and spread her legs in her seating position to accommodate him.

With his fingers now under her chin he forced her to look at him, meet his fiery gaze and endure: Gods, she was ready to burn. For the first time since the night he ascended, the last time they had been together, there was desire in his eyes. Desire, and for the first time combined with something else. Triumph. A dark sense of satisfaction.

“Astarion, you don’t have to--,” she started breathlessly, ignoring the empty void between her legs that cried out or sustenance. Again, he silenced her, this time with a squeezing hand on her throat. Zhivraelle’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation his dominance provoked in her; a warm feeling that ran down her spine like syrup and coiled in her abdomen.

“I don’t have to do anything.” He whispered, so close to her lips that his breath ghosted over them. “I want to.” Astarion refused to be afraid. He refused to sit back and not act. Refused to let this moment float by him like carrion in a river. Without him realizing it, Zhivraelle had been filing at the bars of his mental cage ever since they loved each other the first time, years ago. Now… now the cage was broken at his feet. Gone. Never to shackle him again.

Astarion’s kiss felt searing, despite his cool vampiric body temperature. Domineering as if he tried to coax her submission with a kiss alone. His lips were soft and he knew exactly how to move them to make her moan. From a simple kiss… Moonmaiden, Zhivraelle could only shiver in anticipation. They had kissed countless times. Especially after kissing had become their only language as a couple after Astarion had confessed his feelings and opened up about his…past.

That was before Cazador’s death. Before Ascension. Before tonight. This was nothing like previous times. Astarion suckled on the cupid’s bow of her upper lip, causing soft pleasure to throb between her legs.

“Touch me.” he whispered sinfully into the kiss, fangs tugging on her lower lip until she felt her flesh pierced. The beading drop of scarlet was lapped up by the flat of his tongue and mixed with their saliva. “Touch me like only you do.” His tongue, dexterous and strong pressed past her lips without resistance and greedily explored the honeyed cavern of her mouth, circling around her tongue and worshipping her in her submission. Encouraged by his earlier words Zhivraelle dug her fingers into his hips again, her legs following and wrapping themselves around him like pincers. Devoted touches mapped the hard muscular planes of his athletic torso, massaged his pectorals and made their way to his neck – beneath her touch she could feel it. His blood. His essence hiding under alabaster skin. How it surged, how it stormed, how it burned.

“More.” he rumbled into their messy hungry kiss but if she listened in, really listened in she heard the faintest high pitch in his tone. Zhivraelle would be a dirty liar if she denied that hearing that didn’t touch some part of her. She did not get to do what she wanted next because her touch starved body betrayed her. Astarion’s hand had palmed her right breast, kneading her pliant flesh and she felt herself tumble over the edge … one more step, one more – he rolled her perfect little rosebud nipple between thumb and forefinger. That was it. One little touch on her starved body was enough to push her over into the abyss. Zhivraelle felt the climax form and shuddered, tearing herself away from his scorching kiss, tried to push his unyielding body away from hers. Her lips were parted in a breathless moan, her cunt clenching and unclenching around emptiness as her orgasm washed over her and ebbed. Her chest heaved, soft pillowy mounds pressed against his chest, felt the size and girth of his length press against her abdomen--

--and suddenly she stilled. Terrified. She had failed. Tonight was supposed to be only about him and his pleasure. And yet, she had allowed herself to get lost in the throes of passion, her own desires. Zhivraelle shivered, suddenly cold, and pressed her forehead into his chest. She wouldn’t even dare to look at him, afraid of what she might see. Had he slipped back into the recesses of his mind? Had he become a living breathing statue once more? Hot tears stung in her eyes, salty tears of shame. Surely, he was disappointed. Surely, he must feel the same as with all the others who had taken from him. Her mind went into overdrive, small fists clenching against his chest.

“Look at me.” His voice cut through the silence like a dagger through entrails. It had the same edge to it but there was a warmth, an anchoring melody to ground her. Zhivraelle’s lower lip quivered and slowly she gazed up at him. Her red-purplish eyes glittered with tears, shining with deep, bottomless affection for him. The knot in her throat made it impossible to breathe, impossible to speak and her mess of emotions got even more chaotic when she felt those burning eyes.

Astarion’s gaze was intense, deep and soul branding. Open. He was as beautiful as ever, the laugh lines around his nose somehow making him look even more refined. But it was not one of his usual masks, that much she could tell. Dread clutched her heart, digging its claws into her pliant little soul. “Why do you cry, my foolish woman?”

Zhivraelle felt so incredibly pathetic. Any attempts of getting away from him were futile because his arm, wrapped around her waist like a steel vice pressed them together. “I failed you.” she swallowed thickly, barely holding it together. “Tonight was for you alone. But then my body betrayed me.” The last time in her life she had felt such shame was when the nuns of the Selûnite cloister slammed the door in her face. Called her impure for spreading her legs for a man out of wedlock. She could not bear the brand of his look anymore and curled in on herself but he Astarion did not allow her to retreat from this.

His fingers, alabaster marble, gripped her chin hard and forced her to look at him. “I have neglected you, haven’t I.”

Astarion never admitted his faults. Zhivraelle stared at him, eyes wide. Terror had mixed into their usual blend of loyalty and devotion. “No, no, you didn’t! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I will do better, I--,” she was rambling and her thoughts completely spiralled out of control like a runaway carriage.

He silenced her with that expert grip on her throat, applying just enough pressure. “Be quiet.” Zhivraelle’s bitten lips clamped shut and she spoke with her eyes alone. I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry please do not cast me away I will do better I promise I – “You will cease this foolishness at once.” Astarion’s grip on her throat hardened, cutting off the flow of air. “When I let go and tell you to breathe you will breathe. Slowly. Am I understood?”

She shuddered and nodded, feeling the never ceasing storm of thoughts in her head quieten down. Astarion regarded her with another look that was strictness wrapped in velvet. Then he let go, his hand sliding down her wet skin and resting just beneath her collarbone, his fingers flared like a giant spider. “Breathe.” Zhivraelle took a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. But at least her head was clear. “Are you afraid of me, pet?”

She inhaled once more and exhaled through her nose, her small had covering his. “Never. But I am afraid of hurting you.”

The look in his eye was a wordless command for her to continue. “I’m afraid I did something to make you think of… them… him when I touched you.” His burning ruby gaze widened in surprise but for naught more than a moment. Then he chuckled, a sound that vibrated through his chest. She felt his breath ghost over her face and almost closed her eyes in reverence.

“My foolish, loyal, utterly devoted consort.” Astarion’s forehead fell on hers then and he pulled them impossibly closer. Zhivraelle clung to him like a lifeline, shivering with the intensity of her emotions for him. “Do you really think I could ever think that? That I could ever see you reaching completion by my touch alone and see it as anything else as the most addicting image in the world?” Dextrous fingers rubbed the line of her spine, resting on the inviting dip of the small of her back. “Cazador is dead. His soul torn apart by Mephistopheles. The echoes of a memory that clung to my mind – gone. The shackles—torn apart.”

Zhivraelle blinked and pulled away, her eyes wide as she looked at him. Really looked. The shadow that had always been present behind those scorching gaze of his was, dare she think it, gone. “Your devotion was his undoing, my darling little love. The stake that pierced his rotting heart. And the rest, all of his little friends, will follow.” His hand danced over her thigh and wrapped itself around her wrist that he pulled to his lips. “I will hunt them all down.” His tongue, strong and long, lavished the pallid flesh on the back of her wrist. Zhivraelle bit her tongue to suppress a moan that threatened to tumble from her lips. “All of his dirty little sycophants that he gave me to for… entertainment.” His teeth, the teeth she loved and adored so much, those terrifying two rows of fangs grazed over the exact points where her veins were pumping blood through her flesh. “I will tear out every single throat, savour each scream… and feed you their hearts.”

Zhivraelle’s thighs quivered, and her plush lips parted ever so slightly, arousal pulling in her lower abdomen before she could even process. Astarion’s fangs pierced her wrist and scarlet bubbled froth. It stained his lips, ran down his chin, his neck and she watched his throat move as he drank from her. “Ah…Astarion…” His smouldering gaze, heavy under smeared kohl, never left her. He bit deeper and she gasped, the sensation a delicious addicting mixture of pleasure and pain. A low, slow growl vibrated through his chest, possessive in its nature. He was staking his claim and by the gods, Zhivraelle was so aroused it hurt. Desperate for friction, desperate to feel him on every inch of her skin, she rolled her hips forward. She could feel his cock in the snug embrace between their bodies throb and its size and girth made her own core clench around nothing, hungry to be filled. Astarion released her wrist and licked away the blood, the wound closing fast, his eyes not once leaving hers.

“Are you aroused, pet?” he smirked, leaning in to suckle on her earlobe. Zhivraelle’s breath hitched, her need for him growing and growing. “Does my power over others excite you?” What kind of question was that? A merciless one. The apex predator that he was Astarion knew his prey’s weak spot and struck with the precision of a well-aimed stab straight between the ribs to reach her heart. “Or is it the blood, my sweet?” His voice fell to a lower octave, teeth tugging on her earlobe.

Zhivraelle was so shamelessly turned on that she wanted to sob. She wanted him, she wanted him with everything that she was, wanted to drown in him and have him drown in her but it was so evident Astarion was talking his sweet time. Despite his manhood throbbing and aching, squeezed between their bodies he somehow managed to maintain composure. His hands, those perfect, sculpted hands stroked her thighs that were wrapped around his narrow waist, coming closer and closer to the apex, delved into her soft pliant flesh but never too close, never truly giving Zhivraelle what she craved.

“Does your bloodthirst sing when you think of my fangs effortlessly tearing through flesh, fountains of sanguine sin gushing out?” Astarion did not wait for her answer because he already knew. Of course, the possibility of him grinding bones to dust with his mere hands only to touch her with the very same hands, caressing every dip and curve of her body excited her. The idea of his mouth, that perfect lethal mouth crushing a spine and then kissing her like he had just done excited her because with him she felt… safe. He was so utterly, devastatingly, terrifyingly magnificent that Zhivraelle began to realize deep in her very soul that the Moonmaiden had put her on his path to worship everything that he was.

“Astarion, please, I can’t …I-,” she pleased, her body shivering, mouth dry. “Hm?” Oh his tone was playful. But it was the kind of playfulness a cat displayed when it played with its food. He pulled away slightly to look at her, knuckles stroking her cheek. His touch was liquid fire and she would drink every last drop even if it meant to burn her insides.

“I can’t seem to have given you permission to use my name.” Again that strictness, that dominating tone wrapped in silk. His hands dug into the pillowy flesh of her ass, harsh enough to bruise and yanked her even closer even if that should no longer be possible. The hardness of his length pressed into her stomach almost painfully. Zhivralle stared at him but then her eyes glazed over with devotion and unabashed desire. “No, my Lord.” she whispered. He smirked, showing her a glint of fang. Using her ass as a handle Astarion grinded them together, his head tilted as if he was curious about what she would say next. “Good girl. Now…what is it that you can’t?”

Astarion had never felt so alive. At first he thought it was just the high, the exhilarating feeling of finally having broken through the last blockade on his way towards the very top, to finally, truly ascend to his throne of blood and gold. But then when he looked into her eyes, gemstones of red and purple glazed with desire and such pure devotion Astarion had to come to a realization no matter how much it terrified him. She was his, that need not to be said again. But in that very moment, that one fateful moment, he knew he’d incinerate the world for her. His cruel, beautiful hands, stained with the blood of countless people, held her entire happiness in them and despite his skin burning and bubbling under the heat of its weight he wanted to break open his chest, rib by rib and hide her happiness next to his unbeating heart where it would always be safe.

“It’s too much.” she whispered, her chest heaving against his. “Too much, my Lord, I can’t…” Gods, her voice, that soft pleading voice – his blood burned with such desire, its heights new to him. Last time during their rut he must have had cotton stuffed in his ears and it was as if only now he could truly hear. See her. Feel her. Taste her.

“Can’t want, sweet girl? Use your words.” he purred, his thumb stroking over her plump lower lip. That soft, feather-light touch was enough to make her tremble with a barely contained shiver. So responsive.

“I need you to touch me, my Lord, please…” Those words wrecked him. Even when her voice was drenched in desire it was pure, spoken with such need.

„Where do you want me to touch you, sweet morsel?“ Gods, he wanted to map every inch of her with every sense he had. The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the utterly scandalous flare of her hips … but he had to be patient. Prolong their torture to reap the sweetest of rewards. So many ideas, so many images painted themselves in Astarion’s hungry mind, one more delicious and debauched than the other. But perhaps not tonight … no, tonight was for discovery. Reclaiming. Triumph. His thumb pressed past her lips and onto her velvet tongue that had lapped at his cock earlier. Immediately she closed her lips around the invading digit, suckling on it with a breathy moan.

“Such a good girl for me. Worshipping only me. Devoted to me alone.” Groaning softly, he watched her cheeks hollow ever so slightly as she took in his thumb. “What do you see in front of your mind’s pretty eye, I wonder?” Astarion hummed and leaned in until his lips touched hers. He tasted his own thumb mixed with her saliva and breath and by the gods, he wanted to stitch them both together with a bejewelled needle until threads of blood-stained silver pierced their flesh.

“Do you me on the throne with you kneeling between my legs, revering me with your clever little tongue?” Astarion knew he could not keep this up forever, eventually his own desire would become unbearable. That moment was approaching fast but he refused to give in yet. “Or perhaps would you rather I bend you over it and bury myself in that tight cunt of yours until you scream? Because, sweet one, now that I have ascended…” His free exploring hand squeezed itself between their bodies, palming those plump soft hairless folds. Zhivraelle moaned around his thumb, eyes rolling back. The scent of her blood had become so irresistible that Astarion could barely control the hunger that was no longer his tormentor. Only when he let. And right now, oh right now he wanted to be tormented by it. He rubbed along her womanhood, feeling his long fingers slide past velvet flesh that nearly spilled from between his grasp. She was so wet he was just gliding through.

„…now that I’ve left behind the lesser of my kind my… bond to you has become so much deeper.“ Astarion plunged his middle and forefinger into her tight cunt, swallowing Zhivraelle‘s cry with a hungry kiss. She tasted of femininity, of devotion, of loyalty, of her and Astarion felt himself fall further into his lust. His cock was hard, leaking, aching to feel what his fingers were currently plundering. She was like a silken vise, smooth, wet and gripping his fingers as if she’d never let him go. Astarion’s palm pressed against her clit, causing her to whimper into his mouth. With every thrust and curl of his fingers his palm moved against the sweet wet pearl and he devoured each of her delectable moans. His pace had started slow and deep but was quickly becoming fast, hard and almost punishing. Zhivraelle wasn’t even moaning anymore. Her parted lips were less than an inch away from his, he felt her breath on his very tongue as it came in barely audible gasps as her muscles tightened around his finger more and more until he heard those telltale squelching sounds.

“Come on, my treasure… let go for me.” Gods, to feel her come apart around his fingers, see how that body made of silken skin, valleys and curves arched against him tore apart the last vestiges of Astarion’s control. He did not wait for her to come from her high, did not give her a grace period for her mind to realize what was happening. Instead, with one powerful surge of his long legs he climbed out of the tub like a lurking displacer beast broke through the surface of a lake. Zhivraelle’s body, limp with post-orgasmic bliss, was scooped up into his arms and he strode out of the bathing chamber.

Zhivraelle did not even bother to ask where he was going or what he was doing – her sole instinct was to rest her face against the crook of his neck and inhale the scent of sandalwood soap and something that was so uniquely him. Her core was still throbbing faintly, her recent climax had been so deep, so profound that she was still somewhat out of it. Astarion’s private chambers, royally decorated and with a four-poster bed as its crown piece had been restored to pristine condition by Zhivraelle’s magic. Every book was placed back on its shelf, every little crystal returned to the large luxurious candelabra hanging from the ceiling, every little detail was fixed.

But all of that did not matter in the slightest when Astarion threw her on the softness of his silk bedding and immediately crawled on top of her. His body, a masterpiece of lean muscle and hard lines caged her soft pliant curves, and she nearly disappeared under him — prey beneath an apex hunter with two burning infernos for eyes.

Zhivraelle would not have it any other way. In that single short moment of suspense in which time stood still as he hovered above her, his eyes full of something she could not quite make out. She looked up at him with such adoration, such devotion, such worship that it became almost unbearable. “My Lord…” she hummed softly, her legs parting so he could nestle his hips between them. When he did, the moment of stillness shattered because as soon the length of his manhood, silk wrapped steel and throbbing to the point of pain, rubbed across her wet silken cunt there was no holding back anymore.

Groaning, his face buried itself in the crook of her neck to inhale the scent of arousal in her blood – the sound making the heady aroma even more potent. His hands, that usually wielded a dagger in the most expert of ways, were now wielding her. With the greed of a thief who had broken into a royal treasury Astarion touched and squeezed, dug his fingers into the softness of her flared hips hard enough to leave a bruise, a mark she would carry with pride.

Zhivraelle would feel his fangs on the tender skin over her jugular, felt the possessive growl vibrating through his chest – Astarion had never done this in their nights together. Even during the night of his ascension when he had joined with her upon the precipice of her mortal life his moves and touches had felt more calculated than whatever this was.

Her black manicured nails pushed into the muscle of his shoulders, too blunt to break through his skin but enough to make him purr. “It is as if for the first time I can feel you.” Any and all words completely, utterly failed her next because what could she have answered? What other choice did she have but sob in pleasure when Astarion finally, finally, hooked his hand under her right knee to push it further away to open her up for him and slid all the way in in one brutal thrust. In morbid symbolism his fangs pierced her jugular, and he picked up a rhythm of drawing from her and undulating his hips at the same time.

At first the telltale pain bloomed around the bite – his teeth had become so much more powerful since the ritual. But the pleasure soon came, along with the numbness but the process of giving to him, nurturing him with everything she could give felt so natural to her that the pain felt nothing but delicious. Zhivraelle’s breathless moans, the wet melody of his cock driving in and out of her to the hilt and back and the sounds of him sucking out the sanguine essence of her life created a song of hypnotic sin. More, she wanted so much more… but she was ready and willing to give even more in return.

This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t a man laying claim on a woman in the most profound way he could think of, no. Astarion was branding his name, his existence into her soul. Was he aware of it? That was a question both would deal with later. Each thrust of his hips was like a nail in her coffin, each of his raspy growls a siren’s song she followed willingly and always would. Zhivraelle’s body arched beneath him, his weight and size giving her a sense of safety and belonging so pure there was not quite anything she could compare it to.

Astarion picked up the pace and Zhivraelle angled her hips up to meet his thrusts, her soft thighs framing his hips once more. Like this he reached an even deeper spot somewhere next to her cervix, making it impossible for her to form coherent thoughts other than what she felt for him. When Zhivraelle took him deeper into her wet silken depths, her walls holding him like a fitted glove tailored for him alone Astarion let out an uncharacteristic gasp and tore himself away from her neck to find her purple-red gaze.

His thrusts had stopped but he remained buried inside her welcoming body as deeply as possible. Zhivraelle blinked up at him, confused. Her walls clenched around his cock involuntarily making his breath hitch softly every now and then, but Astarion never blinked. It was as if those glowing red storms he called eyes were looking for something. He never let her go and she did not once attempt to move.

„You are mine, Zhivraelle.” Those words were spoken with primal desire, his hand in her hair that pulled to angle her face up to him, his invading tongue that parted her lips – this was transcendent. An experience she could not even begin to understand but when the hard, deep rolling of his hips against hers resumed Zhivraelle knew she did not want to understand. All she wanted was to feel. She wanted to feel him inside her, stretching and filling her to the brim in such an intimate way that it was no longer clear where her body ended and where his began.

“Yours. Always.” she managed to promise into his mouth before he devoured her again.

“Forever.” he demanded.

“Forever, Astarion.” she echoed, her thumbs tenderly caressing his pointed ears. A gust of wind blew away the heavy crimson curtains of the balcony, snuffed out every candle. A full moon hung in the starry sky and illuminated them in a beam of velvet silver light, Selûne’s blessing catching in Astarion’s hair like spun liquid silver. Zhivraelle, aware of the significance of the symbolism, gasped and somehow pulled together enough willpower to tear her attention away from him.

“Moonmaiden…” she whispered.

Astarion stilled again, the strength of his body coiled like a bowstring ready to snap. “Eyes on me.” he growled, clearly not amused that Zhivraelle paid attention to something other than their rut. Red-purple eyes with barely a fully formed thought behind them flickered away from the glowing orb in the sky and refocused.

“Wh-what did you say?” The intensity of his stare made her shudder.

“My my, it seems I am out of shape.” he whispered dangerously, his fingers digging almost painfully into her supple thighs, rubbing up and down, squeezing, claiming. “Or are you just bored, my treasure?” Gods, his voice made her shiver. A blanket of pleasure washed over her and she reached for his hands, guiding them across her thighs. She counted every finger, every knuckle, felt where his touch got lighter, where it hardened.

“Gods, never, I--,” He didn’t let her finish. The bowstring snapped. Adjusting their position, Astarion knelt on his powerful legs and yanked her towards him as if she weighed nothing. The possessiveness of it, the sheer male desire coating his hands as they held onto the tender flesh of her thighs seemed to compliment the very base of her femininity. Her natural response to him manhandling her was to throw one leg over his shoulder only to gasp when his hand flew up and wrapped itself around her knee, anchoring her there. Once he started to move, the power of his sharp thrusts made the dark wood of the bed ache beneath them.

Zhivraelle moaned in the same rhythm as his undulating hips, air pressed out of her lungs each time she felt the head of his cock press against that one delicious spot in her depths. Jolts of pure pleasure washed over her nerves each time, her mind awash with desire and an unfathomable need for him and him alone.

Selûne’s light illuminated Astrion from behind, her silver light a halo around his crown of white hair that had returned to its original state of dampened curls. Zhivraelle was wrecked by emotion, her chest heaving not only with the force of their coupling. He was so indescribably beautiful in that moment, leaning against her knee that he pressed to his cheek, his half-lidded gaze heated with dark molten lust as it flickered between her face and her swaying breasts. His lips that usually swung words with lethal accuracy were parted in guttural moans. Zhivraelle reached for him, fingers tracing the lines of his hard abdominal muscles that rippled and moved under smooth as silk skin as he thrust his hips against hers. The slick, sinful echo of flesh slapping against flesh became a staccato.

Astarion no longer knew where his body ended and where Zhivraelle’s began. He was rocking them forward and back in a deep, fast rhythm, chasing pleasures upon pleasures. He felt every inch of her silken cunt holding on to him, pulling him in greedily like she could not get enough and never would. Well, she never would need anyone again. He would not allow it.

Zhivraelle was spread out in front of him like a feast for a god, her pale amethyst-tinged skin shimmering with a layer of sweat, the tell-tale bruises of his hands painting an image of desire on her flesh. Her face with those gemstone eyes that struggled to stay open, contorted with the pleasure he provided while taking his own pleasure from her … Snarling, Astarion followed instinct. His fangs broke the tender flesh of her thigh beneath her knee, liquid rubies spilling over his lips and chin.

Zhivraelle let out a cry and oh, didn’t her voice sound the sweetest when she writhed and took everything he had to give her. Her walls squeezed him harder, urging him on. The surge of blood became more potent each time he fucked into her, her taste intensifying. As an Ascendant he no longer required blood to survive. The Hunger no longer plagued him. But her blood? Her blood he needed like mortals needed air to breathe. In any other moment this realization would have terrified him but right now, with his cock buried so deep in the blissful wetness of her most intimate depths… Astarion would not have it any other way.

“Mine.” His voice rumbled against her bleeding flesh, his upper lip pulled back in a dangerous growl as if he dared anyone to take away what was his. To oppose his claim. The taste of her blood running down his gullet seemed to further fuel his maddened desire for her, lit his nerves on fire and sharpened his senses. Astarion felt her blunt nails digging at the flesh of his hips as she desperately tried to hold on through the screams and sobs of her pleasure. Heard each little dip and rise of her voice. Tasted her blood on his tongue. Touched her supple meat beneath his hands. Saw the magnificence that she was with those unique purple-red eyes, perfectly curved full lips, the elegant line of her neck he longed to bury his teeth into, her ample breasts with those perfect little nipples that taunted him with each move and sway, the dip of her waist, the wide flare of her hips, her perfect smooth cunt that looked so perfect the way it spread and swallowed his cock again and again. Smelled the heady mixture of their scents and the unmistakable aroma of mind-blowing sex … Each of his five senses was ensnared by Zhivraelle. He felt everything and the sensations were his alone.

“Astarion – oh gods, don’t stop—” Her wanton plea made him shudder, a sharp jolt of pleasure spreading through his entire form. He was close, so very close and so was she, the telltale wetness was already spilling forth from her core, marking him and the silk beneath them.

“Let go.” he snarled, his lips, chin and neck painted with her blood. One hand pushed her leg of his shoulder to spread her further and his thumb found her neglected clit, rubbing circles to give her such merciless pleasure she wouldn’t have a choice but to shatter for him. And oh, when she did, when the silken glove around his throbbing cock began to flutter rhythmically, Astarion, too, felt his climax approaching. It was like a torrent of heat that spread through the entirety of his body, a storm of such unadulterated lust and desire for her that he caged her with his body once more, hands brutally keeping her wrists over her head, his lips drawing a ragged picture over her pulse point. His name fell from her lips again and again and again in an ode that sung him praises.

When his climax joined hers, the sound he made was a primal moan of utter completion. Still furiously fucking her through their orgasms, Astarion simply could not stop. One spurt of his seed followed the other, coating her insides white and painting her in his image from the inside out, mixing with the essence of her orgasm. The sheer intensity of the experience was wrecking him completely and he let it.

He allowed it because Zhivraelle was the reason for it. She had been the one to undo him so completely and by the Gods, she was the only one who had ever been able to. During that first night he had ever touched her. Then the second when they did not know who they had once been to one another. Then the third when he was atop of the world and she had given him everything. And tonight, where her devotion had rid him of the shackles in his mind. Astarion felt her shaking hands attempt to pull him away from her neck to make him look at her and when he allowed it, he was almost undone all over again. She was sobbing with such raw emotion, her body trembling with wave after wave of pleasure and lust that he wanted to devour her whole once more. Like an insatiable beast Astarion claimed her trembling lips, swallowing her sobs and cries as his hips continued to move in a slow, undulating rhythm to guide them both through their bliss. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zhivraelle’s legs had found his hips once again to hold him close – as if he would ever let her go. Such a preposterous thought.

The air was still pregnant with the lingering scent of desire, their flesh flushed with dimming embers of post-coital afterglow. The distant hum and buzz of the city below, sounds none of them had even registered before seemed so far away. The candles remained unlit. They were still pressed together, skin to skin, his weight a very deliberate cage as Astarion laid between her spread thighs. His breath, slow and steady, was fanning her throat, his breath soft against her pulse point.

Zhivraelle was cradling him with her body, his semi-hardened manhood snug and softly wrapped within her as he laid there, resting. Her fingers were tracing the lines of his scars and combing through his silken hair, curling and uncurling strands of silver. Every now and then she pressed a kiss on his crown, inhaling him.

Astarion was completely quiet and if it wasn’t for his palm lazily mapping every inch, every pliant curve of her one might have thought he had fallen into a deep slumber. She was alive beneath him. Breathing. Physical. His. He did not want to get up. His weight on her was a lingering claim. It was a reminder, together with the twisted bedsheets, of how he had taken and how Zhivraelle had given without hesitation. A slow smirk curled on his lips and he lifted just enough to press a lingering kiss on her throat.

“You look exquisite like this, little love. Thoroughly ruined for me.” Bruises and bitemarks were already blooming on her pale purple tinged skin. She hummed and tilted her head to give him more access to her throat. Yet another thing she was so freely giving him. Her eyes found his.

“I was always yours.” Zhivraelle agreed as if it was the simplest of truths.

His chuckle was low and pleased and the sound vibrated through her. “Correct. But now there is no turning back. Not that there ever was. I will not allow it.” His glowing eyes were narrowed, the possessive glint in them intensifying. Zhivraelle met his gaze unafraid, unflinching. If anything, her feelings for him shone even brighter.

“Do you think me a fool, Astarion? Do you think I pack my bags tomorrow and leave?” Astarion exhaled sharply through the nose and snarled as if the idea itself annoyed him.

“Of course not. You are mine.”

Zhivraelle smiled and pressed a kiss on his forehead. The gesture softened his features. “Yes, I am. Until the world falls down and beyond.”

[itsphoenix0724]

Tickle My Strings (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel becomes a regular guest at your performances, and when you take a trip back to your house, you find the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, creepy interaction with a drunk man

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Hey everyone!! I hope you've all been well! We hit 100 followers which is really exciting! I can't believe 100 of you like my work enough to follow and I really appreciate it because sometimes I'm still convinced everything I write is awful lol. I wanted to take my time and write something I was really proud of for you guys. This work is heavily inspired by Annapatsu's cover of "Why Don't You Do Right" which I linked so give it a listen for the vibes! This is set about 50 years before Feyre and all the UTM stuff. I hope you enjoy and as always constructive criticism is welcome!

After all these centuries, Azriel still doesn’t know why he allows himself to be dragged to Rita’s every weekend.

He never particularly enjoyed clubbing.

Rhys and Cassian always found some female to entertain them for the night. They teased Az relentlessly because he hardly ever went home with anyone.

He figured most of them were too scared to approach his brooding form in whatever corner he hunkered down in.

However, they always convinced him to attend. And though he hated to admit it, spending time with his family was always pleasant. 

The excuse Mor had used to get him to attend this time was the promise of a new live performer. Recently, Rita’s started offering a cabaret night every Friday, and she insisted on dragging the whole Inner Circle every week. 

So that was how Azriel found himself crammed into their regular booth, surrounded by the dim lighting and a drink in his hand.

Twinkling notes played on the piano as a bright light shined on you overhead. You had to have had some kind of magic because once you stood up the piano kept playing.

You took a breath in and your voice flooded the space around the bar. It traveled to Azriel’s ears like smoke weaving through the trees. He figured you had to be part siren as you wandered through the crowd, still singing the enchanting song. His eyes tracked you as you plucked a rose from one of the table's centerpieces, singing into it as you stalked through the booths.

You finally stopped at the Inner Circle’s section and your eyes locked with Azriel’s from across the table. He saw the mischief light in your eyes as you hopped up on the table in front of him, and used the rose you were holding to tickle his nose before your voice dropped into a more sensual part of the song.

He could see Cassian and Rhys out of the corner of his eye each sporting shit-eating grins as you sang to him.

Azriel was trying very hard not to stare at your chest, which happened to be directly eye-level with him, before you lifted his chin with one hand and tucked the rose behind his ear. 

Hopping down from the table, you swayed your hips with ease, stalked back to the stage like a jungle cat, and sent the Shadowsinger one last wink over your shoulder. Azriel’s whole face was on fire, cheeks as red as one of Cassian’s siphons, as he stared open-mouthed at your form on the stage. Mor finally snapped him out of it, reaching over to snap his jaw shut as his brothers burst into laughter from his other side. Your song ended, and the whole bar shook with applause. He can see you send him a dazzling smile before you disappear behind the curtain. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was your fourth performance and every time you got off the stage you still felt the rush of adrenaline.

You began to notice regulars coming to see you, you can’t deny it did stroke your ego that the High Lord’s table had returned for you every Friday. 

Slumping in the small dressing room chair, you finally let your perfect posture drop after holding it for so long on stage.

You sigh in relief as you pull the pins holding your hair in the updo, and wipe away the leftover makeup you applied for the stage. Changing out of the skin-tight dress and into a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder with a pair of fleece-lined leggings you packed your bag to go home.

Ducking out of the Staff door at Rita’s you started making your way towards your small apartment. 

You didn’t live on the best side of the City. It wasn’t a slum, but being a singer was hard and you didn’t make the most money from the gigs you’ve managed to pick up.

Rita’s was by far the best-paying job you got yet even if it was on the other side of town. You had plans to eventually move into the Rainbow, Velaris’s infamous artist district, but that was still a long way away and your little apartment would do for now. 

Plus you liked all the strays that hung around your building because you wouldn’t get so lonely. 

You had successfully made it most of the way back to your apartment before you heard a whistle call behind you. You tried to ignore it, pushing on through the final stretch to your apartment. 

“Hey, Beautiful! Where you going huh?” The drunk voice called closer behind you and you felt the chill deep in your bones. Your steps hurried across the cobblestones, but you heard heavier footsteps chasing you. You were about to round the corner when you felt an arm catch the corner of your elbow. “Hey, slow down don’t run away.” The smell of stale liquor wafts your senses as you struggle to stop from gagging.

“Leave me alone,” you snarl, and attempt to yank your arm out of his grip. He holds strong and tries to pull you back into his chest. You struggle for a moment before you feel something snake around your leg and another figure materializes out of the shadows. 

“I believe she asked you to leave her alone,” The other voice ran through your ears like black silk. Like death itself.

You can see the imposing figure over the shoulder of the drunk male. Two massive wings tower over the already massive figure. Your savior steps out of the shadows, and that’s when you recognize him. 

The High Lord’s friend. The male you teased during your first performance. The Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“Hey man,” the drunk male stumbled through a 180, turning around to face the Spymaster. You saw his body tense and he dropped the death grip on your elbow immediately. You saw Azriel smile at the fear on the other man’s face, nodding his head in the other direction. The male scrambled back down the alleyway he came from and you saw Azriel smile at his retreating form before calmly and slowly approaching you. 

“Are you alright,” his voice now is nothing like the way he spoke to other male earlier. It was softer now, almost gentle. He used the same tone you used to try to coax the scared stray cats that live behind your apartment. Azriel’s hands were tucked into his pockets, and it looked like he was trying to hide behind the fringe of his hair to make himself look as small as possible. 

“I am now, thanks to you.” You offered him a small smile, and he took that as an encouragement to move a little closer to you. “I saw you at the show tonight. Were you following me?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and you can see the light pink tint rise to his golden cheeks. 

“I wanted to talk to you after your performance, so I waited for you to leave. I couldn’t work up the courage, but I noticed you heading towards a more dangerous area of the city and I wanted to make sure you got home safe,” the red on his cheeks turned an even brighter fire red, and you could see his hands shifting around in his pockets. “I’m realizing now that that sounds extremely creepy, I’m so sorry, I’ll leave you to your night.” He nods at you and whips around to walk the other way down the street. You see him stretch his glorious wings to take off into the sky. 

“Wait!” you call out just in time. Azriel turns his head back around and you hurry to close the distance between the two of you. You stop in front of him and Az shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets. Standing this close he’s so tall you have to crane your neck to look up at him. “While I don’t appreciate being followed, you did save my ass back there. Would you mind walking me the rest of the way home? I can make you a cup of tea as a thank you, and I don’t trust there won’t be more creeps out at this time of night.” Azriel considers for a moment before dipping his head at you, motioning with his pocketed hand for you to keep walking. The two of you walk in comfortable silence the rest of the way back to your apartment building. When you reach the front door, you unlock it and gesture for him to make his way inside.

Your apartment was a bit small. It only had two main sections, a combined living room and kitchen, and your bedroom and bathroom. You noticed Azriel tuck his wings close to his body, and you suppose it wouldn’t be the most comfortable fit for him.

You did really have a lot of stuff crammed into quite a small space.

The kitchen was overfilling with herbs and pots and pans, and the living room was overrun by plants and your piano. You could barely squeeze in the small sofa and overflowing bookshelf due to the amount of space it took up.

Even if the amount of space was questionable you still liked to think you made the space feel like home. 

“So, I realized I’ve not properly introduced myself.” Azriel’s voice called again as you ducked and weaved through your kitchen. “I’m Azriel by the way, but you can call me Az if you like” You almost snorted as you dug your kettle out from the drawer underneath the sink and filled it up with water.   

“I know who you are.” was your reply, and you saw Azriel’s cheeks flush again. For the fearsome shadow singer of Velaris, he sure is easy to fluster. He looks a little uncomfortable so you do your best to offer him a comforting smile before you tell him your name. He repeats your name back to you in a tone that makes your heart skip a beat. “Anyway,” you clear your throat. “I’ll fish out the rest of the stuff for tea, feel free to make yourself at home.” Az sends you a small smile before moving to wander around in your living room. 

“Um,” Az stutters for a second, grabbing your attention from where you were digging for sugar. “I believe someone wants in.” His voice sounds slightly amused, and you walk over to see what he’s looking at. Sure enough, you spot the straggly black cat perched on your fire escape looking as grumpy as he always does. 

“Oh, that would be Winston,” You reach around Azriel to yank the old window open and Winston the cat struts inside the apartment like he pays the rent here. He rubs through your leg once before sitting infront of the hearth, glaring up at the two of you. 

“Is he yours?” He eyes the cat with a bit of unease, and you shake your head before laughing slightly. Wrestling the window shut you turn around coming chest to chest with the Spymaster. You can feel the slight flush rise to your cheeks as Azriels stumbles to get out of your way, his wings almost knocking over one of your plants in the process. You walk to the kitchen, the stray following hot on your heels as you fill a bowl of milk. The old cat purrs in approval as he jumps up on the counter to enjoy the treat. 

“He’s not mine, not really.” You scratch behind the cat’s ears affectionately. “This building has a lot of strays, and I leave food out for them most of the time. Winston’s a bit of a grumpy asshole, but he’s very sweet once he warms up to you.” You shoot Azriel a bashful smile before you resume plundering your kitchen, now in search of some tea leaves. You hear Azriel let out a laugh, and it sounds like music to your ears. Finishing the two mugs of tea, and collecting a small tray of sugar and honey you and Az make your way over to the couch. With a wave of your hand, you light the fireplace. The two of you get comfortable on the couch and you dump a spoonful of sugar in your tea before mixing it in. You watch in horror as Azriel dumps what can only be considered an absurd amount of sugar into his tea. “Dear god, how can you even drink that?” a laugh bubbles out of your chest, and he laughs too stirring the contents of his cup. 

“I have a preference for sweet things,” He leans back on the couch truly finally making himself comfortable. You both fall into an easy rhythm, and before you know it you’ve been chatting curled on your couch for hours. You’re on the last mug of tea the pot could hold, and the clock tucked on your side table reads well past one in the morning. “I do have a question for you though,” he raises his eyebrows as he takes a sip. You take a moment to admire him in the candlelight of your apartment. You think he might be the most beautiful male you’ve ever seen, features reminding you of the marble statues you’ve seen carved at the rainbow. You nod your head at him in encouragement to ask his question, resting your mug on your lap to give him your full attention. “What kind of magic is this,” He gestures to the fireplace, and you understand where he’s coming from.

“Well my great great grandmother was a witch.” you see his eyebrows shoot to his hairline and he leans forward to listen more intently. “I don’t have any world-shaking power or anything, but I can do small things like object manipulation. Light the fire, turn out the candles before bed, stir a mug of tea.” You twirl your finger for emphasis and the spoon resting in Azriel’s mug starts to spin before you drop your hand and it rests back against the rim. The wonderstruck look on his face encourages you to explain further. “The piano took me a while longer to learn. I have to keep the back of my mind constantly focused on the notes, so it can be a bit hard to concentrate on singing sometimes. But, it’s worth it because I love interacting with people during my shows. It just makes the performance that much more special for me and the crowd I’m performing for.” You realize you may have been rambling and you send him an embarrassed smile.

“I think that’s wonderful.” Azriel offers you in a whisper and you feel like a flock of wild birds is threatening to break free of their cage in your stomach. His eyes are so intense, the gold almost entirely drowns out the other colors under the candlelight. You almost wish you had been blessed with the ability to paint instead of sing. You could spend hours trying to get the color right and you still don’t think you’d ever be able to capture it accurately. You find yourselves drifting closer to each other and you swear he can hear your heart thudding against your ribs like a metronome. He’s so close you can smell him, night-chilled mist and cedar, you see his eyes dart down to your lips and you tilt your chin up in permission. Your eyes just slip shut when you feel a sudden pressure on your lap. You and Azriel both jump in surprise as you find Winston sitting there with his owlish eyes fixed on you. Dumbfounded, you snap out of your previous trance as he yowls for attention. You rub your tired eyes with the back of one hand before scratching behind his ears with the other. The cat lets out a contented purr and Azriel playfully shakes his head in disbelief. 

“I should probably get this cleaned up.” You rise from the couch and you almost swear Az’s hand reaches for you as you get up. Winston, thoroughly disgruntled, moves to the seat next to Azriel.

“I can help you if you like,” He stands up, almost bumping into you as you gather the empty mugs. He attempts to take the tray before you bat his hands away and scoop it up. He is your guest after all. 

“I got it don’t worry.” You shoot him a sweet smile, and he nods at you before he takes to wandering around your living room again. You rinse both of the mugs carefully and scrub out the teapot. Looking into your living room you see the cat sprawled in the middle of your couch and Az peering at the titles on your bookshelf. You hum to yourself as you continue to scrub the dishes, you want to do it now before it leaves residue stuck to the bottom of the dishes. You see Azriel move over to your piano and almost absentmindedly play a few notes along to the tune you were humming. You abandon the dishes and silently step through the living room in a way that could rival the Spymaster, as he continues to mess around with the piano. “It seems you’ve been holding out on me.” Azriel jumps away from the piano with an almost guilty look on his face. 

“My mother taught me how to play,” He sends you a sad smile as you move to stand next to him. “I wasn’t allowed to see her often, but she would teach me a few things when she could.” His eyes drift down to his scarred hand on the keys, and he flexes and opens his hand with a conflicted expression on his face. You reach down to cover his hand with your own and squeeze, the keys make an ugly sound with the pressure but you’re only distantly aware of it. Azriel stares at your hands for a moment before his eyes drift back to your face, darting to your lips again. Once more, you dip your chin in agreement. Azriel’s other hand gently cups your cheek for a moment as he admires you. The rough texture is a contrast against the smooth skin of your face, and you can feel the drag as he moves his hand down to cup your chin. 

He waits for one moment, two, before your eyes flutter shut and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Your hands shoot to the silky black hair and wind through the strands curling at the back of his neck before tugging lightly. This seems to urge Azriel on and he wraps his free arm around your hip like a vice before dragging you closer. You can taste the tea on his lips, and something else you can only assume is uniquely Az. He’s kissing you like he would rather have you than oxygen, and you find yourself echoing that sentiment. 

You don’t think you could stop kissing him even if the moon came crashing down from the night sky. 

You nip at his bottom lip, and you’re rewarded with a loan groan from deep in his throat. He urges you back against the piano, and you lean your hands down to brace yourself against the keys. The noise it makes grates against your ears, but you’re too enthralled with Azriel to care as he hoists you on top of the instrument. The crash must’ve scared the cat because you can distantly hear four paws hit the floor before padding into the dark sanctuary of your bedroom. You find your way to Az’s hair again and this time you pull a little harder, one of his hands finds the curve of your ass and squeezes. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and it feels like he’s trying to swallow the whine you couldn't bite back. His mouth moves to brush kisses over your jawline, and when his teeth graze over your pulse point your hips cant up in answer. 

It almost feels like a song, your two bodies moving perfectly together, pushing and pulling in perfect harmony. Kicking your piano bench back, Azriel advances again pushing you to lean fully on the piano as he kisses down your body and kneels before you on the floor. He wastes no time, yanking down your pants and underwear in one go. He licks one strong stripe up your center before letting out a moan that echoes through your apartment and dives in again. You start to get dizzy as you writhe against the piano, pulling his hair, drunk with pleasure. 

It’s then that you notice a pattern of what he’s doing.  

A line up, a line down, a stripe across. A zigzagged line. A line up, a curve, a diagonal line. Another straight line before his tongue swirls around your clit. A straight line across and a curve around. Another straight line, and then the pattern repeats itself. 

It takes your hazy mind a second to realize what he’s doing, but when you do you flush from the tips of your ears down to your toes. You rise onto your elbows, eyes shooting open to find Azriel staring right at you with a smug look in his eyes. 

That cocky bastard was spelling his fucking name. 

That fact alone almost makes you finish on his tongue as you collapse back against the instrument. The smooth surface is a welcome chill against your steadily climbing body temperature. You feel one finger rise to circle your entrance. He’s playing with you like a toy, teasing but not giving you what you want. 

“Look at me,” he growls into the air, one finger plunging in and curling to find the sweet spot inside of you. You try, but your eyes fall open and closed as he abuses that position, he even looks amused at your weak attempts to concentrate. “I’m not going to let you finish unless you can look at me while you do it,” His rough voice feels like velvet dragging over your skin. “Come on beautiful I know you can,” your eyelids feel like they weigh one thousand pounds, but you need to come right now or you might explode. It takes all your effort to pry your eyes open and look him straight in the eye. He pays you with another finger inside of you and drops his head back down to your core. Somehow, you keep your eyes on him the whole time, and he lifts his head briefly to mutter a “Good fucking girl” against your thigh. 

That’s what sends you over the edge, burning hot ecstasy shoots through your whole body as you hurtle into oblivion. Your legs are shaking when he rises, and his hand rubs a soothing circle into the meat of your hip. He leans down to press gentle kisses into your neck as you recover. 

“Can you go another round?”  He whispers into your ear, perfectly content to give you pleasure and get nothing in return. He could deal with the painful hard-on in his pants later. You nod your head with enthusiasm and Azriel almost sags in relief. Your hands find the laces on his pants and rip as you leave a trail of lovebites down his neck. You hold him in your hand as you pump it up and down. His head lulls back as you run your thumb over his tip. You guide him into you slowly, and he lets you adjust as he sinks in inch by glorious inch. He waits for a moment when he’s fully seated inside of you, and he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky before he starts to move. He picks up the pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming the full length of him back in. 

You can feel yourself start to build to a second high, and Azriel can feel the way you're clamping around him. He reaches a hand around to rub tight circles against your clit and one of your legs rises to the keys, making another loud crash of notes so that Az can get a better angle. You drag Azriel closer to you and he hits the sweet spot inside of you again that makes you scream causing your nails to run down his back, leaving angry red marks in your wake. You finish for the second time like a blazing symphony, the rushing in your ears so loud your surroundings are almost entirely gone. Azriel follows you soon after that, his whole body tenses, and the moan he releases may very well be imprinted on your brain forever. The two of you sit there- hot, sweaty, and panting- as you stare at each other. Azriel gently helps you down from the piano and you thank him before offering to let him stay the night. He enthusiastically obliges and you fall asleep with his arm thrown around your waist. 

You wake the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon coming from your kitchen. Padding out of your bedroom you are greeted with the glorious sight of a shirtless Azriel over your stove, and a pleased-looking Winston perched on the counter next to him. 

“What are you making?” You circle your arms around Azriel’s waist and he tenses before relaxing into your touch.

“Just some eggs and bacon. I was going to surprise you in bed, I hope you don’t mind I raided your kitchen” You smile into his back, pressing a kiss to the strong cord of muscle that runs along his shoulder. Before scratching the cat behind his ears. 

“Not at all, I see you’ve made friends this morning.” You raise your eyebrow at Az and he shoots you and the cat an amused expression. 

“I had to bribe him with a piece of bacon,” this sends you both tumbling into a fit of laughter. After that, you two eat breakfast mostly in comfortable silence, and Azriel gets dressed before leaving with a promise to take you out properly next Saturday.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As Azriel arrived at the training ring the first thing he heard was Cassian’s bark “You’re late!” before he threw himself into training. He had sparred with Cassian and with Rhys, and the Verlaris sun was making him sweat buckets. Excusing himself for a water break he peeled off the soaked shirt, tossing it to the chaise usually occupied by Mor. He distantly heard Cas and Rhys stop fighting but he paid it no mind until he heard Rhysand’s voice call behind him. 

“So that’s why you were late to training this morning,” Rhys sounded amused and he turned around to find both of his brothers staring at him with cocky smiles on their faces. It was then that Azriel remembered you had scratched down his back the night before. He had been so lost in pleasure that he hadn’t even felt it, but apparently, it had left a mark. 

“Was it the singer? I bet it was the singer.” came Cassian’s unneeded input. Evidently, the way Azriel ducked his head to hide the flush smile and the aversion of their gazes was answer enough for them. 

He didn’t care about his brothers’ teasing. He would take being teased for 100 more years if it meant he got to see you again this weekend.

[jaewriteshi]

Invisible String

Summary: They say childhood best friends never fall apart. That the invisible string tying them together is unbreakable. But what happens when love tangles itself in between?

Maeve wanted to chase the stage. Jeonghan wanted to escape his fate. But not all dreams fit into the same future, and not all love stories end with a happy ending.

And as the final note fades, she wonders… Did he ever hear the words hidden in the melody?

Matching: best friend!yoon jeonghan x idol!reader

Genre: ANGSTTTT, fluff if you squint

Note: indented parts are flashbacks, this was written by 2023 me dsauihdjkns (its basically covered with webs)

____________________________________

The interview started with me singing one of the tracks in my album “Invisible String”. 

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn’t see?

“Why can’t you just say who you like!” I said before chasing after him He then stuck his tongue out, trying to hide the smile that’s plastered in his face. 

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some, Invisible string

NOTIFICATIONS: ❦: Let’s go somewhere far away from here. “You basically kidnapped me,” I said, making our way to our bus seat.  “No it isn’t, you agreed at the idea of leaving home” he replied with a grin while settling ourselves in a comfortable position.  “What is your problem?” “School. You?” “Parents.”

Tying you to me?

I opened my eyes after hearing the instrumental ending, seeing how the staff clapped their hands as well as the host. 

____________________________________

FLASHBACK TO 12TH GRADE:

“Gosh Jeong, when you mentioned you were thinking about going somewhere far away, I didn't imagine it to be to JEJU ISLAND SPECIFICALLY.” I exaggeratedly yelled, flailing my arms like an insane person. Which I am at the moment. Around 1 and a half hours ago, Jeong texted me if I wanted to go on a trip with him. Here we are, standing right infront of Incheon Airport with just our backpacks with minimal packing. Apparently, it's my fault for agreeing to it when we have our finals next week. 

Jeonghan and I have been best friends since diapers, literally. Our mothers were considered “half-sisters” from their high school days till now because of their close bond, which led some to wonder if they were related. Automatically, from the moment I was born, I’ve always had a companion by my side. Until I got older, I had no idea he would be a pain in the ass. 

I guess you could say that the name “Yoon Jeonghan” is very well known around the campus, if you think it was because of his charming looks and grades, well you’re in for a treat. 

“YOON JEONGHAN GET BACK HERE!” A teacher yelled while chasing a very familiar brown-haired man, attracting many student’s attention as well. I was supposed to be in my 3rd class by now but my curiosity got the best of me. I walked over to the parking lot, seeing people gathering around.  Oh god. Mr. Hudson’s car came into view—covered with glue and confetti, topped with pink glitter—making me snort, what a classic. I saw Jeonghan run past me, winking at me. One of my friends approached me asking, “It makes me think about how in the hell you and Jeonghan are still friends?” “I have no idea.”

I have no idea indeed. “Well where did you expect us to go? Didn’t you look out the window to see where we were going?” 

“I FELL ASLEEP” 

“Oh, not my problem. Now come on, we might miss our flight.” He said rushing inside, while I had a hard time catching up with his steps.

Being friends with him is very unexpected, like the way he pulled out my passport out of his bag once we reached the check in desk. Or maybe the way he managed to sneak out of their house without Auntie suspecting anything. Or maybe the way he got us a hotel to stay in once we landed. Or maybe the way he had extra cash with him, which means he had been planning this for some time now. 

“How did you even manage to do all this? I mean, even my passport? Are you kidding me?” I plopped on my bed, I’m highly impressed he managed to get a hotel room with the view of the beach.  “I have ways” he faced me with a grin on his face, Oh how much I wanted to smack that away so many times, “Let’s go out? I remember passing by a few shops earlier.”

In a span of just 2 hours, we managed to do some shopping (mostly me, making jeong my butler by holding my shopping bags) and food trips every now and then. Here we are sitting on a table just right by the beach, eating our ice creams. He broke the comfortable silence, making my heart skip a beat for the first time, as he said “I’m really glad I’m here with you.” I smiled at him but as I was about to share a heartwarming moment, I realized… 

“OUR PARENTS ARE GONNA KILL US” I said, making me stand up from shock. I started pacing back and forth thinking about the possibilities my mom would do once she found out. I didn’t notice how distressed Jeonghan looked as well, trying to interrupt me from my rambling. He then got annoyed and pulled my arms making me clash into his body, staring into his eyes.

“Don’t worry, they know. I just wanted to have some alone time with you”

____________________________________

FLASHBACK TO COLLEGE, 1ST YEAR:

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME EVE! AFTER EVERYTHING YOUR FATHER AND I'VE BEEN THROUGH, YOU DECIDED NOT TO TAKE COLLEGE?” My mother said while furiously walking towards me, I swore I saw smoke coming out of her nose.

“You didn’t let me finish-”

“I didn’t let you finish because that is the finish! What else do you need to tell me!”

“You didn’t ask me why I don’t want to-”

“Then why?!” I rolled my eyes at the way she interrupted me, have you no manners?

“Because I want to pursue my dream of being an Idol-”

“YOU DON’T WANT TO GO THROUGH COLLEGE BECAUSE OF-” “Yes! Because I want to follow my stupid dream!” I cutted her off, I swear I’m so done with putting up with her attitude. Both of my parents looked at me, shocked.

“I want to do something I finally want, something I enjoy doing! You always pressured me into doing some job I don’t want to do! It’s a waste of time for me to be honest, by the fact why did I even have a chance to live when I couldn’t make my own decisions because my mother really had to control my life just because hers wasn’t perfect!” I said while walking towards her, as if I was threatening her. 

My mother wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Always struggling on how to live, almost surviving in this society. While my father’s was the complete opposite. An only son of a CEO, making him the next heir of the company. It’s like a Wattpad Story. Them being arranged marriage because of a deal their families made, having to live in a lie that’s written on paper. Having to live in the same house, with no love shared together. Having to fake a happily perfect life. 

Jeonghan’s no different. His parents pressure him way too much in taking law because “it’s a family tradition, dear” that the first born has to carry on. He was more suffocated than I was. My mother and his were like the evil stepsisters in Cinderella, marrying a man for their position. Funny how the story went downhill. 

She slapped me. My own mother slapped me. My father stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. He was never a talker, maybe that’s what I hated about him. “How dare you say that” My mother gritted her teeth, almost locking her jaw. “I said what I said” while rubbing my now red stained cheeks, glaring at her. “Get out” ok when I said that shit was going down, I never expected this. 

“What?”

“I said. Get. Out” My mother said while staring at me, no pain evident in her eyes.

Silence then began to surround the house. I broke it first with a giddy-

“Fine!” I then rushed to my room, taking my already packed luggage below my bed. Finally, it’s finally happening. 

“Wait. What?” My mother said, making me stop in my tracks as I was already standing at the door.

“What do you mean ‘what?’, you told me to get out so I am” I said the obvious. 

“Yea, but I was expecti-”

“Expecting me to do what? To beg on my knees for me to stay? I scoffed. “You really are pathetic” closing the door, not even bothering to say my farewells. Before I shut the door, I heard my father’s voice finally coming out, shouting at my mother for the first time as he blamed her. What do I do now? The only person I could run to was…Him. 

_______________

Song Playing: Mine

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I rang the doorbell of an apartment as I awaited an answer. I was freezing. I just really had to take a bus that's heater is broken. 

“Eve?” A familiar voice erupted behind me, making me flinch at the sudden sound. “Oh, you’re here” I said while sniffing my now red nose. I probably looked like Rudolph.

“God, you’re freezing” He said as he hurriedly opened the door, rushing me to sit on the couch and wrapped me up with blankets. 

I chuckled at this sweet behavior. “Do you need anything?” “No, but thank you” I smiled genuinely. He then made hot choco while trying to make a conversation by asking me how I was doing. 

I hadn't seen Jeonghan in a long time, and that was new to me. Even though we stayed in touch via chat, we never honestly discussed why he left home. He suddenly disappeared and messaged me saying he had an apartment in Busan. Yes, I did travel to Busan via bus. That is five hours. lacking a heater. I'm assuming it was for the exact cause as I was.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin’

I saw him glancing at my luggages before making his way to me. “So, tell me” he said while handing out my drink,  I whispered a small ‘thank you’ before tasting the beverage. I’m surprised though at how he managed to make Hot Choco when he doesn’t even know how to cook rice. He raised his eyebrows before taking a sip, signaling me to start on why I was here. 

I placed my mug at the console table beside me. “I need a place to stay,” I said. “Why?” “They kicked me out, because of some passion I wanted to  follow” I rolled my eyes. 

“You’re still going on about being an Idol?” I nodded, in despair. “Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you start auditioning now?” I know. “I just want to save up some cash first” I made an excuse.

I suppose it was both true and an excuse, though. I first needed a few bucks since I knew that if I started off with nothing, the expenses in Seoul would kill me. And maybe also because I wanted to see him. A peaceful silence enveloped us as we just stared at the wall in front of us, snuggling into each other’s warmth.

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

“I missed you” We said simultaneously. Making me feel the oh-so-well familiar beating of a heart whenever we had moments like this. 

I say, “Can you believe it?”

As we’re lyin’ on the couch

I looked at him, also seeing him staring at me. Making me realize…

The moment, I can see it

I love the person I trust the most, the person I always think of when I'm at my lowest, the person I think about when I hear the words 'sweet' and 'loving', the person I would make exemptions for. My Best friend. 

Yes, yes, I can see it now

__________________________

NOTE: Maeve is now 20 years old

He cracked a smile as he faced me. "What?" "You look ridiculous," I do. I'm digging through his stuff while seated on the floor, and I have a ton of items attached to me. Wearing his hair clips he used to use when he had his long hair, his green puffer vest when we used to go camping, checkered scarf, and a white bucket hat. 

After two years, I had finally moved into my own apartment, whereas Jeonghan had only recently moved into his own home. We’re currently unpacking the boxes scattered on the floor. When I said ‘we’, I meant me going over his stuff being completely distracted while he fixed his clothes in the closet. 

Nothing much changed in our relationship, including the feelings that I kept from him. Since we were often together, I had to conceal the loud thumping in my chest whenever he behaved charmingly more than a friend. 

"God Jeonghan, you're being too dramatic!" I shouted angrily at him. He calmly led me into his apartment to my assigned room, "No, I'm not," he responded. "He's a coworker of mine," I mumbled. I worked part-time in a restaurant close to Jeonghan's workplace for a while. My coworkers and I had planned to stay up all night drinking tonight, but someone had to spoil our plans. As if we didn't have shifts the next day, we were already at the local bar dunking the familiar taste and burning feeling of alcohol. I mistakenly sent a message to Jeong when I intended to ask one of my friends to pick me up.  “You still don’t even know them yet” I could feel how he’s holding back from screaming at me.  His voice was firm, but there was an underlying emotion I couldn't quite place. Frustration? Fear? Maybe something more. "Jeong, I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself." I rolled my eyes, stumbling slightly as I tried to get up from the bed where he had sat me down. He caught my wrist gently, stopping me. "I never said you were. But I know you, Maeve. You let people in too easily. You trust too fast. And that guy—he looked at you like you were something to win." I scoffed. "And what if I want to be won? What if I want someone to chase after me for once, instead of always being the one left behind?" His grip tightened for a second before he let go. His jaw clenched, his face unreadable. "You're not something to be won, Maeve. You're someone to be cherished." My breath hitched. For a moment, I let myself believe that his words meant something more. That he meant them. But then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning away. "Just... be careful, okay?" And just like that, the moment was gone.

____________________________________

Years passed. Life moved forward in its messy, unpredictable way.

I got my first break in the music industry. A small entertainment company took a chance on me, and before I knew it, I was training, recording, performing. The dream I had fought for—the one I had left home for—was finally in my grasp.

And Jeonghan was still by my side.

Through late-night calls, surprise visits, and quiet moments between our separate busy lives, he remained a constant. My anchor in the chaos. My best friend.

But best friends weren’t supposed to make your heart ache.

Best friends weren’t supposed to make you wish for something more.

____________________________________

The night before I left for my first world tour, I stood outside his apartment, my fingers hovering over the doorbell.

My heart was racing. I needed to tell him. Before I left, before it was too late, I had to let him know.

I knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and there he was—hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep, wearing that same green puffer vest I had once stolen.

"Maeve? What are you—"

"I'm leaving tomorrow." My voice was barely above a whisper.

He blinked. "I know. I was going to call you in the morning. Wish you luck."

I shook my head. "No. I mean, I'm really leaving, Jeong. For months. Maybe years."

A shadow crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "That’s amazing, Maeve. This is everything you wanted."

"Yeah." I forced a laugh. "It is."

Silence stretched between us. The words I wanted to say caught in my throat, tangled with fear and uncertainty.

Don't let me go.

Tell me to stay.

Tell me you feel it too.

But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me into a hug, his arms warm and familiar. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.

When we pulled away, he smiled. "Go make the world fall in love with you, Maeve."

And that was it.

____________

The lights of the stage felt too bright. The audience, the cameras, the interviewer’s voice.

It had been years. I left, we had no connection afterwards, and life went on. I chased my dream, just like he told me to. But some nights, when the world quieted down, I still heard his voice in my head.

I still saw his smile in the spaces between my memories.

I still felt his absence in every song I wrote.

The interviewer’s voice pulled me back to reality. “If you had the chance to say something to that ‘someone,’ what would it be?”

I swallowed, fingers tightening around my phone.

“I’d say…” My voice cracked. I let out a shaky breath, smiling despite the tears welling in my eyes. “I hope you’re happy. I hope you found what you were looking for.”

The audience clapped, oblivious to the weight of my words.

Oblivious to the fact that, after all these years, I was still trying to let him go.

I stood backstage, the echoes of the applause fading. The final notes of the song played through the speakers, the lyrics hauntingly familiar.

Like oceans and engines, you can't keep up with me  You're holdin' my hand but you don't understand So goodbye, for now

I closed my eyes, letting the melody wash over me.

You never knew, the bridges burned, I let the fire just bathe me.

And just like that, the invisible string that had once tied us together was gone.

[sparkrls]

set a love alight

MASTERLIST

part of the bandmates! harry x yn au

Summary: in which Y/N makes mistakes and Harry remind her she’s only human

Author’s Note: just needed some emotional Y/N with sweetheart Harry. remember to like and reblog because i crave validation. love ya <3

Word Count: 1.3k

•••

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N cursed, pushing past the mess of wires and equipment backstage and pushing through the door of the emergency exit. The door swung open, slamming against the brick wall before clicking shut again.

Kicking at a small rock in the gravel, Y/N tried to release her fury. A choked sob escaped her raw throat, the burning reminding her of the fatal mistake she’d made that night.

Ambition had been her downfall. She’d let herself be overly confident in her abilities and had reached too high, her wings scorched by the sun.

Y/N fell to the ground. She didn’t bother to sit down gently, simply just letting her knees give out beneath her. She curled her knees up to her chest, hugging them and linking her hands together.

The hem of her skirt rode up, reaching her upper thigh. Usually, she might tug it down, but she was a bit too busy crying to even think about something so trivial like her skirt.

A pair of hands settled on her shoulders. Y/N was startled at the sudden touch. She could’ve sworn she was alone.

Eyeliner and makeup smudged from crying, Y/N looked up to find that Harry was crouched in front of her, his gaze soft and warm. She quickly tried to wipe her tears away, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down to her sides.

Harry’s voice was soft, barely a whisper, “Baby. It’s okay.” He was handling her like shattered glass, doing his best to not slit his hand while picking up the sharp fragments. “I’m here.”

Y/N didn’t like for people to see her cry. Not only was she an ugly crier, but she hated when people saw her so vulnerable. It felt wrong. And she didn’t cry often anyways. But when she did, it was messy and wild.

“I screwed up,” Y/N whispered, hating how her voice broke when she was barely audible. A pool of shame gathered in her stomach, weighing her down and suffocating her.

Harry sat down next to her, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned forward to meet her eyes. “Yeah. You did. And?”

“And?” She said, her voice raising a bit. “And I humiliated myself. I was so fucking bad.”

“You were nervous and you made a mistake,” Harry said steadily, his voice never raising. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I shouldn’t have taken that solo,” Y/N said with the shake of her head, another tear spilling against her will.

They had decided to perform their new song, ‘Set A Love Alight’. Y/N and Harry had written it just three weeks ago, and they decided to play it at this gig they’d booked at the bar they regularly played at, 17 Black.

After a long time of reluctance and hesitation, Y/N had decided to do the song as a solo. Up until now, Harry was always the one singing. Occasionally, Sarah or Mitch would sing a verse or two, but for the most part, Harry was the vocal powerhouse. Everyone liked it that way, everyone felt comfortable.

And Y/N had never dared to sing anything except backing vocals. And for the last few months, Harry had been trying to convince her to sing at least one verse of a song. He’d hyped her up, encouraging her to do so and telling her how amazing her voice was about a million times.

After a long time of pleading, Harry’d gotten what he wanted and more. Y/N took on the burden of an entire song. And tonight was not only the debut of the new song, but also of her voice.

Weeks of rehearsals had fallen down the drain when Y/N started singing and her voice came out shaky with nerves. Her hands were shaking and she didn’t hit the right chords on the guitar. And her lungs started constricting, making it hard for her to complete the lines without gasping for air. And all of this combined into the messiest performance the band had ever performed.

At the end of the song, Y/N was holding back tears and the small amount of people paying attention to the band clapped politely, but she heard the whispers of judgement. And when she turned to look at the band, the three of them were looking at her with pity in their eyes.

That was how she’d rushed off stage, thrusting her guitar into the hands of someone she passed by, possibly even a bystander just walking by. She didn’t even look at their face before walking out in tears.

“Love, you’re a good singer,” Harry said with a small sigh, caressing her cheek with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You got nervous. It happens to everyone. You just have to learn how to control those nerves, that’s all.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, holding back a sob. “I made everyone look bad.”

Harry let out a small laugh. Y/N opened her eyes to glare at him. He rushed to say, “Baby, I wasn’t making fun of you, I swear. I just… I’ve made countless mistakes on stage. My voice has cracked, I’ve missed high notes, I’ve mixed up verses, I’ve sung off-key. But my mistakes don’t take away from my talent.” He pulled her forward to hug her. “Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good singer. Because I was persistent and a hard worker. I didn’t give up even when I had moments where I sounded like shit and thought I had humiliated myself to a degree no other human being ever had.”

Y/N took a deep breath. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Which part?” Harry asked, curiously. He was ever as bright as always, but so soft and gentle. He was a sweetheart above anything else.

“Getting on stage and giving an amazing as fuck performance each time,” Y/N said. She shook her head. “You’re amazing, H.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s what I know how to do. I’ve done it my entire life. The same way you always play the guitar ‘amazing as fuck’.” He scrunched his nose up at her as he mocked her words. She let out a small chuckle. He smiled, pleased at himself. He always pulled a smile out of her. “It takes time and experience. I promise next time you get on stage to sing you’ll be better. Not perfect, just better. And someday, you won’t even remember tonight as anything more than just another story to tell and laugh at.”

Y/N pursed her lips, silent for a moment in thought. He was right. He always was.

Somehow, Harry always managed to make the tears seem like just another silly hurdle to jump over. The world seemed so much easier to face when he spoke about it so simply.

And with Harry holding her in his arms, who wouldn’t be ready to take on anything the universe threw her way?

Harry let out a small sigh, running his fingers through her hair. “You’ll be okay, love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry always took care of her with love. Not as if she were fractured sharp glass, but as if she were a bouquet of flowers you settled into a vase with care as to not let a single petal drop.

And Y/N wished she were as sweet as him. She wished she could be as good and pure as he was, to give him the affection he needed. The care he gave her was the kind he should be receiving.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, starting off with something small to remind him of her love.

Harry smiled, as if she’d made some grand declaration of love and hung a star in the night sky for him. “I love you too.”

[puzzledprose]

omg i just read your band au for ronin and i am in love!! could i perhaps request more band au content … perhaps with something like ronin casually finding out reader can sing/play the guitar as well (not necessary ofc) but would def love to see more ronin <3

Ronin X Reader: Musically Talented

I really liked writing this one! I’m gonna try to do weekly uploads so I post consistently rather than dumping 4 posts on you guys and then ghosting you for a month.

Anyways I hope you enjoy ♥️

Like most other people, you had a habit of singing to yourself. In the shower, cooking breakfast, doing the cleaning. Any task like that would have you humming whatever tune you had stuck in your head that day. However, when you were home alone you really went all out. Having whole concerts in your kitchen with your speaker blasting music was the best times of your week. Hitting high notes was particularly fun for you, so a lot of the songs you liked were quite high pitched.

One day as you were having one of your at home performances you were reaching a part of the song that was a particularly hard note. You prepared yourself and hit it right for the first time! You were so happy you had done it. When the song was over you pumped your fist in the air and turned around to grab a glass of water when you came face to face with… Ronin.

You didn’t think he was supposed to be home yet!?!? He burst out laughing at your shocked expression as you stood there dazed. You were completely out of your element here. Singing was one thing but having someone else hearing you for the first time felt mortifying. After your boyfriend was done cry-laughing at your freeze response he greets you normally and reassures you if need be. A few weeks later things settle back to normal. You go about your daily lives and shower concerts when Ronin brings up an idea

“You ever thought about doing some stuff with the band?”

You thought about it for a bit. How it would be to have not just one person— but a whole group of people listening to you like that? You were unsure. Nonetheless you got dragged along to one the Slaughterhouses rehearsals and tried out something more the band’s style. It didn’t stick. You left feeling a little dejected to say the least. That was until the groups drummer — Misaki — sent you a post of a rock style orchestra. It seemed like a perfect match! The rock-ish nature of Slaughterhouse combined with your operatic singing brought something completely new the the performances.

Still, you were nervous about performing on stage, so you worked your way up to it. First you posted snippets of songs with the band. Then covers, then livestreams; and before you knew it you were up on stage like it was nothing! It was pure magic!

[p0lyn3sian]

so I was wondering if u could maybe do a lil louis x reader fanfic heheheh

MY FIRST REQUEST ON TWDG!! AND ITS LOUIS OMGGG!!

Louis (TWDG) x Reader

Louis is like a puppy! Just following around wherever you go and do stuff that you would ask him to do! If you're mad at him for something that he has done wrong, he'll definitely follow you around like a lost puppy and ask for your forgiveness!

This dude is always there when you need a shoulder to cry on! He may be stupid and funny at the worst times, but it'll always make you laugh through those times! Except fighting zombies, because he'll be locked in or try help you or the others.

During free time, louis would try playing other songs on the piano. Like children's songs that you loved hearing when you were little! It did take some time finding those children's song books around the school. Luckily, there was a big book full of them in the music room, and beside it was a book full of notes on how to play the piano, step by step, and notes by notes.

(Continuing that last little paragraph from the headcannon :D!)

"Aha! I found it!" Louis yelled from where he was. You were in the other room where the piano was, trying to search for music books. Louis came from across the room and held two books in hands. One was a children's song book and the other was a "How to play piano" book. You look at Louis and see how his smile was almost reaching his eyes!

You love how his smile could bring comfort to you, and also how goofy it is too! You couldn't help but laugh a little at his bright smile.

"What? Is something wrong? Do I have something I have on my face?"

"No Louis, it's just.. your smile can be so pretty and goofy at the same time."

"Aww- wait.. HEY! Was that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing (Y/n)!?"

You chuckled and answered "It's a good thing, Louis." And you looked behind you and you swear you could've seen a blush spreading around his face and ears. It'll always make you smile that you could make him blush with some of your own jokes, just like what you just made. "C'mon Louis, let's see what songs you could play with those books you have."

And Louis snapped out of his zone, and immediately followed you. He placed both books on top of the holder and opened the song book and you both looked through pages of the song book. There were different songs in different pages of the book, like primary, Disney, etc! But you were on the Disney pages, you were trying to find that one song that your mother loved to play for you, whenever you have trouble sleeping or when you are sad.

Flipping through page after page, you stop yourself from turning to another page. "The colors of the wind" you could already hear your mother singing and playing the melody on the piano.. You looked at the first note and you found the key, and you then started playing. You knew all the notes from your mother. She taught you how to play, because you loved how she played that song, and how to sing with the melody too!

Pressing key after key, singing word after word. Louis sat still and listened to you playing and singing the piano throughout the whole song. Then, you pressed the last key and you then stopped singing after. You looked at Louis and you could tell he was amazed at how you played.

"Wow! That was just- just amazing, (Y/n)! You didn't tell me you could play and sing!" Louis said in excitement.

"Well, I can play, just not most songs. I chose this song, because my mother played it for me.."

Louis saw your smile fading away, so he had to cheer you up and see that amazing smile again! He then looked through the pages, until he stopped on "Let it go".

"Whenever someone is always feeling down I like to play this song."

You looked at the page he was pointing at and you chuckled a little. "Really?" You questioned him.

"Yeah, let me show you!"

He started playing the notes and he sang. He sang the high parts which surprisingly he can actually hit, until he messed up on some words which caused you to laugh out loud. It went like that until you both couldn't stop laughing, you both look through pages and see if there were any songs that you both know and play and sing to it. Some were funny, and some were really fun to sing! Just singing and playing the piano was just enough to make you smile..!

[shipstorms]

last lines!

fingerguns to @wayrad and @triggerlil

going thru major writing ADHD, so here's a few:

modern AU

Croz and Jean read their own vows, both of which are surprisingly well-written, heartfelt without verging on corny. The combination pushes Gale into a strange place of mourning. He'd sat at his desk once to try writing such vows; ended up blotting a bunch of paper with his pen and not much else. 

"Hidden depths, that guy," Bucky mutters as the officiant takes back over. "He used to shove fistfuls of speed up his ass. Said it hit the bloodstream faster."

Gale elbows him with swiftness, though he coughs out a laugh at the same time. Bucky elbows him back. He's been sipping from his flask but stays mercifully quiet for the rest of the ceremony and even nods along at the appropriate parts. When everyone stands to clap and yell as the Crosbys head back down the aisle, he leans over again and stage whispers, "I don't think I know how to love." 

"Cut it out, now," Gale whispers back. "We're celebrating their beautiful journey, aren't we?"

time loop

In his hand, the knife is a cold, heavy weight, its blade snapping into place with a hungry arc no matter how many times he pushes the release. He listens to the rhythmic click-thunk, letting the tangible sounds of cause-and-effect soothe him until there's a noise from below, soft enough not to acknowledge. 

It comes again. "Buck."

Bucky is standing below him, neck craned, tie missing. He nods at Gale with a neutral expression. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Then why don't you come down from there, huh?"

Gale snaps the knife. Click-thunk. Click-thunk. Realizes, Bucky thinks he's going to hurt himself again. He wants to laugh, but part of him also absorbs the thought without protest. He's the one up here, a hair's breadth away from falling, waving around a pocket knife like he's lost his mind.

new untitled john/marge (idk what i'm doing but i'm going with it)

At some point, Marge is reaching for her fourth cocktail and dimly realizes that she may have overindulged. Her needlepoint is sitting untouched next to her on the sofa cushion, stained with a spot of rust where she'd accidentally poked her index finger earlier in the night. The radio is on now, Jimmy Dorsey singing about green eyes and thirst to a house full of red-faced women, occasionally spitting static with the high notes. Sharon and Judith are back in the kitchen, Patricia is standing by the mantle to squint at a gold-framed photo of Richard, and Carol is somehow still sewing as if her life depended on it.

Thirst indeed, Marge thinks, and promptly forgets her worry about overindulging in favor of taking another sip. It nearly comes back up when Patricia turns her squint on Marge and says, "Do you think Richard pleases her? Physically, I mean?"

"Good grief, Patty," Marge coughs. "I almost choked."

"So your answer is no?" 

"No! Not no, I mean. The alcohol, and the timing of the question -- "

"Right," Patricia cuts in. She has expressive chestnut eyebrows, ones that are currently raised into a perfect expression of doubt. "Carol? Any opinions?"

"Yes."

"Any you'd like to share out loud?"

Carol pauses, runs her thumbnail over her stitches, and then says, "No."

tagging @pinenutpbj and @soliloquy-dawn if you would like!

[sasageyoarmin]

ooh can you do “i forgot my towel” prompt pleaseeeeee

ofc love !!

this prompt is number 100 on this prompt list for my new lawyer!armin series !!

p.s. it was lowk hard to make this a longer prompt 😭 so i hope it’s ok that it’s so short and uneventful 😭

warnings: just fluff but maybe slightly suggestive at the end ??

wc: <1k

<3

The sounds of the shower running and the soft hums from Armin's wife rang throughout the master bathroom. He was in the bedroom, his fingers brushing the pages of the new novel he had bought from the store earlier that week, one from his favorite author.

He leaned back in the chair next to the walk-in closet, subconsciously smiling as he continued to analyze the plot, forming ideas in his head about what would happen in the next few chapters. His thoughts were interrupted for just a moment when he heard the turning of the shower value and the sound of the water stopping as it slowly dripped into the tub. Armin's wife continued to sing to the same song, her voice echoing throughout the room. In the first few months of their marriage, she was very shy about singing in front of Armin, yet she slowly gained her confidence to belt out high notes later on in their relationship.

Armin heard her hums stop as she quickly called out to him, in need of his help. "Babe, I forgot my towel!"

He looked up from the book, not realizing just how much time had gone by. "Ok?" He questioned, not sure if she was asking for him to grab her one, or if she was simply just stating the obvious.

"Can you grab me one?" She giggled, wondering why he seemed confused at her seemingly evident request. "It's freezing in here!" She shivered slightly, the hairs on her arms and legs raising up as she stood in the cold behind the shower curtains.

Armin placed his book down and stood up from the chair, entering the closet to grab her a new towel. "Yeah, hold on."

He opened the bathroom door, the humidity and smells of the shower hitting his nose as he reached over to hand the towel to his wife, the shower curtain showing off part of her body, yet he felt it rude to stare. Still, it was hard not to stare at her peaked nipples due to the cold air surrounding her body.

She took the towel and thanked him as he left the room, letting her dry off.

He returned back to his chair, unable to concentrate as his visions were clouded by the sight of his naked wife, even if only through a shower curtain. Sometimes, he swore he was still a horny teenager due to the way he acted about seeing his wife every single day.

Armin tapped the pages, trying to focus on the book in front of him rather than the thought of his wife, yet he knew that it would most likely be an eventful evening due to the growing pain in his lower body, a sure reminder of the feeling that was caused by his girl in every waking moment.

Maybe he should shower with her more often.

<3

ewwww i lowk hated this but i’m trying to hardest to regain some sort of writing capability after getting though hell (finals) week and working around the holidays but here we are 😭

anyway i love you guys and happy holidays!!

[alexaloraetheris]

Alrighty, I was going to stay away from it but since that post about the worst rated movies blew up, and everyone and their dog was insisting it was being review bombed for this or that reason, I decided to put on my clown shoes and figure out what the problem was. Other than, you know... The movie itself.

*honk honk*

1. Racial backlash against Rachel Zegler

I can already confirm this is definitely a yes. One of the first links I found was none other than Joe Rogan complaining about Snow White being 'woke' now. Zegler is a Latina, which does make sense if you're trying to reach Spanish-speaking audiences, where Blanca Nieve is apparently pretty popular, but right-wingers are losing their minds, seemingly even more so than The Little Mermaid being Black. White supremacists are very likely behind some of the review bombing.

(Side note: I first heard about this movie being blasted for hiring Gal Gadot at all, because she's Israeli. I hadn't heard who was playing Snow White, but I read she was a POC too, and was 100% sure they hired a K-Pop singer. I mean, if you're looking for an actress with 'skin white as snow, hair as black as a raven's wing' who can also sing notes so high only dogs can hear them, it seemed obvious to me. But I can only imagine how much the conservatives would have been freaking out about THAT.)

2. Gal Gadot being Israeli

This one everyone knew, and yes it's part of the review bombing problem. People outright admitted that. The rightwingers hate Zegler for not being white, the lefties hate Gadot for being Israeli. It didn't seem to occur to anyone complaining that casting a Jewish woman into the role of an antisemitic trope is not as 'woke' as these people seem to think, but these guys would have been pissed if she had been hired as a background character. As a primary antagonist? Definitely review bombing.

3. Peter Dinklage being blamed for the CGI dwarves

This one is a bit misinterpreted. Dinklage pointed out in an interview that the OG Snow White dwarves were rife with harmful stereotypes, and if Disney was going to aim for progressiveness [by hiring a Latina actress] they are not doing a good job if they portray the dwarves as 'living in the caves'. He was obviously campaigning for a better portrayal of the seven dwarves, but of course, Disney being Disney, they decided to keep the dwarves as is but instead of hiring little actors they just used horrible CGI and call them 'magical creatures' a decision everybody was universally unhappy with.

Personally, I think they could have kept the setting as it was in the OG but if they were going for a more 'politically conscious' narrative, they could have included a backstory as to WHY the dwarves are living in the middle of the woods (prejudice and discrimination within the kingdom) and make Snow White sympathise with them, promise that when she was queen she would make her kingdom a better place for dwarves, something like that. Gives them motivation to help her and her to return back to face her evil stepmother. Very tropey and very Disney. Even Snow White and The Huntsman managed that much but not Disney apparently. Alas.

4. Rachel Zegler's 'Free Palestine' tweet

If I learned one thing about Zegler on this research, is that this girl has NO self-preservation instinct. None. Please get her a better agent before she's eaten alive.

In one of her contractually-obligated promo tweets, she tacked on a 'Always remember, Free Palestine' which is a very 'celebrity performing activism' kind of tweet, but she got shredded by Disney's management for it and made her co-star need round the clock protection because she was recieving death threats. She refused to take it down and has shown no sympathy or care for her co-star's safety, which is also not a good look for her. The internet, of course, lauded her for being brave (even if I wouldn't call it that), but she definitely pissed off some more people and I wouldn't be surprised if the movie is being blasted for it.

5. Rachel Zegler's posts against Donald Trump

Remember when I said this girl has no self-preservation instinct? Celebrities are usually a bit more careful (or better managed) to keep their political opinions milquetoast so they don't get put through the social media wringer any more than they already are. No one told her that. She slammed Trump voters pre election and then expressed a lot of genuine horror when he was elected. She got put on full blast for this, and I'm guessing that's the point Joe Rogan got involved. One of the Disney execs flew across the Atlantic to yell at her and hired her a social media manager. Rather telling they only thought to do that AFTER leaving her out to dry for the whole movie production.

Honestly, I read that instagram post, and she was right about that one and her concerns were all in place, but AGAIN. No self-preservation instinct. She posted an apology for THAT one tho, but I doubt she's the one who actually wrote it. Anyway, if the movie hadn't been review bombed before, it definitely was now.

6. Rachel Zegler's comments about the movie itself

Sigh. Seriously girl. Fire your agent, manager, whatever and get a PR coach.

It's worth noting on this one that Zegler is 23, very much Gen Z, and she considers Snow White the OG (rightfully) old fashioned in some aspects. But her ideas how to fix it are... Not very mature, honestly.

She has, among other things, derided the original message of seeking love, said Snow White would be more 'empowered', and that romance with the Prince who 'stalks her' has been cut out. Which is a stark show of not getting what the OG was about, and it gives the impression that Zegler doesn't even like the original cartoon and is basically deriding anyone who DOES like the romantic elements. And since Snow White the Regurgitation primarily and even solely depends on the core audience that likes the OG movie (and NOT the 'Snow White but better' narrative she's trying to portray) this was the PR equivalent of shooting your movie in the foot.

To be fair to her, she's hardly to blame for the movie themes being shitty. From what I've seen she DID do her best in the actual film. Everything Zegler criticised could have been adressed in a better way, but Disney handled that as well as they handled the CGI dwarves. In the OG, Snow White was 14. They could have kept her 14, and made the Prince an uncle or a cousin who got concerned when his only living family stopped sending letters and he hauled ass back from the war front to save her from his shady sister-in-law. Change the kiss to a forehead kiss a la Maleficent. It would have still been about love, and that there is no shame about accepting help when you're in over your head, which was one of the core messages of the OG movie, but adjusted for more 'modern' sensibilities. And this is just me spitballing. I don't know what kind of conditions those poor writers were working in that they handed in a script THIS BAD.

TL:DR Yeah, the movie is getting review bombed from both left and right sources. But to be clear, even though Zegler dominates these points, she's the least of this movie's problems. She's just a 20-something with a big platform who hasn't been properly coached on PR management. The only thing she ruined was her own prospects. The movie was a goner from the casting couch in this political climate, honestly, because the Trumpers lost their minds about her being Latina and the Pro-Palestinian crowd lost their mind about Gadot being Jewish. Even if Zegler had been more conscientious about her social media and Peter Dinklage got his way, there is no saving a bad movie from itself.

If none of the above happened? Snow White might have gotten as high as 3⭐ instead of 1.5⭐ it currently has. But that's all.