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corralinesage · 3 months ago

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Learning you by heart (1/?)

Natasha Romanoff/ Reader Christmas romance <33

Summary: You lock eyes with a stranger in the audience of an opera, her troubled appearance piquing your interests immediately, the thought of her sticking around to haunt your mind that demands answers for her predicament. Turns out that there might be more to her than you could have ever imagined.

Rating: General audiences

A/N: Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1: Columbus Avenue

Your body was cold, your armpits clearly sticky with sweat. You felt like you couldn’t quite breathe deeply enough despite the amount of breathing exercises and vocal warm ups you had already done. You fiddled with the fabric of your costume, playing with the pearls embedded into the corset of your gown. You had already gone through it many times that week, hell, you had already been on stage that day, yet it somehow didn’t stop being as nerve racking as it had been the first time. You stood behind the curtains, eyeing the brightly lit stage apprehensively, going over lyrics in your head almost obsessively, slowly starting to whisper them to yourself to make sure your mouth was capable of moving how you wished it to. The low tenor of your coworker’s voice bellowed across the stage as he held the final note ceremoniously until his lungs would no longer allow him to continue. You took one final inhale before taking steady steps onto the stage, the strobe lights nearly enough to blind you despite how used to it you were by then. You got into character, taking one more deep breath before beginning to sing.

You knew the piece by heart, it flowed out of you on its own, requiring little to no conscious effort from you, just like it had during rehearsals and the opening night. Your body moved with the music as you acted out the lyrics you were singing, the gorgeous red gown you were wearing dragging slightly behind you. The song was a dramatic monologue. You sang to the audience, telling them your version of the events that had taken place just a few minutes prior. You could tell from your tone that you were nervous. You could tell it from the way your voice threatened to slip into vibrato when it wasn’t needed. You struggled to get a proper grip on controlling your voice. You didn’t quite know why, but you felt on edge, worn out, and unsteady. You couldn’t see the audience, their ominous dark figures seeming undeniably unresponsive to your display of emotion. You looked at them with your wide eyes, the higher notes demanding a kind of concentration that wouldn’t allow you to think about anything else. You scanned the audience, deciding to make the mass of people less intimidating by choosing an individual to focus on. You had found it to be helpful when stage fright caught you by surprise, your gaze moving down from the higher levels of the theater to the front.

There was a woman there, a woman roughly your age, her grim exterior forcing your attention on her. She looked pained, the gaze of her light eyes weighed down by something that you couldn’t decipher. Your heart suddenly beat a little louder in your chest, from the strain of the high notes or the demeanor of that woman, you couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, you couldn’t stop it, nor could you tear your eyes off her. She had red hair, messy and unkempt, which stood out to you in the mass of nobility who usually dominated the crowds. She looked like she had dirt on her face, maybe even blood, but you weren’t sure if it was simply her hair curling against her cheek. She wore black clothes, almost like a uniform. She could have passed as a security guard, almost, had her uniform not resembled one of a dystopian warrior. You briefly noted the elderly couple beside her dressed in a dress and a sharp suit, their demeanors exuding high status. She didn’t fit in.

Suddenly her eyes met yours, the intensity of her gaze nearly making you choke on your own breath. She looked unwell, tears pooling in her eyes, eyelids red rimmed and raw. Her lips were pink and swollen. She was in distress and very obviously so. You felt the sudden need to help her somehow, yet all you could do was keep singing. You held her gaze, all your energy going on keeping your voice steady. You felt the way your eyes suddenly filled with tears. It happened sometimes when you were truly in character and able to channel the pain that you were communicating to the viewers, but this wasn’t that. You felt helpless, completely captivated by her grim gaze, your powerful voice and the orchestra filling the otherwise silent theater. She wasn’t okay. She was hurt, the look in her eyes longing, pained, troubled. You couldn’t explain it. You didn’t understand.

Your tears spilled over, the final long notes demanding every ounce of focus from you, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes off the red-headed woman. Your body ached, your heart throbbing ruthlessly. She kept looking at you, eyes staring at the other without a single interruption. You allowed your arm to rise up slightly as if to give your lungs more room to produce the desired notes, your other hand finding your stomach to remind yourself to keep your core tight to avoid slipping into your head voice. The final note resonated everywhere around you, on the stage, in the audience, in your head, rising into a crescendo before reaching its end. There was a brief silence, the lights turning off and breaking your eye-contact with the mysterious woman, before booming applause erupted in the audience, filling in the silence to the fullest extent. The lights came back on, the people in the front rows standing up to show their appreciation for you and the rest of the cast that walked onto the stage to receive their praise. You looked frantically around for the red-headed woman, your eyes blurry from tears, head fuzzy from whatever you had just experienced. You couldn’t see her.

“Holy shit, Y/N”, Beatrice whispered discreetly as she came to stand beside you, gently turning you to fully face the audience as you clasped hands. You looked at your cast member, unable to really say a word. “Way to end the show.” Her tone was filled with positive astonishment, so you decided to take her statement as a compliment, hoping that your performance had been up to standard because in all honesty, the only thing you remembered from it was those pained eyes that you had now lost into the crowd. You forced a smile on your face, focusing back on the applauding audience to bow for them.

“Girl, are you okay?” Beatrice asked you once you had managed to get backstage and escape the eyes of the audience. The show was finally over.

“Yeah, why are you asking?” Your hands came to your ear to remove your earrings as you both finally reached the dressing rooms, followed by a few more cast members. You looked at the Christmas decorations that were littered in the already chaotic room filled with makeup and clothing, walking to your designated vanity.

“I don’t know. You seem off.” She let out a slight chuckle. “You really sold me with that final scene.” You gave her an amused smile.

“I’m fine. Just got a little carried away maybe.”

“It was phenomenal”, she sighed, almost as if enamored by you and your talent. She was a few years younger than you and played a much smaller part in the opera, but she was nonetheless your favorite person in the cast. She knew when and how to be quiet. She knew how to give you your space, which you appreciated greatly.

“Thank you. I guess I was feeling it a little more today”, you chuckled. “You did really well yourself.” Beatrice was practically glowing.

“Thank you.” She had a childish glint in her eyes and an intense blush on her face. You knew she admired you greatly. “Care for a cupcake?” She approached your chair with a plastic container of peppermint cupcakes in her arms, offering you the selection.

“Who are these from?” You looked at the packaging for a card of some sorts, the room slowly filling with the rest of your cast members, some chattering enthusiastically, others clearly looking forward to withdrawing socially.

“On the house. It’s a little holiday treat. They brought it over right before the show.”

“Don’t mind if I do”, you hummed, picking one out of the box for yourself. You were starving. Beatrice grabbed one for herself, sitting down beside you as you began to debrief the success of the night. You tried your best to remain present for her as you ate the cupcakes, removing your false eyelashes, jewelry, and hairpins as you talked, but you could barely keep your thoughts in check. The image of that woman returning to the forefront of your mind time and time again. Was she okay? What had happened to her? You stayed in the dressing room for hours, the rest of the people filing out to go recharge themselves for the shows of the following day, but you and Beatrice were in no rush. The lights got turned off aside from the ones on your vanity, gentle Christmas music sounding from the radio that somebody had left on by accident. It sat on a table across the room beside a box of leftover Christmas ornaments. The atmosphere was comforting, so much so that you didn’t even notice the time pass as you munched on the cupcakes that you and Beatrice might have hogged for yourselves.

Even hours later, when you had gone to a very late dinner with Beatrice, you found your mind plagued by the woman’s grim eyes and distraught face. You parted ways with Beatrice around midnight, which made your predicament even worse because she was no longer there to distract you and your compulsive mind. Who was the woman and why had she made such an impact on you? You tossed and turned in bed, unable to wipe the woman’s face from your mind, unable to shake the creeping sense of… something. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it didn’t even matter because regardless of what it had been it was clearly there to stay. You slept poorly, your dreams an odd jumble of stress from the shows you had coming your way paired with the woman and her mysterious presence.

All in all, you were able to recognize how ridiculous of you it was to fixate on such an insignificant detail in the crowd, especially a few shows later when you had caught yourself scanning the audience as if she would have attended the show twice in the span of a few weeks, let alone even the same year. It was more than likely that she would never come see that same performance again. You caught yourself staring intently into the dark crowd time and time again with the woman on the very forefront of your mind. Every time you opened your mouth and began to sing on the stage during the weeks leading up to December, a ghost of that feeling of the opening week would linger in your body. You had never been so captivated by a gaze. You had never witnessed such intensity in anyone’s eyes. You tried to look back on the most meaningful people in your life, your mother, your siblings, your best friend and roommate, your ex who you had thought to be the love of your life yet came up short. You even considered the people who had looked at you with hatred in their eyes, but it couldn’t compare to the red-headed woman.

You quickly became frustrated with the idea of her. What right did she have to look at you with such intensity, with such reverence, with such agony? Who was she to plague your mind so ruthlessly and consistently? You stared daggers ahead of you as you once again waited for your turn behind the curtains to bring the show to its finish. You fiddled with your gown until you realized you were about to rip off the pearls from anger, so you left them alone, focusing your frustration on your cuticles and bottom lip instead. You watched your coworker, Daniel, belt out his last note which functioned as a cue for you to get into character. You took a deep breath, counted to five in your head, like you often did, and headed onto the stage.

You slipped into character with familiar ease, waltzing across the stage in an emotion filled frenzy as your lips formed each of the rapidly sung words, allowing yourself to get fully immersed into your role to escape the thoughts that dominated your mind, thoughts that had been dominating your mind for most of November. You directed your rage at the audience, communicating your character’s frustration through not only the tone of your voice but your expressions and gestures. And then you nearly slipped right out of your character when your eyes found an unexpected figure a few rows off from her designated seat in the audience. You had sworn to yourself that you would stop obsessively checking the seat she had once occupied, yet the habit proved to be harder to shake than you had expected to. However, all of a sudden none of that mattered.

She was there. It had to be her. Either that or you were seeing hallucinations. Had you not been met with such an intense wave of dejavú that her gaze inflicted upon you, you could have disregarded her as someone who merely shared a resemblance with the red-headed woman, but you knew you weren’t mistaken. Your voice nearly faltered, your body stilling for a fraction of a second. It was just enough for the woman to be able to tell that your reaction was her doing. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, but that simply wasn’t an option for you when you were singing. You needed air, filling your lungs in a spastic inhale before continuing to sing, your eyes glued on the woman and her now much more serene features. She looked more put together than the first time. She looked more like she belonged in the audience, her clothing allowing her to blend in.

You felt dizzy, your eyes remaining intently on her so that you would not have the chance to lose her again. She had beautiful features, even more beautiful than you remembered. Her intense eyes held your gaze just the same, a gentle smile pushing up the corners of her mouth. You felt a pull to her, a pure sense of childish curiosity that couldn’t be explained. Holding her gaze, singing to her, felt safe, yet at the same time you felt like falling apart, like you had forgotten to put on your dress before walking onto the stage. There was something in those eyes, something that couldn’t be explained. You felt your eyes fill with tears. You didn’t know why. Once again, it wasn’t part of the act. Her smile widened, your tears spilling over. You couldn’t control it, the anger of your character fading into defeat, into helpless silence as your final note reverberated around you, bouncing from the walls of the theater.

The lights went off, panic rising to your chest. You were going to lose her again. You could barely breathe as you waited patiently for the lights to turn back on, the rest of the cast joining you on stage. You saw the woman stand up among the other people in the audience, your eyes nailed on her as the applause roared into life. You felt your hands being grabbed from either side for the bow that your cast did after every show, but all you could focus on was making sure that she didn’t have the chance to escape. The lights above the seating area turned on, illuminating the crowd better, your brows drawing into a horrified frown when you saw the woman give you a fond smile before dropping her clapping hands and turning to the side to leave the row of seats. You didn’t even realize that you immediately let go of the hands that held your own, rushing off the stage without giving it so much as a single thought. Your heels clicked against the floor as you ran behind the curtains, hurrying out of the backstage area. You nearly stumbled over your feet, but you didn’t let it hinder you, rushing down the hallways to the entrance of the Metropolitan Opera House. There were some people lounging around but since your show happened to be the last one of the night, most of the people in the building were still clapping in the theater.

You looked around frantically, scanning for even a lock of red hair among the people, your feet already carrying you toward the exit. She couldn’t have gone far. You saw that one of the front glass doors slid shut, a lone figure heading for the street. You had no idea what your intention was, why you needed to see her face again, to see more of her, nor did you stop to ponder the matter. You ran after her, pushing the glass door open, your bare arms greeted by an icy gust of wind. It was snowing outside, the large snowflakes floating down from the sky in the darkness of the night, clinging to your hair and dress, melting on your warm skin. Your heels sank into the pillowy layer of snow with each step you took. There were Christmas lights and streetlamps around you, the glistening, fresh snow illuminating your surroundings. For just a moment you felt your heart stop at the magical sight. First snow.

After recovering from your sudden experience of pure awe, you started to look around at the people on the plaza that was in front of the opera house. You scanned them frantically from head to toe in search of your mysterious woman before spotting her walking along the lit-up Lincoln Center fountain toward Broadway. You picked up your speed, your arms gathering your gorgeous gown up and out of the way after nearly falling face down in the snow on your slippery heels, but you managed to keep yourself upright somehow.

“Hey!” You didn’t know why you shouted, a few heads turning your way immediately, but none of them belonged to the person you were after. “Hey!” You wished you would have had something to call her, something specific that would attract her attention. You were getting closer to her, only a dozen feet between you when she glanced back at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes widened in shock, but she didn’t stop, discreetly picking up her speed.

Fuck, what were you doing? Why were you coming after her? Natasha’s chest squeezed with anxiety. You weren’t supposed to- She wasn’t ready, she felt exposed. She rushed forward in the powdery snow, trying her best not to look like she was indeed running away from you. How could she be such a fool, such a wuss? She should have been able to face you just fine. You were no one. She was no one. It would have meant nothing; two strangers meeting. Except none of that was true. You were everything and meeting you would mean everything. Natasha came to the intersection of Columbus Avenue and Broadway, crossing the former street to Dante Park. She glanced back once more to see you drown momentarily into a small group of people passing by which gave her the perfect opportunity to change direction and continue to Columbus Avenue down south.

You slowed down, noting that the traffic was abnormally slow for the night as you crossed the street, trying to relocate the woman again, but with significantly less enthusiasm. You were shivering, trembling from the cold, your sudden frenzy starting to fizzle out. What were you after? You were harassing some innocent stranger without any proper justification. You yourself didn’t even know what you were after and you could no longer even see her auburn curls as you reached a large, abstract clock statue that stood in the middle of the strip of walkway between the two roads, always as hideous as ever.

The snow-covered branches of the trees of Dante Park gave Natasha enough coverage to blend into the rest of the pedestrians lounging on the street. Ten seconds later she had completely lost you. She had no doubt that you would give up on your search when the two of you shared no connection. She could have easily kept going and carried on with her night, but she couldn’t. Her heart ached so violently that she could no longer take another step. She looked at the row of snow-covered benches on her left, briefly contemplating if she should sit down for a moment. The pain was immense. It was brutal. She looked back toward the crossroad where she had last seen you, spotting you by the large, ugly clock. You brushed your hands over your bare arms, shivering very visibly. You looked around, taking a few blind, aimless steps toward her direction, but you clearly had no intention to continue your chase.

You were so close to her, Natasha’s heart beating out of rhythm as she watched you briefly glance her way again, prompting her to step behind a street map post to avoid being caught. What a loser she was. There was no point in trying. She should simply leave you alone. That’s how things were meant to go, that was your designated path. She didn’t belong there, she didn’t belong in your life. She waited for a moment to be on the safe side before peeking her head from behind the post, needing one more look at you before she would be ready to let you go. Her heart jolted. You were closer, walking her way as you rubbed your hands together violently in an attempt to warm yourself up. You and your lacking clothing received a few appalled looks from bystanders, but you paid them no attention, your focus moving back to the opera house. You brought your hands up to your mouth, huffing a warm breath over them despite how little it did to stave away the cold.

You stepped off the sidewalk to cross the street, slightly off where the crosswalk had been marked, too busy warming yourself up to look around. Every cell in Natasha’s body stung in fear when she saw the way your gown glistened under a pair of headlights that appeared from nowhere, the driver taking advantage of the unusual lack of traffic by going slightly over the speed limit. Natasha didn’t waste a single breath, charging right at you without a second thought or even half a consideration for her own safety. All she could see was a car that was seconds away from running you over, and all she could think about was not letting it happen. Her body collided roughly with your own as she pushed you off the street and out of the car’s way just as the driver hit the breaks. You didn’t scream, you didn’t let out a single sound. You couldn’t. Natasha heard shocked gasps and a few horrified shouts from the sidewalk, but they disappeared into oblivion as she looked at you lying beneath her in the powdery snow.

Your eyes were wide, staring up at Natasha in pure terror as you lay on your back, your icy hands gripping her waist over her wool coat. You couldn’t process what had even happened, but you could feel her hand beneath your head, protecting it from the roughness of the collision with snowy asphalt, her hips and thighs pinning you down to the ground. You felt the way your chest rose and fell rapidly, your corset making the process of breathing feel even more laborious, your head spinning alongside the world around you. All you could do was stare up at what you had just now discovered to be green eyes. The streetlights illuminated her red hair, giving it a gentle glow, snowflakes clinging to her curls as more snow came down from the sky. Her cheeks were a soft pink from the cold, the tip of her nose matching the color, plump lips an even deeper shade of rose. You couldn’t feel any pain, the coldness of your body preventing you from feeling anything at its full intensity, yet you felt like you could feel her.

“Are you okay, dorogaya (darling)?” A hint of inappropriately possessive worry bled into her tone as she uttered the words, the endearment slipping out by pure accident, reminding her to take some mental distance from you despite your very intimate position. You continued to stare up at her, your lips parting but nothing came out. You nodded your head, but it came off as more of a tremor.

“Y-yeah. I’m- I’m-” Your teeth started clattering. You were freezing out of your mind.

“Are- are you okay?” The voice belonged to a panicked boy on the driver’s seat. Natasha glanced back at the scene behind her, noticing that the car had done a full one-eighty on the snow and ice when hitting the brakes, a few cars piling at the scene, waiting to get past, some drivers exiting their cars to see if an ambulance was needed. Natasha could tell the boy was young and clearly an inexperienced driver, anger flashing within her, hot and ruthless.

“You could’ve killed her”, she said in a voice icier than the snow pressed up against your skin as she moved carefully off you, barely sparing the boy a single glance before her attention was back on you. She knelt in the snow, her helping hands pulling you slowly to sit upright. You looked at her, you looked at him, you looked at the car, the snowflakes above you. It all felt so surreal.

“Are you hurt? I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so fucked.” He was seconds away from crying, his whiny tone getting on Natasha’s nerves. She turned to him again, her stoic face conveying every bit of disdain that she felt toward him.

“Get lost.” The boy was clearly taken aback by her hostility, but he didn’t seem to be the type to defy authority, his hand fumbling for the car key. “And learn how to fucking drive.” He nodded his head, some bystanders watching the scene unfold, a few coming closer to ask if you needed help, but they were quickly convinced that you had made it through without a single scrape. Or well, not exactly. Natasha brushed the melted snow off your bare arms and shoulders, taking notice of the irritated skin there. Parts of it had been peeled raw by the rough collision with the ground, but they were barely enough to be considered wounds.

“Thank you”, you blurted out suddenly after she had helped you back on your feet.

“You’re welcome”, she smiled softly, a hint of something, something that was driving you insane, behind that expression, her hand coming up to your face to brush aside some of your hair. You looked at her, observed her carefully, unsure of what to say to her or how to voice why you had come after her in the first place. You felt like you needed to explain yourself to her, but you didn’t have the words for such a feat. “Turn around.” You followed her instructions, feeling like your brain was a bit behind from the current moment. “You’ve got…” She brushed her hand down the back of your dress, saving whatever she could from your gorgeous apparel. “A bit of snow.” Your arms curled against your body automatically as you continued to shiver like a leaf in the wind, your lower lip trembling, teeth chattering. “Here.” You turned to look at her. She had removed her dark brown coat and was offering it for you to wear. It looked warm and comfortable, the effect amplified by the fur neckline of the coat. You shook your head immediately, noting that she was only wearing a thin, satin blouse beneath it.

“No, you’ll freeze”, you protested weakly, but Natasha simply shook her head.

“I’ll be okay. Besides, you’re practically already frozen. I’ve still got a few minutes.” You tried to chuckle at her joke, but you were far too cold to produce such sounds. She wrapped the coat tightly around you, making sure it fit you snuggly to stave off the cold.

“Thank you”, you mumbled, feeling a pleasant but weak heat bloom on your cheeks from her considerate act.

“Keep it. It looks good on you.” Natasha brushed her hand over your shoulder as if admiring the fit on you. It brought her comfort and serenity to know that you would own a piece of her.

“W-what?”

“I have to go, and you probably should too.” There it was again, that look, that look in her eyes. You felt a visceral reaction in your body for being looked at that way. You felt unbearable disappointment even if you didn’t expect a complete stranger to want to hang out with you for longer than necessary. She had only acted out of basic human decency. She noted the hesitant look on your face. “It’s okay, detka (baby), you can keep it.” It was only fair that she would get to slip in one more endearment before leaving. You couldn’t really react to her words, still trying to process the fact that you had just gone through a near death experience. “Look both ways when crossing the street. Please, for my sake and my sanity.”

“I will.” Natasha started backing away, a bitter smile on her lips.

“Wait.” You felt hurt, abandoned, but you didn’t understand why. “What’s your name?” She pursed her lips, wiping the smile off her face as she looked away as if contemplating whether your question was worth answering or not.

“Natasha.” You smiled. “Yours?” She already knew the answer.

“Y/N.”

“I’ve always loved that name. It suits you”, she hummed softly.

“Thank you and thank you for saving my life. I owe you everything.” She shook her head in mild amusement as if you didn’t quite know what her words entailed.

“You owe me nothing.” She took a few more steps back. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.” She gave you one last smile before turning around and walking away, hopefully heading somewhere away from the cold. You stared after her, feeling distraught by the intimacy of the way she has said your name, an odd shiver going down your spine. You hugged the coat tighter around you, watching her disappear into the city covered by a blanket of snow.

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jymwahuwu · 1 year ago

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JSHDJDBDJBSSJSBS THE WRIO ONE👀💦 + the fact that you can stay after serving your sentence

imagine being one of the prisoners at the fortress at first but you actually smiled at him when he's signing your paperwork for having served your sentence but he wants you to stay...

If you cooperate, you get a protective and cuddly wolf but if you don't, then you'll get a lovely 'hustle and tussle' at first. Don't worry, sigewinne has all the ointments needed to soothe the bite marks and hickies left by a beloved wolf🤭🥰

-💦anon (life is killing me but my therapy are hot men -wriothesley and Neuvillette-🦋)

💦nonny, me too lol i feel less tired just thinking about them. sending you a digital hug <3

And this… face the fact that we can't leave the Fortress of Meropide once the sentence starts, it doesn't matter if it's 10 days or not 😹💗

CW: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, spanking, forced imprisonment

You weren't actually that worried about going to jail—although you weren't so laid-back as to think it was summer camp, you weren't sighing like the others either. You live in Fontaine, after all, a country famous for its laws. Your friend has been to the Fortress of Meropide three times, and a classmate was imprisoned for 15 days for some inexplicable reason. They give you some instructions on what to do in prison and write letters to friends who are still in prison asking them to look after you.

You go to jail with the papers, but the receptionist is on leave, so you have to go to Wriothesley in person. Need to meet the "Duke"? Fortunately, you learned about Wriothesley's character from your friends in advance and breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, do you want some tea?" Whether you shook your hand or nodded, Wriothesley put down a cup of warm tea on the table and read some stupid shit charges, such as singing for Furina but off-key, lying about not having dessert at home, hanging wet clothes on rain. The number on your sentence document is "10 days." You are clearly a victim of these stupid crimes.

During these 10 days, you have been assigned to work in Wriothesley's office to replace other prison labor. You read the manual and brew the tea, looking around in confusion, but don't see any other prisoners - are you the only one working here…? You just had to prepare tea, process and deliver documents, but…once you accidentally dropped a piece of the opera cake on the floor (his afternoon tea). Without warning, Wriothesley pulled down your panties and spanked you. Absolute…shock. Could he do this…?

You convince yourself that this might be prison discipline…right? It should be like this, right…?

After working for ten days, you hummed a song and walked briskly, holding the release documents to look for Wriothesley. With a grin, you asked him to sign it in a soft tone.

"Why do you think I'd sign?" He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, crossing his arms.

Your raised lips froze, and the luster gradually faded from your face. "You-won't you sign?"

Unexpectedly, you receive a confession from "The Duke," the prison administrator. Knowing that it was not a reason for the complaint, you gradually felt relieved. Ask your heart, do you agree to stay -

Agree:

Wriothesley leaves you in the Fortress of Meropide, but also allows you to return to the surface. He is a humorous and considerate boyfriend. The two of you often date at teahouses, coffee shops, and the Fortress of Meropide. Once, Chief Justice met the two of you and sighed in realization. "So this is your mate, for love and mating."

You: (cheeks burning) ?????

Disagree:

There was an argument that ended with Wriothesley pushing you and placing you on the table, forcing your legs apart. It was rough but controlled force - basically no injuries except for bites and hickeys on your neck and inner thighs. Frustrated sobs gave way to reluctant moans. After this, little Sigewinne gave him a rare scolding, and examined and applied medicine to you.

Still, you can't get out of jail. Those handcuffs locked you in his office and resting area. He pats your head and tells you to be good.

#[💌.from💦]#wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley

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rambosgirl · 4 months ago

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Hiii, could you write about logan x f! opera singer! reader??? And maybe make a moodboard🫶🫶🫶 thx for your works

Heck yea I gotcha babe <3 the first thing I thought of was Greatest Showman (duh) but then I also thought of Phantom of the Opera so uh... here it is, I hope you like it! Oh and I added some headcanons for you, if you want a full fic lmk

Masterlist

Headcanons

Storm, Jean, and Scott dragged him to a show of yours bc ya'll are old friends or something

He was a grump the entire time but when he heard you sing??

he was fascinated

and then they went backstage to see you??

girl he was head over heels. Forgot about Jean for the rest of time bc who is this

He would flirt like there was no tomorrow. And he'd give you pet names, his favorite being 'angel'

Despite your busy schedule and sporadic traveling, the two of you become friends. Whenever you were in town, Charles invited you to teach a few classes for students interested in music.

You loved teaching, so you always said yes. But after you finished, you and Logan would sneak off and hang out (Jean and Storm call them dates, and tease Logan about it whenever you're not around)

Logan loves listening to you practice. Your voice isn't just calming, it's fascinating. How do you hold out notes for that long? How do you reach those high notes and make them sound so rich? He doesn't know but he's here for it.

He goes to as many performances as he can, but he often struggles to fit in with the elegance of your world

The fancy opera house, galas, high-society events and people, it's not really his element. It's actually the opposite.

Not to mention the tux. DANG he looks good in it but you can tell he's wildly uncomfortable in it.

it's why he only goes to those events with you sometimes, but he does love to be with you backstage, supporting you within his comfort zone, which you are perfectly okay with.

He'll be there watching when you do your hair, perfect your makeup, and when you perform.

He also reminds you when you're not performing that you don't have to be perfect all the time, something that as an opera singer, you struggle with

You've known each other for months by the time he lets you hear his singing voice

It's a deep baritone voice, completely different from his speaking voice, but at the same time very similar

"You've got a voice that could sell out a theater. Ever think of putting the claws away to give musicals a try?"

He just let out a soft, playful scoff in response "You won't ever catch me singing on a stage"

"The circus it is then"

Insert the Logan eyebrow raise here

As your relationship grows, so does Logan's admiration for you.

sometimes when he sees you on stage in your white dress he imagines it's a wedding dress

Eventually, you tone down the performance side of your career and start staying at the mansion teaching more. You miss performing sometimes, but this means you can spend more time with your old friends, your students, and Logan.

Logan is a-okay with this he misses the white dress

but that's okay because he's planning a way for you to wear a white dress again :)))

#wolverine x opera singer reader #moodboard #logan howlett headcanons #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine headcanons #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett moodboard #wolverine

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dramaticallytotal · 2 months ago

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TDWT Headcanons Pt. 5

Part 1 Last Part

• Heather, Leshawna, Eva, and Sierra were Bratz girlies.

• Courtney, Gwen, and Bridgette were Barbie girlies.

• Lindsay and Izzy were all. Bratz, Barbie, Polly Pocket, My Scene. You name it. While Lindsay was in it for the fashion, Izzy liked to put Barbie dolls on ceiling fans star-fished and turn in on and try not to get hit. Also, for makeovers. Izzy also chewed the rubber Polly Pocket clothes.

• Gwen was also a Living Dead Dolls girlie.

• Eva, for some odd reason, gives me cabbage patch vibes.

• Courtney is also very American Girl Doll coded. But also Eva, in the sense she always wanted one.

• I don't know why but I felt the need to make those headcanons even though they have nothing to do with WT XD

• Chris found out Noah can actually sing because his sister Noelle messaged him from their mom's phone since Chris is...ugh...friends with his parents. Noelle got mad that Noah wasn't actually singing even though she knew he could. So she ratted him out to Chris and even shared a video from when they were younger, and Noelle had him perform Phantom of the Opera with her in their living room. She was Erik, he was Christine.

• So Chris tells him he has to sing a song all by himself in New York because Broadway is there, and he was inspired by the video. Noah is so pissed! He knew Noelle was actually mad at him for eating the last of the Rava Ladoo before he left! But she said it was fine! He makes it a point to tell her this during a confessional. He may also be planning to hack into her accounts and post one of the embarrassing videos he had of her.

• Then Noah got an idea. This show is supposed to be family-friendly. If he sang a not so family friendly song, then it would have to be cut! Thankfully, Chris told him he could pick a song to sing, so he quickly told the band what song and hoped they knew it. They did and were all trying very hard not to laugh as they could already imagine Chris's reaction. Then Noah grabbed an intern around his age that he knew named Tristan, who sang and sang well.

• Please imagine Noah singing Sugar Daddy from Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Going all out and everyone is just STUNNED. Alejandro is so flustered, but he can't look away. Izzy, Eva, and Owen are rocking out and cheering for Noah. We love supportive best friends UwU

• Trent and Cody have stars in their eyes and are already trying to come up with arguments of why Noah should join their emo band. I mean boy band.

• Chris is impressed and pissed because he definitely has to cut the song, but it's okay. He's just going to make sure Noah actually sings from here on out.

• Alejandro definitely did not lie awake at night thinking about Noah's performance. Nope!

• When Lindsay is annoyed with someone, she purposefully calls them by the wrong name. She does that already because it's part of her character, but when she's annoyed? She takes it up a notch.

• Yes, Lindsay isn't the smartest person, but come on, she's not that dumb! She's on a gymnastics team and a really good one at that. In order to stay on the team, she has to have decent grades. But she knew that people love a dumb blonde, and she's all for playing the part.

• Tyler may be clumsy, but the dude is actually really strong. We've seen he has an uncanny strength in his fingertips, but also he was able to pull his sled with his team plus random crates. He's actually won a pull-up competition without really trying.

• Heather can do anything in heels. When she was younger, she idolized Michelle Pfieffer's Cat Woman. She saw the way the woman did everything in heels and was just like, "that's gonna be me." And she did it.

• Bridgette is totally a tarot card girlie. I mean, we know she likes crystals from her biography, so I can totally see her being a tarot card reader. Coincidentally, Gwen was a rock/ gem kid, so they tend to talk about rocks/gems and what they mean and it's just a nice break from the competition for the both of them.

• Cody and Noah aren't actually mad about the whole awake-a-thon kiss thing anymore and tend to make jokes about it because they figured if they didn't, others would and they would be pretty cruel about it. So what better way to skip that treatment than to show it doesn't bother them?

• They tend to call each other stupid pet names, but they stopped that because of Sierra. But Cody is still pretty protective of Noah and also considers himself his wingman.

• Alejandro is definitely not glad they stopped because he definitely wasn't jealous.

• DJ and Leshawna tend to jam out together from her playlist since both have a love of music. DJ used to play the trumpet in school for a bit, and Leshawna can actually play the drums pretty well.

• Leshawna sees Tyler as a little brother of sorts. He reminds her of a kid she met when she volunteered at the community center at home, and the poor dude is so clumsy she can't help but try and take him under her wing. Plus, she likes his determination.

• Harold, Noah, Trent, and Tyler were all Scouts. Noah only made it to being a Beaver Scout, not because he couldn't handle the training because he could and got bored! Trent and Tyler made it to be Cub Scouts, but Trent stopped because he got more into music while Tyler was asked to leave because of how many times he got injured.

• Harold made Venturer but then auditioned for Total Drama. He is hoping to get back to it and make Rover!

• Trent has a habit of sneaking Gwen treats from first class if his team wins. She finds it absolutely adorable and makes sure not to tell her team, but she always sneaks him thank you notes.

• When they aren't competing, the kids tend to make their own small competitions like who can do the most push up, who can hold a note the longest, who can steal something from Chris's room without him noticing. Or who can add something to his room and how long it takes for him to notice.

• Also, they bet so much, oh my god. There's a pot where they bet snacks, whatever cash they brought, favors, and secretly votes.

Next Part

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liliesof-the-valley · 4 months ago

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Singer mc

How do the brothers react to a mc who can sing?

Not proofread, this idea came to me while I was supposed to be writing about a jack of all trades mc but oh well, enjoy!!

─── ୨ৎ────

Luci

Needless to say, he’s so impressed.

He thinks you should show the world this while also wanting to simultaneously have your voice belong to him

I suppose the showing off the talents you have boosts his ego in a way.

I’m pretty sure it’s canon that he’ll listen to anything except techno (I think) and regardless of the style of singing you do (be it opera, more theatre-y or metal) he’ll support you.

To be fair , though, I do think his favourite would be you singing opera

He’ll accompany you with the piano as you sing your heart out to whatever and whatever.

Perhaps if you sing a duet, he’ll join in, who knows?

Mams

Do I love him? Yes. Do I think he may try exploit this? Also yes.

Okay hear me out, once he does find out about your special talent he’s absolutely awestruck, though at first I do think his greed may get to his head.

Plots of how he can record you or help you audition in films/ musicals or how much money he would make if he—

But wait. Once he comes to his senses, he realises…

Your voice should just be heard by him, he is the great mammon, your first after all!

Needless to say, the two of you go to many karaoke parlours afterwards as well as singing whilst driving to nowhere special

Levi

To be fair, I’m pretty sure there wouldn’t be anyone who wouldn’t be impressed by your absolute delight of a voice

Levi thinks similarly, thinking of how many people you’ve sung to and how many people have heard your siren song…

Well, he is the avatar of envy after all, he’s bound to get jealous over something.

Despite his jealousy, it’s quite easy to make him feel better.

How? Easy, sing an anime op. More specifically (if he’s in a reallyy bad mood) sing the opening of hana ruri and he’s grinning ear to ear, brighter than the whole of the celestial realm.

You and him do actually do karaoke and he LOVES how your voice can just…wow.

Expect him to ask for mini concerts with you dressed in cosplay

Satan

He’s intrigued, curious and even more interested in you now.

You can sing? And not just that, this wonderful?

Some demons would take centuries to build up this kind of voice, and you (be with years of practice or being naturally talented) have achieved this skill this quickly? (Remember the perceptions of time are diff guys😭)

he treats this as sort of a science experiment, I suppose—which does mean LOADS OF QUESTIONS.

How high can you go? How low can you go? Do you know that…? Do you—

After this initial stage, he does like asking you to sing to him, especially if he’s in a mood or about to explode and like that, he’s calm again.

Asmo

oh my! You can sing?!

How cute!!

He may ask for your permission to post some videos of you singing, the world deserves to see your beautiful voice and his beautiful face!

Sing to him while he’s getting ready and he feels like the main character

Asmo has a nice voice too so I could imagine a duet between you two

Its so happens that company reached out and asked you two to sing a duet!

Well, at least your getting payed good

Asmo nights now are required to have at least one karaoke portion/place

Beel

You can sing? Cool!

I mean honestly, he’d probably find out randomly

I can imagine him realising your siren-like voice whilst you are singing and cooking

You’d casually be singing to a song from your playlist as you cook and he walks in

His jaw drops because, wow???

Almost forgot about his snack due to the sheer shock of your serene voice

anyways, he does ask you about it, thinking its something you should share with people

Belphie

there’s no way that he wouldn’t make you sing lullabies to him

In fact, that’s probably his favourite thing to hear you sing

Whilst napping together, even if he’s on the verge of falling asleep, it’s nice to hear you singing into his ears, lulling him to sleep

Hm? Belphies having problems with sleeping? That’s a lie first of all he wants you to sing to him

maybe if you sing a lullaby to him he’ll be able to fall asleep better

Come on.. just one, or two, or three, or—

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obmswd #obey me writing #obey me lucifer #obey me asmodeus #obey me brothers #obey me headcannons #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphie #obey me beel #I’m acc so bored guys

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ataraxiaspainting · 1 year ago

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The End.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka always sits in the front row, despite being part of the show herself.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, thoughts of violence, manipulation, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Waltz No. 2 by Dmitri Shostakovich (feat. The Dixie String Quartet)

Swan Lake by HAUSER

Claus by Los Tres

Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray

Lie by BTS

She’s My Collar by Gorillaz (feat. Kali Uchis)

Cha Cha by Freddie Dredd

Michelle by Sir Chloe

MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) - SATAN’S EXTENDED VERSION by Lil Nas X

*~*~*~*

The roses are wilting.

It was destiny, fate. Such pretty things never last forever, after all, even if the entire universe wished otherwise. One way or another, they are meant to fall, like how the sun drops below where anyone can see it, being replaced with the moon, and vice versa. They fall deep, deeper than hell itself, and no one can pick them back up, unless one would be inclined to make a pact with the devil himself, doing horrendous things in his name. But Kafka has already committed such sins, so why deny doing so any longer? It is who she is. It is who you are, to be entangled in her lies and be forced to dance and to sing and to act.

With two gloved hands, she picks up the vase, spilling out the moldy water and the dying roses, the roses she got for you after you sang so well at the opera house, looking so beautiful, into the trash can underneath your makeup vanity, where little clumps of hair and emptied products always meet their end.

She’ll get you a new bouquet later. A new vase too. Perhaps instead of white roses you would like red ones instead? Kafka knows that this vase is cheap too, from one of your fellow divas, whose high notes are not as high as yours and her costumes not as elaborate or as elegant as yours.

“I honestly don’t see why you even try to befriend any of them, darling. They are all envious harpies. They can’t hold a candle to anything you do.”

You are not here, but Kafka’s mouth always has a mind of its own, so it spins lies even when your delicate, lovely ears are not in the general vicinity. Not that she minds it. But yours is what she is quite more so than trifles with, because yours is carefully controlled by her and her alone, and you, as always, don’t get a say. It’s a sort of hypocrisy, Kafka thinks, but she doesn't mind that either.

If she has to, she’ll even sew your mouth shut, your ears shut, your eyes shut, if that is what it takes for you to stay with her. She doubts it would ever come to that, though, because you are always too fragile and too trusting to tell the difference between an Iago and a Desdemona. But the latter role would much better suit you, her little flower, her princess.

You are so precious, but also a treasure prying eyes will always want to touch and see and hear. Kafka would, in all honesty, love to cut their hands and tongues off, if it did not ruin the carefully crafted image she made just for you. Maybe later, though, when all the stage lights are off.

“Lady Macbeth, hmm?” She murmurs.

She disagrees with the role you were given entirely. But, you were not one to stand up for yourself, so Kafka let it go.

“You really ought to leave this business soon, dearest.” Kafka looks around, her arms crossed, not impressed with the room you were given in the slightest. “You can always just come with me.” She meant it. “Imagine all the sights you would see. All the food you would eat. All the gifts I would be so happy to give you. All the hugs and kisses you would receive from me. Everything… just think about it.”

She could imagine it herself. It is not hard, really, for the mind to reject all sense of logic and bow down to the whim of what is known as human emotions, mortal joys, woes, desires, wants, and needs. She could imagine sitting you on her lap as the ship jumps to the next world she will have to visit, telling you stories of the past, present, and future, as you look on with amazement. You don’t do that anymore, now. She would do anything to see it come back. She would steal a crown and place it on your head, though you having the genuine article does not make you any stronger. If anything, perhaps it would make you weaker to her whims.

“Imagine that…” She sighs, closing her eyes as she smiles. “We can go to Penacony. Your dreams would come true there if I cannot make them true myself. You can sleep on beds worth more than this entire opera house. If only you would let me. I know it would make you happy. I know it would make me happy. So why wouldn’t it make you?”

She would listen to your ultimate pains, and your ultimate wishes, and act accordingly. She loved you. You will too, again. It is only a matter of time, isn’t it? Yes, Kafka thinks, it is fate.

…

Kafka always sits in the front row of the theater.

It does not matter whether or not she purchased the tickets for it, the seat, or the show soon to come to fruition. No one dares talk back to her, even security. She finds comfort in that. No one gets in the way of her having the chance to see you. Better yet, no one else sits in the front row when she is present.

So, she watches, one of her legs crossed over the other, her eyes never blinking. During interludes she likes to adjust her makeup accordingly, painting on another shade of crimson to her lips. Art comes in many forms, after all.

Kafka told you that once. As always, you listened dutifully as she taught you to be.

She taught you many things, not just that. She taught you how to read constellations. She helped you learn her vocabulary in the books she gave you, often long fairytales or poems. She preferred it that way when you used to be so eager to have someone be friendly to you and not want to simply use you for their own amusement, not wanting to throw you out of the opera house altogether.

The opera house may rot after it goes up in flames, in the future, if things go her way as it always does, but she’ll stay to watch it all, to take you in as you cry and as she shushes you. She’ll be happy. Maybe you will be too, for her. It matters how good your performance is, if you even want to act anymore, after all.

The lights dim, and she shows her pearl-white teeth as she grins.

#author aya #yandere #yandere x reader #kafka x reader #yandere kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader

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tossawary · 10 months ago

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So, the Jackson "The Hobbit" movies get rid of the dwarves having musical instruments, rather adding a very atmospheric humming to the "Over the Misty Mountains" song. And I like this adaptational choice just fine, I think it sounds good, and because the question of "What happens to the instruments? Are they taking clarinets and a harp and etc. on the quest?! Are the musical instruments magical?" has bugged me for years. And I do think this choice suits the general *waves hand vaguely* more "serious / grim / lower high fantasy" aesthetic cultivated by the previous Jackson "Lord of the Rings" films.

But I do like the mental image of the Company being a very literal band going on a quest, because I think it's funny and delightful and unique. If I was doing an animated movie in particular, I would not like to be rid of the musical instruments during that scene. The vibe is very magical. Very whimsical. And whimsy does not have to be wholly separate from very serious subject matters! I think it would be very cool if the dwarves had more casually magical tools generally, which would do some easy additional worldbuilding for the level of craftsmanship in this world, and could fit in perfectly well alongside hidden doors and invisibility rings and mithril shirts and glowing swords and jewelry that never comes accidentally undone.

If someone did a version where all the dwarves are carrying musical instruments throughout most of the quest in this way and the creator really leaned into the music generally and audio-visual relationship in film specifically, I would absolutely watch it. That sounds amazing. It wouldn't necessarily have to be a musical or an opera as well, though that would also be extremely cool. (Personally, I would even also watch a "Fantasia" version of "The Hobbit" FOR SURE. I am an artsy dork like that. Though it might not be my first choice in my ideal creative project.)

I think you could could do some great, whimsical scenes with the dwarves singing at various points on the road, the musical instruments breaking at certain emotional points, the dwarves trying to do little musical spells at various points, and so on. A lot of this stuff could even just be other members of the Company fussing around with these things in the background (trying to play a musical spell to light a fire) while Bilbo has a foreground conversation with Thorin or Gandalf or something. I LOVE in animated (and live) movies when you can see supporting characters bickering or getting into hijinks in the background of a scene. (Also, this world was sung into being in a way, wasn't it? Why not have more magical music?)

(OHHH, the way that Smaug could be done in a more audio- and music-focused version of "The Hobbit" would be SO COOL.)

Alternatively, generally, I've also imagined that there are other dwarves with wagons nearby to take the musical instruments away again (let's say the instruments are not magical in any way and taking them along would therefore largely just be impractical), and that the night at Bilbo's house was actually also a RITUAL meal/meeting for the members of a long journey. You're going on a quest? You seclude yourself with your company, eat, drink, talk, plan, and sing a little to bond as an exclusive group the night before heading off together. Normally, this would have been done back at their own home or something, but they had to get their burglar first.

I think this would be a cool way to slip in characters like Dis and Gimli even just in the background, as family members come to see everyone off, seen fixing Kili's hair or hugging Gloin as the Company prepares to leave Hobbiton that last morning. Thorin and Balin could be exchanging a couple quick lines about how Bilbo hasn't shown up yet, and in the background, we could see Dis hugging Fili (the true purpose of a well-done adaptation of "The Hobbit" is to break my fucking heart) and Gloin's wife drawing off with a wagon full of musical instruments while young Gimli waves tearfully! You wouldn't even have to have them say anything to slip them in!

Just... I'm listening to the Andy Serkis audiobook of "The Hobbit" right now and I want to see some gloriously artsy visual adaptations of this world.

#tossawary tolkien #tossawary reading #the hobbit #long post

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genderkoolaid · 2 years ago

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Rating Yonic Words (Very Logical and Unbiased and Scientific and Impartial)

Vagina et al. - 2/10. Hard* "g" sound is awful. Its a chewy word. Would be better with a soft "g" like in the french vagin, but even thats like, 5/10. Also way overused to describe the whole set when its only the main hole, but its also the proper clinical word for said hole. "Vag" is slightly better but carries the sin of the father (hard "g"), and va-jay-jay is a solid 0. You just doubled the worst sound here. Its the yonic Cain.

*not actually hard, my brain is just too french, but i don't think this sound deserves to be called soft. it's a chewy g. forgive me for my lies

Vulva - 10/10. Love him. "V" sounds flow so nicely. You could sing this in an opera. Also actually refers to the whole kit n caboodle. May be a little clinical for some but we can change that. We can make it horny. You can help me make it horny. Betty Dodson would want you to help me make it horny.

Pussy - 7/10. Gets some points for being a classic, and its decent sounding. But the "s" sounds aren't the best, especially alongside the "p" sound. Its just a little too harsh and kind of juvenile. Good for a laff.

Punani et al. - 2 to 7/10. Gets cool points for being a descendant of the Akan language through Jamaican creole. Gets a range of points because I'm grouping poontang (bad word to say and hear) in with punani (a clear 7)

Labia - 10/10. Vulva's lovely twin. Another word you could sing. The "b" sound isn't offputting- it flows nicely between the elegant "L" and "ia." Again, a bit clinical, but so good to say. Labia (the word and the body part) deserve more love.

Fanny - 0/10. Pussy's worse sounding cousin. Replacing the "s" sounds with "n" removes the flow of pussy, which makes this the yonic-linguistic equivalent of going down a dry waterslide.

Cunt - 10/10. Its like a punch in a good way. Not too harsh, but makes its point clearly; a well-rounded sound. Can be comedic and horny but its not too unserious. Good mouthfeel. I'm a big cunt fan. Can also be an insult, but such is the way of sex organs. Such a versatile word.

Coochie - 4/10. Sorry to the coochie lovers out there but my god? The "ch" sound? Awful to hear. Get that out of my genitalia. Gets points for comedic use, which I respect.

Twat - 2/10. Sounds like the sound made when Batman decks some guy in the face. The "t" sounds here are just unpleasant, and when combined with "æ" it gets worse. Sorry Brits & co. </3

Clitoris / Clit - 9/10. Important organ we all know and love. Both long & short versions sound good, although I think it could be smoother. Way better clinical term than vagina, but I wish we had wider options for him.

Snatch - 3/10. I'm not a fan of the sounds at play here (once again, get "ch" out of here), but I find this word really funny. I cannot imagine this being used hornily. It sounds like the name of a delightful cryptid.

Quim - 4/10. What are you, from the 1700s? I think it sounds alright, the "q" isn't abrasive, but unless you are writing historical fiction it just doesn't sound right.

Any and All Metaphorical Words - 1/10. Never work outside of extremely horny contexts or jokes. Gets one point for extremely horny contexts and jokes.

#this post brought to you by a conversation i had with myself a few nights ago #m.

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cumtastiics · 1 year ago

Note

Hm, what about a yandere mafia boss and an opera singer reader?

yan! mafia boss x opera singer

tw: yandere, implied kidnapping

HELP SORRY I TOOK SO LONG UM I FORGOT TO WRITE ANYTHING

"sing for me."

you were so beautiful to him.

your voice was so soothing, it was like a lullaby.

he would often find himself lost in the melody of your words, as if they were a gentle breeze carrying him away to a place of solace. it was in those moments, when the world seemed to fade into the background, that he truly felt alive.

your beauty, both in appearance and in spirit, enraptured him. the way your eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting the light like precious gems, could melt the hardest of hearts. and your smile, oh how it could light up the darkest room, spreading warmth and joy to all those around you.

yet, you always stayed silent.

he was only able to hear your voice when you happily spoke to others who weren't him.

so he didn't allow people to talk with you. you were more distant with him.

every night, he would lie in bed, imagining the sound that would fill the room if you were to sing just for him.

but as days turned into weeks, his longing began to transform into something darker. a seed of possessiveness took root in his heart, fed by the bitter taste of jealousy. he couldn't understand why you would lavish others with your voice, while keeping him at arm's length, like an outsider looking in.

he was so desperate to hear your voice, the way you sung reminded him always of the time he first heard you.

he was running his fingers through your hair as your head stayed in his lap, his fingers now tugging on your hair, making you yelp out in pain.

"i told you to sing."

if u want more send reqs

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #angst #yandere x darling #opera #someone said it was like #phantom of the opera idk #i am cumtastic

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lonelyasawhisper · 2 months ago

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Queen: A Night At The Garden

Kris Nicholson, Creem, 1st May 1977

Queen's music is like strong mouthwash. It takes my breath away but that initial rush is as temporary as it is abrupt. This probably has something to do with the discrepancy between what Queen is and what Queen would like to be. Queen IS a good studio band-cum-variety show with a flair for novelty, a patent on mock opera and Rock of Gibraltar guitar harmonies. What they would like to be is a good studio band and a great live act. Unfortunately they've mastered a studio perfection that does not lend itself to accurate live interpretation. Whether or not they choose to approach the two mediums separately, the fact remains: kids are amazed at Queen records and they expect to be doubly amazed by their concerts.

If Queen—without the assistance of tapes—could reproduce their studio sound live, they'd certainly be one of the most impressive bands on the rock scene. But they can't and they aren't and it's the vocals that cause most of the problem. They'd need at least five Freddie Mercurys [Aaargh!—Ed.] to do it right. (Imagine Mercury quints; five golden-throated, leotarded, stiffly posed fools.) If only Freddie Mercury could sing two notes at a time!

There is a gadget known as a harmonizer that provides a delayed echo and allows Freddie to harmonize with himself, but this effect has its limitations and is reserved for special occasions like "Killer Queen" and Freddie's spotlight solo in "White Man."

Lacking a consistently believable production of their music, the least Queen could do is compensate for aural imperfections with visual delights. Try as they might, their use of flash pots and strobe lights is old hat and the five basic postures in Freddie's crude ballet are amateur still life, pale in comparison to the volume and the ideas of the band's music.

Let us proceed to the actual scene of a Queen concert and see if we can discover just what keeps this band alive.

It is February 5th at Madison Square Garden. I see a sign bobbing and weaving through the upper aisles of the arena. At first it looks like it's moving of its own free will and then two heads become visible at either end of the banner. This is a familiar one. In three-foot high letters it boasts, "Queen is King." Behind and way above me, up in those seats in the clouds, (that us rock writers never get stuck in) there are two more signs held by fans. They read: "Queen A Night At The Garden" and "Queen Takes My Breath Away."

I wonder how many of these kids have seen Queen before. Will they be disappointed? Darkness sets in. The PA system blasts solo piano recital music that eventually fades into a tape of one of those majestic guitar intros Brian May likes to embroider around the beginning of his songs. The first chords of "Tie Your Mother Down," hit like thunder, maybe even induce butterflies in the stomach, temporarily.

The image of Freddie Mercury strikes. Decked in some kind of baggy white karate jump suit the singer looks sexier than he ever did in those ridiculous striped suspender shorts. For a moment Freddie has me believing that he's cut his overbearing physical exposure from the act. But by the third song he's stripped down to a second skin of white, commonly known as leotards. In Freddie's case they're pain in the ass leotards. Every five minutes he becomes distracted as a leotard strap shimmies down his shoulder. He searches for a moment when he can inconspicuously slide it back up before the whole damn thing falls off. Unfortunately Freddie is not cool about it. By the end of the set I'm almost more intent on calculating the next time a strap will drop and how he'll get it back up, than I am on hearing the music.

Freddie is a strange cookie on stage. He waves his magic wand (actually it's a mike stand but you can use your imagination) and the flashpots explode. No big deal. Personally I think the Wizard of Oz had better flashpots and that movie was filmed decades ago. Freddie addresses the audience, "Listen my darlings, let me do the talking for a change." Yecch! Too coy. I don't believe him.

"Somebody To Love" comes early in the set. This is what is called strategy. It comes early in the set because it's impossible to do justice to in concert. If everything else goes right, by the end of the show the kids will have forgotten how punchless the live version is in comparison to the lush production that stole thousands of AM hearts.

Deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent.

Besides Freddie, the only really visible member of Queen is Brian May. May is the exact opposite of Mercury— a real Yin-Yang combination. In the words of Chuan Tzu, "The perfect negative principle is majestically passive (May). The perfect positive (Mercury) is powerfully active...the interaction of the two results is that harmony by which all things are produced." Somehow it DOES work.

Wanna puck? Monreal Mercurys owner displays the franchise's new uniform. (Note the hand-tailored sleeves and custom-fitted mouthpiece).

May appears silent and serious. He plays guitar as if he were studying constellations. There is nothing silly about him. Even the starch in his Elizabethan white shirt fits. He looks elegant, contemplative, (a misplaced 18th century poet?) and yet he plays with all the erotic energy and guts of the heaviest and dirtiest of rock 'n' rollers. You could say he doesn't look like he sounds. But this inconsistency serves to make his character all the more enchanting.

During "Brighton Rock" Brian takes a long solo. With the use of two echoplex systems he manages to produce the sound of three guitars. It's a well-crafted solo with lots of showmanship and lots of clean, thoughtfully executed riffs. He hardly moves while he's playing. All the energy is flowing from head to fingers. It's one of the few moments in Queen's set where nothing threatens to cancel out the emotion of his playing. Looking back on this a moment later, it's easy to understand what Brian has in mind when he says, "I want to be good in the sense of being more expressive."

Queen dares to attempt May's Mccartneyish " '39." It doesn't fare too well. Freddie sings it. Freddie sings all the songs. Funny, on the record Brian sings " '39." Maybe he feels that singing would be too much of a diversion while he's playing guitar.

In introducing "You Take My Breath Away," Freddie announces, "Maybe next time we'll come back with an orchestra." (While he's at it I hope he remembers to bring a choir, too.) Freddie adds, "You are what we call our sophisticated rock audience." Is he laughing because he knows it's a joke or is he uneasy because that's what he'd like to believe?

Imagine (Freddie) Mercury quints; five golden-throated leotarded, stiffly-posed fools.

Meanwhile the set has been embellished with intermittent gimmicks; a roadie hands a triangle to bassist John Deacon to hit one solitary note. What drama! Brian May plays a ukelele for five seconds during the band's instrumental version of "Bring Back Leroy Brown," etc. etc.

Freddie's vocal exhibition in "White Man" is impressive. He manages to sound like a voice and an instrument at the same time. It offers substantial evidence that deep down, underneath the black nail polish, there is some talent. Too bad he has to mask it in such demeaning external distractions as his unsteady Ian Anderson pose and his off-time dances to the music.

"Bohemian Rhapsody" is the evening's anti-climax. When the song reaches the really ornate vocal rounds Freddie disappears from the stage and all twenty thousand of us are left sitting in the dark. It's like faking an orgasm (need I say that the real thing is so much better?). Of course this maneuver is done so that Freddie can change his costume but it doesn't sit too well with me, not to mention the fifteen-year-olds behind me who think they're being ripped off. After all, they can hear the record at home. They want to see Queen do the humanly impossible, and when they're slipped a fast one they know it. "This is unforgivable," says one kid. "Yeah, they're gonna haveta do somethin' big to make up for that," his friend replies. Hear that, boys? You can't fool Mother Nature.

Freddie returns in black tights. He looks much better in black, especially now that he's got one of those real slick short hairstyles. White is too feminine. Again, strategy saves the day. The kids have been screaming for "Stone Cold Crazy" all night and now, when they're feeling cheated, "Stone Cold Crazy" will pacify them.

"Stone Cold Crazy" is perhaps one of the most breathless hard rockers that Queen does (on record) but somehow it loses its bite when a series of strobe lights begin to flash to the beat and eventually wind up totally off-beat, turning the frenzied effect into gaudy confusion.

Freddie dedicates "Keep Yourself Alive" to the audience. "Liar" is followed by "In The Lap Of The Gods." There are two encores, so l'm told. I didn't stay for them. I came to see if Brian May still knew what he was doing—I didn't need any more Mercury shenanigans.

We turn now to the scene of the post-Queen party. It's held at Oh Ho So in So Ho and it's so-so. Freddie is reputed to have a fascination for the Oriental and that's as good a reason as any to jam 500 press people into a 250 capacity restaurant. The food in this joint is really good, I come here all the time. But food is not what I'm interested in. Standing well over six-feet-tall, Brian May is easy enough to spot but he's busy holding court. I can barely justify barging in on the ladies in waiting, the men in waiting, the fans in waiting...later.

"Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio."

In the meantime my friend Liz and I have decided that we're going to corner Freddie and ask him what brand nail polish he wears. She sees someone she knows who knows who we want to meet (Freddie) and she manages to get introduced while I play voyeur. Alas, the best-laid plans of mice and women... Freddie's nails aren't black or white. They're just old plain old fingernails. But, we do manage to find out that Freddie has been asked to pose with Mr. Pumping Iron himself, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whether or not the event will take place is still a mystery. Freddie wasn't giving any clues.

Queen poses at left, shortly after Brian May's guitar mysteriously exploded sending slivers of wood and steel into the eyeballs of the rest of the group, causing temporary blindness. The matter is under investigation by Scotland Yard. Below, Roger: "Aye likes to put me boogies in me pant cuff 'cause it keeps 'em clean...Wot about it?"

Freddy: "Aye think ee wants one on 'is lens, eh?"

After at least an hour of anxious waiting for parking space beside Brian I finally score. Yes, he remembers doing the interview last year, but he says I look different. Yes, it must be the glasses. I don't have them on tonight. I'm blind as a bat but you know what they say about girls who wear glasses.

Pulling no punches; I explain to Brian that I'm doing a Queen story for America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine. I am totally understanding as he apologizes, "We haven't been doing interviews 'cause we're so busy. We're playing all big concert halls and we're in a different city every night. We travel about five hours every day. It's just too hectic." If he wasn't such a nice guy I'd be saying, bullshit, everyone else does it, but he is SUCH a nice guy and I sympathize with every word he says. Two points for the power of smooth talking.

I proceed to find out that the next album will NOT be named after a Marx Brothers movie, that Groucho owns an official Queen II jacket and that Queen will be meeting him in L.A. Rock on Groucho!

On the subject of the band's incessant use of gimmickry, Brian comments, "A Day At the Races can be seen as an extension of A Night At the Opera". Though last year Brian's favorite album was Queen II, this year he professes to like A Day At The Races despite its similarities to Opera. He had once expressed discontent with Opera due to the switch of emphasis from guitar riff-based rockers to experiments with instruments like the Toy Koto, the genuine aloha ukelele and "Good Company's" guitar jazz band, not to mention Freddie's obsession for music in the movie musical genre.

A Day At The Races is the first self-produced Queen album. Previous albums had been stamped with both the band's name and that of Roy Thomas Baker—the man who served as scapegoat for numerous accusations regarding overproduction. A Day At The Races bears a pattern of excess remarkably similar to that of A Night At the Opera. Of producer Baker, Brian said: "We grew together and now we've got our own things to do. We always had a lot to say about the production anyway," he added, hinting at the possibility that Queen's vices have long since been self-inflicted.

Considering the vast amount of time and money spent on studio technique it is not surprising to discover that even before May had heard the influential playing of guitarists like Page and Hendrix, he was fascinated by Phil Spector's productions. "They were very emotional and very slushy," he explains with a gleam in his eye. Strange combination this romanticism, this background in astronomy, this technician who built his own guitar from the wood of an antique fireplace, this man whose songs are to him "very personal." Strange that all these experiences convene in one brain and come out with a split vote, half in favor of the schmaltzy sentimentality of numbers like the Beatle-ish "Long Away," the other half thrashing out in malevolent waves of heavy sound and male chauvinism, witness "Tie Your Mother Down."

Getting back to the matter of production. Brian recognizes the discrepancy between the live and studio version of a song like "Somebody To Love." It doesn't seem to bother him. Being dead set against the possibility of a live album, why should he worry as long as he's so busy filling big arenas that he doesn't have time to do interviews. Still, his heart is into making good studio recordings. "If we did a live album, it would have to be really good, but I can't imagine it. I think live albums are a cop out." He pauses and smiles, "Yeah, I know Frampton sold millions of records, but I don't think you can capture the whole thing outside of a studio." This was all said with a degree of sincerity that I'd like to believe but a conflicting report challenges his position. Reliable sources seem to believe that Queen is considering the possibility of recording live in Japan this summer with the able assistance of none other than Roy Thomas Baker.

So Queen and success have met. So far the two are getting along. A year ago Brian May proudly announced that the only tape the band used was "God Save The Queen" at the beginning and ending of concerts. "We don't like the idea of using tapes as backing tracks," he explained. Considering the role tapes play in their current show, suffice to say times have changed.

A year ago Brian believed there were things Queen could do in a small theatre that they could never do in Madison Square Garden. "When you start playing those places you have to change your whole act. A group can become like a picture in a frame. Communication in arenas is much more difficult and needs to be approached carefully." Now that Queen is playing only big arenas Brian expresses a feeling of comfort within the new atmosphere, explaining that the band feels geared towards it now. Queen certainly manages to fill large halls with sound but whether they know it or not, they've not mastered a way of filling their new frame with a coinciding picture.

It's deadline day and devoted soul that I am I've taken it upon myself to listen to all the Queen albums in order. The first two are a breeze, Queen bouncing from melodic early Yes style to heavy Led Zep riffing and then on to the sledgehammer stance of Deep Purple at their most menacing.

By Sheer Heart Attack the seeds of gimmickry are planted and they begin to grow like a small malignant cancer. Freddie Mercury has stopped singing about mercury and biblical references are less frequent. The band's image becomes less majestic, more decadent, killer Queen, and then a complete turnaround with A Night At The Opera wherein the boys abandon guts for cutesy cleverness. It is by this album that Queen have become definitely Queen. Maybe the novelty twist is their only surefire approach to originality: heavy metal novelty? A Day At the Races, as accounted for earlier, is more of the same as Opera.

I can still hear Brian talking about Jimi Hendrix with a sense of awe: "He was the man." At the same time the image of Freddie comes into view. He is posing for pictures. He keeps an eye on his reflection in the mirror. He primps his jet black hair and snickers in a barely audible but intentional tone, "Got to keep up the image." It's hard to imagine a more diverse marriage of ideas. It's transient, it's experimental and it's confusing as hell.

Ever since their 1973 debut I've followed Queen. I've reviewed every album with enthusiasm and then somehow forgotten them until the next release reminded me that I like the last one. I get all excited when a Queen record comes out, but it doesn't last. What's the answer? Staying power? Preservatives? It's driving me stone cold crazy.

Retrieved from The Creem Archive

#article #interview #freddie mercury #brian may #queen band #creem #1977 #freddie #bri

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starcrossedmusings · 7 months ago

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Phantom Touches (Teaser)

Pairing: opera ghost!yeosang x f!reader WC: 397 Warnings: suspense, yeosang is only a little bit creepy

Summary: Your fascination with the famed Paris Opera House had started as a child, and now even the opportunity to work under the new owners on the housekeeping team has you thrilled. Your first week of work is full of mystifying moments, including an encounter with a certain masked phantom.

A/N: First fic on the new blog is in the works! I dreamed this up while watching Phantom of the Opera with my friend the other day and absolutely could NOT get it out of my brain. I hope you all enjoy the teaser, especially all of my theatre atiny out there ♡

Entering box eight felt entirely forbidden based on the rumblings you'd heard among the ballet girls, but Madame Giry had insisted that you had nothing to fear--the opera ghost likes his space to be kept tidy she had barked out to you, best to not agitate him, girl. As you crossed the threshold into the private suite, you noticed a lingering smell that had become familiar to you this week--that wafted by in empty hallways and whispered past darkened corners--roses and old parchment paper. Your gaze swept over the space, finding no evidence that anyone had been up here recently. This was unsurprising to you of course, you imagined ghosts couldn't make that much of a mess, even if they wanted to. Taking a deep breath and shaking out any lingering nerves, you began your initial dusting of the room, paying special attention to the baseboards and intricate moulding toward the top of the space.

You were entirely alone in this wing of the opera house...until you weren't.

You felt before you heard. The presence buzzed in the air, making the little hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. And the smell--roses and parchment--intensified. The feeling of someone standing behind you overwhelmed your senses and you turned around to find...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A shiver ran it's way down your spine as your gaze once again scanned the room for whoever had clearly entered, but whoever they were, they must have vanished as soon as they came. The smell had also quickly disintegrated back to it's mild counterpart. You felt crazy. Hell, maybe you were crazy.

And yet, maybe you weren't.

Because now there was something laying on one of the plush velvet-lined seats. Something that most certainly hadn't been there before you entered the box. A note sealed with wax, and a single dark red rose. Your name was written on the outside with scrawling flourish. You carefully opened the note, looking around wearily before peering at it's contents.

My Dear Y/N, I do hope you pay more mind to my space than the last maid they assigned to my box. She was dreadfully incompetent. Madame Giry assures me you are much better suited for the role. And much more attractive. Do not disappoint me. ∼Opera Ghost P.S. I do hope you will sing for me. Giry also assures you have talent worthy of my time.

#ateez #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #yeosang x y/n #yeosang #ateez fanfic #atz #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang x y/n

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5aaliyah5 · 1 month ago

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Prima Donna

Hello again! Thought I would post this here since it’s one of my favorite pieces I’ve written and back when I posted it a few years ago on AO3 I was super proud of it. Instead of posting it in three seperate parts, I’ve decided to just add it all in one post so that you don’t have to search for the other two post/can just scroll and read it in one go.

Pairings: Hange Zoë x Reader/(Y/N)

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Mentions of Miscarriage and graphic detail of blood, Explicit content/consensual Smut, Character death (pls let me know if I’m missing any).

Summary: In the year 852 you are brought to Paradis as a way to introduce a new way of theater to the people on the islands, in the form of music. Yes, you are a famous opera singer back in Marley, and are more than happy to accept the offer made by none other than Zeke Yeager. However, what becomes of your life and the fates of destruction which follows you as you make the journey across seas, and become obsessed with perfecting your art to impress those around you?

Part One:

The sea’s wind whips your hair back and forth as you stare at the island in front of you. Excitement bubbles in your stomach just by staring at it.

Paradis.

How exactly did you get to this moment though? Well it all started with your birth, unsurprisingly.

You had been born into quite a wealthy and powerful family in Marley. Your mother being the daughter of a successful general whose name did not matter. Actually, your whole family's name would soon be wiped away by history and end up not mattering, however that's a story for another time. You father on the other hand had been of Eldian descent, being raised in the internment zone with the rest of people who possessed Elidan blood in their bodies. To be forever abused and ignored by those fortunate enough. It had been one mistake your mother had made, you had been a mistake.

And so imagine your mothers surprise and horror to hear that she was pregnant with you. She did just about everything she could to discard you from drinking a herbal tea which should have killed you, to bumping onto sides of the table in hopes you would pass along, or come out dead already. Nothing proved to be helpful however when you were born, as healthy and strong as a baby could be. In her anger and despair, your mother committed suicide, drinking a poison from off the black market. Your grandparents had been devastated, with the loss of their daughter and the birth of yet another child with Eldian blood. It wasn't until your grandfather had decided that they would raise you as their own in your mothers place, that the real story starts.

You had caught on very quickly that your very existence was nothing more than a replacement for your mother. It didn't help that you looked like her, inheriting her eyes, to the exact same color of her hair. And as your grandparents' minds fell to time, they started calling you by the name of your mother. Not out of malice but out of confusion , as their minds were placed in the past. Your uncles and their children also looked down on you, as they were also in on the ‘big family secret’ as to what exactly you were, and usually kept their distance.

When you were 12, you were enrolled into singing lessons, meeting with a tutor for 3 hours 2 days out of the week. The more years went by, the more those lessons started to take up more of your time, turning to 3 hours a day 6 days out of the week. It was no secret after all and had been discovered from a very early age, you had a beautiful voice. A voice that could be rivaled by no others around you.

And oh how you loved to sing! The way it lit a fire in your voice and gave you a reason to continue the life you were currently living. It's what kept you from running away and making your own destiny. You had started to perform at a local theater, becoming somewhat of an uprising star in Marley, not only for your voice, but for your beauty and wealth. The odds were really stacked in your favor, with generals, elites, celebrities, nobility even from all across the world, coming to see you perform. The elegant outfits you would wear, always paid for by your grandparents whose wealth seemed almost infinite. You truly were a primadonna.

It was soon enough however that an offer had arised from someone nobody would have expected. You did remember this day clearly, replaying in your mind every now and again.

You had just finished your first duet, a collaboration with another famous singer, and had retired to your dressing room that you had found someone already in there. The other person being Zeke Yeager. Though you had never been properly introduced, you had heard talk of him from your grandfather. He was a titan shifter, part of the warrior unit. Someone of great respect as well.

“Ah! You frightened me.” You said, entering the room. He stood there awkwardly, seemingly unsure as to why exactly he was there, though he wouldn't miss this single opportunity to speak with you. “What are you doing in my dressing room?”

“Please forgive me ma’am. I was in the crowd at your performance, and I just wanted to say that you were truly lovely.” He smiled as he spoke his well mannered words, almost seemingly rehearsed. Though you didn't buy them quite easily. There was something off about his attitude- there was much more to him than just some fan who enjoyed her performance.

“Thank you, I appreciate that very much. If that is all though, then I recommend you to be on your way, I will be out shortly to greet fans.” Your voice was even, though you became slightly nervous. After all, this is a titan shifter in front of you, not only that but the lingering fear that he was there to drag you to the internment zone was in the back of your mind.

“Well that is not all… Ive come with a proposal of sorts.” He started and as you stayed quiet waiting for him to continue, he did so “I'm looking for a musician to send to Paradis island, and I think you are the perfect candidate-”

“I- Am shocked to say the least, but i'm uninterested in your offer. Actually, I am truly offended by it! If you leave my dressing room right now, I will not report you to higher ups about your traitorous behavior.” You seethed at him, pointing to your door, urging him to leave immediately . You wanted no part in this conversation anymore, just hearing the words Paradis sent a chill through you-

“But why? Through research of mine it seems you also have Eldian blood… Imagine the scandal that would result from that-'' he started, though you quickly cut him off, knowing all too well where this was going- or so you thought.

“Where did you hear that from?” You quickly frown. You wouldn't let him throw away any chance at a future you had with his words. “Actually, it doesn't matter. Are you trying to threaten me with baseless rumors?” You laughed a little, trying to appear relaxed and sure of yourself, however you couldn't help how your fingers twitched as they were folded in front of you. You felt out in the open with how he so casually spoke of your secrets.

“No. But think of it as a small nudge. Think of all the knowledge you would learn, being connected to your roots. The experience of going across the seas and becoming the first Opera singer from Paradis. You would go down in history.” Now that did sound alluring, you wouldn't lie to yourself. His pretty words sounded too good to be true though, How would you even get to paradis? The island is supposed to be full of titans, which not only kept the citizens in, but kept forces like Marley out.

“It's not my decision. I'm sorry but my grandparents are extremely ill, and I'm their main caretaker, I can't just leave them. Not only that but the island is heard to be surrounded by titans! I can't imagine how you wish to take me there, with those monsters roaming.” you quickly approached your dresser and started stripping yourself of your gloves, as the conversation was becoming quiet irking to you. How dare he come in here, threaten you with a secret and then blackmail you! Not only that but wanting to send you to a dangerous island that your country has been at war with in the past and roaming with enemies? There was no way!

“You don't need to worry about the titans, they are no longer an issue and have all been discarded.The eldians on the island also mean no harm and only wish to learn from us. As for your grandparents, I'm sure you wont need to worry about them, I promise to take care of everything regarding them.” He assured, which only made you more suspicious of him- of why he was so egar to help you and earn your trust.

“And what do you gain from this?” You whipped around, staring him down from across the room. “I know how the world works. What good comes to you from doing this good deed for the people on the island? What do you get from this arrangement?”

“The satisfaction of strengthening a possible alliance to people who share similar blood. Not only with myself, but you as well. Isn't there a part of you that's always wondered what it would have been like to instead grow up on the island instead of here, restricted by a government who would Crucify you if they knew what you were? You wont need to worry about me releasing any information about your past or lineage, but please do genuinely think about it.” And with that, Zeke Yeager exited your room quickly and quietly, slipping out into the hallway, and leaving you to wonder about his words.

Pretty quickly after your first encounter with zeke, your door was being knocked upon by a caretaker who specializes in elderly. When you asked why she was there, she simply informed you that she had been hired to take c are of your grandparents for your “Vacation away”, with their care being paid for in advance. With the sudden solution of your grandparents receiving the proper care they needed, and your schedule opening up, you were left with no other options but to accept Zeke’s offer. However this was far from pitiful, especially for you. In fact, you were beyond yourself. You were so well admired and desired by zeke to bring the beauty of opera to paradis, that it had made you feel as if maybe you were getting somewhere in life. Like you would have the chance to become famous. And no one would miss you or your disappearance. As soon as your grandparents had started forgetting who you were, people had stopped paying attention to you. A part of you did feel slightly bad though, as they had become so adjusted to you, and truly believing you were your mother, they had loved you like a daughter, and all you felt was great relief at no longer having to care for them. Did that make you a terrible granddaughter? It didn't matter in the end, as you left the only home youve ever known, and never turning back. Now all you could do was try your best to become somebody big, not only for yourself or even your grandparents, but to repay the favor zeke had done you.

The rest was a whole blur. The months leading up to this trip, the sweat and pain, and the way your vocal cords softly ached, none of it mattered. You were here now, at the island of Paradis.

You noted that it wouldn't be long before the ship docked, and so you went to gather the luggage you had carried on, not minding the extra cases of outfits you had below deck, knowing that someone would eventually carry them off for you. You also changed your outfit, the former being an old jacket and pants that you had been wearing for most of the ride to the sildand. You changed into a knee length blue skirt adorned with lace at the bottom, and a white button up, finishing off with heeled boots. It wasn't much, but at least made you look more presentable and respectable. The boat was now officially docked, with other passengers, mainly soldiers, exiting off the ship with luggage and cargo. You stood at the exit, as you noticed a rather small crowd had gathered, Ah so they must have been expecting you! You made your way down from the deck to the solid floor to be greeted by a woman with a blonde bowl cut styled haircut. She stood tall, to tilt your head back just to clearly see her face, though it should have been usual for you seeing as you were rather on the short side.

“Welcome Y/N! We’ve been waiting for you ever since Zeke informed us of your arrival date. We are so happy for you to join our efforts to modernize Paradis. My name is Yelena, and this is Onyankopon” She motioned to the man who stood on her right side, showing you a soft smile that made you feel a bit more at ease.

“Thank you, I appreciate you for arranging my journey and welcoming me, I hope I can make you all proud.”

“Oh we should introduce you to Hange Zoë- They are the commander of a scouts, a section of the government which overlooks foreign affairs outside of the walls. Meaning they are also taking care of you and where you will remain for your stay here.” Onyankopon spoke, walking closer to the crowd that marveled at you. It wasn't hard to tell after all, as all eyes fell on you. A person in an olive green outfit, with a white button up underneath and a gem that hung around their neck, approached you.“ Welcome to Paradis! I am commander Hange Zoë, and you must be Y/N!” Their smile seemed genuine as well, making you feel more welcomed already. If you weren't going to lie, they were also rather attractive, as you barely noticed how one of their eyes was covered by a black eyepatch, though that didn't take away from the warm aura they radiated. It was at this moment you were able to tell that they were truly a trusting soul, and would take you very long to become friends with them.

“Yes, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You nodded your head, grateful for their enthusiasm and attitude towards you. It made you wonder why people in Marley made them out to be devils, when your experience here had already been so pleasant.

“No, the pleasure is mine. We are so pleased to have you come to Paradis and share your knowledge in the art of singing. We have theater here as well, however much like everything else, it seems a bit outdated and we would really like to push Paradis and Eldians into the present in every category we can.”

“Of course, and I find that extremely honorable commander. I'm truly thrilled to be meeting all of you!” You introduced yourself to the crowd of soldiers and civilians. It wasn't very hard to win them over, with your Charming looks and polite manners, people always seemed to swoon at your feet. And as you walked towards the train car waiting for you, and as you did so stepping off the doc and almost tripping, hange quickly reached out for you, taking your hand and steadying you before letting go.

“Careful there! Well let's get you settled in then so that you can get acquainted with the area and surroundings as well as the island.” They let out a small laugh with a grin and placing a hand on your back as they helped you board the train.

—

You had settled down into the room provided for you, and it was most definitely a furnished and lavish room, provided by the queen herself. Wow, You had even caught Queen Historias attention, it was amazing what an ego boost that was. After setting down your things, you quickly approached a guard in your area, which happened to be a boy you had saw earlier when you arrived:

“Hello! Armin was it?” You waved, with your other hand behind your back. It was a little awkward given you hadn't been here for long yet, and felt slightly bad for bugging already “Where might I find a place to do my warm ups? I suppose I could do it in my room, but that’ll bother anyone in earshot.Especially since it gets quite noisy at times.”

“Oh- I'm not too sure actually- well there is one place I can think of… Though it's outdoors, is that ok?” He asked. Luckily he seemed rather polite, and you nodded

“More than perfect.” you responded eagerly.

And so you had spent the last few days practicing and warming up your voice to be able to handle the higher and lower notes that didn't come naturally to you. You had nearly perfected the pitch that was part of a certain song you were to perform later on tomorrow evening when you stopped. You hear a rustling in the bushes and are immediately put on guard, slowly approaching it, and pulling back the shrubbery. To your shock you find Armin and a few of the other scouts who were first there to greet you. If you were correct, their names were Sasha, Connie and Jean.

“Um hello- May I help you?” You asked nervously. Why were they hiding in a bush? And more importantly, if these were truly soldiers and used to slay titans, how were they so terrible at keeping quiet in a bush? It almost made you laugh at the sight of Sasha and Jean slapping the back of Connie's head, with Armin shaking his head. Shasha quickly shot up, holding her hands up.

“Please don't mind us! We thought we would get a glimpse of the artist in her natural environment. We’ve been so excited! We had seen your poster when we visited Marley, and it feels so unrealistic that you're standing in front of us now.” Sasha gushed to you, and so you gave a small chuckle at her excitement.

“Wow! I never would have imagined that you had ever taken notice of me at all- i'm also extremely delighted to be here, and to be able to perform for you all. You can sit off to the side if you sincerely wish to watch me practice instead of in a bush, though I can't promise that it will be anything special.” you said. They decided to sit at the base of a nearby tree, sitting on their knees or crossed legged, laughing with one another and then becoming quiet as you started your practices once more. As you began to sing again, something felt off about you- about the way you hit the notes. As they continued to stare at you from such a close distance, you became nervous. By why!? They were kids and you had performed for theaters packed with people before- You shouldn't be feeling like this.

You can do better- be better dammit! Your voice isn't loud enough, Your timing is off, those stares at you are from horror at what you sound like. You aren't good enough-

It's almost as if you could hear him in the back of your mind. His deep voice, replaying those words that seemed as if they were from so long ago, when in reality it has been at most a year since you had seen him. Though you quickly came to a pause of your aria- as you felt something in your throat, though no matter, you continued.

The feeling persisted however, which you had tried to clear and were unsuccessful, as you ran off to the side and crouched down, hands on your knees and started to spit. It's difficult to ignore the crimson red splatter that fell from your mouth and onto the dirt, with you whipping your mouth with your sleeve. You didn't stay for long, as much as you would've liked the rest, standing up and placing that smile back on your face as usual. It was all just a big play anyways- what did it matter if it destroyed you in the end. The curtains would close on you, and you would remain perfect as usual.

“Ah! Please forgive me!” You say, the concerned looks of the scouts apparent on their faces. “I just need a cup of tea. Afterward I will return and continue on practicing.” you didn't break in your act, remaining calm and unaffected, even though your throat burned like absolute hell.

“Please- I'm sure it must hurt. You should rest-” Armin stood up and approached you, the others following and approaching the small clearing which you had been using as a stage.

“No! No, I don't need rest, it's just a small thing- I just need some hot tea and it will be better.” You quickly raised your hands and stepped back. You weren't weak, and wouldn't act as such. You had gone days and days without breaking before while maintaining those higher notes, so why did your throat decide to betray you now? Especially in front of an audience, of all things!

You felt as if they were perhaps pitying you- or seeing you as less than in that exact moment. No, You were chosen to be here, you had to be better!

“Why don't you and I grab some tea then?” A voice came from the entrance of the field, causing everyone to turn their attention from you to said voice. The voice belonged to no one other than the commander themself- Hange Zoe.

Part Two:

Commander Hange had brought you to a small cafe that resided right outside of wall sina in a smaller town. The town didn't have as many people as it had used to ever since Shiganshina and Wall Maria had been reclaimed, and so they liked to spend any breaks of time off there, at least that's what Hange had told you. You must admit, it was a rather pretty place, with it being mid-summer season, besides the fact that there wasn't a lot of sun out at the moment, and allergies seemed to not be as big of an issue on paradis as it was back on the mainland.

“Allergies?” they asked, curious as to the new word when you had mentioned them, as you sipped on some sort of tea you were unfamiliar with. It had a very fruity taste, but it didn't taste familiar at all, and so you had assumed that maybe they had their own type of fruit on the island as well. You looked up at them and nodded.

“Yea? You don't have them here? It's like when you keep sneezing and can't stop sneezing, and your eyes water up and sometimes get red.” You described, using hand motions to motion to your eyes.

“Do you mean… when you get sick?” They asked, looking at you as if you were speaking a foreign language- which you suppose you kinda were?

“Eh, not exactly. It doesn't happen because you're sick, but because of the pollen from things like flowers and trees, because they are blooming.” you say

“Ah- then no, I'm not too sure. We don't really have ‘allergies’ then.” They shrugged and you gaped.

“That is so unfair! Do you know how many of my springs and summers have been ruined due to something as stupid as allergies?”

“Well, hopefully now that you are here, it won't be ruined anymore, at least not this one. Which is great because if you and I are going to be spending more time, we won't have to worry about these allergies” and at their words, a blush crosses your face. Luckily because you were in a more shaded place, you hoped it was less apparent on your face. Their words were not very much, but for some reason they made you happy

“Now, all that leaves me wondering is why are you pushing yourself so hard?” And their sudden question catches you off guard. It was true you had been working way harder than you originally had back in marley, but you had never really thought about it. Was it because your conscience had been a lot clearer ever since you no longer had to worry about your grandparents? Or could it be that… possibly… you wanted to impress the people on the island a lot more than people in Marley?

“I-Because I want to become something.” You state plainly, and don't elaborate too much. However Hange didn't yield, they kept at it, their curiosity becoming apparent.

“But you are still young Y/N, there are so many years ahead of you, you don't need to be perfect-”

“No-I want to be great or nothing- And I won't be some second class singer! I refuse! Even if that means sacrificing a few things, like my throat-” You said, as a matter of fact. They gaped at you, causing you to blush “Im- Im sorry, please forgive my outburst-”

“No- please don't apologize. I know how you feel in a sense…” They then looked down at their empty cup, seeming to have drunk it all already as the both of you talked “It's just that I thought the same way when I became commander… It was after the death of my close friend, who was the commander of the scouts before me. I also thought that I had to be great or I would be considered nothing, and it's hard to follow that kind of logic. What I'm trying to say is you shouldn't be too hard on yourself Y/N.”

“...Thank you Commander.”

“Please- Just call me Hange.” And just at that moment, you felt the sun really shine

—

The tea between the two of you was two weeks ago, and mainly due to both of your busy schedules, you rarely saw each other. You did see each other during dinner, which you would frequently eat together unless you sat with Armin and Mikasa, or passed each other through the hallways. However you just couldn't get your conversation out of your head. You two had actually related- someone knew what it was like to constantly try to be perfect- what more, is that they didn't expect that from you. Ever since you had arrived on this island, you felt that your whole being from your appearance to your personality, was one big lie. A continuous play that you had simply memorized the lines to.

However that one conversation, the day you spent with hange- the tea. It all felt so real and warm. You wanted more of it.

You had only had alcohol once, and when you had taken that one sip of it, you cringed and put the cup down. It was awful- how could people become so addicted, so attached to a substance like it. It was only after talking with Hange that you understood exactly how addicting something could be. How addicting they were. And you had barely had a taste of them.

The only time you were able to dispel Hange out of your head was when you were performing. Your performance always had your full attention, the audience and their fractions, it was all so thrilling that Hange was a distant thought, however they always hovered in the back of your head.

Constantly.

It was actually quite irritating if they were so cute.

They once more were back at the center of your thoughts once you reached backstage. The bustling and business or it didn't help, as you tried to make it back to your dressing room. It was only once you were inside of it, that you slumped your shoulders and relaxed a bit. This being one of the only rooms that you had to yourself and don't have to worry about seeing other people.

You sat at your vanity, and started to take off the layers of makeup on your skin. The heavy makeup was needed, especially for people to be able to see your expressions from afar. The harsh contouring and blush looked rather freaky up close. Once it was all off, you hear a knock on your door, and get up to open it.

And then there they were, standing before you with a bouquet of flowers in hand. What kind were they? You were unsure, since you had never had a knack with plants, and paradis had different types of flowers than Marley was able to grow. But it didn't matter. They looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing they had ever seen, which wasn't hard to doubt since you had brought with you some of the most exquisite dresses you've ever performed in, the current one you were adorned in green, the colors of the scouts. At that moment, you were also extremely relieved that you had had the time to take off your makeup.

“Hange.” you spoke softly, standing straight up as you were taught to, and approaching them. They were dressed in a suit, the same color as their regularly uniform outfit, only more in a fashion style that people in Marley wear- more modernized to the outside world.

“I brought you these- I was informed that this is the polite thing to do for a performer, and may I say, you were absolutely fascinating on the stage! I've never heard anything like it. It's something I'm sure not only I, but others will never forget.” Their words sounded genuine, and you couldn't help but the blush that spread to your face. I mean what else were you supposed to do when such an attractive commander praised your art?

“Thank you, they are beautiful, and much appreciated.” You took the flowers that they held out, and took a small sniff of their fragrance. It was a habit you had become used to, even though you particularly didn't care for floral scents, however these smelt absolutely amazing, and so you were extremely delighted. “Please, come in. It's a bit of a mess in here” You held your dressing room door open for them, allowing them to pass you and enter.

As they entered, you mentally shamed yourself for not picking up and folding your outfit from before, however you were in such a rush you figured you would fold it after the performance. It also didn't help that you had shoes and other belongings thrown about- You were never a tidy person, something your grandparents had scolded you for, but soon stopped after they were too old to climb the stairs and as such no longer able to come into your room.

“What brings you here commander?” You asked, with a small smile, and they could see you were just teasing them, so they didn't even bother to correct you.

“I've just come to visit and see how the most Exquisite singer on Paradis is doing?” They said, rather casually despite the small blush on their cheeks that give away their thoughts

“I've been doing fine. How about you? Its been a while since we've spoken like this.”

“Much better, now that I've seen you. It's always relaxing to hear you perform.” They step a bit closer to you, and you take a step back. It's really a game of teasing, and you weren't about to let them win, despite their competitive nature. “ You have such a way with music.”

—

“Well…I am simply doing what I love and value close to me.” You say, and it wasn't one hundred percent a lie necessarily.

“Still it's truly admirable.” They continued on with their compliments towards you.

“Ah please commander- you continue to praise me.” You hid your face behind your hand, glancing away from them. You turned towards your dressing room vanity to double check your face as well as hide it from them, however the footsteps that approached from behind you, and the figure looming over you, so close you could feel them breath down your neck, stopped you.

“Beautiful- your devotion to what you do… it’s stunning.” It’s almost as if you could feel their words enter your mind, your very soul, though that should have been impossible given you had tried very long ago to close it off. “We are nothing but the same, you and I. I know you feel it as well.” Their whispers tickled your ear, igniting something deep inside you. You quickly turn around to face them, their imposing form standing over you, though not at all deterring you away from staring straight into their eyes.

“I do. I do feel it-” And just as quick as those words had exited your mouth, their lips crashed onto yours, hard and warm, soft and light all at the same time. Their lips were also slightly chapped, however you couldn't find yourself really caring, all you could focus on was not falling over as the world had started to become more and more dizzy.

It seemed that you had been the loser in this game.

They broke from your kiss, to pay attention to your neck, going down further and further until they reached the start of your dress.

They tried to remove the backing of your dress, however it was becoming extremely hard with the way you kept pestering them for kisses. Kissing their face, their forehead, their hair, neck and shoulders, anywhere you could reach. Their very smell was intoxicating, the smell of white tea and earthy undertones, drawing you to pull them closer. Eventually they were able to get the buttons on your back undone, pulling off your dress. Before you could even cover your chest, they were on you, absolutely covering your body with theirs, and you found that you didn't mind it at all. They slipped the rest of the dress off and threw it off to the side.

“I'm sorry darling, as much as I adored the way you fit in that dress, I absolutely adore your bare body even more- '' They quickly wrapped their arms underneath your bottom and picked you up, releasing a squeal from you. They then set you on the couch that resided in your dressing room, and climbed on top of you, being that was the only way for you to both fit on the couch.

Your hand quickly shoot up to your mouth to silence your moans- It was bad enough they were able to bring you to an orgasm so quickly, you didn't need their ego to get bigger with the idea that they were just that good, even

“I want to hear that pretty little voice- don't deprive me of it.” they whined and gently removed the hand you had placed over your mouth, holding it with theirs as they kept the other between your legs.

“I-I would hardly…say Im depriving you of it! You come to every performance.” The words tumbled from your mouth, but were getting increasingly harder to say. They didn't respond, instead deciding to elicit another noise from you by moving their fingers a certain way inside you.

“Oh! I liked that one! here lets try it again-” They once again repeated the action, resulting in the same noise coming out of your mouth. Your face was absolutely red, and there was no hiding it with the way hange held down one of your hands and was sitting over you. You were absolutely ashamed with yourself

“You sing so beautifully-” They sighed into your chest, pressing kisses into the skin, and paying special attention to your nipples “Such a pretty little thing” The words they spoke only turned you on more, causing you to squeeze your legs together and keep their hand from exiting you.

“So you respond to praise? Wow- you truly are something else huh? No matter, I'm more than happy to comply with your wishes.” They kissed the top of your forehead, only making you bury your face into the crook of their neck to avoid them seeing the absolute sinful expressions on it. They didn't try to move you however from your possession, which you were thankful for, and more relieved they didnt stop any of their administrations on your lower half. It wasn't long before they were making you scream almost at the top of your lungs for them to bring you to your release, which they did happily.

As you laid on the chair, head tilted back and eyes closed, relaxing in the post haze of orgasmic bliss, did you start to feel them adjust their position and their lips once more back on your collarbones and chest.

“You seem to like a particular spot-” you commented smugly, finally lifting your head to look down on them.

“I could think of some other place I'd like to kiss more- if you catch my drift…” They grinned, a wide grin that made your stomach bubble with excitement and fulfillment.

“You are a dork! The way you can just say that so casually-” you scoffed, clearly amused by their attempts at flirting with you. They chuckled as well, bringing you in for a kiss once more. Your night with them didn't end there, it actually was just the start- however as it went on, it became so consuming and felt so good that it had just become one dizzy blur after the other in your memories.

After that night, You and Hange were practically inseparable from each other. When your time wasn't filled with practice after practice of new musical numbers, Hange occupied it. It just so happened that the both of you contained a fairly busy schedule, and so no hurt feelings came from either of you when the other was unable to be around. But when you were both together, you had the most amazing times in your life. Their voice had become one of the only things you would genuinely listen to besides those of melodies, And your moans had become their favorite type of music.

Which is why you had made the ultimate decision. You truly wanted to be with them- to spend the rest of your life like this. You could see them being an attentive partner, and they brought so much relaxation and calmness to you, all while making it fun and exciting- you'd never felt this way about anyone. This must be what people described as true love in Marley! And that's when it hit you: you would need to inform zeke on the news, the change of plans, and that you probably would bring a stop to your career- at least for now. The letter wasn't easy to write, constantly rewriting it over and over and over until it all blended together and all the letters sounded the exact same to you.

Part Three:

Zeke,

I think you will find fulfillment in what I've done. It's exactly as you have asked, I've bought music, opera to the people of paradis. Along the way I've become a better musician as a result, learning more and more about the art in it, and I'm extremely grateful for it, however I believe that after the upcoming performance, I will take a break from it all. I've worked hard to get to where I am, and am content. Please don't think of me as selfish for deciding this without first confiding in you. I want to let you know by my own writing before you hear any rumors- I am currently romantically involved with someone, the commander of the scouts actually. They've inspired me so much throughout this whole process, and I've found myself wanting to grow closer to them. I think I could have a happier future than my dreadful past, with them in it. I thank you for all that you've done, and hope that you could forgive me one day and stay acquaintances.

Forever your friend,

Y/N L/N

You had finished and sealed the letter, looking it over one last time from the outside. Did you truly want to send this letter? You thought you were doing what you had earned, a peaceful life, however some bittersweet feeling lingered behind it. What if you were making a mistake? You were at the peak of your career and it was no doubt Zeke would not be pleased with your choice either. You didn't even receive a response from Zeke until roughly a month after the initial letter you had sent. This didn't alarm you, as mailing systems to the island were very limited and took roughly a few weeks to even go through and boarded onto a boat that would be heading this way. However, as you opened it, you felt something twist in your stomach as you glossed over the words.

Y/N

You are exactly as I imagined you were. You pushed yourself to become better, however you are still far from it. I warn you, If you are to take this break there is no guarantee you will ever return to the stage. You know as well as I do that if you stop now, you are losing all of the potential, the fame that you had worked so hard for, and letting it all go. Do not make that mistake. Don't be distracted by those around you, especially the commander of all people. You have a duty, doing something you love, and to give it all up now for something as trivial and forever changing as love is foolish. Fame is what will immortalize you in history, to be forever young and beautiful, don't forget that I said that. I hope that you make the right choice Y/N, But for now I will be unable to continue on this journey with you. I wish you the best with whatever you do.

- Zeke Yeager

You read the letter again and again until the words just jumbled inside your head. You decided then that you were correct, you had made the wrong decision. Zeke was correct as usual- why ruin all that you've worked towards in favor of love? It didn't make any sense… had you truly written and sent that letter? You stood from your desk in a hurry, alarmed and frightened. You felt as if maybe you were losing it. Pacing your room was all you could do as you debated on your next move, whether or not you would stop your career for Hange, or continue on. You had already come to the swift conclusion that you could not have both, Hange though lovely, was extremely distracting and too soft on you. But they have also become your main muse of inspiration. What a tricky situation indeed.

As you passed by one of the mirrors in your room, something caught your eye, and you backtracked quickly, horrified at what faced you. In the mirror stood your mother, But why? What was she doing here? As you turned around lifting a hand, she followed the same motions, her eyes blinking as yours did.

“Stop… please.” you whispered under your breath and backed away, with her following your motions “Im sorry ok? I… Why are you here?” she didn't answer though, as she stared back at you with the same angry and scared expression. You wanted it to stop- why couldn't she just leave you alone!? She had always followed you growing up, with you being in her constant shadow, and here she was to cast you in her shadow once more. “Leave me alone!” You screamed and grabbed the vase that held the flowers Hange had first given to you, throwing it at the mirror, and shattering not only the mirror but the vase as well. When her gaze was gone, you returned to reality, and noticed the shards of glass from the mirror and vase around you.

Shit, I have to clean this up before somebody comes in…

As you rush to cover up your accident, you feel a sharp sting in your hand as you pick up one of the glass shards. Only when the warmth trickles down your hand do you realize youve cut yourself. Not deep enough to need a stitch luckily- but just enough to where it hurt like shit. As if luck wasn't on your side, you hear a knock on your door. The famous Hange-like knock that left a little tune. And before you could yell out for them to not enter, they were opening the door.

“Dear- Wha-what happened!?” They ran to your side to inspect you and make sure you weren't seriously injured, and as they looked you over, they caught sight of your hand. “Come on-” they picked you up “We need to get that cleaned and bandaged”

“Hange- the glass-” you looked down at the mess, and truly started to feel awful for the scene and mess you had created. They didn't deserve to be dealing with this.

“Don't worry about that for now- I'll carry you so you don't cut your feet on it.” They replied, and carried you to your bed. “I'll be right back, I need to go get some bandages. Don't move.” And soon they were gone.

You sat there, trying to make sure the blood did not drop onto the floor and instead holding it in your lap, where it sank into the nightgown you were wearing instead. Something like that could be easily replaced. It was only once they came back, you felt tears stream down your face. How could you have such selfish thoughts? Here they were, helping you without any anger on their face, only concern. And you were doing it to them. You were hurting them. They returned promptly as they said they would, bandage and towel in hand.

They took your hand that was cut, applied the damp towel on it and tried to clean most of it as they then applied the bandage. “Tell me if i'm wrapping your hand up too tight-” They said as they continued on, and all you could do was stare at them blankly and respond with a small:

“It's fine. Thank you.”

They looked up to you, nervous about your quietness, and what could have caused the mess in your room. Luckily, they knew better than to just start asking questions, especially if it was something that had affected you to such great lengths and keeping you reserved.

“Come on. You can come stay in my room tonight- This probably won't be able to be cleaned until tomorrow and I don't feel comfortable with you sleeping in your room with broken glass on the floor.” They lifted you to your feet, grabbing one of your robes and draping it over your form, and leading you out into the hallway. You just leaned onto their arm and followed them, soundlessly. It wasn't until you were in their room, and placed into bed with them at your side that you started talking though, placing your head into the place where their neck and shoulders connected and placing some rather suggestive kisses-

“Y/N- I don't…” Hange started but were cut off by your words. You knew what they were going to say- that you should get some sleep, that you weren't in the right state of mind right now, but it didn't matter.

“I'm sorry- please though… I want you.” you whispered to them, and they allowed you to have your way with them that night. After it was done, and both of you were satisfied, you laid in their arms, thinking about how this was the last time you would ever lay there again.

—-

It had been nearly one week since that incident.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror very slowly. Lately all you had been seeing was visions of yourself as your mother, and had blamed the lack of sleep as a result. Nothing a little makeup powder couldn't fix though, as you applied it to your face evenly. This was one of your biggest shows yet- just then you heard that knock on your door- the one that you had once would do anything to hear, only made you dread what was to come now. They were here, and you needed to get things over with…

The door opened and they let themselves in, hearing a gasp as you turned around in your seat to face them. “You look beautiful… like something from a dream-”

“Thank you Commander.” You gave them a small smile, however they could tell that it wasn't genuine as it usually was. You were smiling through the pain, like you usually did with others, and it pained them to see you like this.

“Y/N” They said softly, stroking your face, and you almost wanted to lean into them. Just let them take away the pain. But you couldn't. You had a focus, and that was to apply your makeup so you could go out on stage and sing. Give the damn best performance of your life if you had to- “maybe… you shouldn't go up tonight. You look utterly exhausted.”

“I have to. It doesn't matter what I look like, with enough makeup and the distance of the seats the crowd won't be able to tell. The show must go on regardless of how I feel anyhow-” You state,

“Y/N-” they started, however you were quick to cut them off, tearing their hand away from you and backing up. You weren't strong enough to resist them, unless they were away from you. You backed yourself against your dressing room vanity, your hands on the edge, gripping it hard.

“Don't! Don’t try to convince me of anything else. I've decided that this is what i'm going to continue to do hange- and… and we cant be together anymore if i'm going to fulfill my dreams.” The desperateness could be clearly heard in your voice- that if you didn't say these things to them now you may never be able to. You were too tired to even try to cover it up as well, thinking it didn't even matter given Hange had seen you at your worst before.

“Please… you are destroying yourself, can't you see?” they sounded so broken, so hurt and desperate. You wanted to embrace them, tell them it would be ok, but the truth is you were no longer the person you were when you stepped foot on the island. You had learned the ways of your art, the things you would have never achieved back in Marley, or with Zeke or your grandparents. No-

You were better.

“I would have thought you of all people would have understood Hange…” Your voice is almost unheard. Though you knew they had heard you, and they had to have understood you, Afterall you knew better, you knew they would also sacrifice everything for their cause, for the people of Paradise. And you would sacrifice your very being, just to be heard. To be remembered as the most delicate singer in Paradis history, even if that meant leaving them. Even if that meant their, and your own happiness. For what other contentment could you feel besides the one that stemmed from music?

“I…” they were silent for a moment, recollecting their words and thoughts, unsure of how to approach the situation. You could see the realization of failure, of loss in their face as they give up on their attempts to stop you. “I love you.”

And that's it. Your whole world stopped at that moment. You blame yourself for letting them get this close to you in the first place, because you knew. You knew that you would love and value your art, above anyone. Above them. And it wasn't fair to them.

“I'm sorry…But you can't.” you shake your head and look away from them. You can't bear to see their face in pain anymore, knowing you caused it.

“...I know…” They looked down, and placed the flowers that they had brought off to the side, on an empty desk. “I'm sorry too Y/N.” and with that they were gone.

You felt too numb to cry. Too numb to do anything. You had just let go of the person who had meant more to you than anyone could. And you knew you would never love another like them ever again, but you did what you had to. For their sake and yours.

You could hear a voice down the hallway, screaming 5 more minutes until the start of the show, and so you swiftly gathered yourself together- as much as you could, and exited your room, making your way towards the staircase which would lead you right to the stage. Your dress shimmered in the lowlights behind the curtain.

I'll write to zeke after this is over- he’ll most certainly be pleased to hear of my choice. You think to yourself as the curtains open, and as usual, you are met with a packed theater. People dressed in all sorts of outfits, sitting, and watching your every move.

The notes tumble from your mouth, having a mind of their own as the melody starts. You’ve rehearsed it almost a thousand times, know the song by heart, as it was picked with the idea that you would be able to dedicate it to a certain commander. However this song now represented all that could not be between the two of you…

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥

Who knows when love begins?

Who knows what makes it start?

One day it's simply there

Alive, inside your heart

It slips into your thoughts

It infiltrates your soul

It takes you by surprise

Then seizes full control

Try to deny it and try to protest

But love won't let you go

Once you've been possessed

Love never dies

Love never falters

Once it has spoken

Love is yours

Love never fades

Love never alters

Hearts may get broken

Love endures

Hearts may get broken

Love endures-

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◢

The song wasn't done though- but you stopped and took sight of the hooded figure that approached the stage, dressed in black, and pulled something out from their cloak. The whole world then seemed to move in slow motion. You felt something hit you like a sack of bricks, and then another, and then you were falling. Why were you on the floor?

You gingerly touched your stomach where you had felt the pain at first, not horrified at the stain of crimson that painted your hand, and was soon soaking your once pristine white dress. You had seen and become quite acquainted with the color, smiling softly as you heard screams from the audience, and the sounds of more gunshots. But you were fulfilled, a feeling you thought you would never achieve, though you had been wrong. All it took was…

That's it. You had been perfect. You had become the perfect singer, something nobody would ever forget. I will die Young and Beautiful- Be remembered as such.

You saw from the corner of your eyes Hange being held back from running to your side, pushing away Armin and Levi, all just to reach you. The warmth of their hand stroking your cold cheek as all the color faded from it and exited where the two holes in your abdomen were.

“H-Hange… Did I do it? Was I good enough?”

“You were stunning darling. Please, just stay with me a little while longer, help is coming-” Their voice faded in and out of your hearing, as the persistent screams in the background made it harder and harder to hear them.

“I-” You felt yourself become extremely tired suddenly ‘I'm really tired Hange. I'm tired.”

“You need to stay with me- You can't sleep yet dear.” They pulled your head onto their lap, stoking the strands that had fallen from your pinned up hair, brushing some of them away from your face. Tears were present in their eyes, and you wished you had the strength to wipe them away.

You moved your focus away from their gaze, as it wandered to the burning lights that continued to focus on your dying body. Nobody remained in the theater any longer, meaning your performance was now brought to a completion, you could now fade away as you had always meant to. And as you stared into the bright stage light, you wondered why it seemed to fog your entire vision.

End.

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