#like how certain songs sound better live

[buckets-of-dirt]

Man I miss the sound setup I had in highschool. It was hodgepodged together from speakers my dad borrowed from a friend in the 90s, a hand-me-down CD player that let you load 6 CDs at once, and the record player I got for Christmas in grade 9 so it didn't have the "best" sound quality but it worked for my teenage emo purposes. Dad dismantled it when I went off to uni because he started using my room as an office and the whole contraption took up half a bookcase and somehow the speakers/cd player went missing so I'll never get it back but I think of it like a long lost friend.

[pebblezone]

Rise and shine babes I’m making this everyone’s problem 💞

[rosielovesf1]

spilling secrets on stream | LN4

what better place to hard launch a relationship than twitch?

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none!

author's note: it's been so fun thinking up little story ideas and this is the product of one of them. fair warning that it's been forever since i've played fortnite so probably not very accurate when it comes to that 🤦‍♀️ thank youuu for reading and have a great day!!

also my requests are open if you would like to see a certain story/driver!! 🫶

“Hi guys, sorry I’m late,” Lando said, adjusting his headphones as he started the stream. There were a surprising number of people online for this Thursday afternoon, but he had posted on his story that Max would be joining him, so that could explain the popularity. Not that he would ever tell him that. 

“Max is joining now.” He stretched his arms over his head, smirking when the chat quickly noticed the sliver of skin he’d exposed in the simple motion. Oops. “Is Max with you right now? No, chat, I’m in Monaco. How’s offseason? It’s good. I’ve been doing a whole lot of nothing.” 

Lando read through and answered a couple more questions until Max’s face popped up on his screen. 

“Hello hello,” Max said, waving to the camera. “How are we, chat? What are we playing?” 

After a couple minutes of debate, they decided on Fortnite. The first round was short lived- Lando got shot pretty much immediately. Now, him and Max were two of ten players remaining, but the sound of the front door opening caused him to turn his focus away from the game. 

“y/n?” Lando called out after muting himself, turning away from the screen to see if his girlfriend had just arrived home. 

“Bro, what are you doing?” Max protested, his character running circles around Lando’s still one. Two other characters spotted them over a nearby hill and started firing immediately, with Max left alone to defend them. “You muppet!” Within seconds, Lando had died, and Max didn’t have enough time to resuscitate him in the midst of defending himself. 

“My bad.” Lando turned back to the screen, laughing at Max’s distress. 

“That was entirely your fault.” Max responded, pausing to look at his phone alert from Lando. 

I think y/n just got back and she doesn’t know I’m on stream. Can you stay on until I get back? 

Even though Lando and his girlfriend were practically living together at this point, staying at each other’s homes almost every night during the offseason, they were yet to make it official in the eyes of the public. Max knew this better than everyone- often having to cover for the couple when they weren’t cautious enough- and smirked as he typed back a yes. Lando took that as a sign to communicate his exit. “Be right back, chat. Don’t be too mean to Max while I’m gone.” 

He opened and shut the door to the room behind him, padding down the soft carpet runner of the hallway. “y/n?” Her bright pink trainers were by the front door, and seeing as he could hear the shower down the hall, she must’ve just come back from a run. 

All of a sudden, music started blasting- a Doja Cat song, Lando knew from y/n's time on the aux whenever they were in the car together. 

“y/n,” Lando laughed, knocking on the bathroom door, “I’m on stream darling.” It wasn’t that he minded the noise, or that the chat would know very quickly that there was a girl in his house (he wasn’t really the Doja Cat type). If it were up to him, he would’ve posted y/n the day they had made it official, four months ago. But they’d decided to wait a bit and enjoy the privacy. 

No response still. He tried the bathroom door handle but it was locked. She must’ve not known he was coming home, Lando thought cheekily to himself. Otherwise, it would’ve been open. He gave up and retreated back to the room with his setup, shooting a quick text over to y/n that he was home. 

Lando settled back into his chair, turning the camera on. “Alright, chat, I’m back. Sorry to leave you with Max.” 

Max raised an eyebrow at the music that filtered in through Lando’s mic, choosing not to comment on it. The chat wasn’t as sly though, with every other comment questioning the source. 

“Didn’t know Lando was a Doja Cat fan. I’m not.” The ambiguous comment sparked even more questions, and Lando just shook his head jokingly as they started another game. As he died for a third time, Max cursing and threatening to find someone better to play with, the music cut and the distant sound of the shower running stopped. 

“Lando?” y/n called out, freezing as she read over his text in the hallway. Lando’s eyes widened and he quickly muted himself, sliding his headphones off. As he stood up he heard y/n's footsteps nearing the door and managed to shut the camera off just in time. 

Lando pulled open the door and the scent of coconut and hibiscus floated in. y/n looked up at him with wide eyes in sweatpants and a stolen Quadrant t-shirt, her hair still wet from the shower. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that you were streaming.” She peeked over his shoulder and her eyes widened at the rapidly scrolling chat, the viewers going crazy about the distinctly female voice they’d overheard. Max had given up at pretending to ignore them and had shut off his camera as well, only adding to the viewers assumptions. 

He pulled her into a hug, mumbling “You smell good.” into her hair as a way of greeting. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly, rocking back and forth. 

“Did they hear me?” 

“Yeah.” They shuffled over to the computer together, her almost afraid to read the chat that was still scrolling at a million miles a minute. Lando read out one comment that said “can Lando’s girlfriend fight?” and raised a questioning eyebrow at the girl next to him. 

“Heck yeah. Look at these muscles. Try me.” She bounced back and forth on her heels, hands up in a boxing stance.

Lando laughed at her, locking her in a headlock that she quickly wiggled out of. “Not fair,” she whined. “Caught me by surprise.” 

He pulled her in front of him to straighten out the locks of hair he’d mussed, and kissed her forehead before looking down at her. “What if we told them about us right now?” 

“You think?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and he ran a gentle thumb over it to get her to stop. 

“I think they’re going to love you as much as I do.” She leaned into him at that statement, and he watched her eyes as she seemed to process his statement. 

“Alright,” she still looked hesitant, but brightened up as she opened her mouth to speak again. “I’m already wearing the right shirt and everything.” 

“Quadrants #1 fan.” He smiled, pulling her over to the computer. They split the chair so that both of them could sit, and she draped her legs comfortably over his. He rested one hand on her thigh, using the other to restart the stream. “Ready?” 

She nodded, and all of a sudden they were back online. 

“Hi, chat.” Lando smiled, laughing as the comments started pouring in. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, y/n.” 

“Hi, everyone,” y/n said, sporting a smile to match her boyfriend’s. “How are you doing?” 

“Finally.” Max let out a sigh, clicking his camera back on. 

“Thanks for covering for us, Max.” The trio sat and talked for a little bit, y/n answering questions for her from the chat that Lando pointed out every once in a while. They eventually turned the game back on, y/n holding her own and often outranking Max and Lando. In the midst of waiting for a new game to load, Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her side. 

“I’m so glad I get to show you off now.”

@landonorris: kiss me more 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

@y/nl/n: cat’s out of the bag 🤭

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ I DON’T SMOKE kim chaewon x reader

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, read these two parts before this one if you haven’t already, aespa girlies coming in clutch, kazuha being amazing, everything is …., pov switch’s between yn and chaewon, swearing, mentions of this work

CHAEWON WASN'T GONNA LIE , she’s been trying to erase what happened the other day with her stupid decision to kiss yn from her mind.

what was she thinking? of course that wouldn’t make yn think she didn’t like her. it definitely bosted the girls ego and chaewon couldn’t stand it.

and today is a prime example of that.

“yn, if you don’t hurry up right now I’ll-”

“you’ll what kiss me?” the girl cut chaewon off flashing the leader a cocky smile, “shiver me timbers.”

“you should be glad, I’m actually getting ready faster than I usually do, if you guys would’ve let me install my own washroom this wouldn’t be a problem.”

chaewon shut her eyes and tried to calm down her breathing, how privileged can this girl get?

“you are insufferable,” chaewon said clenching her fists, “I’ll just see if yunjin is done with the other washroom.”

“yeah, you go do that, I’m gonna need like another hour,”

chaewon groan was heard as she left the washroom door way and went down the hall and yn couldn’t help but smile to herself at the sound, she found it amusing how worked up chaewon got, but it was all fun and games right? no way chaewon hated her that passionately.

yn wasn’t gonna lie, as much as she didn’t show it, she was getting pretty in her head about that kiss, she got the same feeling in her chest that she gets when she’s teasing chaewon when they kissed.

she always get’s that feeling in her chest when it comes to chaewon, but she’s learned to just shake it off, taking it as the thrill of not giving chaewon the satisfaction of seeing her hurt by her words.

because she wasn’t hurt, at least that’s what yn would tell herself.

yn wasn’t lying when she said she needed another hour, the girls were going out to lunch and to be honest outside of group activities yn didn’t hang out with the girls much, she mostly hung out with four certain girls under sm entertainment, but this time kazuha said she had to come, so here she is.

an hour has passed and yn still isn’t ready, she adjusted the headband on her head as she looked through the washroom to see if her eyeliner was in there, she hadn’t seen it since she leant to kazuha the other night.

she had her outfit and everything on but she just needed her eyeliner.

she headed outside the washroom, deciding it would be better to just ask kazuha where her eyeliner was, she could hear all the girls voices in the living room, probably waiting for her.

as she walked closer their muffled voices became more clear.

“she mentioned getting a washroom in her room again,” chaewons voice was clear, “it sounded so pretentious.”

yn couldn’t help but furrow her eyebrows at the leaders words, she mentioned how they didn’t let her get one, it wasn’t like she was complaining, at least she hoped it didn’t sound like she was.

she softened when she heard kazuha’s voice, “she was probably joking, you know yn, she loves getting on your nerves.”

“oh I know yn, she’s a spoiled brat.”

yn fidgeted at how chaewon voice sounded, she was ready to walk in there and put on a show and act like she didn’t hear the familiar words of chaewon’s but then she heard yunjin’s voice.

“did you hear about her being requested to be on one of nayeon sunbae’s new songs for her comeback, I heard her talking about it on the phone with ningning.”

yn cringed at the way yunjin’s voice sounded, was that her voice always sounded when she wasn’t around? she was planning on telling them the good news at lunch but she’s kinda glad she didn’t just hearing the sounds they made at yunjin’s words.

“that’s so good,” kazuha replied , “yn’s so talented of course they would reach out to her.” the girl said causing yn to smile a little, hearing her friends words but it’s completely wiped off by yunjin’s response.

“yeah….but,” yunjin trails off, “I wonder if her dad had something to do with it, I mean a member of twice asking for a collab?”

yn scrunched up her face, just listening to the girls words, her father has had nothing to do with her music, he was too focused on his business to care.

she wanted to leave and go back to her room, but she couldn’t find herself to move.

“yn’s been on high demand though,” kazuha says coming to yn’s defence, “everyone loves her, artists and the general public of course she’s gonna be asked to be on a song.”

“I’m kinda with yunjin,” sakura says, her and yn didn’t have the closet relationship but it still stung hearing her elders words, “yn has been on like four songs this year, and how many brands has she done stuff with? it’s gotta be-”

“daddy’s money.” chaewon finishes for sakura, “it’s obvious, the only people that I actually believe are obsessed with yn are the men in this country, they all see her as some sick joke, a toy that they can play with, just look at when we filmed knowing bros.”

yn clenched her fists at the mention of the show, that day was humiliating, she was glad that karina came to her rescue because if not, she didn’t know what she would do.

yunjin laughed at the memory, “that joke was kinda funny though, yn can be on the slow side sometimes.”

her words made eunchae giggle, “yeah that was funny.” she said copying yunjin’s words.

“that was not funny at all.” kazuha said her voice firm, “they were making fun of her, like some sick joke.”

“is it a joke if it’s true?” chaewon said with amusement in her tone, “yn isn’t the brightest star.”

yn couldn’t believe she was here listening to her members trash talk her like this, while they think she’s in the other room, if could physically let herself cry she would right now, but she can’t, she won’t embarrass herself like that.

“yn went to one of most prestigious schools to exist, no idol has ever been to that school,” kazuha says coming to yn’s defence again.

“and who do you think got her into the school?” chaewon asked, “daddy of course.”

the girls laughed at chaewon’s words, “I honestly think she was kinda sensitive during knowing bros, she didn’t laugh at one joke.”

“why would she?” kazuha said yn could hear the annoyance in her friends voice, “the whole show was just them sexualizing her and making fun of her.”

“oh, stop being dramatic.” both sakura and yunjin said at the same time.

is it dramatic to say yn was in shock at her members words, did they have no sympathy? that was one of the worst days of yn’s life, the whole time she was just treated horribly while everyone laughed, she can bet if it was one of the other girls they wouldn’t have found it amusing.

she can remember the day like yesterday, as soon as they got back to the dorms yn and called one of her dads drivers go drive her to aespa’s dorms, telling them what happened, and they sure didn’t find it amusing like her members did.

her nails were starting to create marks in her hands as she listened to girls call kazuha dramatic.

she wonders what more have they said about her, when she wasn’t around.

“okay, I’m done listening to you guys act like assholes, I’m gonna go check to see if yn’s ready.”

yn couldn’t move fast, she flinched back when she came face to face with kazuha who paled when she saw yn.

“yn?”

“yeah,” with the way yn’s voice sounded who would’ve never guessed she was just listening to her group members shit on her.

“did you hear anything that was said?” kazuha asked searching yn’s face for any hint of sadness or hurt.

“hear what?” yn said cheerfully, playfully pinching kazuha’s cheek, “are you planning me a surprise or something?”

yn didn’t know how she could quickly act like everything was okay, especially since this is the worst she’s ever felt in a while, I guess she has just grown used to doing this a lot.

kazuha opened her mouth to respond but yn cut her off, “have you seen my eyeliner, I’ve been trying to look for it.”

“oh.” kazuha says, “it’s on my desk.”

“okay let me just get that, and then I’ll be ready, feel free to tell the girls,” yn says before speed walking towards kazuha’s room.

kazuha watched as yn walked away feeling a queasy frying her stomach, all she could think to herself is how much she just wanted yn to show her emotions and tell her how she truly feels.

yn felt like she was underwater all the talking muffled as her members talked amongst each other, she found it hard to engage after hearing their such strong opinions about her.

yn feels like she could smoke ten packs of cigarettes right now, just to feel numb to it all.

she felt a nudge on her shoulder and she turned to kazuha who looked at her with concern, “you good?” the girl asked a little bit too loud causing the table to quite down all their eyes on yn.

chaewon rolled her eyes at yn’s silence, definitely thinking about how much yn’s probably loving the attention right now, when it’s quite the opposite.

“yeah I’m good.” yn says, there’s still silence, “actually I think I’m gonna go.”

“woah what?” yunjin says watching yn grab her purse.

“why?” kazuha asked gripping yn’s arm.

“yeah, I totally forgot that I have some stuff to do with my dad.” yn says tugging her arm out of kazuha’s grip.

“such a daddy’s girl.” chaewon says causing eunchae to giggle.

“you can’t do it another time?” sakura asked.

yn tried her best to stop herself from glaring at them, they want her go stay after all the things they said about her? seriously?

“nope!” she responded, “sorry you know how he is, lunch is on me.” she says digging into her purse and slapping a stack of cash that could probably cover the lunch into kazuha’s hands who looked at her with even more concern.

“you don’t have too.” yunjin says looking at the money in kazuha’s hands, “we were just gonna pay.”

“no it’s okay, daddy’s money should cover it.” yn says a bit of bite in her tone causing chaewon to furrow her eyebrows.

“see you guys later.” she says giving kazuha a squeeze on her shoulder before leaving, ignoring the eyes of her members that were on her.

as she walked out the restaurant one of her dads divers were outside waiting for her, she texted him 10 minutes before she told the girls she was leaving, she couldn’t take it in there anymore, she felt suffocated.

“where to?” the diver asked as she sat in the backseat.

“you already know.” yn said as the man nodded.

yn immediately pulled out her phone and texted yizhuo everything that went down.

yiz baby 🎀 wtf?????

yiz baby 🎀 that’s insane

yiz baby 🎀 what did you ever do to them

she sighed at her friends text messages and looked out the window watching the buildings pass, she couldn’t help but think maybe she did do something to them.

she wasn’t even supposed to be in the lesserafim lineup but got added last minute, she moved around a lot, she was a sm trainee and was apart of the aespa lineup, then she moved to hybe after her dad started business with them, she got taken from source and moved to ador just for source to take her back and quickly add her to the lesserafim lineup, she was an intruder.

she wasn’t meant to be apart of this family, maybe they do have the right to be mean, she just came out of know where and probably ruined everything for them.

yn knew if she closed her eyes tears would fall so she kept them open until a familiar building came to view.

aespa’s dorm.

she got of the car and thanked the driver and make her way into the building.

as she made it to the door she knocked three times and it immediately opened to reveal yizhuo who wrapped her arms around yn.

“what the hell, yn.”

“I know.”

yizhuo dragged yn inside and closed the door walking the girl over to the living room where the rest of aespa sat looking at the tv.

aeri noticed her first, “yn!” she cheered getting up from the couch causing jimin and minjeong to get up as well all three of them giving yn a hug at the same time.

“yizhuo showed us the texts.” jimin said wrapping her arm around yn’s shoulder and leading her to couches.

“yeah…”

“what the hell is there problem?” aeri asked with anger in her voice, “you’ve done nothing wrong.” she said watching yn leaning into jimin’s side and burying her face into the girls neck.

“honestly I was thinking about it.” yn said her voice kind of muffled because of her being squished into jimin, “maybe I did do something to them.”

“what?!” all four girls yelled in disbelief at yn’s words.

she lifted herself from jimin’s side and looked at all of them, “I’m an intruder, I wasn’t supposed to be apart of their family, I came in and probably ruined everything for them, if anything they can mean as they want, hybe can be frustrating and I guess I’m the best person to take that frustration out on and that’s okay.”

“what the fuck yn” yizhuo says looking at her best friend as if she grew five heads, “what type of nonsense just came out of your mouth.”

yn’s mouth drops in offence and minjeong cuts in, “you’ve done nothing wrong yn, it’s pure jealousy, don’t ever blame yourself for this.”

jimin rubbed yn’s shoulder, “stop giving them the benefit of the doubt, they don’t deserve it after today.”

“and can you cry a little?” yizhuo asked, “you can’t keep bottling things up, it’s unhealthy.”

“that’s so embarrassing, never suggest that dumb shit to be again.” yn said to yizhuo firmly, “could imagine my mom and dad’s reaction if they saw me crying or my brothers, it’s crazy that you even suggested it.”

yizhuo shook her head at her best friend in disbelief, “I’m convinced you and your family are robots.”

that was the first time yn had fully laughed all day, she was happy that she had these four girls in her life, she didn’t know what she was gonna do when she has to go back her dorm.

“you should sleepover.” jimin suggested, “you already have clothes here, you need a break.”

all the girls nodded in agreement as yn thought about it.

“okay, I just need to text zuha.”

rich princess 💗staying at nings

kazuha frowned at the text, she just wanted to be there for yn.

“oh?” she flinched back at chaewon’s closeness, “so she’s a liar and a spoiled brat.” she says looking at kazuha’s phone, “blowing off your own group for another?”

“maybe she already did the stuff with her dad, you know she always goes to the aespa dorms after she goes out.” kazuha said coming to yn’s defence.

“why do you care anyways.”

chaewon swallowed at kazuha’s words.

“I don’t, why would I care?” she asked glaring at kazuha. but the way she said it kinda made it seem like she was saying to herself instead of kazuha.

why would I care about what yn does ?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

j word appreciation post

I FEEL LIKE I'VE BEEN TALKING WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT... A CERTAIN OTHER CHARACTER WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED.... AND I NEED TO TIP THE SCALES BACK TO WHERE THEY SHOULD BE plus I just rolled his SR Nightmare Suit card so--

askjlbfbuoasofbua fqreryoqiw Okay but seriously, I feel like Jade really gets to shine in this event (which is really ironic given that I feel his appearance was lackluster in the very first Halloween event, when he was actually a SSR). Like, he doesn't do or say anything world-changing. However, he does get many opportunities to just be a menace to his classmates and you can tell he's really living it up for the Halloween season 😭

In his Nightmare Suit summon animation, he sounds so happy shouting "This is Halloween!!" You seriously have to go and listen to it for yourself to understand how excited he is. Aaaaah, it fills my heart with so much joy seeing him all hyped for the holiday… And he's got voice lines where he's so gleeful about the thought of scaring others... Customers at the Mostro Lounge, Malleus, etc. He even praises Jack for his delightful (but quickly changes it to "evil/wicked") frights.

Some other standout moments that made me laugh:

His voice line where he asks you to please not poke him in the forehead even though the slicked back hairstyle basically invites us to OTL J WORD IS SELF AWARE

BENDING DOWN TO EPEL'S HEIGHT SO EPEL CAN PRACTICE "ESCORTING" HIM... J WORD STOP IT YOU'RE KILLING THIS GUY, YOU'RE RUBBING IT IN HIS FACE

Fucking with Epel by lying to him about which plants are common and then actually telling the truth later (when Epel insists he won't fall for it again), WHICH MAKES EPEL LOOK STUPID IN FRONT OF THEIR UPPERCLASSMEN

Being the one to open the Halloween Town door... Absolutely no fucks given, just lets his curiosity lead the way

HIM AND AZUL LOWKEY TAG-TEAM INSULTING LEONA AND SAYING HE'S PROBABLY TONE DEAF... You two better stfu 😭 HE'S GONNA PROVE YOU WRONG WHEN THE HALLOWEEN EVENT MANDATED SONG DROPS… and then J word sings??? GOD I WISH 5HIS EVENT WSS VOIcED

Cbsbsjwnwn HIMWNqtING TO HELP DALLY fIND LOVE BY DOINH DmTH UNSPEAKABLE

Backing off SO fast when Leona demands they play Magift with him in exchange for singing at the lounge

Joining in with everyone making fun of Leona being shockingly princely and picking on Grim's handwriting...

Makes fun of Jamil for thinking a rustling wound was made by a bug (it was actually a rat)

DHLBOSVASVFAS GETTING COMPETITIVE WHEN LOCK CALLS HIM BORING... and then taking a present which is so clearly booby trapped just so Jade can prove he can have an entertaining surprised reaction...

J WoRD iS LITERALLY OU t hERE thRIVING 🥺 I love that for him………………… ………… …………… ……. …… ………….. ….. …. … …….. …. … . .:: .. ….. … . … . : .. . . . .. .

[dinsbeskar]

Wicked Game (Sauron/F!Reader)

He knows he shouldn't covet you, that he is above such earthy things as love. So why does he stalk you in the forests you call home? It's love at first sight, and the feeling is mutual; or:

Sauron engages in some light stalking and gets the girl somehow.

Prequel to In the Dark of the Night // AO3 Link

Songs to listen to: Wicked Game / Beautiful Stranger / Iris

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

Warnings: 18+! Smut, fluff, lil bit of angst, P in V sex, fingering, licking/biting. Sauron!! He's super creepy, sorry, idk what to say, there's some stalking, some creepy behaviour, he's a bit unhinged. Love at first sight!! Like babe it's been an afternoon, calm down. Anyway we move fast!!

A/N: bro is head empty, no thoughts, down bad in this, sorry!! in this house we subscribe to the 'elves fuck once and they're married for eternity' idea, so there's that tiny spoiler for you!

Word Count: 6.2k!

Mairon was already old when he met you, unfathomably ancient in fact, wandering Arda and beholding the power of creation, amongst other things. He was sure he had already experienced everything there was on the physical plain, but you would prove him wrong indeed. When the first Elves awoke, he felt a pull, like many of the Ainur, to see the new life that now roamed the forests and plains they had sung into being. He was not the first spirit to stumble across the peoples of Middle Earth, and he would not be the last. Watching your people dance and sing and create gave him new inspiration to take back to Aulë's forge, to bring order and balance to your lives as he saw fit, for who could know better than he?

Today was a feast day, when all of your people were out in the forest hunting and foraging, mirthful song filling the glades as you ran barefoot through the trees, breathless with laughter and exertion, carrying a basket of berries meant for the evening's festivities. Pale golden light streamed through the leafy canopy, dust motes floating in the rays and sparkling like the stars above. You looked around for your companions, a little far off beyond the thicket you had picked through for its fruit. Unperturbed, you continued, hearing the silvery sound of water flowing somewhere in the vicinity. A drink or a dip was almost certain, you thought, to refresh you and your companions before the feast, but you would find it first and save them from searching. Soft birdsong and rustling leaves accompanied by a warm breeze made for the perfect setting; how could you wish for more?

He makes a great effort to be silent, not wishing to frighten you, unsure of how his sudden appearance might affect you. After all, you hadn't heard him the countless times before, why should you now? He matches your footsteps, remaining in step with you behind the trees in the merciful shadow, careful not to disturb the undergrowth, picking carefully through the wildflowers that scent the air. Your pointed ears prick up at a rustle in the trees, and you snap your head round to investigate. He darts behind a gnarled oak tree, holding his breath and awaiting your discovery. You smile and shake your head softly; what could you possibly be afraid of in these forests, your home for decades? You continue following the sound of the stream up ahead, ignoring all other sounds in the forest now, much to his satisfaction. How innocent you are, how much you need his protection, for what would you do if there were forces that wished to subdue you or do you harm? The glint in his eye grows as he draws closer, still choosing to remain hidden from you. He could use his powers to disguise himself, to stalk you unnoticed almost hand in hand with you, and had done on a few occasions, close enough to smell your soft hair, even to take a few strands for himself, but somehow he likes this better, imagining you the innocent prey to his stealthy predator, a thrill at the though of catching you rushing through him as quickly as he pushes it away. He only wants to watch you, to know you, to observe, nothing more. What interest could you possibly have in one another beyond curiosity?

The first time he saw you, many moons ago, you'd been surrounded by your fellow Elves, dancing in harmony in a field of wildflowers, sweet music in the air. He hadn't thought much of you at first if truth be told, you were all very much alike; all fair and graceful, joyful and innocent. It was only when the music picked up, your dance became faster and more frenetic, that an Elf with long golden hair had tripped and fallen, disrupting the rhythm, leaving all your companions giggling at her misfortune. He too had laughed at her stumble, grateful that the music covered his sudden outburst, but then he noticed you, with your hand outstretched and a comforting smile to greet your fallen comrade, who shook herself off while you picked stray leaves from her hair. She seemed unhurt, and no one else was concerned, already having resumed their merriment, but you held back a moment to check she was well. He was instantly captivated, itching to reveal himself and carry you off, to protect the light within you, or consume it wholly. The tiny semblance of self-restraint he had left held him back, told him to wait and observe, to absorb all he could about you; the idea of you rejecting his advances was intolerable, triggering waves of nauseous anger throughout his being. No, patience would serve him, and so he had waited, oh so patiently. Your kindness had, and would, be your undoing.

Illuminated up ahead is the stream you've been chasing; it's small, barely a trickle, but you follow it regardless. The water is cool and clear and refreshes your worn feet, and you lift your dress to keep it clear as you pad down the river bed, feeling the sandy mud between your toes being washed away as you lift your feet into the current. The light is beginning to fade now, you know you should turn back, but you're sure there is a pool nearby, and it would feel so good to swim a little before getting back to the others. They could share in it tomorrow, but today you could bask in some sweet time alone.

He has been following your softly trodden path in the mossy forest floor, but when he reaches the water's edge, it vanishes. Cursing, he casts about, searching for a hint of your next steps. He had only stopped for a moment, distracted by the way your hair catches the light, your graceful smile, the way your dress flows over your frame. A fleeting thought of taking that same dress off you, the image of you pliant underneath him, all had left him breathless, frankly caught unawares, still unused to the urge to get close to you even after all this time, and the strange feelings that coursed through his fair form that he had never experienced before setting his gaze upon you. He had passed a few golden afternoons like this - perhaps many if he were ever honest - watching and waiting for you, but every occasion felt like a lifetime, which for Mairon was indeed no understatement.

Frustration coursed through him, filling the pit of his stomach with a strange churning at the thought of losing you; it was a feeling he couldn't quite place, nor come to terms with. These mortal forms were not for him, he decided, the lack of clarity in these feelings was suffering enough, and he turned to leave, embarrassed now that he had let it get this far. It was a foolish errand, carried out once too often, following you through the forest with no thought but to see what you would do if you only turned around, saw him, embraced him-

A sharp crack rang out through the trees as he snapped a branch under his feet in his haste, all thoughts of moving in the shadows abandoned as his self-admonishment moved him to run, to leave now before he could become entangled with you. But as he scolded himself for his lack of self control, he heard you call out.

"Who's there? Did you find me? And here I was, hoping for some peace," you laugh, expecting your friends to join you as you wade in the crystal clear waters.

Your eyes widen and you stare at the stranger who appears as if from the shadows themselves, a small smile gracing his face. He is ethereal, and frankly you have never beheld a being more beautiful, but for the first time in your life, a small voice deep in your mind advises caution.

"I didn't mean to startle you, young one," his smooth voice reaches your ears and sends tingles from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

"You didn't," you lie, after a long pause, not wanting to discomfort him any more than he seemed to be. Blood rushed to your face as he regards you intensely, as if you'd met before.

"Were you looking for something? The pool perhaps? It is a warm day, I couldn't be too surprised to find someone else had the same idea." You gesture to yourself with your skirts around your waist, legs submerged.

He steps closer, still regarding you, his smile widening. You had said something right apparently, and you couldn't shake the feeling of satisfaction that his lovely smile gave you; as long as he kept looking at you like that, you felt you might be content forever, such were the tender pangs your heart suddenly felt in his presence. You didn't even know his name, and so immediately you ask.

"I have many names," he articulates carefully, eyes on yours, unblinking.

"So what name should I use for you?" You ask teasingly, beginning to step out of the water, wringing the edges of your skirts out.

Unthinking he stretches out his hand, and as if on instinct, you take it, not needing the assistance but immediately grateful you took it. His hand is warm and strong, and encircles yours comfortingly, fitting perfectly. A wave of some strange feeling overtakes you, a heat beginning in your abdomen, flowing through you. You've never experienced it before, but from what you have heard from your married kin, it might be called lust.

Your face feeling hot now, you look away, anywhere but at this beautiful stranger, and notice a small dark stain blooming on his shoe. Your eyes widen and you drop to your knees to look closer, unheeding of the change in his stance as he takes you in from above. What magic could you wield over him in this position, he wonders.

"You're hurt, my lord," you motion to his foot, and he realises that in his trance, the branch had broken his sole and pierced his flesh. The pain had gone unnoticed until now, your spell over him seeming to soothe any ill in his body or soul, but now that you'd pointed it out, he winced and cursed this body of flesh and bone, so easily vulnerable to the perils of mortality, even if his fëa was not.

"Come, let me look at it, it might be serious," you beckon him to follow you to a fallen tree trunk, lying oh so conveniently on its side, as if waiting for two lovers to take their seats on its bark. He stands awkwardly, watching you, his brow furrowed as if he had no idea what you have planned, before you laugh and pull him to sit. Without ceremony, you strip him of his shoe and examine the wound.

"That is a lot of blood for such a small wound," you murmur, tracing the arch of his foot. You find yourself touching his skin a fraction too long, and without looking at him, you straighten and go back to the pool.

His eyes never leave you, even as you avoid his gaze, ripping a strip of gauzy fabric from your dress and wetting it, before hurrying back. Almost imperceptible to the average observer, your hands shake, but he is not the average observer, and he has observed you for quite a while now. You're nervous, he realises with a tiny smirk, and it thrills him, sending a delicious shiver down his spine. All these new feelings this body gave him, they don't appear to cease evolving while you're this close, close enough that he feels your breath on his skin and nearly gasps. He needs to pull himself together, but try as he might, alas, your kindness was intoxicating. He had known such goodness in Aman when he'd dwelt there with his kin, if you could call them that, but his recent company was somewhat lacking in that department.

You sit back on your haunches and look once more at the wound, now nearly clean and seemingly smaller than it had been. Shrugging to yourself, you carefully dab away the blood that still drips onto the ground beneath you, soaking into the moss and ferns; you don't notice how they seem to brown and wilt with each drop.

"Is everything alright, my lady?" He asks, quick to notice your confusion, eager to distract you from the plants at your knees.

His lady, that did sound delightful. You know it is a manner of speech, but for a moment it is rather blissful to imagine it, the lady to this gracious lord.

"I think I might have overestimated how badly you were injured, it seems to be only a scratch," you reply, still a little bemused as to the disproportionate amount of blood. How were you to know that he could heal himself with nary a thought.

You start to pull away, but he is reluctant to let you go so soon, wishing for a moment it had been a serious matter, that he would require all of your gentle care and undivided attention for the foreseeable future, kicking himself that he didn't allow the wound to fester and bloom. He casts about for any excuse and uncharacteristically lands on a weak one.

"Your dress, my lady, how can I make it up to you? After all, your efforts ought not be in vain." He knows how to ingratiate himself with most folk, and makes the most of his skills to do so, but there is a tiny part of him now that actually feels he owes a kindness in return. It's an alien notion, and he attempts to brush it aside, but as he lingers in your presence, he realises that he would sooner abduct you from this glade than let you leave him, and if a kindness is what it will take, then he will fulfil it.

A small crinkle appears in your brow, then you glance down at the torn hem and chuckle.

"It is nothing, my lord, easily fixed, and anyone would have done the same." You graciously reply.

The way you look up at him through your lashes, his heart skips a beat; he didn't even know it could do that.

Your small nervous smile becomes radiant, beaming even, as you bask in the glow of the dappled light illuminating his face. You realise you don't want him to leave just yet, inexplicably drawn to his presence, and you cast about for any reason at all that would keep him here.

"I'm afraid your shoe is a little wet." To your credit, it actually is wet, full of blood, but in an inexplicable act to scupper his departure, before he can react and you can elaborate, you find yourself holding it on the water's edge.

Your hands move faster than your brain, and you drop it into the shallows, looking him dead in the eye.

For a moment, all is still between you, and you bite your lip, your mischievous grin suddenly uneasy as your mind catches up with you and you consider what in all of Middle Earth you just did. This is a total stranger, an ethereallly beautiful one at that, and you have no idea how he will react to your escapade. You straighten and wring your hand a little behind your back, awaiting a wrath that would never come.

"It would appear it is very wet, my lady." And he throws back his head and laughs long and hard, a sound that you want to elicit from him again and again.

When you are lying entwined together, many years and hardships later, he will ask you what you were thinking, and as ever you answer him honestly: you only wanted him to stay, however you had to do it.

With a playful laugh, you retrieve the sodden shoe and shake it off, before holding it out to him. He can still leave, you think, but it will be mighty awkward.

He takes it, throws it behind him, kicks off his other shoe, and shrugs off his robe. Your mouth falls open a little and you lick your lips unconsciously, as his frame is revealed, taut and lean, through his thin shirt. He rucks up his trousers and joins you in the shallow water, shivering a little at the sensation.

Instinctively, you outstretch your hand to steady him, and he takes it without thinking. His touch soothes any nerves you had and sparks a fire that seems to trail up your arm and end in your aching chest. You hadn't noticed you were holding your breath and slowly exhaled, careful not to alert him to your sudden onslaught of sensation. He considers you for a moment, smile tugging at his lips, seemingly fascinated by where you are joined, fingers entwined. And then he has a mad idea.

The tension in the air is cut by a sudden splash of water on your face, and as you clear your eyes, you realise he was the one that had thrown it. He had seen many an elf play-fighting in the water all the time, throwing it at one another joyously, victory seemingly determined by who doused their opponents the most. He had never partaken, obviously, but now inspiration took him, and you had made the first move with his shoe, but now as he watched your face screw up with indignation, water in your eyes and hair, he wasn't so sure it was the right jest with which to entice you.

For a moment you are dumbfounded. This stranger, whose name you still didn't even know, whom you'd only met in the last hour, had started a water fight.

Seemingly affronted, you snatch your hand away and make to leave, turning your back to him. His face falls and he realises this was probably not the way to win your affections.

"My lady, I-" his apology is cut short by an armful of water to the face, as you reach down into the pool and swing as much as you can in his general direction in one fell swoop.

Cackling with triumphant laughter, you can't help but feel a little sorry for him as he stands there absolutely sopping wet, eyebrows in his hairline, looking positively flabbergasted. Unfortunately for you, his eyes narrow as he realises your subterfuge, and the game commences.

It is over soon enough, the two of you emerging soaked and giggling like children, having run rings around each other and giving as good as you got, both of you thoroughly avenged. As you both wade back to shore, he takes your hand and holds it in the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, I present the victor of the battle-"

He is interrupted by the both of you breaking down into breathless laughter once again, two strangers no more.

On the sandy bank, he climbs out first, and awaits you, but you hold back.

"What should I call you then, my lord, unless that is what you prefer to be named?" You have to ask, needing introductions now you had so thoroughly beaten him in battle, never mind your fascination with him, the overwhelming urge to pull him close.

"I have many names, my lady, and you have not yet told me yours," he replies, almost but not quite frowning at you, confused as to why it really matters, why you would need to know who he is after having passed such a pleasurable afternoon together.

"You first, I asked you before and you avoided the question." Your expression is now serious; why would he want to conceal himself from you, after you had passed such a pleasurable afternoon together?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have many names, but the one I prefer," he holds his breath a little, still unsure as to how you might receive him, "is Mairon."

After a long pause, in which he considers fleeing, or possibly burning the forest down, your expression brightens as you mull over his name, feel it in your mouth, wonder over the meaning.

"That is beautiful," you murmur, "the admirable? You must be something wonderful to have earned such a name, my lord."

Relief washes over him as he realises his true name must not yet be known in these parts; rumours and slander would not colour his attempts to woo you after all.

His gaze softens as he watches you taste his name on your tongue, and he has a sudden aching longing to know what it sounds like when you're on your back and breathless under him. Surely nothing could be sweeter.

"And you, love, what am I to call you?" He is so struck by you, he barely notices the crucial detail that slips from his lips, but you do, and you regard him with a strange look he can't place.

Love, he said, so casually and so delicious to hear, your breath hitches and for a second the world spins. You've only just met this man, if he is even a man, and he uses such pet names as if you've known each other a lifetime.

"Amarië, that's what everyone calls me." You had almost forgotten he had asked, and it was only the silence between you that reminded you to answer.

"Goodness. A fitting name for so virtuous a maiden." He steps closer, still on the bank, oh so tall above you, the light through the trees illuminating him from behind, leaving his features in shadow.

Of course, he already knew your name, and had always thought it fitting. Indeed, it was one of the reasons he had hesitated to approach you, for surely one so good could not possibly want nor need one such as him, despite the ache in his heart that told him you were his to take, the rest of Arda be damned. He knew his purpose in Arda was a valiant one; his methods, however, he was aware they were... contestable.

Your face grows hot at his compliment, and you look down and away, anywhere but at his gaze, currently fixed on you, intense and contemplative. He gently lifts your chin, seeming to study your every feature, every nuance in your expression until he sees what he desires.

A shadow passes over his face, before he tightens his grip and finally pulls you from the shallow water. You stumble a little, but he is right there to catch you, strong arms around you as your free hand is crushed between you, pressed against his chest. His eyes are dark, scaring you and thrilling you all at once, like a wolf studying its prey before their total annihilation. Then he takes your face in his hands and claims your lips, as if he's finally satisfying some dark long-held urge, and you cannot help but melt.

It is as if he has done this a thousand times before, teasing you with his tongue, demanding entrance to your mouth as if he wants to drown in you.

Electric tingles spread over your skin everywhere he touches, from your neck where he grips you softly, to your lips he has claimed for his own, to your waist that he refuses to yield from his embrace.

He is unrelenting, refusing to let you come up for air, even as you claw at his arms for release. Finally he seems to realise his mistake and pulls back, lips swollen and parted in pleasure. You take a deep breath, chuckling a little as you do so.

"You are no Elf, my lord Mairon," you remark, righting your dress and smoothing your hair where he had wound his fingers.

With a slightly apologetic smirk, he nods. "I am something far greater, my love, so from time to time, I might forget such... intricacies."

In this moment, you feel as though your heart might burst, wanting him close, touching you, encircling you. But a shiver travels down your spine as the little voice whispering warnings becomes a scream, beholding him not as an ethereal being sent to ravish you, but a danger to ruin you. It was all too brief and you shook it off, for how could this beautiful creature ever mean you harm?

Evening becomes night, and you migrate from the tree trunk to the forest floor. Nestled into him with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you share the basket of berries that will surely be missed at the feast of your kin, and talk for hours about everything and nothing. He tells you of his work, that he is a smith and loves nothing more than to create beautiful things, but he has never had more exquisite inspiration than you.

He seems to know just what to say, soft words whispered only to please you, and all you want is more. He traces his fingers up and down your arm, across your collarbone, into the shell of your ear, idly mapping every inch of you.

He doesn't press you further than gentle touches and tiny kisses peppering your skin. Perhaps though he is no Elf, he is aware of your people's customs, that to give yourself to him in body would be to make the two of you one forever, body and soul. You're not so sure that isn't what you want, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless; after all, you have only known him an afternoon.

It takes all of his self-restraint to suppress the urge to take you here and now, after all, who were you to stop him? But he wanted you when you were ready for him, mind, body, and soul, and he was willing to wait, even if it took an age. Admittedly it would be a difficult wait, he muses, as he realises the close proximity of your body to his is having an unexpected effect on him. He shifts position to avoid you noticing how hard he is just from touching you, and he prays to any of the Valar who might have an ear for him that his wait for you will be swift.

You twirl a tiny flower idly between your forefinger and thumb, gazing up at the heavens, your other hand wrapped in his. You are such exquisite inspiration, he muses, smirking as he realises he can have you after all. He sits up, making you groan, robbed of his warmth.

"What are you doing, love?" You complain, taking a slightly petulant tone that makes him chuckle.

"You'll see, patience is a virtue," he reaches out with his closest hand and smoothes your hair, gesturing for you to lie back down.

You kick your feet a little, suitably admonished but impatient still.

"Come back to me, I had just got comfortable, and you've ruined it now!" You laugh at him, his back turned to you so you can't make out what he is doing.

You sigh long and loud, earning an affectionate chuckle, before you lay back down and close your eyes. It is but a few moments later that he grasps your hand and pulls you up to face him. When you see what he has readied, you gasp, tears pricking your eyes.

Purple irises grow with literal wild abandon in these fields and you had always loved them, weaving them in your hair and stitching their image on your garb. In his hand, perched on his fingertips as if it is the most precious thing in creation, is a tiny iris in full bloom, its slender stem wound and plaited into a ring, with its gorgeous indigo flower crowning it like no diamond ever could.

He is on his knees in front of you, ring in hand, and for a second you cannot quite put the pieces together. You have known him a day, if that? It is a beautiful gift, but can you accept the deeper meaning behind it, that seems to lie in his expression, if not his words.

"It is beautiful, my lord," you sigh, "I think I shall require your aid in putting it on, it is so delicate after all."

Your heart aches at his wide smile, the crinkle of his eyes as he wordlessly slips it onto the fourth finger of your left hand, which surely he cannot know would mean-

"I would make you mine, my love, if you would have me," he murmurs, heart beating out of his chest, sentiment momentarily making him soft and weak for you.

So he does know the significance, and in an instant you feel as though you've been doused in liquid fire, nerves tying your stomach in knots, regarding his gift on your finger with equal parts trepidation and excitement.

You close the space between you and grasp his face with both hands, claiming his lips for your own, fingers travelling to his hair and over the pointed tips of his ears. He moans deep in his chest and pushes you backwards into your makeshift bed, peppering you with kisses until all your skin is ablaze.

"I am yours," you breathe, words so soft he might have missed them, had you not whispered directly into his ear, clutching his neck and whimpering as he maps every uncovered inch of you he can reach with his lips.

He groans, a noise so guttural it surprises you in the best way, sending a wave of arousal to between your legs. He rolls his hips against yours, and you feel something hard against your mound, through all the layers of fabric between you.

The stars blaze above you, hot and bright, but they have nothing on the way he makes you feel. You have heard of love at first sight, but never thought it might happen to you, that it was rare enough if it happened at all.

His hot breath trails down your neck to your collarbone, and his clever fingers work to unlace you from the fabric shielding you from his gaze. He stops a moment, breathing heavily.

"Tell me you want this -" his silver tongue licks your ear and sucks at your neck. "Tell me you need this."

His gaze is so heated, and his voice rough with arousal, that you clench your legs together to relieve that ache that has been building there since you met him. It seems like forever ago now, impossible that it has not even been a day.

"I need you," you hiss, desperate for any touch he'll bestow upon you. "...I'll always need you, now that I have you, I can't let you go."

Your words shatter the last remaining resolve he had not to ruin you, and he takes you as his own. Stripping every inch of you until you are bare before him, desperate for his skin on yours, he wraps you in his arms, legs entwined with yours. The violent urge to claim you was not satisfied, but he would have plenty of time to show you all of him; tonight was your wedding night, and you deserved what gentleness he could provide.

He runs his fingers through your slick, fascinated by how wet you are for him. Perhaps these mortal forms were not so bad after all.

You moan his name and beg for more, though you cannot possibly know what you are asking for. His lascivious grin sends tremors through you, a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there is no going back now.

He loosens himself from his trousers, shucks them off almost clumsily in his haste to be inside you. He is beautiful, you reflect, as you take in his bare torso, his strong legs, and all the flesh in between. His size shocks you a little and you wonder how he plans to use it.

He sees your eyes widen and immediately covers you with his body, kissing softly at your neck so to better hear your tiny sounds of pleasure. In time he will make you scream, he vows.

"It's alright, love," he reassures you with a soft smile, "I've got you, I won't let it hurt."

His fingers move in comforting circles in the small of your back, at the apex of your thighs, across your mound. He gathers the slick from your entrance, readying himself with a stroke. He is already so painfully hard, but he has to come inside you, no way will he waste his seed on the forest floor.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself to between your thighs, wrapping your legs around him.

"Pull me to you, love, make me yours," he pants, cock straining at your entrance, waiting for you to take the plunge.

It's like standing at a precipice; the fear of falling is so closely tied to the fear of jumping. But you bite your lip and dig your fingernails into his back, tighten your calves, and pull his lower body into yours.

You want to scream, the stretch is too much, he is too big and he's hitting somewhere delicious inside you that makes you see stars. He doesn't move, letting you feel all of him, relishing in you taking him like the good girl you are.

"Well done, love, so good for me, you feel so fucking good," he exhales, towering over you while the moon illuminates him from behind, leaving his expression inscrutable.

His fingers on your abdomen are so soothing, the stinging stretch you felt disappears, leaving only white hot pleasure in its wake. You begin to move your hips against him, aching for more friction, more skin on yours, you'd take anything he would give you.

At first his movements are slow and rhythmical, as if you are made of glass, but your impatient whines encourage him to release himself upon you, snapping his hips in time to your thrusts against him, endlessly surprised but thrilled at your eagerness to please him. He has chosen so well.

The intensity of the moment gets the better of both of you, and before long you are chanting his name in his ear, chasing your inevitable ruin on his cock.

He comes first, much to his eternal embarrassment, unable to prevent spilling inside you as your tight cunt clenches his flesh. You feel him pulse inside you and it tips you over the edge, a silent scream on your lips as fire overtakes your flesh and leaves you drowning in him.

For a second, you behold each other as you truly are, not in body but spirit, and it terrifies you; you see something black as the darkest night throwing off flames that lick at your being, triggering that sick swooping feeling in your abdomen again. He is enthralled by you, bright and radiant like the morning star, and he wants to coat himself in your light, drink it in and burn all of Arda until there is nothing but the two of you in the cosmos.

His attentions to your neck slow and he leans back to look at you in all your glory, radiant under him in body and soul, as you lazily trace his hips with your fingers, coming down from your high and needing nothing more than to be held.

"You did so well, my love, so good for me," he whispers as he releases you from his grasp, laying you down beside him and pressing himself against your back with his arm slung over your torso possessively.

Your eyes begin to droop with the lateness of the hour and the exertion of your wedding night, and while he murmurs in your ear how much he loves you, how proud he is of you, how much he needs you, you take his hand and sleepily press a kiss to his palm. You snuggle in closer as he draws his robe around the pair of you against the night's chill, and slowly drift off, a smile on your face even in sleep.

He gazes at you adoringly, murmuring sweet nothings as your body relaxes into his.

"Beautiful girl, only mine," his voice is so soft yet somehow it finds you even as you begin to slumber. "My sweet wife, we will know peace together, I swear it to you."

He wants to claw inside his own chest and pull his treacherous heart out with his bare hands, for surely that pain would be easier to bear than this. He curses himself for being so weak, and you for being so tempting, before closing his eyes to join you.

He thought by having you, possessing you, that these feelings might be assuaged, that the urgency he felt to be near you would fade, and he could move on from this unique torment. Alas they had increased a hundredfold, and he swore on his fëa itself that no harm would ever come to you, that he would cherish you all his days.

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

No, I don't wanna fall in love with you

[katz-rambles]

hello! I see your taking requests so can i request arcane charaters reacting to the reader with a good singing voice? please and Thank you!

Of course! I'm a former choir kid, so now so is the reader, specifically a soprano.

(fluff, gn!reader, established relationships with the characters (separate), I think this is it!)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

Jinx

• She's immediately in love with your voice, that's a given.

• Constantly asks you to sing for her, and if you do it's like she's in her own little world where it's just the two of you.

• When she puts on her music while she's tweaking with her inventions, if you start to sing along, she'll fold right then and there. She's in a trance.

• She purposefully keeps the music quieter than normal so she can hear you better.

• If she recently had an episode, you're one of the people she may go to afterward to help her calm down. Your voice is therapeutic to her.

"Whoa, toots. You never told me you could sing. Oh! We could sing together! Just you and me!!"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Vi

• A lot like her sister, she loves your voice. She would actually pay you to sing for her.

• Please do karaoke with her. It's one of her favorite things, and it also gives her an excuse to listen to you sing.

• If you two are laying in bed together, she may start to hum a tune, as a silent ask to have her sing with you, and you know this. Plus, who are you to deny her your beautiful voice?

• One of her favorite things to do with you is sing. You two could be working on your own little projects, and she'll turn on a good song, and you two will just sing together.

• Taken together, she loves your voice. She's not afraid to tell you that either.

"Oh, come on, cupcake. Your voice is.. angelic. Please, can you choose the song this time?"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Ekko

• Loves to hear you sing. Honestly, he also has an angelic voice (but don't tell anyone.)

• He will 100% sing with you. You two can harmonize amazingly. His voice is the perfect opposite to yours.

• He lays his head in your lap and just listening to you sign, or hum. Either way, he loves listening to you.

• If you sign to the kids, especially to help them calm down, he's head over heels. Immediately.

• After a long mission, you help him calm down by you both singing. It's so therapeutic for both of you.

"Thank you, bug. I mean it, you don't know how much I needed that. Your voice is amazing, thank you."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Vander

• Kareoke nights at the bar. The people love you, and so does he.

• If you sing ragtime, or anything similar, he asks you to have a certain day of the week or month dedicated to you performing live music.

• He enjoys listening to you. So do Powder and Violet. They all love to listen to you, especially after a particularly long day.

• If you two have a few drinks, he'll pit a record on, and you two will dance and sign for hours.

• He loves it when you sing while cooking. If you like to cook, it's so domestic. It's something that helps him calm down.

"Powder loves it when you sing for her, you know. She said so herself. She loves it, almost, as much as I do, darl'."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Grayson

• She's head over heels for you when she figures it out. Your voice is such an opposite compared to her raspy voice.

• She finds you entrancing, every nite you can, or can't, hit just fuels her love for you.

• After almost every mission she loves to hear you sing, it's such a comfort for her.

• Sometimes she'll place a finger or two on to your neck while you sing to feel the vibrations of your voice and to mess with you by pressing down to give you a voice crack.

• If you try and teach her how to sing, she'll actually fold. You're so sweet, and you always sound amazing. Please sign and let her dance with you.

"You sound so pretty, you know. I could never tire of hearing you, love."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Marcus

• Another one who falls head over heels when he finds out you can sing. It's such a simple thing, but it brings him so much joy to see and hear you enjoy it so much.

• Please sing to his daughter. If you do, he's getting on one knee and marrying you right then and there.

• He can't sing, but he tries. He's not off key or anything. He's just not the best at it.

• When, and if you feel comfortable singing to him, he's only focused on you. He loves it, and so does his daughter.

• If, after a long day, he finds you singing a lullaby to his daughter, I think he'd cry. He loves knowing that you care so much for her and for him.

"I heard you singing to Ren. She loves your voice. It helps her feel more at home. So.. thank you. We.. I don't deserve you."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Caitlyn

• Oh, where to start..? She's so excited when she figures out you can sing. Because not only can you sing, but you're amazing at it too!

• You two have kareoke nights, all the time. Her parents get annoyed when it's like two in the morning, and you two are tipsy and singing whatever songs you guys can find. But it's all in good fun.

• She's kinda off-key when she sings, but you don't mind at all. You're just glad she's having fun.

• Because she's a little off-key, it probably took some convincing to get her to sing with you. When you do convince her, she's still a little self-conscious about her voice, but when she hears yours, it's like all her worries just seem to melt away.

• You two seem to have the most fun when you're a little tipsy, though. That's when all your worries just seem to melt away, and neither of you can find a care to worry about anything other than each other's voices. If you offer to give her lessons, she'll actually cry, you're just so so sweet. She's so in love with you.

"Are you sure, my love? I know, you don't mind.. but isn't that just extra work. And besides, you're so good at singing, we're opposites! That just makes us better."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Viktor

• Oh my lord, he's fallen even harder than he already has. You just keep on getting better and better. He's convinced you're actually perfect.

• Please hum a little tune while you're both sitting in the lab, whether it's to calm you both down or just because you're bored, he stops what he's doing and gives you his full attention. Jayce wants to know your secrets.

• If you ever find him overworking himself, just promise that if he comes home with you, you two will put on a song of his choice and sing together. Nine times out of ten, this will work almost immediately.

• A lot like Vander, he loves to watch you sing while you cook or bake. It's such a wonderful sight to see when he comes home from a particularly rough day at the lab.

• Sit outside with him, and sing and dance the night away, with some star gazing thrown in here and there.

"You never told me you could sing. No, no.. please don't stop. You're wonderful, darling."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Jayce

• Heart eyes.

• Pretty, pretty, please come down to where he makes the hammers and find a beat within the hammer making with whatever tune comes to your head.

• He can sing, I'll die on this hill. He's amazing at it. He's just never told anyone. So there's a lot of you two singing to whatever song he can find to play.

• He enjoys writing little songs with you to sing together. It's your guys' version of a nice date, and you both love it.

• When you two are creating said songs, sometimes you two spice it up by adding some, impossible, theories inside the song, posing them as notes, and then giving them to Viktor to watch him freak out over the absolute terror he feels. You two also love to harmonize, you two are amazing and are constantly singing.

"Ooh! What if we do something about space not being real or a flat earth. He'll go crazy. Yeah, I know it's a little mean, but that's the whole point. Then after we can play some records together?"

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊

Mel

• She's in love. She doesn't sing or hear people sing too often, only for the plays and occasional operas that are held.

• If you're an opera singer, she'll try her hardest to convince you to join the cast of one. She'll be your biggest supporter.

• She won't admit it to anyone, but she has, on multiple occasions, fallen asleep to listening to you sing.

• If you take her up on her idea of joining an opera cast, she'll be a little bit jealous that other people can hear your angelic voice.

• She sings. She's good at it, but she rarely ever feels the need to. That was until she met you. Now, if you offer to help her out with refreshing her skills with singing, you bet she'll almost immediately agree. She says it's so she can get better, but you both know it's just an excuse so she can hear your voice.

"You were amazing out there, love. You had the whole crowd entranced, really. I've never seen someone with such skill before."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰

[ann1-wr1tes]

Babydoll, you need some Rock n' Roll!

Synopsis: You go to see one of your Rock n' Roll bands at a concert. Things get even better for you when you get to meet the one and only Leon Kennedy, lead singer of the band backstage. Things get interesting when you meet him later for an autograph.

Warnings: Smut, Adult themes, filth

Word Count: 2,620

A/N: Rockstar Leon = HOT! Also the moodboard is made by me!

-----

Leon felt his senses being overwhelmed as his vision was blinded with flashing lights and confetti, all he could hear was the constant sounds of the electric guitar humming and the screams of the fans that resided in the crowd. It was a great yet terrifying feeling, all at once. It made his entire body fill with adrenaline and it felt like he was high on it all as his fingers slid up and down the neck of the guitar, skillfully playing the chords as his voice rang out through the crowded stadium.

These were the moments he practically lived for. He just loved the spirit and the soul that came from the crowd every time he hit a certain part in the song or it was even amazing at how the entire audience started to sing along with him….it was all so exhilarating.

He eyed the crowd and he noticed a few girls in particular that practically squealed in their shrill voices as he smirked down at them. He was honestly surprised that they didn't faint right then and there with how one of them seemed to pale and the other one had the goofiest grin on her face, she was almost going cross eyed with excitement as he eyed them from the stage.

The way they were reacting gave Leon a sense of giddy delight, he couldn’t help but smile even wider in return, if anything he wanted to laugh. The two girls seemed absolutely infatuated with what was happening in front of them, they kept pointing and screaming things like “Look at his lips! And his eyes! They're soooo pretty!”, or “He has such a nice voice! It's so smooth! I think I might faint!"

Leon has to stop from chuckling as he turns back around and continues to strum on his guitar. The end of the song was approaching so he faced the huge audience once more and with the rest of the voice he still had left, he belted out the last lyrics, closing his eyes, leaning back slightly as everyone in the crowd marvels and watches in awe at the amount of raw talent Leon possessed.

When he finally finished the song, everyone cheered as he held his hand and guitar up into the air and said a quick thank you into the microphone before taking one more glance around the stadium and then vanishing backstage.

Almost immediately he has people walking up to him, complimenting him on his concert, handing him bottles of water, taking his guitar and going to put it away. He barely had enough time to just sit for a moment and breathe before he was informed that people were about to start coming backstage to meet him.

Leon quickly swigs down the rest of the water and right when he hears the muttering and not so quiet, girlish whispers from behind, he turns around with the best smile he could muster. Immediately he is met with screams and squeals that are loud enough to make his ears bleed. Then it was the pictures that they wanted to take with him and then he heard the whole, "i'm your biggest fan!!!" or "I love you so much!". It was always usually the same when he met fans, which he didn't mind but it did get rather repetitive after a while.

With a sigh, the group leaves and another group comes up to see him. It was all the same thing. The squealing, the pictures, the compliments, maybe a few autographs here and there, but as he talked to all the fangirls, he noticed one in particular that was a bit off to the side, watching.

You eyed Leon nervously. Maybe it was just because of how attractive he was or maybe you just didn't want to bother him but he you stayed off to the side, letting your friends cry and scream over him, while you just watched.

In all honesty, you just really enjoyed his music. Yeah it was a plus that he was hot. His hair was perfect, even when it stuck to his forehead from the excessive running around on stage and the adrenaline, his arms were so built and you could find yourself staring sometimes, and his hands…oh his hands. How they would just glide up and down the neck of the guitar as he played. He did it flawlessly and it was almost mesmerizing.

"So what about you? Did you like the show?" Leon asks, as he smiles at you through all your friends.

You suddenly realize that your eyes were glued to his arms since they were crossed across his chest and you could really see the pure muscle that he possessed. Now that you realized he was talking to you though, your face flushed and you let a nervous smile slip onto your face.

"Are you kidding? The show was great, you're super talented." you smile, trying to give some genuine compliments as your friends smile and snicker to one another. You really did mean the words though and even when you got a little flustered, you smiled, giving Leon a sudden warm feeling in his heart that he couldn't explain. He liked it. He liked you.

"Thank you, it means a lot." he responds, flashing you another blinding grin.

Your heart rate starts to increase and you feel your cheeks heat up. Why are you blushing so badly?! As soon as he saw you blushing, he just smirks as he notices your red face but doesn't say anything. Suddenly more people come up to him and he grasps your arm gently, grabbing your attention just for one more second.

"Make sure to catch me later before you leave so I can give you an autograph." He quickly states. You nod your head in slight giddiness and awe as Leon turns back around and greets more fans.

You definitely couldn't leave without an autograph…right?

-----

Leon's lips are hot on yours as his hands roam up and down your body, caressing, squeezing, exploring every inch of your skin as you grip onto his broad shoulders. Gosh how did you get here?

Well it started with the autograph. You stayed longer to get an autograph…that's the only reason why, just an autograph. But from there you both started to talk. Then the talking turned into playful flirting from Leon and god he just adored how easily you blushed. Then the next thing you knew you were under Leon, in his bed, with his hand and lips all over you. It felt like you were in heaven.

You're breathless and panting when he pulls away, leaving hot, wet kisses along your jawline and then down your neck, where you shiver and he laughs, nuzzling your neck again. It sends shivers up and down your spine.

"God, I've never wanted someone this bad in my entire life," Leon groans, as he presses himself against you, his lips trailing back up your jawline again. You can distinctly feel the bulge that is straining against his leather pants as you desperately grind up against him for some sort of friction.

His tongue traces up your collar bone and he nibbles on the skin, making you moan and arch your back against him. His hand snakes up to your ass and squeezes as he smirks at you through his own panting breaths.

Your shirt and bra had been long discarded, along with your pants which left you only in your panties. It would be embarrassing if your mind wasn't clouded with lust right now, but Leon seems to be enthralled as he takes one of his ringed fingers and trails it up and down your clothed slit.

You let out a loud mewl as you try to buck up into his hand, only for Leon to pull away smugly. You pout and whine loudly as he stares down at you, his gaze dark with desire and lust.

"Please! I…I need something, anything!" you beg as you grab his wrist. His eyebrow raises in amusement as he stares down at you and you guide your hands towards your dripping folds.

"Please Leon…please…" you whine.

"Well since you asked like such a good girl.." suddenly Leon moves your panties to the side and plunges two fingers into your cunt. You are practically blinded by euphoric pleasure as you feel his cold, metal rings meet with your heated, sensitive flesh. It has your writhing as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

You can feel your walls tightening against his fingers, a small whimper escaping your throat as his thrusts became faster, harder and with each pump of his fingers your moans turn into loud, desperate cries as your orgasm builds.

Suddenly, Leon pulls his fingers out and you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth and suckles, all while looking you right in the eye with zero shame. It's almost painful as you clench around nothing. Oh how you wished his fingers were still buried deep inside you.

"Stop..t-teasing.." you whimper, tears gather in your eyes as you continue to look up at him. His grin widens as he sees the way you try to keep control and you close your eyes tightly, clenching the sheets underneath your fists as you cling onto the last little bit of pride that you had left.

Suddenly Leon flips over, pushing you down further on the bed and you let out a muffled yell from surprise as he grips your hips and starts to grind against you.

"This what you wanted?" Leon growls into your ear. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew you wanted more, he just wanted to hear your pretty little begs and cries as he gave you a little taste of what you truly desired.

While the friction felt good, you wanted more. You desperately tried to buck your hips back up against him and when that wasn't enough you panted and gripped the sheets even tighter between your hands. Leon thought that was gonna burst right then and there. You looked so desperate, so pathetic.

"Oh what? Is this not enough for you, doll?" Leon says, teasing you even more as he grabs a handful of hair and turning your head to the side so he could see all your cute little facial expressions and hear your whines.

"N-No…need your…need your cock…" you mutter against the pillow.

"Sorry sweetheart. What was that? You may need to speak up." Leon says in a mocking tone as he continues grinding against your core with more pressure.

"Ugh! I said…need…you to fuck me." You manage to squeak out with shaky breaths.

"Ah~ sounds like a lot for a tiny thing like you." Leon says and you hear a low chuckle, causing you to slightly open your eyes to look at him and glare lightly. "What? Don't glare at me princess~" Leon says, with a grin.

Before you can retort, he abruptly stops grinding against you and sits up a bit to start undoing his pants. He does so slowly as you watch, almost giving you a show as he finally slips off his pants, leaving him in his black boxers that have a little wet patch of precum on the front.

You watch as Leon looks you in the eye and he starts to palm himself in front of you, closing his eyes and letting out a moan when he feels the friction of his own hand. Leon can feel himself becoming more desperate so not wanting to waste anymore time he pulls down his boxers and groans as his swollen cock slaps against his stomach.

Leon then leans back towards you, pulling your thighs apart as he rubs his cock in between your folds, trying to gather some of your slick as a lubricant.

"You ready?" he asks, making sure that you were fully okay with this. You don't even hesitate to nod quickly in desperation, ready to feel filled to the brim.

"I need an audible answer, baby." he coos.

"Yes! Please….I-I need you." you plead, your voice sounding strained and shaky as he chuckles.

With that, Leon slowly pushes inside, grunting as he feels himself filling your body. You're so tight that he can't even hold back some moans as he fully sheathes himself inside you.

Leon holds onto you tightly, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he shudders when you clench around him with an almost pornographic moan. It's not long until he starts moving, making quick, steady strokes as he lets out heavy breaths, feeling so good, so euphoric.

"Ah…I'm fucking close already…fuck!" Leon whispers as he begins to thrust a bit more harshly into you.

You can barely even make a response as you practically moan into the pillow under your head. You buck your hips up against his in an attempt to match his thrusts as he leans his weight against you a bit more, feeling the pleasure build up in his body quicker than he thought.

Your hands move from the sheets to Leons wrists that are planted on both sides of your head as he tries to keep himself stable. Out of neediness, you grip onto his wrists and Leon slips his hands down to intertwine his fingers with yours.

"Fuck! Leon!" you cry. Your back arches into the bed and your eyes roll up into the back of your head as Leon hits a certain spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

"Shit! That feel good, baby?" he asks. You give an incoherent noise in response, which makes him laugh softly before continuing to fuck you roughly, sending waves of pleasure through both your bodies as he goes deeper and deeper each passing moment.

You can feel the knot in your belly start to tighten and you know that your about to get the release you've been begging for.

"Ah! Mmmhh, L-Leon…m'gonna cum." You gasp out.

"Yeah? Be a good girl sweetheart and cum for me." Leon groans, pulling out before slamming back inside, hitting a certain spot inside you once again, making you cry out loudly. With a few more thrusts you are practically blinded with pleasure as you can feel your hot release gush around Leon's cock, squeezing around him.

"Fuck!" Leon moans. He nuzzles his head against your shoulder as you ride out your orgasm, but the way you were clenching around Leon made him teeter off the edge as well, being thrown into his own world of bliss as he shoots his warm seed into you.

He falls on top of you afterwards, panting and trying to regain his senses as he feverishly presses kisses against your shoulder and neck. His hand even comes up to trail across your heated skin and run through your hair. He closes his eyes with his heavy breaths fanning across your back, making you shiver.

"That….was amazing." Leon breathlessly says.

"Tell me about it…" you pant in response.

"So uhh, this may be awkward timing but you wouldn't maybe wanna go get some dinner later or something….would you?" he nervously mutters into your shoulder.

You can't help but giggle a little as your lips curl up into a smile.

"I'd love to." you murmur happily. He lets out a sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around you and gently places a kiss in the crook of your neck before planting another soft one on your cheek. You can't help but flush in response and you also just realize that you just got fucked by THE Leon Kennedy and asked out by him.

Boy oh boy, were your friends were gonna be jealous.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

an ocean in a world full of puddles ◦ Chapter 1

-After being brushed off by Chan once again, you are stuck waiting in the lounge room for him to arrive. What are you going to do when it isn't Chan that arrives, but instead Felix? And it feels like you've known him for years."

words ◦ 5k

genre ◦ series, angst, fluff, the beginning of a wild ride

warnings ◦ chan is painted in sort of a negative light because he is always busy, felix is sort of shy around you at first, but lowkey flirty near the end as he starts to get more comfertable, theres a lot of fucks in this, i keep calling yall im dumb im sorry, fem!reader, felix calls her a lady once,

a/n ◦ The strikeouts are intentional to show how chaotic the reader's mind is and how she feels like her emotions are so invalid she has to just erase them away. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected. I found myself struggling to describe certain aspects of this and was quite disappointed by the outcome (but please do not let this deter you. If anything, read it and let me know what you think/what I can change. Plus, I know the other parts are going to be way better than this).

also i listened to heather while writing this up until the phone number bit... then i listened to slow down by chase atlantic...do with that information as you will

A VERY VERY SPECAIL THANK YOU TO THESE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE that helped me through the different struggles and stages in this fic I thank most of my unnecessary errors being fixed because of them @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, @luvtak

masterlist ◦ a loved lived in between the stars and the sea

The human condition: a soul filled with passion, but not a mouth to spill it into.

It was ironic really. 

Your soul was filled with passion, but you had a mouth to spill it into.

That mouth just didn't want your passion- 

Your fervor-

Your ardor-

Romance practically coursed through your veins, your blood cells shaped like the hearts you saw the world through. 

Chan was filled with passion.

Chan was filled with ardor.

Chan was filled with romance.

But Chan didn't want poetry-

Chan spilled too much soul into songs. 

Songs that made him too busy for you.

The two of you saw the same goal, but spoke different languages- 

Your love was often- 

Lost in translation. 

You shout, frustration poking in the pit of your stomach painting the car red you dig the pencil into the words scratching them out so hard you cut holes in the page that sounded so stupid

all of this was so stupid

your feelings-

stupid

your issues-

stupid

the thought that Chan was anything other than perfect-

stupid

Why couldn't you just be content with everything you have? So many girls would pay to be in your place, tripping over each other just to be in his presence, and yet, what, you're unhappy because you spoke different languages? 

What the hell does that even mean?

You were trapped inside an inescapable box, the sharp edges of your unrealistic expectations like shackles that cut into your skin, bleeding with a passion only ever found in fiction. 

Why were you always stuck?

stuck in the stars, stuck in the sea-

stuck in this stupid line of stupid traffic, waiting for a stupid meal that Chan probably will be too busy to eat with you, writing some stupid piece of poetry that was about as poetic as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

stupid

stupid

stupid

“Finally,” you mumble as the car in front of you inches up, allowing you access to the next window. You politely bow, grab the trays from the worker’s hand, and drive off.

Your life quickly turned from the hope of a story to the reality of a routine. The road, the walls, the button your finger grazes as the doors to the elevator slam shut, the number of steps it takes to get to his room, the feel of cold metal underneath your palm as you open the door, the same hunch of his shoulders, the same glow of his laptop, the same empty look in his eyes.

the same

the same

the same

Most of your relationship is spent looking at him like this.

"Hey channie," you say, setting the food down on the empty spot beside his keyboard.

"Hi, love." His voice is nothing more than the ghost of a mumble, blending with the click and shift of his mouse, moving different blurs and blobs of color on the screen. Chan tended to get tunnel vision when he was working, even if that meant you were left stranded in the shadows of his forgotten responsibilities. 

"I um brought you dinner." you clear your throat, pointing lamely at the boxes beside him like he couldn't clearly see they were there. He perks up, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

"Oh baby, thank you." The tension in his shoulders melts. "I'm sorry, you know how busy I am sometimes; right now it feels like I'm drowning in work," he chuckles, absentmindedly shifting in his chair.

you're always busy

You push a smile through the tangled ball of suppressed emotions climbing up your throat.

"I know you're busy, but do you think I could eat dinner with you today...please?" Your stomach twists in painful knots. It was pathetic really, the way you begged for attention like a needy dog more than a doting girlfriend, but you were desperate, scrambling to fan a flickering flame that felt long sputtered out. 

stop

You knew what you were getting into when he asked you out—the stress, the anxiety, the workload, the long hours. Chan was always upfront and honest about the struggles of being an idols girlfriend, never wanting to veil your eyes from the harsh sting of realities rays.

then why does it still feel like your soul is burning?

He flicks his gaze to the screen, guilt gnawing at his core. There was so much to do in the day and just never enough time to do it. "I don't know, I don't really have a lot of time right now..." He mumbles, picking at the seam on his shorts apologetically, "Do you think you could wait about 20 minutes? I'm kind of on a roll here."

When your relationship was first blooming, your spirit would often shatter with those words, but pain only holds power when it isn't welcome, and as long as you are loved by him, you will accept the feeling with open arms. 

"I'm going to go sit in the lounge room then." You try to keep the disappointment out of your tone, but it leaks through the cracks echoing in your chest, radiating in palpable waves. You clench your jaw, picking up your tray of food.

does he not care?

"Okay," The squeak of his chair indifferently swiveling back to its previous place echoes in your ears. Louder than anything you've ever heard. 

he didn't even kiss you

1 hour 45 minutes and 13 seconds

That's how long you have been waiting in the lounge room for Chan to walk in the door.

that is how long you've been wallowing in a sad pathetic heap staring at your uneating supper

1 hour 45 minutes and 15 seconds now

16 seconds

17 seconds

You spin around when you hear the door creak open, anticipation fluttering in your stomach, only to plummet when you see Felix standing in the entrance, too busy shoveling a fork full of noodles in his mouth to notice your presence.

Felix was a familiar face, mostly associated with sweet smiles and bouncing eyes; you have only ever talked to him on a handful of occasions, possessing the basic relationship of hellos in the hallways and smiles when you enter the same room, but besides the couple times where he offered you some of his freshly baked brownies or told you which room Chan was in, you haven't actually had a conversation with the boy.

You groan, dramatically deflating in your seat.

Of course, it wasn't chan

Felix yelps, his heart leaping in his chest, only to wrap around his bones, doing trapeze tricks inside his ribs when he lays eyes on you—why, out of all the days he could have seen you, it was on the one day he was least ready, and the way your whole body slumps like a deflated balloon, it becomes crystal clear you weren't exactly jumping up and down to see him either.

Does Cupid have a vendetta against him or something?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was in here," he stutters awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix it without a mirror. Disappointment quickly brews into guilt watching the way his eyes shift, hurt drooping his shoulders down. 

"No, I'm sorry, it's not like that; I just thought—" You falter. What the hell did you think? Sorry, but I thought you were my boyfriend who left me here all by myself, and like usual, my stupid, hopeful heart really believed this time was going to be different. "You were someone different." You sink into the couch, a dull ache spiderwebbing through the chasms in your chest.

"Let me guess." His eyes crinkle with sympathy. "Chan."

You glance down at your ribs—some silly part of you really believed your shirt had blossomed with the crimson stain of your sorrows.

"How could you guess?" you mutter sarcastically, picking at the skin of your nails. Why did it seem like everybody else got the memo that if you were to search the thesaurus, your name would be the first word under forgotten?

"Well, really, it was a toss-up between you being with him for the past 5 years and the fact that he has been glued to his computer for the past 5 hours," he grins. "Pick your poison."

Your gaze drifts back to the couch that sits idly in front of you, lonely in the middle of the room, out of place, without the implant of another person's body.

"W-Well," he starts, shifting his bowl in his hands. "Do you... I don't know, want some company...maybe."

He's so awkward, so unsure, like a baby deer wobbling on unfamiliar legs, struggling to stay upright. You tilt your head, your lips pulling up into an adoring grin; you never really noticed it before, but he was sort of shy. You had a terrible tendency to take your time observing people unintentionally, causing discomfort to the victims of your restless brain—assessing in silence.

His ears burn when your eyes gloss over with an opaque glaze. His heart drops only for those silly little butterflies that always appear when you are around to swarm their wings around the lump growing in his throat.

Well, that was a bust.

Why couldn't he just be normal around you?

"O-Or not, that's fine too. I-I get it; you're probably l-like waiting for Chan or whatever. I-I can go get him if you would like." He jerks his thumb behind him, forgetting he was holding something for a second, stumbling to catch it right before it falls. You snicker, biting your lips to contain your laughter. His eyes flutter shut, scrunching his nose in embarrassment.

He was cute

Why haven't you talked to him before?

"No, please sit down," you lazily gesture to the couch in front of you. "It's not like Chan's going to be coming down anytime soon."

He sighs, his whole body melting with relief, practically forming into the couch when he shuffles over, adjusting himself to comfortably sit with his legs wide and his head tilted down. He picks up his fork just before whispering, "I'm sorry that he kept you waiting," and stuffing his face. You smile, the sight all sorts of endearing. The amount of food stuffed into his cheeks puffs them out, forcing his mouth into a pout that's smeared with red sauce. For a moment, you almost forget that you're supposed to be groveling, but why would life want to let you live when instead it could remind you constantly how much it sucks?

"I'm used to it." You learn to live with the absence of air when your hope always causes you to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have to be," he murmurs, his hand politely veiling his mouth while he chews. He's staring at his food like his noodles were an impossible labyrinth he's forced to escape, completely oblivious to the cataclysmic sentence he just uttered. Your jaw drops, stomach fluttering with butterflies, butterflies that you could’ve sworn burned out a long time ago. When most of your time is spent in a constant state of apocalypse, you forget the side effects of a romanticism, felt before your soul was littered with the echos of war.

"Oh?"

"Are you not going to eat?" He questions, forehead creased with concern as he gestures to the food that was currently burning a hole in the table. You stare at him stupidly, mouth ever so slightly agape. Did he not notice that there were swarms of zombified insects burrowing their way into your belly, kaleidoscopes charred wings creating panic in your pounding heart?

(cookie interruptions: I was today years old when I found out that a kaleidoscope was the technical term for a swarm of butterflies)

Why was he making you feel so jittery?

"Oh," you blink, giving an imperceptible shake of the head—a weak attempt to gather your disoriented thoughts.

Honestly, you had forgotten it was there.

"I was waiting to eat with Chan..." You mutter through the tufts of wool still stuffed in your head, wrapping your fingers around the tray, but when you pull open its flappy lid, your lips pull into a sneer glaring at the congealed sauce and cold noodles. You weren't surprised that your food had spoiled over the 2 hours you had been waiting, but it didn't make the frustration that bubbled in your gut any less apparent either. "But clearly, that hope was shortlived," you scoff, chucking the useless tray back on the table. 

Felix clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He often found himself tiptoeing on the edge of insanity, always rewriting the words he wanted to say, terrified you had written a line in the sand the waves had washed away.

You were a star with a heart tied to the sea, where he would have more success breaking the bond of the moon than turning the tides of the ocean that suffocated your soul.

So for now, he will coast the cosmos alone, waiting for the day you will finally look his way.

"You can have some of mine... if you want," he whispers, shyly scooting his cup over to you. "It's salmon-flavored; it's really good."

"Are you sure?" you blink, utterly flummoxed.

"Yeah, of course!" You swore you could trace the stories of the sky in the gaps where his freckles glowed.

"Thank you; I promise I won't eat too much," you joke, pulling out your fork. "I don't mind it, really. I can always make more as long as you're eating I'm okay," he grins, sliding his hand out of the way to allow room for yours, grateful for his generosity; you bite back a smile, digging into the hot noodles; a spicy flavor pulled straight from the sea explodes on your tongue as soon as the food meets your lips.

You swear you just tasted heaven's gates.

"Holy shit, this is delicious," you moan, rolling your eyes back in your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirks. "It's my special recipe."

"So you do more than bake, huh?" you waggle your brows lightheartedly, though you were sort of impressed by his broad palette of skills. 

"You know that I bake!?" He was still recovering from the shock that you even knew his name—the way he often dissolves into the wall when you enter the room.

"Of course, I know that you bake; I always have to eat at least half of the plate of brownies Chan brings home." You giggle, picking at the noodles, wanting more but feeling guilty for hogging the whole bowl.

"Oh, I'm full," he stretches, rubbing his stomach like a stuffed cartoon character. 

"Are you lying?" Cynism was a side effect of being a creative romanticist—your artistic brain didn't limit itself to only forming one conclusion, while the stories that ended up on paper were solely portrayed as having happy endings—you knew this philosophy was neither sadistic nor realistic, for even if the fictional characters made up of the fluid of your mind betrayed each other, what would a human, evil in its rawest form, do to you?

well that was melodramatic

"You know you're a very skeptical person," he jests, pulling his lips ever so slightly up.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; there's a difference," you state, stuffing your face when you finish studying him down to the very twitch of his right calf muscle.

"Aren't hopeless romantics supposed to be happy-go-lucky all the time? Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and stuff?"

"You know we are called hopeless for a reason," you snort, unrealistic standards were more of a curse than a blessing.

Scratch that, having unrealistic standards is just a curse

“Being a hopeless romantic is like being an ocean in a world full of puddles.” Your soul speaks like his fingertips have felt its walls a million times before “devastating.”

He stares at you gobsmacked, blinking like you just hit him over the head with a mallet. Your mind kicks into gear, anxious little butterflies flipping on the switch for damage control.

that must have sounded so self-centered

"I-I didn't mean, like, in a cocky way, I'm better than other people. I just meant it's impossible to pour my passion anywhere because everybody else doesn't have room to take it. If anything, I-Im the bad one in this scenario.” You stutter, sporadically shaking your hands, worried that the misconception is going to create a concrete opinion. He quickly waves you off, seeming anything but bothered. 

“An ocean in a world full of puddles that's pretty deep,” he implores, treating the words like age-old wine to be sipped with both time and deference. “You know you should really consider being a poet 'cause that like moved my soul.” Only Lee Felix can make humor sound so honest. 

Why was he so ...amazed

"I like to think I'm a poet." Your cheeks are painted red as you bashfully tilt your head down. 

but right now not so much

“You can't think you're a poet,” he chuckles. “If you ever wanted to read somebody your stuff, I would be happy to help…Maybe it could fix your uncertainty." Something twinkles in his eyes, something nervous yet desperate, something you couldn't quite pinpoint while your stomach was sprinting in circles—the mere thought of showing somebody else your poetry was the equivalent of slicing your heart in half and presenting it to the world on live television.

basically, something that will never happen never ever

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I don't really write poetry per se; I just write my..." You trail off.

What do you write?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassures, his warm smile cooling the icy anxiety that crystallized around your core.

Why do you do this to yourself??

Stupid Felix and his stupid power to loosen your lips-

stupid. stupid. stupid.

To be a poet is to be vulnerable; no great art is ever created comfortably. 

Fuck it 

“I write my dreams,” you blurt, peeking out through your clenched eyelids to see if Felix caught the spit of a sentence; clearly, he did the way he lifts his brows thoughtfully. 

“Elaborate”

A man of many annoying questions you see 

“Why,” you groan, sinking into your seat almost comically. 

"Because I want to listen to you," he laughs like whiskey and wine, both husky and rich. You choke, your heart imploding into a million tiny, rose-shaped pieces.

"Nobody wants to listen to me ramble on about hopeless fantasies that will never come true," you sputter, still trying to reshape your rose-shaped shatters into something that resembles an organ. 

"I do."

Oh well, there they go again, forming right back into roses-

He made all of this seem like a complex game of chess, every move of hesitance quickly countered by a block of honesty.

From the moment you could write, you found out that paper was not volatile the way people were, how you could erase a word written but, in time, in life, you cannot erase a sentence said—that philosophy stuck with you, forever rendering you apprehensive to vocalize your feelings.

Maybe it was your soft spot for the stars that made you speak, but either way, when your mouth opened, it felt as though all your past doubts had washed away, and for once, you were free.

"I have always held onto my dreams through the tip of a pen, existing in between the lines of my poetry. But I don't write about deep philosophical pearls of wisdom; I write about love, passion, beauty. I write about coffee and cream, roses and vanilla. I write what I think romance tastes like, how the contrast of the most iconic confessions has been written in the rain, a usually gloomy, grey thing completely transformed through the lenses of love…" You sigh, tilting your head against the back of the cushion in bliss.

"I write the way I want to love, for I know it's the only way to quell my heart's aching urge to live anywhere but reality."

He stares at you eerily still, blinking once, twice, three times."

Why wasn't he saying anything?  

Perhaps you were drunk off Felix's promises, or the cracks Chan created in your chest made you bleed with a passion only ever reserved for your poetry. But either way, you felt naked—exposed under his exploring eyes.

"What?" You croak, picking at the sleeve of your shirt.

Why did everybody act like you were crazy?

Was there something wrong with you?

You are floating in the asteroid belt, a thousand tiny rocks hovering around your head.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places." There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, a million roaring waves crashing against each other; you run face-first into a meteor, bouncing around the surfaces of a weightless space.

How many brain-altering revelations could Felix bestow before your brain cracks?

"You know, I haven't even told my friends that," you deflect. It was a dangerous game, diving too deep into your thoughts, and right now, with him—with that statement, danger could quickly bleed into destruction.

"So, I'm not your friend?" Clearly, Felix catches on to the sudden swerve of the conversation, how he eases into it with such grace, jestingly poking your knee.

"This is the first time I've ever had a real conversation with you," you scoff, poking him right back. His jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know, I just gave you my food. I think that deserves an upgrade into friendship territory," he states matter-of-factly.

Two can play at that game-

"I don't have your number; usually friends have each other's number." You place your elbows on your knees. He has been playing a metaphorical game of chess with you this whole time, his pawns moving ever so slightly forward. He forced your hand, the comfortability in your eyes making openings on the board you never meant to create. His rook, his bishop, his queen—they kiss the place right below your king.

You had one more trick up your sleeve-

You were a creative romantic whose moves were nothing less than a story, and you were going to be damned if you let your king be captured.

Now, where's the happy ending in that?

(cookie interruptions… I dont know what this is nor why i am so dramatic but hey what can you do ALSO LISTEN TO SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC I BEGTH OF YOU )

He leans forward, pressing his tongue against his cheek. The fabric of his shirt stretches across the hard ridges of his abs—

No, stop it, bad y/n. 

"Do you want it?" He leans his head ever. So. Slightly. Forward  

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'll give it to you," soft, smooth voice- 

you narrow your eyes,

"What will Chan think?"

"It doesn't matter what Chan thinks-"

"Tell that to Chan-"

"Maybe I will." His lips-

"You know, if Chan saw us here right now, he would not be very happy." You suck your teeth.

Check-

He scoffs. Moves his bishop. 

You're right back where you started. 

"You're not his pet."

"Yeah, but I am his girlfriend." Block.

"Those two words are not synonymous," he says. Moves his queen.

Too many openings, too many moves, too many pieces on the board.

Too many outcomes.

Do you even still want to play?

Weren't you the one who started the game?

You bite your cheek, his eyes burning like molten amber, glinting in the overhead lights.

Should you have really asked for his number?

What would Chan think if he saw it in your phone?

Who were you kidding? He would actually have enough time to look at your phone.

"You know," he leans back, extending his arms to drape across the couch, pushing his thighs ever so slightly apart. Gone is the man with smiles like sugar; determination wisps across his face like spits of fire, overtaking every feature."If I give you my number, I'm going to have to help you unlearn your engraved cynicism." He's closing in on you, moving all his pawns in one fair swoop. You're surrounded, swarmed.

"You can't ungrave something it's scientifically impossible." You shift your king. One last dying breath-

Before- 

"I can try."

Checkmate

And like every person of honor does when they have nobly lost a battle they created- 

You run away. 

“I have to admit, as much as I loved this conversation, I really should be going,” you say, picking up your tray of forgotten food to chuck in the trash, leaving Felix's bowl on the table. He jumps up, scrambling to pick up his mess while you dart out the door, tossing the tray in the can just outside the room.

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling to catch up with your speed. Your finger, out of habit, moves to press the button to the elevator doors—that is, before he catches it, his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“Now, what gentleman would I be making a lady get her own door?” He bellows, voice deep and low, a sound echoing through his chest as the fabric of his shirt kisses your back. He’s so close, so close, so—

How long has it been since you've been touched? 

Heat. You're drenched in it, painted in it, enveloped in it.

His hand grazes your skin as he slides up your wrist, his finger extending to press the button.

Your breath hitches.

Body shutters. 

Every atom erupting in flames. 

The elevator doors slam open-

Your brain clicks back into place-

“Will I be seeing you again?” Your hot, so hot. He’s hot, so hot. Breath—it tickles your ear. Disoriented, so disoriented.

“I still don't have your number,” you manage to utter, slipping into the doors. His face will be the final thing you see as you descend down the shaft, lifelessly walking to your car where you will go home, go to sleep, and start your routine all over again. He smirks, flicking his eyes to your pants.

“Yes, you do.”

I do? 

The doors inch shut, and a small, teeny-tiny part of you wants to wrench them open, pull him in, force him into the stanzas of your story. You are tired—tired of waiting for your life to begin, tired of repeating the same vicious cycle.

But that wasn't you talking- 

That was the hopeless part of your personality,

The unrealistic-

The fiction- 

Life wasn't a game and reality wasn't a book. 

You had a good thing going wth Chris and you were going to be damned to ruin it just because of one fun conversation.

You reach one finger into the back pocket, feeling around for what Felix could have been talking about.

There's no way.

Your skin brushes across a smooth surface—something that definitely wasn’t there before.

There's no fucking way.

You pull it out.

It's pink and folded and definitely written on. You unfold it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just in case you ever need an editor or a friend.

Oh well, fuck the game. He just flipped over the whole damn chessboard.

Read Chapter 2 here

[ruewrote]

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑠.

PAIRING: tdc!gally x fem!reader WARNINGS: gally's death, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: i miss you by adele WORD COUNT: 928 A/N: this was really fast paced but i've had the end part in my mind for weeks now so sorry if its rushed :)

navigation | ask

they could never make you hate him, even after what happened to chuck.

as much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t do it. he had been your best friend, your crush, your rock, your lover. 

it was so good at first, maybe too good to be true, whatever it was it felt right with him. gally was the only thing in the glade keeping you sane, whole.

with thomas grabbing you by your waist, pulling you away from his body. gally giving you a last “it’s okay,” before you were snatched away from him. 

tears streaming down your cheeks as you reached out for him, squirming in thomas’s hold trying to free yourself, as you were both tugged through the exit by others in full combat gear.

you were finally out of the maze, but at what cost?

after his death, you were distant from the others except from newt. he always made sure you were eating and drinking, checking up on you when distanced yourself from everyone.

newt was like a brother to you, having him close helped, but then again what could he do for what only felt like heartache. 

your eyes swollen and puffy as tears rolled down your cheeks, trying to keep your sniffles muffled by the sleeve of your jacket as the others slept.

time heals. well that’s what people used to say, but you think that’s complete utter bullshit because how does this ever get better?

everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, his hand shakily holding the gun in thomas’s direction, his eyes full of tears, the infection spreading across his skin. then bang! jilting yourself out of bed, chest tightening, tears. it was the same cycle every time you slept.

feeling as it was almost selfish, you got to live, you got a chance to try to survive, but here you were here moping. losing winston only added to your heartache.

nearing the last city the sound of angered shouts echoed far, definitely too many for the eight of you to take on, so you got closer to figure out what to do next. 

gently pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front to see what was happening. a hand covered your mouth, muffling you crying out for help. the other around your waist as the person who grabbed you lifted you off the ground.

the others were still ahead of you, not noticing what was happening, until it was too late. out of nowhere mini missiles were getting shot at the ground beside you, making the person who had you fumble, almost letting you go.

another person in a gas mask watched this happen, they started to grab your legs and dragged you towards a truck, if you were gonna go, you were gonna go kicking and screaming all the way.

“get off of her!” newt yelled, dragging the man who had your feet off of you, but another two came up behind him and got him too.

both of you were soon thrown into a beaten down blue truck, leaving you sat side by side, breathing heavily. a certain are you alright? look shared between the two of you before staring down the three armed, masked people in front of you.

the car ride tense and rocky as the vehicle drifted around corners, making you bump shoulders with newt. 

it soon came to an abrupt stop, the doors being pulled open and the two of you nudged out of it. looking around you, you could see an abandoned car park, thomas and brenda, multiple guys with masks.

the sounds of muffled fighting could be heard in the van beside you, then bursts out jumping on the person, jorge punching them.

shouting about where brenda was, but soon stopped when he found her.

“it’s alright, we’re on the same side,” 

thomas stepping closer, pushing you protectively behind him, “who the hell are you?”

after a long pause the unknown leader takes off his mask, “gally?” you mutter in disbelief, peeking out from behind thomas.

his eyes soften at the sight of you, “hey sweetheart,” giving you that familiar smile that you had missed so much. 

it doesn’t take long for you to bound up to him, throwing your arms around his neck, bringing him into a bone crushing hug. he hugged you back even tighter, lifting you off of the ground with ease.

you moved back just enough to look at his face, a soft smile danced over your lips as tears filled your eyes once again, “what the fuck. how is this real?”

“i’ll explain everything inside, c’mon,” he placed you back on the ground, grasping your hand in his own as he signalled the others to follow him.

bonus:

you were now cuddled up in bed with gally. your head on his chest, legs intertwined, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“i never thought we’d have this again,” speaking softly as you looked up at him, “i really thought i lost you.” 

he gazes down at you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “whether you like it or not, i'm not going to give up on you…on us.”

“that’s what i like to hear,” you joke, playfully elbowing his side with your arm, earning a chuckle from him as you cuddled closer to each other.

for the first time in months you’d finally be able to sleep peacefully with him by your side again.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[alastor-simp]

Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis Reacting to a reader who sings like Japanese singer “Ado”

Deciding to try doing another fandom, so I’m gonna do black butler. Only doing Sebby and Ciel since I’m more in tune on how to write them compared to the other characters. Gonna continue the Ado series with them too. I know that this was the Victorian Era so they didn't have stuff like Youtube, so I'm gonna try to change it a bit, and not include that. Enjoy everyone :)

Ciel Phantomhive♟️

♟️Ciel had many duties to attend to as he was the head of Phantomhive manor along with being the Queen’s Watchdog. Apart from filling out paperwork for his company, he had many hobbies that Sebastian help teach him like hunting or playing the violin.

♟️He had met you by Lizzy, as she had found you during one of her strolls in London. You were a frail little thing, but you had a certain amount of skills, so Ciel decided to hire you as a maid for the manor. Hopefully your skills you be much better then the other three. You were a fast learner, and quickly adapted to life at the manor. Both him and Sebastian were impressed with how well you handle your tasks.

♟️Ciel was on his way back to his office when he heard the sound of someone singing. Curious, he headed to wear the sound was coming from and made his way over to one of the rooms which had the door slightly open. Ciel peeked in and saw you in the middle of the room, leaning against the window. You had just finished up dusting the area and decided to take a small break, and while in your break, you started singing as it was something you loved to do.

♟️Once you finished, you heard the sound of clapping and turned to see Lord Phantomhive, leaning against the door with a small smile on his face. “Ahh, Young Master, I was just um-”, you were flustered and tried to explain yourself, but Ciel just put his hand up, which made you stop talking

♟️ “I am not upset with you, y/n. I’m very surprised actually. You never told me you could sing.” Ciel said as he walked closer towards you, standing next to the window. You went on to explain to him that you always loved singing, but you had a slight problem with revealing yourself to everyone as you preferred keeping your identity hidden.

♟️Ciel listened to you and he smiled softly, walking closer to you and grabbed your hand, holding it tightly. He said that you were very talented and should pursue what you loved doing instead of working as a maid. You would still live in the manor, but he would do everything he can to support you in anyway. He knew that hiding your identity would be a challenge, but he assume that maybe a mask would be beneficial to hide your identity.

♟️After that, Ciel would host events at the manor where he would have you perform in front of all of the guests. Everyone was blown away by you that all of the nobles were gossiping about who you were. Pretty soon, you were getting requests to perform at theaters and balls. Everyone was referring to you as the mysterious singer since no one could see your face when you performed, but no one really question it.

♟️Ciel was happy for you that you were achieving your dreams and he was glad to assist in any way with events. He also would like to know what was the new song you were working on, as he was feeling giddy, but he tried to tried to hide it to avoid teasing from Sebastian.

♟️His favorite song that you sang was a cover you did called " Crime & Punishment". He wasn't familiar with that genre of music, but he did enjoy it, and loved how high you went with certain notes in the song.

Sebastian Michaelis😈

😈Sebastian had many duties to fulfill for his young master. There was many tasks he had to play, playing his role as a butler for the manor while also serving as the demon contractor/protector for the young masters soul. Tasks like this for a human would be difficult, but for Sebastian it was nothing.

😈Since Sebastian as been around for a long time, he possessed many talents and skills, ranging from speaking Latin, horseback riding, and playing certain instruments. He was tasked with teaching the young master these things as he was the Lord of Phantomhive manor, though his skills for the violin needed a lot of work.

😈Sebastian had met you during one of his strolls in London. He was on his way back from receiving supplies, when he passed an alley and saw you being held against the wall by three men, with knives. Ahh humans, always so greedy that they would resort to stealing from a young maiden. It all happen so quick, one second you were being threatened by these guys for money then all of a sudden, all three of the men ended being knocked out, and a tall handsome man wearing a suit was in front of you. You thanked him for helping you, and went out of your way to say you were looking for a place to work, to which led you to being introduce to Ciel Phantomhive and becoming a maid for the manor.

😈Sebastian noticed that you were nothing like the other three workers, as you didn't possess any secret skills, but he did appreciate how quick you were to learn and perform your tasks at the manor. There was something about you that drew you to him, he wasn't sure what it was, but he figured there was more too you then just being a regular human.

😈Upon leaving the young masters study after serving him his afternoon tea, Sebastian started to make his way back to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal, and to make sure Bard wasn't using the flamethrower again. He stopped once he heard the sounds of someone singing nearby. Curious, he ventured closer to where the singing was coming from, and noticed that one of the doors was opened slightly. Peeking his head through the door, Sebastian saw you in the middle of the room, dusting one of the shelves, while singing a random melody.

😈"Oya, this human is very interesting", Sebastian thought as he entered the room slowly as not to disturb your singing. Upon turning around after you finished dusting, you dropped the feather duster in shock and covered your mouth as you realized Sebastian was in the room and heard you singing: "S-sebastian! U-um I was um-." Stumbling over your words, you were unable to explain anything to him, and quickly ducked your head down in embarrassment. Chuckling, Sebastian walked closer towards you, lifting your head by placing his fingers on your chin: "Your singing is quite beautiful, Y/N. How come you never told me or the young master you could sing?"

😈Looking away from his gorgeous eyes, you explained to him that you always loved singing, but you preferred to sing in private, or sing where no one could tell it was you. You apologized again if you had distracted him from his duties, but Sebastian just shook his head and smiled saying there was no need to apologize for something like this, but he still wondered why you decided to work as a maid and not a singer.

😈After that, Sebastian explained what had happened with the young master about your hidden talents and insisted in a plan that could benefit both his company and your dream. Ciel was surprised that Sebastian had taken an interest in you, but he didn't think to hard on it and listened to what plan Sebastian had in mind.

😈The both of them discussed the plan with you to be a private singer for the Funtom company. Whenever they would travel to an event for one of the other lords, they would have you there to sing and entertain the guests with your beautiful singing, in disguise of course as you were insistent that you wanted your appearance hidden from everyone. Word spread quickly over the streets of London about the mysterious singer of the Funtom company, including reaching the Queen herself as she was amazed by this singer and sent a letter to Lord Phantomhive herself, requesting the mysterious singer to attend the next ball/event she would plan.

😈Sebastian was quite pleased with how well things were going. Not only was the young masters company becoming extremely popular now, but also you were able to do what you loved which was sing. Of course, Sebastian had to make sure your needs were met and made sure you were not overworking yourself too much as what kind of butler would he be if he didn't provide the best care for you.

😈His favorite song of yours is "Domestic De Violence" . He finds the melody to be very beautiful and finds the lyrics to be very manipulating, but in a good way for him.

[hypnoneghoul]

absolution live 2017/2023

here I am with my over 1,5k word autistic ramble about the differences between absolution live from 2017 and 2023. at the end there is an audio file of both versions put together, if anyone would be interested in that. it sound very cool heh

also tags for people who showed interest in this: @forest-rot @ghuleh-recs @counting-eyerolls @ngnt-writes @ghnosis @rain-ghoul-appreciator @sister-rosemary-marie

anyway, under the cut

I will start with an analysis of instruments and players separately, one by one, and then I’ll talk about the whole thing a little bit. Also I’m using only ghoul names in there, but when I’m talking about styles and skills I obviously mean the unmasked folks.

Both in 2017 and 2023 we have Mountain on drums, which gives us a very fun comparison opportunity. In 2017 he goes heavy on the cymbals—according to the original version of the song—but it makes the whole thing a bit too crashy and too clogged. The drums are very widely mixed and set—slightly focused on the left side following the stage layout from then—but I think the cymbals could be a bit quieter in comparison to the actual drums, especially the floor tom. In general we can hear how smaller Mountain’s kit was in 2017. In 2023 the entire drum part is sharper and deeper, more bassy and it’s focused more in the middle. The way it feels to me, in 2017 the drums are the background and in 2023 they are the core. Mountain has better fills in 2023, he obviously got more comfortable just jamming in there and having fun over the years.

Dewdrop on bass in 2017; we can hear (or at least I can) that he is not a bassist. He scrapes his pick on the strings a lot which is connected to him being primarily a guitarist—it’s about the picking hand placement and angle. The bass is pretty quiet and it has overdrive on it. It helps conceal his buzzing a little bit, because it happens a fair amount for Dewdrop. Again—bass is not his main instrument. We can also hear exactly when he slams it, like we know he loves doing. In general sometimes he’s quieter and sometimes he’s louder and it’s mostly caused by his picking; how he angles his hand in certain moments and how much strength he puts into it. At the end he goes absolutely feral. Not surprising.

Rain in 2023 is amazing. He’s very skilled, and it’s a huge shame Ghost doesn’t have any songs that could really allow him to show off. He hit his cue a bit too fast at one point, but it might as well be intentional. He’s so much clearer and cleaner, both due to his skills and the settings. Rain has more drop, he most likely has his bass on a different pickup setup than Dewdrop, plus they used different basses—Rain’s with additional mods. One of those mods is a very heavy bridge—Badass Bass—and I bet we can thank that piece for the sustain and note definition in Rain’s playing. In general it flows more, fits into the whole image better. His changes in volume are controlled, not accidental like it happens for Dewdrop. Rain puts more slides, tiny additions and note changes into his live playing, it makes it a bit more lively to me. He’s put perfectly in the middle, nicely blended with the drums.

Unfortunately there isn’t much I can say about Ifrit, Dewdrop, Aether and Phantom mainly because “Absolution” isn’t really a guitar focused song and so it isn't the best song to compare guitar skills, either. The most interesting part—guitar wise—is the solo and little fills on the rhythm now and then.

Ifrit is very precise, I couldn’t hear any mistakes from him, but also the lead is surprisingly quiet in general. His palm muting is on spot, pull-offs and hammer-ons both in the chorus and the solo are very clean and he is simply a pro, he’s got super skills and I wish we could’ve gotten more (</3). He makes the whole song as lively as his stage personality, it sounds flowy but packed with emotions and still so precise it hurts.

Dewdrop’s sound is way better, though he and Ifrit are close skill wise. The difference between Hagstrom Fantomen and Fender Stratocaster is a big one, the main aspect that we can hear is the sharpness of the former and more grounded sound of the latter. Those two guitars also have a very different pickup arrangements—Dew’s strat has SSS (3x single-coils) pickups and he uses the bridge one (which is a Seymour Duncan Hot Rail), and the Fantomen’s has HH (two humbuckers that can be slip, but as far as I’m aware no ghoul used that feature), also with the bridge one used more frequently. In “Absolution” Dewdrop doesn’t add very much—as he does to some other songs—so it’s pretty much the same as the original version. There are small differences that inherently come with his style and that is what makes his version differ from both Ifrit’s and the album's, but it’s all very slight. Dew also makes a very good use of his pedals, mainly wah—especially at the end.

Aether is a bit off tempo in some parts. He plays well, mostly clean, but we can pick out some slight mistakes—mostly sounds that aren’t supposed to be there. His palm muting is a bit too light. He goes heavy on the pick which makes his part of the solo a bit sharp (especially that he’s playing the higher harmony) and square-ish. The sharpness is, again, something we can partially blame on the Fantomen. Only partially because both Ifrit and Phantom prove that it’s manageable. 

Phantom is very clean, he adds a lot of slides which is a feature of his personal style. Said style of his is very lively and fun, to me it sounds and feels like a slinky (don’t laugh at me it’s the autism). He’s more fluid both in the solo and the rest of the song than Aether, but makes one—barely noticeable—mistake in the solo where he misses a note.

Also Phantom and Dewdrop in 2023 are more in sync than Aether and Ifrit in 2017. For whatever reason.

Now keyboard; Zephyr goes absolutely ham on the keys, but it is a piano song so that’s not only understandable, but also desirable, I would say. Key’s are in the right ear with slight migration to the middle when it matters, again according to the stage layout. Their precision and speed and overall skill is insane, the ending when they go wild is the most impressive part, because the song itself doesn’t give many opportunities. If you haven’t seen a video of Zephyr playing that ending you gotta do it now because it really is insane (RIP to that Nord Stage 2 though). The synth fill before the solo in 2017 is played back, in 2023 it’s played live by Cirrus.

In 2023 Cirrus plays the main chorus keyboard part, it can be heard easily on the left side (so once again stage layout accordingly). It’s clean and precise, she’s also very skilled, but unfortunately doesn’t really show off at the end like Zephyr does. Cumulus plays some chords before the solo while Cirrus plays the synth fill.

Vocals are not my thing so I’m only going to say what most of us can hear; Terzo is very nasal, but cleaner, and sings a bit higher. Clear pronunciation, good flow. It’s closest to Tobias’ normal singing voice. Copia is even more nasal, more growly and raspy. They’re both, obviously, in the middle in case of mixing.

Backing vocals in 2017 are all play-back for obvious reasons—pretty simple, taken straight off of the album recording. It’s put on the left, but it could be more favorable in the middle. 2023 is way more spectacular thanks to—mainly—the backing vocals. They are 90% Aurora and Cumulus, with lower levels of Cirrus and barely anything of Swiss. He’s louder by the end. I’m still conflicted about the growls—if it is Swiss or Papa’s play-back—but it’s a great addition that was very mild in 2017’s play-back. The backing vocals are on the sides, accordingly to the stage layout. It all just adds more spice, I adore them.

Sound engineering and mixing is so much better in 2023. We can easily tie it to the budget (though I’d like to “blame” it on Hayden’s part in the engineering, he’s a mastermind, too). The sound is much clearer and fluid than in 2017, it highlights all the instruments perfectly at the same time. Mixing in 2017 is more blunt, it’s a bit duller and some changes in volumes and placements of instruments could—or even should—be made. It doesn’t mean 2017 sucks—far from it—it’s just a technical difference which actually warms my heart if we look at how far has Ghost come. So, once again, considering the budget in 2017 vs. 2023 it’s all understandable. Also the crowd sound control in 2023 is very fun; it makes a great use of all the yelling causing the whole song to sound warmer and fuller.

Both 2017 and 2023 are on the exact same tempo, they can be put over each other perfectly (which I did). They slide apart at the end and the break before the outro is longer in 2023. The 2023 outro itself is pretty boring in comparison to 2017, most likely because in 2023 it’s not a closing song. Below there’s both “Absolutions” over each other; 2023 in the left and 2017 in the right headphone.

[concreteangel92]

Behind Closed Doors

Noah Sebastian x female reader x Andy Biersack

18+

Warnings: threesome, double penetration, oral (female and male receiving) dom/sub kink, PiV, clit slapping, Noah just having a god complex, pretty certain that’s it

A/N: ok it’s finally here haha it’s my first time writing a threesome so do forgive me if it’s not the best, this idea hasn’t left my brain for months now, I mean come on, who doesn’t want to be the filler in that sandwich 🥵

I do plan on writing an alternate ending as I couldn’t decide which one I wanted so this is the first, the alternative ending will be even filthier just fyi, but who doesn’t live for that? 😏

Also couldn’t think of a better name and I’m listening to cassyette’s song at the moment and it kind of fits ahaha

@thefallennightmare the tag you requested haha

And if anyone ever wants to be tagged then do let me know!

Masterlist

Alternate Ending

You’d been married to your husband Andy Biersack for 4 years now, together for 6 in total. There was nothing you hadn’t done together…well almost nothing.

Black Veil Brides were setting out on their next tour and you couldn’t believe it when they announced that Bad Omens would be supporting them, you were a huge fan of the band and their music, not to mention that the lead singer was incredibly easy on the eye.

Andy knows you have your ‘celebrity crush’ on Noah, you’d made it no secret so he found it very amusing to see your reaction when he told you.

“Bad Omens are supporting you? Seriously?”

“Yep”

His smirk evident on his face, you could already see him teasing you for weeks over this.

••••••

You were hanging out back stage with the BVB boys on the first night of the tour, you could feel the excitement in the air, it was their biggest tour to date and you couldn’t have been more proud of them.

You had yet to meet Bad Omens as you’d arrived after the sound checks, Andy of course couldn’t help but making the odd joke here or there.

“Try not to cream your pants when you meet him”

“Maybe I’ll mention how much you ‘admire’ him”

“Think you’ll be able to speak?”

Each time you sent a playful glare in his direction, but secretly hoping you didn’t make a fool of yourself, although you love your husband with all your heart, you couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach right now. Nothing wrong with a harmless crush, not like anything would ever happen.

You could hear footsteps coming down the hall and the sound of laughter as the door opened, the boys of Bad Omens stepping through. Noah was the last in and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

He was gorgeous.

Noah’s dark eyes fell onto you and you felt your cheeks go warm, his gaze was incredibly intense, like he could see into your soul intense.

Andy chuckled next to you which broke your stare, he walked up to Noah and shook his hand, you took notice that there wasn’t that much of a difference between their height and seeing the two of them next to each other was nearly enough to make you go in to cardiac arrest, although very different from each other, they were no doubt the hottest men you had ever seen.

“Good to see you man, let me introduce you to my wife y/n”

Noah’s eyes fell back into you and he gave you a warm smile.

“Pleasure to meet you”

”You too”

You held your hand out to him which he took, his hand completely engulfing yours.

“I’m a big fan of the band, your vocals are incredible”

“Thank you that means a lot”

You pulled your hand away and stepped back, Andy then introduced you to the rest of the band, not missing Noah’s gaze lingering on you.

••••••

You settled yourself into the wings, just out of the way but waiting to see Bad Omens perform, it was your first time seeing them and you couldn’t wait.

You felt a presence come up next to you and heard Noah in your ear.

“I hope you enjoy the show”

You looked up to see his mask covered face, your stomach doing an instant flip.

“I’m sure I’m going to love it, good luck to all of you”

You saw him smile and then the lights went out on stage and you heard the crowd roar as their intro played over the speakers.

Seeing Bad Omens live was everything you ever dreamed it would be, Noah’s vocals and the guys musical talent were impeccable. And you did have to silently kick your feet every time you caught Noah’s eye from the wings, something that became a recurring theme throughout their set.

••••••

The tour seemed to be a great success, you were along for the ride and watched both bands every night they played from the side of the stage, neither one of them getting old, if anything they just got better with each set.

Andy’s teasing of you around Noah hadn’t got any better, he hadn’t done it in front of Noah of course as he would never embarrass you like that but if he noticed you gazing at him a bit too long then a quick remark would be whispered in your ear with a dark chuckle, he loved to see you squirm at any opportunity. You were surprised he was as cool as he was, but you were both incredibly comfortable with each other and trusted the other that a harmless crush didn’t concern him, if anything, it just gave him joy to tease you about it. This all changed one night near the end of the tour.

••••••

“You trust me right?”

Andy’s question took you by surprise.

“With my entire life, why?”

“What if I was to tell you that I’ve sort of arranged something, something that we’ve never done before but I need your consent before it continues”

You felt your face screw up in confusion.

“What for?”

“I know you want to fuck Noah”

His bluntness caused your eyes to go wide.

“What? Andy you don’t have to worry about that, yes I’ve had a ‘celebrity crush’ or whatever you want to call it on him but I’d never cheat on you, you’re my whole world”

He chuckled.

“Oh I’m well aware, I’m not worried about that at all, you know I love and trust you. But I’d be blind if I didn’t see the way he looks at you back, he’s very respectful of the fact your my wife but he’s not been able to keep his eyes off you since the tour started”

“I mean, I guess he does…look at me but nothing would happen”

“Do you want it to?”

You nearly choked on your own salvia while Andy held your gaze with a serious expression on his face, surely this was a joke?

“W-what?”

“Noah. Would you like to fuck him? If I gave my consent to it and I’d have to be there for it, would you like it to happen?”

You felt a pool of heat in your core at the images that suddenly flooded your mind, the two of them together, that’s enough to make anyone fold.

“I don’t….what am I meant to say here?”

“Be honest with me. I spoke to Noah earlier, he obviously was surprised at first at what I was proposing but he said if we both were comfortable then he’d be willing”

“Willing to sleep with me while you watch?”

This couldn’t be real, this must be a dream….a very potential wet dream.

“Oh I’d be joining in with you at some point, can’t let him have all the fun”

Andy had a playful smirk on his face but soon had his serious expression back.

“I’m saying to you that I can see that you both want to fuck each other, this opportunity would probably never happen again and I love you so much that I want you to be happy and seeing you happy makes me happy. I wouldn’t even think of suggesting it if I was uncomfortable. I’m ok with another man touching you as long as I’m there and involved. How do you feel about this?”

You took a minute to respond, your partner of 6 years is suggesting a threesome with the man you’ve got a crush on. You two had never brought anyone else into the bedroom before, hadn’t even really discussed it other than a throw away joke comment here or there about a celebrity. But you knew Andy wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want or was comfortable to happen and for him to have already approached Noah, meant he was deadly serious, and you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t your biggest fantasy.

“And Noah said he was up for this?”

“More then up for it I imagine”

You laughed at his dry joke, some things never changed.

“Any rules?”

“No, only that I’m there and if I say stop then it stops if I become uncomfortable with it. But as it stands now, for one night you can have your little fantasy of having both of us come true”

Andy moved closer to you and brought his hand up into your face.

“Want to be dominated by both of us baby?”

Your mouth fell open as you felt yourself clenching on nothing. You were more than ready for this.

“When?”

“After the show tomorrow night when we have the hotel”

••••••

You decided to skip the show tonight, although you were about to live out your biggest fantasy, the thought of seeing them both on that stage was a bit too much to handle, you didn’t want risk the rest of the guys from each band figure out something was going on if you couldn’t control yourself around them. Although you’d seen Noah briefly earlier in the day and didn’t miss the devilish smirk he gave you before going off to lunch with Nick, CC and Lonny.

Now here you were waiting in your room for Andy and Noah to come back from the venue. The nerves were slightly kicking in, you’d never done this before and hoped you didn’t mess anything up.

Your phone screen lit up with your husband’s name, he’d sent a text with a simple instruction.

‘On our way up, strip down to your underwear’

You immediately felt the need to obey and pulled your clothes off and sat on the bed, a fuzziness starting within your mind.

The sound of the door unlocking perked you up and in walked Andy and Noah, who locked the door behind them.

“Told you she was obedient”

Noah hummed in response, his eyes nearly black as he looked you up and down like you were his last meal.

“Last chance to back out, if anyone has changed their mind then now is the time”

You shook your head and looked at Noah for his answer.

“I’m good”

You watched as Andy sat down in one of the chairs across from the bed, still not quite believing that he was going to watch another man fuck you, it was a side you’d never seen to him before.

You looked back at Noah, motioning for him to come over.

“What do you want?”

You couldn’t help but smirk as Noah caught the obvious nod to one of his own songs.

“I’ve dreamed of nothing more then to have my face buried between those pretty thighs of yours”

“Yes please”

Noah pulled you in for a quick kiss before pushing your shoulders back so you were lying on the bed, he then proceeded to pull your underwear down your legs, your knees instinctively closing together.

“Keep them open for me”

You opened your legs wide and saw your husband leaning forward in the chair, his trousers looking considerably more tight as he watched the two of you.

Noah wasted no time in diving in, he licked one firm strip up your centre. You raised your hips slightly, desperately trying to grind into his face, Noah brought one hand up to your stomach to pin you in place and he then attached his mouth to your clit and sucked hard, he then went down and groaned when he finally tasted you properly.

You couldn’t stop the moans that left your mouth, Noah was making your head spin in the most beautiful way, you glanced over at Andy to see he had already stripped himself off his shirt and his trousers were pulled down slightly and he was touching himself while watching, his beautiful blue eyes had definitely gone a few shades darker. The knowledge of your husband getting off on you enjoying the pleasures with another man was intoxicating, Andy was in control of this, if he wanted it to stop then it would but he was loving it as much as you were.

Your focus was brought back to Noah when you felt him slipping his finger inside, the sound of your wetness hitting your ears.

“Fuck Noah”

You could feel your high building, Noah was devouring you with his mouth with no sign of letting up.

“Oh my god, please don’t stop”

Noah added a second finger and kept the rhythm, you can feel your core throbbing, pulsing, clenching, your stomach is now painfully tight, he brought his head up briefly.

“God isn’t here beautiful, now cum for me and say my name”

And you did, you felt that coil in your stomach snap on his command and cried out for him, back arched and thighs shaking and clamped around his head.

“N-Noah!”

Noah carried you through your orgasm and through the aftershocks that racked your body until you felt too sensitive and pushed his head away.

As you came back down to earth, you saw Noah stripping himself of his clothes and you then heard your husband’s voice.

“Don’t be gentle with her, she can take it hard, can’t you angel?”

You nodded silently but then felt a hard smack from Noah on your sensitive clit.

“Answer him”

“Fuck…yes sir”

You looked at Noah and marvelled at his size, in all aspects, he was so broad and intimidating and you wanted nothing more than for him to ruin you.

Noah pulled on your thighs so you were lined up with him, he ran his head over your slick folds a couple times before he pushed himself all the way in, the feeling of him stretching you out was verging on painful as he spilt you apart, he didn’t give you any time to adjust before he started a ruthless pace, his hips slamming into yours as he held your thighs onto his chest, you swore in this position you could feel him hitting your stomach with every thrust.

“Oh my fucking god”

You know what you’d said as soon as you said it, so it was also no surprise when you felt Noah’s hand wrap around your throat and squeezing down, not once faltering in his thrusts.

“What did I just say? God isn’t here but I’m going to fuck you to the point you’ll think you’ll see him”

And that was all the warning you got, Noah kept his hand around your neck and pounded into you so hard you were seeing stars, at that moment, your brain became empty, no coherent thoughts at all.

“You’re so fucking cock drunk for me princess”

Your body started to tense, you knew you were about to fall so far over the edge, you just needed something more, Noah, although new to your body, seemed to know straight away and reached his other hand down and started to rub hard, fast circles on your clit and that was enough to have you screaming out with tears falling down your face, you felt Noah slam into you a few more times before he pulled his hips back and he emptied himself onto your stomach with a loud guttural groan.

“Fuck…”

You turned your head to see Andy had risen from his chair, taking what clothes he had left off, his dick looking painful hard in his hand.

“I’m going to need to fuck you baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen but I need to feel you now.”

Noah sat back against the headboard while Andy rolled you into your front and brought you up onto your knees with your ass in the air.

“Why don’t you show me what that pretty mouth can do while he fucks you?”

Looking up at Noah you saw that he was still hard and clearly ready to go again, you nodded your head and reached out to stroke his hard length, you felt Andy enter you from behind, your walls instantly clenching around him as he started to move, a choked moan falling from your lips before you took Noah into your mouth, his hand gripping into your hair while he started to rut up into you.

The feeling of being filled from both ends was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, you felt so full, both men using your holes almost like you were just some sex toy for them to play with and my god you were loving every second of it. You moaned around Noah’s cock while you had your husband slamming into you, his hands bruising your hips and slapping your cheeks, you soon felt your second orgasm approaching.

You moaned again around Noah’s length and felt his grip in your hair tighten, you looked up and saw his head had fallen back, his thrusts were becoming sloppy, you reached down to gently massage his balls and sucked hard and heard him stutter out “shit I’m going to cum” before you felt him finish down your throat, you swallowed every drop, your own end on the brink when you felt Andy reach his hand around your front.

“Give us one more angel, I know you can” his voice sounding incredibly strained.

You cried out at the same time that you felt your husband cum inside you and virtually collapsed onto Noah’s legs, your body shaking and sweaty and your vision going black momentarily.

You felt someone stroking your hair out of your face and another hand on your back, no idea who was whose but it was enough to bring you back down to earth.

You opened your eyes and saw that Noah has his hand in your hair and Andy was next to you rubbing his hand up and down your back, you were rolled over gently and then felt Noah using a warm cloth to clean your stomach off before discarding it next to the bed.

“You were such a good girl baby, you coming back to us? You took us so well, my best girl always”

You smiled at your husband’s praise, you felt Noah go to get off the bed and reached out to grab his arm.

“Will you stay a while?”

Noah glanced at Andy who nodded his consent and Noah smiled at you while settling back down.

“Of course…that was fun”

You all giggled and you cuddled up in between them. Andy then spoke up.

“Well maybe it doesn’t have to be a one night thing”

You had a feeling the rest of the tour was going to be interesting.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Live Reaction: Ghostfuckers

Spoilers of course. I still hate the title of this episode. 0/10 for that alone. This post is just my unfiltered thoughts.

Look the other WLW couple in the Hellaverse! Forgot their names though.

Me thinking about how this show is slowly going downhill. /lhj Why is Blitz 'sulking' over Stolass?? Out of all the characters, he is sulking over the classist asshole who fetishize him for his species.

Man, I wish we saw more of that hard work. Not "yaoi." that overstayed its welcome. There is that Helluva cringe I love so much. /s

Ew. Blitz is fucking nasty. Ugh. More unfunny sexual jokes.

The American™️ experience.

Good!! Stolas is again, a classist species fetishizer. I do not Blitz that much, but he deserved someone better than the owl fucker. He needs to go to therapy first though.

Loona's attitude is fucking weird. She is 22 years old, why she calling Millie who is around 25-30 years old "grandma"??? If she was a teenager that would make sense, but she is an adult. Her insults suck pure ass. Like her calling Mooxie 'fat'. Send her ass back to that pound. /lhj

The word of the day is: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

Viv and the other writers need to learn new swear words.

The sex jokes are so bad. They are not even at high school level, more like middle schooler who laughs when seeing Bitch in the dictionary level.

This show overuses bitch too. There is no PUNCH to it anymore. It is like a sound bit at this point. I love this old man. Why does Blitz tell Mille to "Look out, he's a patriot!" like it is bad thing? He is a true definition of one unlike a certain party.

The song sucks. They truly peaked in Ozzie's and never returned to that level. YES MILLIE! Tell Blitz how you truly feel. That piece of shit has not paid you in weeks and was too busy buying cheap trash.

Remind of me of that faceless Squall moment in Final Fantasy VIII. I Never played the games though. I just know about it thanks to horror youtubers. I love me some good body horror. They finally took Blitz's mom out of the fridge. I am sorry but this scene is making me laugh. Her eye popping out is looks goofy. It like a zany cartoon from the 90s.

Backstory time? The dialogue is not natural in this scene. Blitz is saying some self-hating stuff and Millie is going "Do you remember" like she is Earth, Wind, and Fire. Imagine venting to someone about hating yourself and that you destroy everything you touch, and they say, "Remember how we met?" Blitz's response would be mines. "What?"

"Imps don't work for themselves, asshole."

I wish that show was still about this. A person from a lower class trying to work his way to the top. If that show would be more impactful and would be remember as the edgy demon show with an inspiring message that everyone would relate to or inspire to be. Not the sex joke obsessed demon show with awful writing and the main "appeal" is rotten yaoi. Anyway, the fight scene was fine. Loona looks off model when she has an happy expression. I am used to that aloof and pissed off expression she always have.

"He's my best friend."

Blitz is your best friend?? This is the most time y'all interacted with each other on scene. This is the first conversation Mille and Blitz has ever had. We are almost done with Season two by the way.

This show just loves to traumatize Blitz. I wish he relived his traumatizing experiences in a more natural way. Like seeing certain objects or hearing certain sounds makes him hyperventilate or sends him into the beginning of a panic attack. I have no issues with characters having trauma or PTSD, but it seems like Blitz's trauma is a part of his character to make him seem more interesting as the protag instead of telling how trauma can truly change and mold a person into something different. There are just sprinkles of this. Blitz puts a facade of being an foul mouthed asshole because he does not want to get attached to people, from the trauma of killing his own mother, and etc. I wish it was not this Clockwork Orange type shit. This is 100% a post for another day.

"Your level of insecurity is intoxicating." Rolando should visit the Hazbin hotel. The insecurity levels are off the charts in that place. /lhj "Tonight I'm Blitz Demon-Dicker!" That is pure cringe right there.

Blitz trying to have sex with the M&Ms was always creepy to me because the idea of a boss trying to sleep with his employees is gross. Stick to signing their paychecks, not being in-between their sheets. Blitz being jealousy of their relationship is fine; it should never have crossed into sexual territory.

Episode rating: 7.5/10

None of the jokes made me laugh which is the usual for me. That Blitz's mom scene is unintentional comedy though. Rewatching, it made me laugh again and of course there is a pin design of that scene too. This is Tilla's first real merch. Good for her. Of course they made merch for the one off. Someone is out there emptying their bank account to have a "complete collection" because they just love dropping merch back-to-back.

Lazy ass shit right here. Who in their damn mind would buy this? Better than that slurs shirt though. I have to talk about the Helluva merch, but they are doing recolors now. What is this a fighting game?

Back on topic, this episode actually kept my attention unlike Full Moon and Apology Tour. Watching those episodes made me want to start drinking. Just alright episode, one of the better ones for a season that was about to rot. I am starting to like Millie more; it is nice to see her talk to a character that is not Mooxie.

[promisetobedazzlinggg]

ateez and when you get back together

-> pt 2 of maknae line's 'ateez and when they know they need you back'

-> requested

-> also this one's kinda long and some are disproportionately sized... mb guys I kinda got carried away at times

-> also, I put the song inspo beneath each one. mingi's one couldn't make me think of anything but taylor and there's a few references in both parts. all the ts songs are angsty but it's all happy endings <3

-> TW: SH IN JONGHO'S PART!!!

-> SAN

(the one - taylor swift) only certain parts are accurate but ehh

San has waited. He has waited and cried for so long and misses you more than ever but how could you ever return to him after he has waited for months instead of running after you from the moment your door closed. Thus, he has resolved to do anything and everything he can to get you back if he ever sees you or hears from you again. It was a lucky day, the second most lucky of his life, when he passed by a cafe and noticed the back of someone that looked just like you standing just inside. He would never forget the way you looked even though you changed and anyone could see it: your style, the warmth in your smile, even the way you interacted with people when he watched you. It slaps him hard across the face that he's waiting again, breaking another promise, but he knows you don't want to make a scene in public, so perhaps it is truly best to wait outside where he can briefly pulll you into the adjacent alley and beg. When you leave- nerve-racking, heart-stopping minutes later, he briefly touches your hand so you notice him and he continues with his plan. You notice him and he tugs at the sleeve of your jacket towards the alley. He confesses his sins as you're his queen, his angel, divine, and begs for them to be forgiven. He would even beg for just another minute with you sorry I have a thing for desperate men. Tears prick at both of your eyes and you whisper, voice cracking (San still finds it to be the most beautiful sound in the world), to talk about it somewhere else. He guides you to a car, opens the door for you, and you drive to your new address. Once you're both in your living room, San immediately drops to his knees once more and he fights the urge to cry. He must keep his composure if he is to have you; the times when he lost it are the times that caused you to go. The apartment is too small to be cozy and too simple to have any distinct or noticeable aesthetics, you never had a job that paid quite like his, inevitably drawing the two of you apart when he accused you of being a gold-digger. You never asked for his wallet, his cash, his credit card, for him to pay for anything, and now he would do everything for you to ask him for anything (except to leave). He pleads, apologizes, offers everything he has but you're hesitant. What breaks his heart the most is that he can understand why. He confesses his love in the form of simple "I love you"s and when he sees that you feel guilt for turning him into a broken record he immediately takes accountability and reminds you that this is all his fault. "One chance." San swears it will be the only one he ever needs.

-> MINGI

(down bad - taylor swift)

(back to december - taylor swift)

Mingi is shitfaced again. He feels too guilty after having all the other members deal with him when he's like this to ask them but he's starting to realize that alcohol doesn't empty how he's so filled with memories of you but fills him with more sorrow, more guilt. He ended it. He told you that you were better off but it's plain to see to anyone else that even past all the criticism you two received, it never made you two more miserable than you are now that you're apart from each other. His drunken stupor can only think of you, of calling you, of asking you to save him, but he can never forget how you shouldn't have to play savior for his own mistakes. Perhaps he's made a new record, though, and he dials it. Your number is another thing he refuses to ever forget. He begs something incoherent and hangs up. After all, it already went to voicemail. After 10 minutes of debating, however, you hear it out. Or whatever it's supposed to be. All you manage to get out of it is that Mingi needs help, encouraging you to drive to his place, use the key you were never able to let go of, open the door, and find him lying face-down on the floor. You get him to sit up but he's in too dazed of a state to understand what's going around him. A little more alcohol could've been dangerous. He's going to throw up quite a bit sometime soon, so you force a bit of water into his system and drag him to the bathroom. He proceeds to throw up immediately and for the next little while. He promptly falls asleep after finishing and you change his shirt into something more comfortable before tucking him into bed. You had already resolved to sleep on the couch but you prepare a bit of medicine and put it by his bed for when he wakes up. Upon hitting the couch, reality hits you again: it's your first time seeing him since he ended things and it's because he got incredibly drunk. You know you don't deserve this. You know you shouldn't have to help a guy who did nothing but hurt the two of you. Seeing how he's acting lately and how desperate that voicemail was, however, maybe he knows it's the biggest mistake of his fucking life, too. It takes another hour of you crying and pondering this before you fall asleep. The last time on the clock you were awake for read 2:00 AM. When you wake up, however, Mingi is resting somehow both feverishly and lethargically on the seat in front of you with a very, very simple breakfast in front of you both. Considering the headache he must have now, though, it's rather impressive that he managed to do anything at all, let alone for the two of you, but you resist a smile. When he sees you're awake, he moves to hold you before hesitating and retracting his touch back. Before he can speak, however, you ask him something. "Have me back?" You've never seen someone with a hangover light up so fast and so brightly.

-> WOOYOUNG

(hits different - taylor swift)

Wooyoung made the first step to chase after what he broke (you and your relationship) when he comes across a you talking to a guy on the street. You don't notice him but he goes straight home and throws up. The idea of you moving on is more repulsive than any of his memories, so he purchases all your favorite sweets and sends a photo of them to you. He knows you never blocked his number and he deludes himself into believing he has another chance through that. He apologizes an uncountable number of times but he still doesn't have the balls to beg for you to love him again in person. He knows it's not fair to you, especially if his eyes didn't deceive him earlier, after all, telling how much he needs you upon seeing that you're moving on is yet another reminder of what an asshole he is. He will fix himself- he'll change any and all aspects of himself as many times as he needs if it will make you want him again. He tells you this and he loves that it's the same answer you would have given him before he fucked up- that you love his current self more than any other. You were with your brother before and even though you don't forgive him, you'll give it another shot if you start as friends. He will accept anything you give him graciously, so he is ecstatic at this outcome and he goes to your place as fast as possible

-> JONGHO

(the manuscript - taylor swift)

Jongho finds it hard to believe that you could be as affected by the breakup as much as he is until he sees you in a bookstore and you reach for the top shelf to grab a book on biology (he knows it's something you read about whenever you're stressed). He doesn't fight the recollection of how it ended, how he was stressed about a comeback and you had a shitty family to deal with and how he told you terrible things and to never come back. What nails in the coffin is his memories of how you used to cut yourself. They were from long before you met him and only on your left arm. When the sleeves fell a bit, it seemed like your right arm was decorated a bit, too. Nothing before had washed over him so painfully as it did then and he couldn't stop himself from going to you and begging for you to let him do anything and everything his power to help you get better, for those scars to fade. He offers his wallet for the most expensive therapy in Seoul, his arms if you need to be held, his heart if it feels like yours is stopping, his smile if you need something to be a bit bright while surrounded by dullness. You tell him you just want him. Everything is better in his arms, you always feel safer in his hoodies.

I hope y'all liked it!! I'm gonna start working on hyung line soon but sfw requests (again, for skz and atz) are open <333

[the-raven-lady]

(Not) The Savior You Long For [Part 1]

[Masterlist] [My Ko-Fi]

Pairing: Night Lord (OC: Elias Rushorik) x serf!Reader [fem]

Song Inspiration: Fear Inoculum - TOOL [YouTube] [Spotify] “Enumerate all that I'm to do / Calculating steps away from you / My own mitosis / Growing through delusion from mania / Exhale, expel / Recast my tale / Weave my allegorical elegy.”

Warnings: Violence, explicit and detailed blood and gore, disgusting and disturbing imagery, terror and dread, fear of death, all of the warnings you should expect hearing the words ‘Night Lord’ bestie this is the “I love murder” legion.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: The long awaited Night Lord claiming + womb tattoo series. This part is primarily exposition and setting the scene. Also new dividers? Raven Lady's getting fancy.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Tag List: @egrets-not-regrets @sleepyfan-blog @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @bispecsual

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @dedios-of-the-word @pickpocketing-your-gender

The slosh of brown water on the floor splashes away from your washcloth, and you overextend your shoulder trying to catch it before it runs too far. Hissing at the sudden spasm, you sit back on your heels, rolling it out to soothe the ache. You’ve been on your hands and knees for what feels like far too long now, and your joints are starting to protest. It seems the other serf helping you isn’t faring much better. A glance in her direction reveals her sitting like a child, knees bent and feet flat on the floor, using the full weight of her body to scrub between the seams of the floor panels. You shake your head and return to pushing around the rusty water, struggling to remove the grime from the floor. 

The act was pointless. Everyone knew that it wouldn’t be another week before the armory would be so rancid with dried bodily fluids that a cleanup crew would have to scrub it down again, but you knew better than to make a comment on it.

The racket of raucous laughter nearby shoots ice through your veins. You and the other serf instinctually freeze at the sound, and it doesn’t even cross your mind to check on her before abandoning your post, scrambling off of the wet floor in a flash to hide behind a large crate. The cold metal at your back would shield you from view, you know, but the hammering in your chest and shuddering of your breath would be beacons for a bored astartes. Silently, you will yourself to calm down at any cost, holding your breath for so long your lungs begin to burn from the effort.

Their heavy footfalls eventually fade into the distance, off to another area of the ship. Still, you remain in place for another few minutes until you’re as certain as you’ll ever be that they’re gone. You dare not risk yourself getting caught by a group of Night Lords, if experience has taught you anything.

You’ve become jaded to the rags of tanned hide displayed proudly on their armor and the grotesque corpse art that lines the walls of Nightfall. The smell doesn’t even get to you anymore, having been surrounded by abundant death and decay for so long. Everything reeks of it. Even if you did take the time to think on the dreadful feelings that stir when you see them, your body wouldn’t be able to afford losing any more meals with how sparingly you’ve been fed.

What has never left you are the screams. The gush of blood pouring from a weeping laceration. The crack of breaking bones. Desperate cries from the poor targets of the Night Lord’s insatiable appetite for ‘entertainment’, sobs and begs for their lives— No, no, no, please! I’ll do anything, please, just let me go–!— eventually turning into pleas to be put out of their misery, shown mercy, as their captors only laugh and croon. No mercy flowed through them; they were never quick with their kills. It was all a sadistic game to feed off of the tears and terror for as long as they could. The Night Lords wouldn’t stop their fun until their playthings had been bled dry– literally or figuratively.

You peek out from around the crate, surveying the dim armory. Empty. 

The serf you had been working with was missing as well, likely sequestered off somewhere for safety. The utter silence of the room causes your gut to tremble with anxiety. It was a dangerous game to be alone: lone serfs were prime prey, and you by no means wanted to make yourself an easy target. 

With no small amount of horror, you realize it’s outside of your power to do anything about it. Your lungs deflate, and you give yourself a false reassurance before returning to your station on the floor, taking up the soiled wash rag and wringing it out into the water bucket. Pieces of slimy rehydrated skin pass over your fingers. You return to your efforts with the intent to finish as quickly as possible. The desire to flee to your cot is all-encompassing, driving you to redouble your efforts and get the job done just passably enough that you won’t be killed for it. 

A thought stops you, though. Where had your companion gone? It’s not that you particularly cared for her safety (you didn’t know her and caring is a luxury you could not afford), but to be gone without a trace was peculiar. You don’t remember hearing her footsteps, but you had also been preoccupied with yourself at the time.

You look around the empty room for anything out of place. Nothing appears to have moved since you last checked. Her brush and bucket are still on the floor, right where she had left them. You had seen her put them down there, right?

…Hadn’t you?

You dismiss the thought. She was probably still hiding somewhere, and for that, you couldn’t fault her. There was no loyalty amongst serfs of the Eighth, just an understanding that it was safer together than apart. Wanting to determine how much longer you would be here, you observe the areas the other serf had already worked.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The surfaces of the floors, storage units, and walls were visibly much cleaner than the rest, but she had done a horrible job wiping things down as she went. The steady dripping of a poorly dried surface unpleasantly fills your ears, slowly becoming the only thing you can focus on. You frown. It was amazing how you could begin to miss the ever-present dull thrum of the ship’s electrical systems when it was covered by something even slightly more annoying. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You shake your head and get back to working around the floor grate at the center of the room. Its placement makes it convenient to push the disgusting wash water into. As expected, the seams around the drain are compacted with hair and dried flesh, and you have to soak the mass to begin to scrape it free. The spongy texture is a nightmare to work with, but it wouldn’t be such a chore if you had some help.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Annoyed, you decide you’ve had enough of it. Water sloshes in the bucket when you wrench your washcloth to go wipe down whatever it is she had left unfinished, rising up to your feet. With some luck, you’d figure out where she had run off to. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if she had abandoned you altogether, leaving you to finish the task and fend for yourself.

A cursory glance over the bench, lockers, and racks reveals nothing out of the ordinary. They were passably clean and– perplexingly– completely dry. You ran a hand along them to be certain and, surely enough, it came away much the same. Odd. You were certain that you would find something. Continuing your search leaves more questions than answers.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Checking around a wall of storage cabinets, you carefully inspect each of the gaps for signs of water or some other liquid that could be leaking. You find nothing. 

At the end of the lockers, a shadow dances in the dim candlelight. Fear grips you for just a moment as you focus in on it, but it is much too small to be an astartes. At the realization, the chill in your blood is replaced with a simmer of frustration, and you stomp down the hall towards the figure.

Your eyes lock with the other serf’s. “Are you just hiding to–?”

You stop. It appears she had been too preoccupied with hanging from a bracket on the wall to come to your aid. The side of her neck is torn open with loose strips of muscle and connective tissue fanning over her shoulder. A glistening metal finial of Nostraman design pokes ornately through her spine and sternum, partially coagulated blood pooling at the tip.

Drip. 

Drip. 

Drip.

“About time,” a voice spits.

You’re suddenly dragged by the back of your robes, hoisted up into the air by an unseen force. The scream that leaves you tears at your vocal cords, but it’s choked off by the fabric of your neckline biting into your throat. Thrashing your head from side to side, you catch sight of a colorless face cackling, bloodied lips curled into a grin. You desperately kick your legs in an attempt to free yourself.

“Feisty little pet, aren’t we?” he asks. The Night Lord turns you around easily as you struggle, splitting red as he talks. “Good. Your friend was far more boring.”

You rake at the fabric around your neck, trying to alleviate the pressure preventing oxygen from getting to your head. The action only makes him laugh harder. “Oh, how precious. Poor little serf can’t breathe?” He tilts his head as he taunts you, and a cruel glint crosses his eye.

“How about I help with that?”

A half turn and your back slams against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your gasp of pain ignites a malicious glee within your captor, a row of bloodied yellow teeth peeking from behind his lips. At least like this, pinned to the wall, you have the ability to catch your breath, ragged and shallow. Each rough huff eases the ache in your diaphragm.

A hand roughly snaps your head forward, forcing you to focus on the face at your front. He suffocates you with his presence, leaning in far too close. “You know,” he starts, “I had been just about ready to walk in there and drag you out myself.” Despite the melodic quality of his voice, you only feel discomfort at the astartes’s words as he uningenuously laments. “I could only stare at my masterpiece for so long.” 

Briefly, your eyes linger on the silhouetted corpse of the other chapter serf. You hadn’t even heard her scream. Hadn’t heard the attack. Hadn’t heard the bones crack when she was unceremoniously mounted on the wall. You had managed to miss every detail.

…Or your captor had been skilled enough to mask them. You shiver.

He follows your gaze, scoffing when it lands on the body. “Your buddy is as pretty as she is stupid, trying to run all the way back to the hole you serfs call home.” The image of the other serf running down the hallway and getting caught as you did passes through your mind, and you grimace at the thought of whatever game she may have suffered through to end up where she is. The sing-song cadence of his voice draws your attention back to the Night Lord in front of you, “You humans fall so easily to your emotions. Not the brightest of you lot I’ve had, but certainly the best bait.”

Bait. The word is sour in the air.  

“So unwilling to have fun–” 

She had just been bait. 

“–but you’re eager to play, aren’t you?”

You were the game.

Your blood runs cold, eyes widening as you process everything you had missed or ignored up until now. Black blurs the edges of your vision. “Oh, don’t be like that,” the Night Lord shakes his head, but you know better than to believe it. This is exactly what he wanted. “We can be great friends—” 

Self-preservation takes a hold of you. Your adrenalized brain screams to overcome, persist. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot out before you, and you manage to jab your fingers into his dark eyes and claw. The astartes snarls, ducking away and dragging you with him off of the wall as he stumbles back. With a shake of his head, he regains his senses. He growls.

“You stupid bitch!”

The Night Lord tosses you like a ragdoll, uncaring of how your head impacts the nearby bench before hitting the floor. The world spins around you. “I’ll gut you like a pig for that, you impudent rat!” he roars, ceramite boots stomping closer. His eyes are wild, red around his enlarged pupils from where you’ve managed to burst blood vessels. Uncoordinated, you scramble backwards on the floor, staring up at the approaching astartes in terror. 

This is it. This is where you die: surrounded by filth, hyperventilating on the floor as a pissed off Night Lord tortures you within an inch of your life until you perish from the stress. All for one measly act of courage. Your back hits a wall as he rounds the bench, and you find yourself unable to watch any longer as fate unfolds before you. You curl up in a ball, turning away and protecting your head with your arms, then wait for the inevitable killing strike.

And wait.

…And wait.

But the blow never comes– no white-hot stab of pain, no sting of a kick to the ribs, no blunt ache of broken bones– just a sickeningly sodden crunch of flesh and bone. A wet spray paints your back. Your tattered robes easily soak up the warm liquid, causing you to flinch from the sudden moisture. Even through the rush of confusion and fear, it doesn’t take you long to realize what it is. The scent is unmistakable.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you struggle to catch up with your surroundings. By all means, you should be dead: the newest addition to a Night Lord’s skin cloak, or at the very least in excruciating pain. But you aren’t. 

Tentatively, trembling, you withdraw your head from the cage of your arms, turning just enough to peer behind you. You gasp at the grisly sight. 

Crimson rivulets of blood drip down over massive navy blue gauntlets. A single enucleated eye dangles from the gore between its digits. The terminator, more mountain than man, holds the unmoving body of your persecutor up by what remains of his cranium and neck. It is little more than ribbons of meat now.

Bile rises in your throat. You struggle to force it back down. 

Bolted armor caked in blood– both dried and fresh, sunken deep into the recesses of the ceramite plating– gives off an aura of wrought iron and decay. The metallic tang permeates the air around him, hanging heavy in the poorly ventilated armory. His scarred skin looks sickly pale. Greasy. Dehydrated. Aside from deep black eyes that watch you as a predator observes prey, the most prominent feature on his face is a wicked scar: a tear in his upper lip that exposes maxilla and sharp teeth alike. The shock of black hair on his head still has the impression of his helmet on it.

Without so much as a sound, he had come up from behind and grabbed the smaller Night Lord by the face, yanking them back into the crux of his chestplate and pauldron with enough force to shatter the hardened skull of an astartes. 

The massive marine throws the limp corpse of his former brother aside. The impact of metal on metal causes your ears to ring as a thousand pounds of lifeless ceramite strikes the wall, immediately followed by a disgusting wet slop of pulverized brain matter spilling onto the floor. If you had been on the Nightfall for any less time, you would have screamed. The shock almost prevents you from registering that you’re being spoken to.

“Get up.”

The terminator’s voice is that of rolling thunder and coarse gravel, resonating deep within your chest and leaving your heart fluttering with trepidation. His words had been spoken no louder than conversational, and yet they had you shooting up to your feet as if they had been shouted. Your wobbly legs nearly give out beneath you from how quickly you rise from the floor, croaking a shaky, “Yes, my lord.”

He removes his helmet from where it is magnetized to his belt with a click, placing it down on the bench you had been cowering behind. The tusks on it are as long as your forearm and nearly as thick. A faint decal of a skull is painted around the red lenses, chipped and fading but almost cartoonishly cute in contrast to the rags of flesh and weathered bones decorating the rest of his armor. 

The new Night Lord doesn’t seem to find it nearly as amusing as you do. He pushes the helmet in your direction, and you clamber to catch it before it hits the ground, not wanting to incur his wrath by dropping it so soon after he had just saved your life. The metal is heavy in your arms, tusks dangerously close to puncturing your throat.

“Clean it,” he barks. 

You grab your wash rag from the floor and shake it out. You do not have to be told twice.

[Part 2]