#violinist x you

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Looks at you with pelting eyes…. May i request a (preferably nsfw+fem reader) writing for Antonio Paganini(idv)… please im begging im so DOWN BAD FOR ANTONIO IM IN LOVR WITH HIM😭 people need to see thye vision for him hes so FINE but anyhoo… go wild ill take anything….!!! Have a amazing day/night!!!!(o^^o)

Rated Mature | Warning: Antonio's demon knows how to swim

There is a risk to being in love with Antiono Paganini. The story about the devil in the violin is very real, and at times, the devil will make his presence known outside of matches. When in matches, you know the man is not in control; he is only a monster who feeds on misery using his face. Still, you love him, kiss his nose and lips, and adore his music when he plays the violin. In the manor, a place of chaos and questions, you found a chance for love in the abyss. 

Shadows that swallow the light, the devil who comes out as it believes everything Antonio has he must share, especially when you are both the salvation and the vice of the Violinist.

Tonight, the devil is drawn out by you, feeding into the delicious lust for you and your lust for Antonio.

But you are prepared! You figure if that imp is going to co-occupy your beloved then you are going to meet it. It already tried many times to make a move on you during matches.

Antonio understands you are trying to accept all parts of him, and though he can appreciate your bravery, he fears the demon is not as accommodating as he is. The demon only sees flesh and will feast upon you in any way it can.

Here you are alone in the Violinist's room on the hunter's side of the manor, dressed in red. A scarlet dress with a low-cut breast line and the smooth fabric rips where it needs to when those nails become like claws. 

“Mortal.” It addresses you while sharply inhaling your scent as it uses the violinist’s body to hold you within its grasp.

You raise an eyebrow at that word, “Mortal?” Pushing it back so you look at the familiar face but the eyes are not the same, “I have a name, demon. Use it or I'll send you away for a long nap.”

It laughs, the mocking sort of way as if figures you jest, “Mortal, you amuse me.”

“(Name). You say it or else.”

“You have no power over me.”

“Correct! I don’t but I do know two people well aware of how to deal with the tomfoolery of the arcane, so.” 

“And risk hurting your dear maestro?” It leans forward but you shove it backwards.

“Antiono understands and trusts my judgment. That is the only reason why I am entertaining you, demon.” You play with the tie around his neck, “Thus why do you get to touch me tonight.”

“Prideful and arrogant. I knew you would be a feast.” It remains in its place sitting on the chair, “(Name).” A purr that you can feel dance across your skin. “You will permit me to take you.”

“After. I like to warm up Antiono before we start, hellion. We are using his body and he deserves to be treated with the same kindness I always give him.”

There is an eye roll.

“You can do what you like to me after,” Your other hand stops the devil from kissing you, “Within my human limitations. I'd rather not die.”

“Of course, you are far more enjoyable alive.”

“Glad we both agree on that.”

[thewriterwithsnakes]

could you write something for Ekko, literally anything except angst pls

The Ekko of A Violin

I'd love to! This is actually a mix of two asks for Ekko and I got a little carried away, enjoy!

@wallmayo asked for An ekko x female violinist reader who joins the firelights and they fall in love 🙏

I also kinda want to write more parts to this because it isn't super romantic yet, let me know if anyone wants more parts!

Summary: An undercity violinist hears about the firelights and wants to help, how will it pan out once she becomes acquainted with their devastatingly handsome leader?

Warnings: None really

The undercity was your home, no matter how rough it was. You grew up on the streets where people got robbed and maimed daily, it was a wonder you had survived it all.

But, there was one safe haven for you, an attic. When you were younger you discovered it, abandoned for the most part. The druggies downstairs were usually out or too high to even notice your presence so you found yourself coming back to the dusty room many nights, entertaining yourself with the things you discovered inside, forgotten like the room itself. One night you stumbled upon a smooth black case covered in a layer of dust. At first you thought it could be a weapon and you stayed weary of it. But over the next few days your curiosity got the better of you, and you opened it, brushing away the cobwebs and forgotten dreams.

Inside there had been an instrument, the case had kept it preserved and it also contained rosin and a bow. After that all your curious exploration of that attic fell away, outshined by your fascination with the challenge of figuring out this violin. It took you weeks up in that attic to not make your own ears bleed, but eventually, you started to get the hang of it. And once you got going, you couldn't stop. You played any music you could remember hearing, and when you didn't want to play that, you made it up as you went. Most of your teenage years were spent in a similar fashion, slinking through the streets and rooftops of the undercity to get to your refuge. When you played, the undercity melted away as you focused on each note, on the pitches and your techniques.

You figured that was how you survived the undercity without totally losing it like most people did. So when you found out about the firelights, the people who did their best to give a safe haven to people, you had to join. You wanted to help your home and it's people, and this was the perfect opportunity.

Growing up in the undercity made everyone rough around the edges and you were no exception. You'd had your share of struggle and you knew what to expect as a firelight in general. You met up with a firelight who would bring you to their mini oasis in this desert of depravation that Silco created, a desert he branded Zaun.

Upon arrival you saw quite a few people dressed quite similarly in what you presumed to be their armor. You bit your lip in nerves until your eyes laid upon the majestic tree infront of you. Sucking in a breath, you gazed in amazement at the wonderful world they created. It seemed like a whole different universe, so detached and different from the rest of the undercity. The only detail that wasn't was the mural that sprawled put across the base of the tree. It had some familiar and unfamiliar faces on it though you knew none personally. Your heart jumped at the idea of being able to live in a slice of this paradise, you weren't sure it could get any better and you couldn't wait to help.

You met Ekko your first day their, though you didn't know that. You didn't even know his name, which was purposeful on Ekkos part. You knew that name belonged to the firelights leader and he wanted to see how you acted when you didn't know. You had your violin case clutched tightly in your hand along with a small bag you packed, this would be your new home. As you bit your lip and tried suppressing a hopeful smile, a man approached you and your guide. He simply smiled and nodded at the firelight next to you who seemed to get some sort of message and left.

"Are all firelights telekinetic or is that just you?" You shot the man a joking smile in hopes that this environment would be kinder than the undercity. He let out a laugh that took your breath away.

"Not telekinesis, sugar, just mutual understanding" He shook his head in playful disappointment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "Come on, I'll show you to where you will stay,"

"Thanks, this place is certainly going to take some getting used to," You commented as you looked around, still a little starstruck at all of it. He led you to a small room with a simple bed and small dresser in it.

"Here is your luxury bedroom madam" He gave you a playful bow as he spoke in an attempted piltover accent. "Oh here m'lady let me handle your extensive luggage" He grabbed your bag and you couldn't help but snort.

"God that accent is terrible" You laughed and set your violin case down.

"Really?" He asked sarcastically. "I thought it was simply marvelous," The matter of fact attitude combined with the horrendous accent nearly had you doubling over laughing. He caught sight of your violin case and asked if you played. After a short quip back from you about how you just liked to stare at it combined with an eyeroll, you laughed and and said yes. He asked if you would like to play for the firelights occasionally, to help boost moral. You deliberated for a moment, you hadn't really played for other people before, but you had come here to help, right?

"Sure, why not?" You smiled and he was clearly happy to get that answer.

"Alright well I'll see you around," He stepped back and swung your door open to step backwards out onto the balcony that led to the stairs.

"Wait, I didnt catch your name!" You took a quick step towards him.

"I didnt get yours either, sugar," He winked and stepped back off the balcony and you let out a short scream. He appeared in the air on a hoverboard-like contraption with a smug smirk on his handsome face before he sped off into the night. You were left standing on your balcony, speechless, and for the first time in a long time, looking forward instead of backward.

[aventurineswife]

Hello again! I was wondering if you could make a violinist reader, something similar to my previous request.

Being the reader who personally plays for the character and dedicates a song to him, with the characters Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan and Childe. Take your time!

-🩵

Strings of the Soul

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sampo x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Childe x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Violinist!Reader, Light Angst, Soft Moments, Artistic Expression(?), Comfort.

Warnings: Light mentions of Childe's battles and sacrifices, subtle melancholic undertones in some pieces, and slight flirtation, Mimi is alive 🫶🤭.

The grand casino hall was alive with the clatter of roulette wheels and the soft hum of conversation. Aventurine leaned casually against the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd with a playful glint. He was in his element, a world of wagers and whims, where every interaction was a calculated gamble.

But tonight, something—or rather, someone—had piqued his curiosity. On the raised stage, you tuned your violin with an air of quiet confidence. The gold accents of your outfit glimmered under the lights, a reflection of the daring spirit Aventurine admired.

When the first note rang out, sharp and precise, the room stilled. Your melody was a daring dance of highs and lows, a musical representation of Aventurine’s own life—a world of risks and rewards. Each crescendo mirrored the adrenaline of a well-played gamble, while the softer, melancholic tones spoke of the unseen cost of his high-stakes world.

By the time the last note faded, Aventurine was clapping louder than anyone else, his sly smile softened by genuine admiration.

Later, when you approached him, he raised an eyebrow.

“A song for me?” he teased, twirling the peacock feather earring he wore.

“For you,” you confirmed, “a gambler’s serenade.”

“Well, darling,” he said, offering his gloved hand, “you’ve just made the best bet of the night.”

The flickering lanterns of the bazaar cast warm shadows over the bustling stalls. Amid the chaos, Sampo lounged on a pile of crates, one leg crossed lazily over the other. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he observed you setting up your violin in the center of the square.

When you began to play, the usual clamor of the market faded into silence. Your music was light and playful, a lilting tune that mimicked Sampo’s carefree persona. Quick, sharp notes captured the essence of his silver tongue and slippery nature, while the sudden shifts in tempo mirrored his unpredictable schemes.

The crowd clapped along, enchanted by the melody, but Sampo’s gaze was fixed solely on you.

When the performance ended, he weaved through the crowd with his characteristic swagger, clapping his mismatched gloves in mock reverence.

“Well, well,” he drawled, “if it isn’t my new favorite musician. That piece had me written all over it.”

“It was inspired by you,” you admitted, tucking your violin back into its case.

He smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “Careful, my friend. Flattery might just make me stick around longer than you’d like.”

The serene garden of the Xianzhou Luofu was bathed in the soft glow of twilight. Jing Yuan sat beneath a blossoming tree, Mimi, his lion companion, dozing peacefully at his side. His eyes, heavy with centuries of wisdom, flickered toward you as you approached with your violin.

You bowed slightly before taking your place a short distance away. The first notes of your song floated through the air, a gentle, meditative melody that seemed to echo Jing Yuan’s introspective nature. The composition was intricate yet understated, weaving a story of quiet strength and enduring patience.

As the music swelled, a hint of melancholy crept into the melody, a reflection of the memories Jing Yuan carried—the comrades he had lost, the battles fought, and the passage of time. Yet the piece ended on a hopeful note, a reminder of the peace he had worked tirelessly to maintain.

When you finished, Jing Yuan’s usual calm expression softened into a rare smile. “That was beautifully played,” he said, his deep voice tinged with gratitude.

“It was composed for you.” you replied, bowing again.

“A lullaby for a dozing general,” he mused, reclining further against the tree. “You have my thanks. Perhaps you’ll play again sometime?”

The icy wind of Snezhnaya whipped through the open training ground, where Childe stood, his Hydro blades dissipating as he concluded his sparring session. Sweat glistened on his brow, but he greeted you with a wide grin as you approached with your violin case in hand.

“You’re braving the cold to play for me?” he asked, his tone half-teasing but warm.

“Someone needs to balance all that fighting with a little culture,” you replied, setting up your instrument.

The music you played was fierce and dynamic, mirroring the intensity of Childe’s battles. Rapid, fiery strokes of the bow captured the thrill of combat, while the deeper, more mournful tones hinted at the sacrifices he made for his family.

Childe stood motionless, his eyes fixed on you as the music stirred something deep within him.

By the time you reached the climax, a triumphant crescendo that spoke of resilience and hope, a rare stillness had settled over the Harbinger.

“That…” he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, “that was incredible.”

“It’s a song for a warrior,” you said, meeting his gaze.

“For me, huh?” He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “You’ve got a knack for this. Next time, though, maybe play it during one of my fights? I think it’d make a great soundtrack.”

[jackthepeeper]

Content under the cut is strictly 18+

MDNI

English is not my first language, I have very limited experience in writing fanfiction.

Antonio (Violinist) x GN!Reader

CWs: NSFW, readers anatomy is referred to as chest + h*le/entrance/s*x, reader may or may not wear makeup, reader wears tight clothes, reader drinks alcohol and gets intoxicated, reader perceives situation as dangerous, now that I think about it it can possibly be viewed as dubcon although not intended

Word count: 1903

You do this because you love yourself.

Of course that's the case. You doll yourself up before you go to the bar, a good long hour of preparation always includes a fragrant shower that leaves your body soft and well-moisturized, makes you feel like a divine being, a manifestation of raw beauty itself. After your skincare routine you settle in a plush chair in front of the mirror to do your makeup. It might not be much, just a small touch-up to accentuate your natural beauty or hide an aggravated pimple, it might be a lot if you're feeling fancy, a dramatic look feels like a fun bit of masquerading. You might skip this step altogether. You deserve it.

You do this because you hate yourself.

Every time you go there it starts the same and ends the same, too. You buy your own drink first to get in the mood, something you know will knock you out the fastest. It's been a while since you've last chosen your alcohol by taste instead of percentage. The glint of intoxication gives your eyes a catty appearance that few can resist, gives your spine a curve you rarely see in the mirror - an inviting shape, the small of your back begging to be caressed by a knowing palm. You can't afford it sober, with all your responsibilities your body's mental image contorts into a creature most resembling Atlas holding the world on his shoulders. No room for a hug at all.

Soon your figure finds itself in a sardine can of wet breaths, skin rubbing against skin through the skimpy outfits people usually wear to such places. The pheromones work you better than any substance you could ever try. You've been bought enough drinks by now to fit right in with the dancing crowd, your whole being traveling through it like plankton through the thick of the sea, hardly paying any attention to the way the jerky moves of someone against your flesh get replaced by a thoughtful sway of hips, a gentle touch that stops your slow drifting, slender hands gluing the bottom of your stomach to a muscled set of abs. You feel a pulsing vein where his bare skin dips under the rough fabric of his pants, the speeding heartbeat and a dishonest smile pulling tightly on his cheeks sober you up just enough for disgust to settle. You deserve it.

"What is a bella like you doing in a ditch like this?"

The smell of his sweat, tinged with woody cologne that's nearly overshadowed by the stench of smoke and a rich dry rye aroma - you write it off as him having drank a particularly strong unfiltered beer - all get into your head, and he gladly takes your laughter for an answer. With him having already taken your body in his arms you have to ask yourself what else he is planning to take from you. You deserve it, in any case.

The next however-long-he-wants you spend tightly pressed against his chest, barely able to keep up a simple dialogue, let alone count the time between him laying eyes on you and him taking you home. Your arms find his long hair, and something cracks in your fingers as you pass the locks between them, smooth strands turning into what feels like dry grass, and you furrow your eyebrow when you feel a spikelet somehow stuck in there as well. You don't pay much attention, though, as he quickly draws your thoughts elsewhere, asking if you like the music here. You press your cheek against the well-worn decorated leather collar of his coat and admit that you hate it, describing roughly what you actually enjoy. He picks a two-word description for the genre quicker than you're able to recall the name for it, and you're sure that he's just made it up. You laugh, because it's still spot-on.

"I'm a musician, you know. Maybe I could write you something you'd actually like?"

Do you really deserve it?

You still allow him to take you back to his place so he could play you something. The cold night air turns into chills slithering down your spine as you watch him pull his rusty motorcycle off the road to a non-distinct farmland, and his honeyed whisper in your ear promising that he "knows a spot" sounds less like a good prospect and more like finding yourself in 10 separate bags by the dawn. For now, you get comfortable as your back meets a cushy haystack and your vis-a-vis shuffles closer to you, trying to squeeze against and under your body so you're practically in his lap. Did he always have a violin with him?

You watch his adam's apple move in sync with his hearty laughter as he throws his head back, his warm fingers sliding up your thighs, a tender gesture coming to a sharp end as his claws dig into the flesh around the ridges of your ilium. You suppose it's the blinding white pain that illuminates your dark corner of the hayloft when the bow touches the strings, but as you open your eyes after wincing your vision is captured by the way his fiery fingers operate the violin, the whole left side of his face drowning in golden light. In your enchanted state you almost wish to be it - right until the moment his other set of arms digs deeper under the warm safety of your clothes.

Your ears work slower than your eyes, and the sound of him calling you a galore of Italian diminutives gets drowned in the melody he plays, your thoughts follow the notes as the man dives to pin you against the fragrant haystack. "Tesoro" as he presses his foxy smile against your neck, sharp teeth sliding along your vein in a silent threat until he decides to grace your nerve endings with an open-mouthed kiss that starts under your ear and wraps around your jawline towards your throat, where he bites. "Cara mia" as the bow rips the song off the strained strings, and the sound drips down your legs that now hug the musician's waist, licking your shaking body, laying thick in the bottom of your belly and the back of your clouded mind. “Amore” as the fabric of your skin-tight top is peeled off your body, the violinist catching the galloping goosebumps in his warm hands, his hot breath snaking its way down your sternum giving you enough heat to not even shiver against the cold night air. "Dolcezza" as he uses both of his real hands to rip apart your underwear.

Deep in the sensory overload you barely register the “ding” of his belt buckles sliding against each other as his nimble fingers work his jeans open. You are, despite everything, painfully aware of his cock easily reaching all the way up to your navel when he lays himself against your body, clearly showing off. His hips buck expectantly, waiting for your eyes to dart upwards to meet his gaze, see how he licks his lips that stretch in an impossibly wide smile, accentuated by his facial hair. He wants you to maintain eye contact as he positions his tip to slide effortlessly against your hole, lingering there to rub between your legs just to make you shiver, to let you feel the twitch of him against the most delicate parts of you. As a cold breeze licks your stomach, you can feel the trail of pre he left while withdrawing from you, and a pulsing vein wrapped around his shaft, his speeding heartbeat rubbing against your heat further confirms that he's been dreaming of this moment for quite some time. You gasp as he finally pushes in.

He makes sure to go slow enough for you to feel every detail of his shape, down to the texture of his skin as he presses his cock deeper into you. The ridge where his glans ends teases your opening just right, the spread open muscle at the entrance tightening while your body obediently wraps itself around his shaft. He gets impatient quickly, indulging your hole with a slow thrust that pulls him in over the halfway mark before he withdraws just to dive in the next moment, hips bucking faster than he can get a reign of himself. His rhythm is flawless, though, toned hips working perfectly to stuff you with a dick that massages your every spot, pulsing veins meeting nerve endings in engorged walls. His mouth is glued to your chest, teeth digging into soft flesh just to sharpen your senses without quite leaving a mark, wet kisses cut off by desperate gasps and Italian curses as his cock twitches inside of you, thick shaft buried to the hilt in smooth muscle. He counts your ribs with a light touch of slender fingers that would dig into the plush flesh of your thighs the very next moment if you didn't feel one of them slither downward along the curves of your torso, dipping past your navel and traveling further south until he can massage your sex, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the most perfect spot in the most perfect rhythm. You see stars when his hand falls in sync with his thrusts, you turn to mush when the frequency deliberately fluctuates to create a symphony on the strings of your nerve endings. A drop of sweat peels off his chest to fall onto yours, and you can swear it evaporated on contact. There's a tight knot where your bodies connect.

“Sing for me, bella.”

You feel too many hands snaking around your body, your blood freezes when smooth bone wraps around your wrists, a moment of hesitation more than enough to pin you down. You're in no place to fight, though, as the musician quickly maneuvers your lower half, palms hooked under your knees until they're pressed into soft hay just next to your shoulders. He thrusts triumphantly, hissing when he sinks impossibly deeper, just half a centimeter enough to knock a pathetic whimper out of your lungs. He bites his lip while he bullies your hole, a heated whisper of inaudible Italian words crawling inside of your mind as the violinist presses his lips against your ear is enough to nearly push you over the peak, a deliberate thrust that drags a thick vein against your soft spot finishing the job. Your body sucks him in as it raptures, a slew of noises from your swollen lips is music to his ears as his cock twitches hard before spilling, pressing thick cum against the muscle he was fucking into just now. There's enough seed for a drop of it to escape your body while his hips are still practically glued to your ass, more so as he withdraws just enough for you to relax, sore joints creaking almost audibly. He doesn't pull out, though, even as he settles against your chest, long brown hair falling onto your torso to cover the glisten of sweat on your skin. Even in the dark of night you can see his eyes, half-lidded and full of admiration as he nuzzles against you, love seeping from every pore of his body.

“Don't know what you were doing there at the bar, bella, but you deserve so much better. Stay away from hell-holes like that, promise? Do it because I love you.”

[turbulentscrawl]

Since you asked for some angsty stuff...Hunters of your choice (can Fool's Gold and/or Ithaqua please be included if you have inspo for them🙏) accidentally fatally injuring their SOs during a match? Maybe they're sad/guilty and they expect their SOs to be fine after the match but then it turns out this death was permadeath/their SO is gone for good?

You…you wanna make those two guys MORE unstable? I like you ewe

Warnings: angst, very intense emotions, extreme violence, character death

Fool’s Gold

The relationship between Norton and Him was as odd as it was volatile, but they shared some deeper-than-understanding connection to one another. Which was why he’d been chosen to break the news to his alternate self, against all his protests. It wasn’t fair. Norton and Fool’s Gold were, at their cores, the same person with all the same desires. The same loves. Norton was hardly given a second to process your death himself and now he had to put himself in front of the broken mirror who’d done it.

‘Fool’s Gold’ stood in that crooked, stiff way of his while staring down Norton with a goading smile. It was just them in the garden—in the spot everyone knew the two of you would meet on full moons.

“Get lost,” Fool’s Gold croaks out. “You know this isn’t your place.”

“Yeah, well, it will have to be for right now,” Norton spits back, crossing his arms tight. It’s a poor comfort, a poor self-restraint. “I’ve got something to say to you.”

“Important enough to interrupt my date night,” He cackles. He rolls his neck, body rumbling and cracking as the coals of his torso shift. “Get on with it, then. Then get out of my wa—”

“They’re dead,” Norton says quickly. There’s no sense in delaying things. No amount of sugar coating will help calm the wrath Norton knows the amalgamation of all his worst parts is capable of conjuring. Fool’s Gold tilts his head a fraction. His grin wavers. “For good. We don’t know how or why. But that last match with you this week, when you…. You killed them for good.” Norton doesn’t try to hide the venom in his voice, but at least spares his counterpart a recounting of the gory details. Of how you suffered, burnt and broken.

“The fuck they are,” Fool’s Gold growls. “You think I’ve got rocks in my head, too? There’s no such thing as death here. Where are they? They’re mad about that hit, huh? I told them not to body block for that--”

“They’re dead!” Norton shouts. “You fucking killed them! They’re gone—for real, forever! The sooner you accept that, the sooner I can fuck off and go back to ignoring your worthless existence!”

Norton was suddenly dangling in the air by a crushing grip on his throat, having been drawn into Fool’s Gold’s rocky hand by the very polarity that had saved his life so many times before. But they shared that, too, and now he was stuck with that dead, enraged eye staring into his.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” Fool’s Gold roars, coughing and spitting all the way. Norton is wheezing too, both of them to quiver and suffocate with hurt carefully concealed under the blame and hatred for one another. “If anything…if anything, you’re hiding them. Think you’re so much better than me that you can steal the one good thing I got? I’ll crush you. I’ll CRUSH you. I’ll bring down that whole worthless fucking manor right to the ground and dig them out myself if I have to—WHERE ARE THEY!”

“It’s…your fault,” Norton chokes out with his last breaths, looking into his own murky eyes. “If you’d…n-never…existed—"

Fool’s Gold slams Norton’s body into the cobblestone like a ragdoll, rumbling the gardens and covering the grass with moonlit blood.

Ithaqua

He was not a man known for his patience—especially when it came to you. Ithaqua had been unbearable to all the other Hunters since your match with him, first enraged, then worried sick, it was completely pitiful. Somewhere between a kicked puppy and a snarling badger. Now, it was the survivor manor’s turn to be subjected to him.

Ithaqua paced in front of the Survivor manor, twitchy and impatient. Anyone who stepped foot outside was whipped into his clutches by a gust of wind and interrogated. He didn’t understand why they all had to make this so difficult. All he wanted was his lover. His other half. Why were these pitiful dolls denying him that?

“Bring them out here,” he’d growled at the squeaky little dancer. She got off the easiest, and that could have been the end of things, if she’d listened.

“Where are they?” he’d asked the psychologist, crushing her throat in a clawed hand while her pet beat at his stomach desperately. He’d let them go, too, because they reminded him of you and him in some pathetic way.

The third wasn’t so lucky. The batter had the nerve to claim you were dead. He was no fool, he knew that didn’t happen. He knew you were inside that stupid building, probably locked away by the rest of these survivor maggots out of some twisted sense of ‘protectiveness.’ Who did they think they were, to keep you two apart?

“You killed them,” the batter spat up at Ithaqua, who loomed over his crumpled body. “You beat them to death…like you’re doing to me now!” Ithaqua laughed maniacally. He’d hit you, sure, but only because you threw yourself in the way of the little blind girl. He’d told you before not to do that. That he didn’t want to hit you, that he couldn’t stop a swing in motion! But you did it anyway and took a detention-ed crack over the head. “They’re dead for good! They didn’t heal, they didn’t regenerate! We had to bury a corpse for the first time ever!!”

That gave Ithaqua some pause. Irrationally, impossibly…he didn’t hear lies in the bleeding man’s words. Something inside Ithaqua snapped with the realization, the thought that you might well and truly be gone. Without word or smile, he raised his axe and brought it down on this survivor’s head. He splattered open like a pinched grape.

It made no sense for true death to happen now of all times. To you of all people. If it were real, though, then there was a reason. Something was waiting beyond this cage. You were waiting, alone.

And Ithaqua would send everyone to meet you there, himself included.

Antonio

Antonio had brought flowers for you, but it was Alva and Michiko waiting for him at your tea party spot in the gardens. They were his friends, but their expressions did not bode well for this visit.

“What’s happened?” he asks, without preamble. “Have they refused to see me?” In your previous match, one in which he was the Hunter, he had killed you. Quite brutally, in fact, though everyone knew by now that whatever happened in matches was not by his choice. It was the reason he’d gathered a bouquet for your meeting today. He wanted to beg forgiveness.

“I’m afraid it’s something else, friend,” Alva says. “Would you sit with us?” he gestures to a seat at the garden table. It’s your chair, the one with a little bow tied to the armrest.

“If it’s all the same, I think I’d rather stand. But if this is not in regards to my love, what is it?” He couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach, despite the small reassurance that you weren’t ignoring him.

“I received some concerning news in my last match,” Michiko spoke. She finally met Antonio’s gaze, and he realized, finally, how exhausted she looked. Like she hadn’t slept in days. “It seems there’s been a change to the rules of the manor. Or perhaps…an exception.”

“Lady Michiko has been punished for nonparticipation,” Alva took over, having noticed Antonio’s focus. “She’s been plagued by night terrors for throwing her most recent match.”

“Why would you do such a thing? What change of rules could have compelled you to take such torture?” Antonio wonders aloud. He creeps closer to his friends, setting your flowers at your seat.

“The survivors were terrified they’d be dead for good if I killed them. They had…proof. I would not be the one to test the theory,” Michiko said. Antonio opened his mouth to question again, but Michiko’s stare cut him off. She gazed deep into his soul, or where it would be if he had one, and he understood. His throat suddenly felt as if there was a stone lodged in it. He fought against his stitched smile with all his might.

“They…?”

“They are gone, Antonio,” Alva said. “I am truly sorry.”

Antonio felt his thins legs quivering beneath him, and suddenly he was in your chair, having fallen into the seat Michiko slid underneath him. He touched the armrests, wishing your hands were there to hold instead. Alva placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a handkerchief with the other.

“You should get away from me,” Antonio told them. He felt his body slipping with his sanity. A dark hole was underfoot, opening to swallow his entire, grief-broken being. He didn’t think he could ever recover from this. His everything was gone, his life, his love, and now the light itself was being swallowed by a devil’s shadow. He knew Michiko was over his shoulder, ready with her knife.

“Let us worry about that, friend,” Alva said. “We’ll be here for you, one way or another.”

Maybe, Antonio thought, he’d get lucky in the coming struggle and be killed for good himself.

[deathnguts]

@marzst4rz GOD YOU CANT JUST KEEP HIDING THESE IN MY REPLIES OH MY GPD

‘The leash is short and he grips it tightly’ YES YES YES REGULUS IS THE ONE HOLDING THE STRINGS HERE ITS SO VITAL TO THEIR DYNAMIC THAT REGULUS HAS MORE CONTROL THAN RABASTAN DOES. RABASTAN CHALKS IT UP TO LOVE BUT REGULUS KNOWS IT IS PARASITIC. HE UNDERSTANDS THAT HE IS PUPPETEERING RABASTAN LIKE A HOST TO FEED HIMSELF AND HE IS PURPOSEFUL IN HIS MANIPULATION TO KEEP IT THAT WAY AND ITS SO FUCKED UP BECAUSE IT KINDA PROVES RABASTAN RIGHT THAT REGULUS IS WISE BEYOND HIS YEARS BECAUSE ITS SO CLEAR THAT IN MANY WAYS REGULUS IS MORE MATURE THAN RABASTAN. RABASTAN DOES NOT GET OFF FROM REGULUS BEING SOME INNOCENT DOLL THAT LOOKS TO HIM FOR GUIDANCE. REGULUS IS NOT THAT LITTLE KID ANYMORE AND IF ANYTHING ITS THE FLICKERS OF THAT KID THAT TERRIFY RABASTAN TO HIS CORE. WHEN THEY FIGHT AND REGULUS SHOWS THAT SLIP OF HIS HOLD ON THE LEASH, THAT DESPERATE LOOK IN HIS EYES AGAIN, RABASTAN SEES HIS LAMB HE USED TO CRADLE AND HE HAS TO RUN. ITS SO MUCH EASIER TO REMAIN RUNNING FROM DISILLUSION WHEN HE CAN PRETEND HE DOESNT KNOW HE BUTCHERED THAT LAMB TO MAKE A BETTER VISION TO WORSHIP. ITS SO EASY TO FORGET ANY REGRET WHEN THE BLEEDING HOOVES CRADLE HIS FACE LIKE NONE OTHER. THE BLOOD HE SPILLS IS WINE AND RABASTAN WILL REMAIN DRUNK AND DAZED LEST HE BE FORCED TO LOOK AT WHAT HE CREATED WITH CLARITY, LEST HE BE FORCED TO RUN FROM IT. RABASTAN IS BOTH THE TORTURED BEHOLDER AND FESTERING GOD THAT MOLDS PERFECTION WITH CLAY AND LEAVES IT TO ROT WITHIN THE WALLS OF HIS GARDEN. REGULUS KNOWS WHAT PARTS OF THIS PLAY MUST BE DONE AND REDONE TO KEEP HIS GODS TOUCH ON HIS FLESH, HIS FINGERS IN THE SLIVERS BETWEEN HIS RIBS. LEST THE LIGHT LEAVE, LEST HE BE FORCED TO WATCH ANOTHER OF HIS CREATORS FLEE FROM HIM AGAIN. BETWEEN THE HORROR AND THE LOVE THEY KNOW THEY WILL NEVER BE FREE AND THAT IS BOTH AN ENDLESS COMFORT AND A LIFE SENTENCE.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Who wants a spicy '68 Special era fic this week?? 🌶🌶🌶

Hiiiii, my babies! I hope everyone is making it through the week okay and staying well! 💗 My "Professional Violinist Reader meets '68 Special Era Elvis during rehearsals" request/prompt I've been working on for a loooong time will be up for early access on my Patreon tomorrow, if you are so inclined and need it a little earlier for reasons. 🥵 I know it's been a minute since I've given you something really smutty, and lawdy, it's comin'--in more ways than one! 😏

(It'll be up here on the weekend! 💕)

Here's some era inspo to get you warmed up... 💋🔥

[oletus-manors-log]

OBSERVER'S NOTE:

“ Considering the matters of requests and my interests going a bit nowhere, I decided to indulge myself for a little and write something of note. May this be interesting enough for those that see it, and if anyone is going through a tough time... I hope this fic would bring you comfort like it did to me. ”

Melodies of Resonance

The match was peaceful when the Violinist wanted to take things easy, mostly when he's up against a team that he himself didn't feel like bothering with, or if he knew one of the survivors that they're going through a rough time. Perhaps it was instinct for him, considering he's always tried to consider the needs of others in case they feel the same as he does.

Albeit the devil that controlled him disagreed with his choices, he cannot lie when he saw the joy of others. Antonio, even back then, always saw how it feels to witness the many smiles of his performance. It was one thing he's said that he enjoyed seeing— for if he sees a smile from the people he's performing, he was satisfied with it.

Be it a child, an adult, or even just an elder— Antonio always enjoyed seeing the people he's performing to become happier. He may be possessed and used as a tool by the devil, but who was he to judge?

And so, just like any other, he decided to spare the survivors in the match. It was Leo's Memory, and he had just the right song befitting of the occasion. Perhaps it would be a treat for them after weeks of matches and losses?

Convincing the survivors that he wouldn't hurt them wasn't that difficult. For many, Antonio is well known to be the few that act more friendlier than others in matches— often disregarding his win rate to hang out with survivors and play music. He may have a demon that controlled him, but said demon became more pliant after a deal or two; that they knew best.

And considering one of the survivors on the team aren't doing so well, it made it easier to realize that he was just taking it easy and sparing them if only they'd listen to him perform.

Going to the Christmas tree near the shack exit gate, the survivors were all sitting by to watch him perform. Tuning the last string of his violin, he began to play a song that they have forgotten for years ago—

—if they haven't heard him perform it first.

The song was melodic but fit the theme, and they swayed their bodies to it. Some even hummed alongside him, making him smile as he continued to perform.

Then, he heard it— the fine tuning of metal, joining the soft notes of the violin.

Frederick seem to have picked up on the song and continued on with him, each ringing of metal supporting the melody and making it sound more and more alive. Antonio hated going against him for he runs quickly with his tuning fork, but in matches like these, he enjoyed listening to him.

More and more survivors began to join in their own way— some with clapping, others with vocalization. Antonio didn't ask them to perform alongside him, but he felt happiness in his body to see them enjoy the song and think it is better to join along.

Leo's Memory is a lonely map, one filled with bitter nights of cold and other filled with dread to those that see it. Save from the eerie chime of the Christmas music, no one knows why it was made.

But as survivors came along to listen and play, to sing and dance, to listen to various hunters like him perform— Antonio felt that, perhaps, the map felt a little warmer.

Nothing beats the cold than a little warmth, after all. And he's sure to have found it since that day, where he saw the only survivor not joining— the one he wished to brighten up their day—

—smile at the others and him, one that is full of warmth that made him think it was all worth it.

© ᴏʟᴇᴛᴜs-ᴍᴀɴᴏʀs-ʟᴏɢ | 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹 ✧ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀʀᴇ | ᴀʀᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ ʀɪɢʜᴛғᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀs

[savagewildnerness]

“And I lifted the violin to my shoulder, braced it under my chin, and lifted the bow. I closed my eyes and I remembered music, Nicki's music, the way that his body had moved with it and his fingers came down with the pressure of hammers and he let the message travel to his fingers from his soul.”

(I don’t like doing improvisations that specifically mention Nicolas’ music as it makes me feel even more of a failure/inept human than I always do. But oh well… here goes… 🥶😭💀!

The other thing is, the way I improvise is I try (at best. Often, I fail at that too!) to think about the *feeling* & not at all about music. So when it mentions Nicolas’ actual playing I’m like AAAHHH! Well, at least, this is Lestat playing. Please excuse also my wet hair. But also, it doesn’t overly describe any feeling, so…. FAIL AGAIN!

[am-i-interrupting]

Singing Soulmate

Caitlyn dates a singer, here’s how it goes. | Requested by @alaiawtf

She’d be the first person who listened to your songs.

She’d compliment your voice all the time.

Corny and overused it may be but she does call you her “song bird.”

If you play an instrument, she won’t know how to play it but does learn what you need for its upkeep.

Instrument playing does have the potential to cause callouses though and she will rub her thumb over them when she holds your hand.

Gets you the best remedies and treatments if your callouses start to hurt. She keeps moisturizer on her at all times just in case.

If the guitar or a similar instrument is your instrument of choice, she will steal your picks and chew on them.

It’s better than chewing her nails and she buys you new ones all the time.

Will never interrupt your singing and playing.

When it’s done though? All bets are off. She’s smothering you in kisses and love, especially if you sing her a love song.

She kisses your lips, your neck, your hands. All the places that help you with your craft.

Always makes sure you have water nearby when you’re practicing.

Will but in with a “You sound lovely but don’t forget to drink some water. You’re starting to sound a little hoarse. I don’t need my song bird’s voice to go out.”

Makes you tea after performances if you do them publicly.

If you do public performances she’s always there.

If you don’t, she’ll listen to your private performances all the time.

She’ll try to convince you to record an album, even if it’s just for her so she can listen to you whenever she wants to.

Is your absolute biggest fan, no matter who her competition is.

Will fight anyone who says that your venture into the artistic side of jobs is going to be fruitless.

She has fought her parents. Even her mother has learned not to say anything about your choice in career in front of her or you or anyone who will report back to Caitlyn.

Has held your instrument a few times, her technique is always horrendous no matter how many times you correct it.

It’s part of her charm now. You have to accept it even though it hurts.

She loves taking showers with you because of obvious reasons but also because sometimes she can convince you to sing in them and showers always have the best acoustics.

Falls asleep fastest when you hum or sing to her.

She finds your voice oh, so calming and often places her head on your chest or near your neck to feel the vibrations of your voice.

[sharkfish]

good ghost bill // "it will be loud"

[allurilove]

Yan!Prodigy x Rival you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: enemies to lovers?— not really he falls in love pretty quick, first time kissing, stalking, admitting his feelings, he gets excited by the tiniest sight of skin, he’s delusional, gender neutral reader.

*I played violin for a couple of years, but my knowledge is a bit dusty and it’s been awhile 😬 And sorry for not posting! I’ve been busy with studying for the SAT! He is referred to as “your enemy” and this is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: He’s been on the top of his game for years. He’s known as the most talented violinist, and his ability to play has brought people to tears. All until you came along and threatened his legacy.

He was upset and furious that a nobody like you could win the spot of the first chair. You were now the center of attention, and not him. He wanted to break you down.

But… why did he find himself yearning for you?

He’s been practicing for years. He spent his whole life dedicating to the art of music. His fingers have been numb before, his wrist hurt, and he’s been staring at music sheets for so long— that everything looked like notes to him.

He’s been the first chair. He climbed his way to the top, he earned his reputation, and everyone admires him.

So, a little and measly talent like you shouldn’t have been in his spot. He had to audition for that seat—just like everyone else— but he knew that the directors loved him the moment he stepped on the stage.

He created masterpiece after masterpiece, and he’s a well sought out man.

He heard murmurs and whispers as he sat down behind you. He could feel everyone look at you with fascination, and admiration. He scowled and his grip on the neck of the violin was tight. He imagined ripping you out of the chair, or shoving his bow down your throat.

He had a steely gaze as you turned around to look at the person who had been glaring daggers at you. You smile at him, feeling a bit bad that you’re a newbie who took his usual position.

Why was his heart beating?

“Dont look at me.” The man scowled at you. His face slowly turning pink, and he looked away as you turned to face him again.

For the first time ever, he was distracted. As the show began he could hear his mistakes. He felt his hand shake, and he accidentally pressed down too hard on the string- causing an eerie squeaking noise. He looked up to see what you were doing and you are confident, each note of yours is perfect, and you were clearly the better choice. His eyes slowly widened as he became hypnotized by the way you moved, and the way your hand was so nimble.

“…fuck.” He was falling in love. That has never happened to him before. His body is filled with warmth, his heart fluttered, and he felt like he could float on the wave of happiness. For the first time ever— he felt alive.

The person next to him gently kicked at his chair, and he snapped out of it. He looked back at the sheet, and he realized he lost his place. His eyes and ears frantically tried to figure out where they were.

The show was a nightmare. He got chewed out for the very first time, and he hung his head low. He made multiple mistakes, made a mockery of the whole orchestra, and organization. He apologized to everyone, and he seethed at how people thought he was slipping.

You were the only one to approach him. Your enemy threw his jacket on, ready to leave, but he paused when he saw you.

“Hey… I’m sorry-“

He raised a hand to stop you. “It’s not your fault.” He said curtly, and he grabbed his instrument case. He brushed past you, and quickly made it out of the building. He had to stop and take a breather- leaning on the wall as he felt red cheeks. He always felt a rush of adrenaline and excitement when you came close to him.

That’s when the stalking began. I mean it was a total accident, and he didn’t mean to find your apartment… he just happened to know it was yours, because of the way the melodic sound came from the window. He was across the street, and he was able to see you sway, and play with such emotion. He stood there for what felt like years, and he started to film you.

He would rewatch them at night in his bed. A huge smile on his face as he was able to relive that moment. Before he knew it… he kissed the screen.

He came to practice early in the morning. Your enemy had to keep up a cool facade, and he ignored your little “hello” to him. He sat in his chair, feeling a bit bitter, but he knew it was well deserved. You’re a good violin player, and he was coming to terms with it. He sighed as he brought his instrument out of the case, he took out his tuner, and he started to tune his instrument. He fiddled with the fine tuners, and eventually adjusting the pegs when that didn’t work.

The whole entire time… he glanced at you. His heart swelled up as he saw you take off your jacket, and he gulped as he saw your shoulders.

Ohhh god.

He slightly groaned as his pants felt tighter.

He heard the peg creak, his fingers mindlessly kept turning and turning. He gasped as the string he was trying to tune snapped, he felt it hit his cheek, and out of surprise he dropped his violin.

He was so embarrassed as you helped him get an ice pack. You two were in the tiny hallway, an ice pack in your hand. Instead of handing it to him, you placed it on his cheek for him. You made him feel better, told a little joke about what happened and he let out a chuckle.

He saw you smile and step closer to him. Was this seriously happening? He immediately kissed you back as you pressed against him, one arm around your waist and the other on the back of your head. You tasted wonderful.

He started to moan out your name, your hand now down his pants, and he arched his back. His hands then gripped at the brick wall, his hips jerked with the movement, and he felt his orgasm coming pretty close.

He felt you pull down his pants and boxers, and you got down onto your knees, and your tongue stuck out to lick his length.

“God, I love you—“ He pants, his stomach tightening as his arousal grew.

“Hello?”

Hello?

His eyes came back to focus on your hand waving in his face. He gulped as he took a step back. You were confused as to what happened, you tried to speak to him, but it looked like he was lost in his thoughts. His face was flushed and he was murmuring incoherent things.

The man quickly snatched the ice pack and he panicked— his dick twitching— and he ran away from you.

Allure: It’s a pretty short fic, unedited, and i wrote this on my break 😭 yandere x zombie part three should be coming soon.

[suiana]

(yandere! rich guy x gn violinist! reader) (based on this yt comment i found)

you are a violinist, a very good one in fact. and you have been employed by a rich guy to play violin for him. honestly, you thought it would be a one time thing, for some rich person event. but who knew you'd still be working for him even after 3 months of the original employment.

all you do is follow him around all the time, holding your violin and bow as he talks about his life, mourning in sadness.

seriously, if it weren't for the fact that he paid you generously, you'd have up and left. it was humiliating! being reduced to a... pet?! a walking violin?! you could be in an orchestra but no! you were being held against your will (you're not, you just want money and he pays super well).

this guy barely even gets you to play the violin! all he does is talk and talk... like a broken record! it's fucking annoying! and when he does get you to play the violin it's some freakishly hard piece that you don't practice often!

and right now you were playing that freakishly hard piece.

"faster y/n, follow my beat."

he mumbles as he eats his broccoli, smirking at you as he waves his hands around.

"c'mon, I don't pay you 1000 an hour for you to mess up~"

he teases as his tempo increases. seriously what is his problem?! this piece was already fast enough as it is and he wanted to speed it up?! fucking weirdo.

you grit your teeth, trying to focus on the money you'd be making as he finally stops conducting. you let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding as he beckons for you to walk over to his side.

which you do of course. he's your employer.

"good job~ man you're so talented, wish i could keep you by my side forever."

he sighs before shoving a stack of money into your hands that were still shaking from playing the piece. see, this is the reason why you couldn't leave. he's just too damn rich.

but maybe his next words are enough to convince you to leave for good?

"yeah, maybe I'll make you stay for good."

he hums before looking over at you.

"don't worry, i'll be sure to give you lots of money."

he grins at you as your brain computes his words.

ah.

well.

at least you're getting money.

and you'd do anything for money, won't you?

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hello!! im not sure if you're still doing requests for miguel, but i'd love to read a miguel x reader where they both find out they enjoy daddy kink and miguel just absolutely spoils them rotten 🥰 can be smutty and fluffy, like a headcanon style thing!! thank you so much <3

hii!! I don’t personally like daddy kink, but I did this in a way that’s similar just bc you asked so nicely (it might even actually be what you wanted lmao, but im not sure) thanks for requesting, hope you like it 💌

MIGUEL BEING A PROVIDER ;) HC’S

miguel o’hara x female reader

warnings. 18+ only! dacryphilia, size kink, tiny mention of sir. mdni

// fluff and smut are split in half (fluff first)

fluff hc's:

— one thing about miguel is he's a provider, always taking care of the special people in his life. he's the kind that loves to give (i say that loosely), especially to those he loves 

— he loves to treat his little love: giving them lavish gifts, spoiling them - getting them things they could never afford. nothing has a price tag for his girl

— I imagine him frequently surprising you with dinner and flowers. dressed all smart, fancy car pulled out front, waiting to spoil you for the evening: wines, cheeses, 3-course meal, a violinist playing in the restaurant (which he booked out for the evening btw) all the extravagant things he often does for you, and only you !!

— you never have to lift a finger, never have to work, never have to clean, never have to cook your own meals (unless of course, you wanted to) he believes it's his job to take care of you, and all he wants in return is for you to love him, and give an occasional back rub

smut hc's:

— again, he thinks it's his job to take care of you - to meet your needs, but that doesn't mean he's opposed to an impromptu blowie when he's in the home office/ lab

— don't think he likes being called 'daddy,' so 'sir' would be a good substitute. he likes it when you say it on accident, all breathy and whiney between strokes

— he loves how small you are compared to him. the sheer size of him towering over you, so I def think he loves a bit of missionary or mating press - he's just so massive, and he gets to cage you against the mattress which he loves !! he gets to watch your face as he slowly fucks into you. he gets a bit cocky (??) and says all these things that make you really fucking weak in the knees, "whose fucking you this good?" "like it when I fuck you like this?" "no one does you this good, do they?" but it's all low and quiet, breathy and husky. THE king of, "oh, yeah?" and "mhm-hm,"

— when he's on top - he holds your face in his MAMOTHLY LARGE hands !!! rests his forehead against yours !!! softly grunts against your lips !!! kisses away your tears !!! compliments and praises you for taking him so well !!! sandwhiches his chest with yours so you can't move !!! hikes your legs over his hips/ thighs !!! he's slow with the strokes, letting you feel every SINGLE centimetre. he surprises you with a snappy jab occasionally just to feel you shudder and to hear the harsh moan you make - and when you bury your face the crook of his neck and dig into his back and and and 

— THOUGH he does like you on top sometimes. watching you struggle to use his huge cock, whining pathetically when you can't get it to feel good. he'd cave and grab onto your waist, gripping you so he can fuck himself up into you. pounding you from below - balls slapping, skin sticking, the lot. makes you cry with his cock, and he loves it

— also you have to cum at least once before he even gets his dick out, sorry it's his rules 

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[deathnguts]

Spare some rabastan lestrange for the needy pls🤲 (i’m the needy and i’d like to know what you think about his dynamic with his brothers)

Sigh, fine I’ll guess I’ll spare some pennies. Thank you for the ask! This is kinda scatter brained and kinda focused on Rodolphus to like parallel/paint how the brothers are together with they are separate and yeah I dunno I threw up

So usually I internalize whatever @florsial (formal apology to you pookie, Im about to act out of line 🫶) says about Rabastan because we tend to agree on things surrounding him but I think we definitely view Rodolphus differently. Which is fine, he barely exists as a character and I think it’s just representative of how we fundamentally view sibling relationships differently. Like I don’t know what it is with me, but I feel the need ti make every sibling relationship I write for either fanfiction or my own work complicated as hell.

So Rodolphus Lestrange. I think he’s a lot like Orion Black. Like he probably even looked up to him kind of when he grew up, (which is kinda funny because Rodolphus probably isn’t much younger than him if at all considering my headcanon that both walburga and Orion were young when they had both their children to kind of get it out of the way) and you can see that in like a lot of how he just is. Hes ‘stoic’ but actually just doesn’t feel a lot of emotions and doesn’t pretend he does, he’s probably like a hair away from being an alcoholic but he doesn’t drink because he knows that (unlike Orion who is very much an alcoholic), hes antisocial and physically annoyed around people because he doesn’t understand why they are as ‘efficient’ as he is and looks down on all of them.

He’s very work oriented, so much so that he doesn’t really have a life outside of it at all. He’s always been the twin the family knew to count on and he always liked having the title so he never had a rebellious stage or any real anger towards his expectations beyond being tired at the end of a particularly grueling work day. I think the only work hes expected to do that he actively doesn’t work towards doing is producing heirs. He doesn’t like kids, he thinks they’re loud and messy and they get in the way of a schedule. It’s like the only thing him and Bellatrix agree on since she also wants nothing to do with kids. (Also quick note on their marriage, I think they pretty much ignore each other and that’s their idea of what they’ll be like forever. When in public together they put on the ‘better than you’ couple mask but in every other scenario they live completely separate lives and actively avoid each other or they’ll find something to fight about.) like the general vibe I could sum him up with is, yes he’s Rabastan’s twin, but everyone who’s ever talked with him assumes he’s like a decade older and just aged well.

So to contrast that with Rabastan, who was never really expected to be anything and never proved anyone wrong, he’s the sort of kid his mother defends no matter what but he father actively tries to forget about. The exact sort Rodolphus looks down on. He can’t help it’s his brother, he’s still below him. And that would be easier to accept if Rabastan stopped proving it over and over. He had to act out in school, he had to move where mother couldn’t find at seventeen, he had to preach to the family that they were ‘immoral’ or whatever, and then he had to preach it to a child, and then he had to marry the child. Like, Rodolphus isn’t a good man by many means, but his lack of feeling or empathy towards people gives him a more head on view of them. And his head on view of his brother is that he’s useless, dramatic, and so desperate to be anything he’ll lie to a little girl to get her to view him that way. And not to say Rodolphus is any better since he witnessed first hand what his brother was doing, he literally walked in on the two hiding away to make out in a corner when regulus was still fifteen and his brother was the same age as himself and just turned back around and never mentioned it to anyone. A truly good person probably would’ve done something. Good thing that’s not what he’s trying to be.

(Also unrelated but I wanna circle back to a point @florsial has that I love about how Rabastan and Regulus are a couple who tries to nuclear and domestic but fails, I feel like that’s a joke on its own especially in this context. The idea that Rodolphus is the nuclear working man so Rabastan must parallel him by being a family man, he just isn’t. Yes he’s closer with his wife than his brother is, and yes that could be something he has over Rodolphus but pretty much no one in their family is proud of Rabastan for his teenage wife and it’s not like their perfect or anything.)

Rodolphus has probably told Rabastan he thinks this only once since he’s usually content to be quiet about it. He probably broke and yelled about how Rabastan will never be anything ro even get his shit together and it won’t matter because no one has hope he will and it hurts because Rodolphus was never given that leeway and it must be fucking nice to have. Rabastan probably doubles back with how much it must be nice for anyone to give a shit about you, to not only exoect things from you but love you even more when you deliver. They probably kept fighting until Rodolphus, as always, gets tired and shuts it down and goes home.

Because even a man who feels nothing has breaking points, especially when Rabastan keeps fucking pushing for one. And that was their relationship a lot of their life, I think. Rabastan desperately wanting to be seen and Rodolphus who is willingly blind. When they were younger that was ok, little kids before hogwarts just played together until father came to take Rodolphus away, growing boys at hogwarts who slowly drift apart when one doubles down on academics and the other found there’s more to do (and not for lack of desperate trying on the seconds behalf.) and then they’re grown up and neither can place what really happened. They’re sure they used to love each other, at least they think so. And they don’t know what happened, because something must have happened. Right?

Yeah I dunno it’s hard to continuously explain but I think what’s tragic about them is that it’s needless. Rabastan could try ti be better and it would not only help his relationships but himself, Rodolphus could try ti be more and he same would happen to him. If either brother were better at being human then they would be better at loving each other. But they’re not, so they can’t.

[poistura]

HE WAS A PUNK, SHE DID BALLET

pairings. nonidol!hyungline x fem!reader in which. reader’s perfect and calm life has been completely turned upside down since she met her boyfriend wc. 1.5K warnings. enha are basically troublemakers lol, climbing a window in hee’s one, jake’s one is HEAVILY inspired by a gilmore girls episode, mentions of fights and bruises, not proofread genre. fluff ( link to masterlist )

author’s note wrote this while listening to sk8er boy by avril lavigne and i love her that’s it, jay’s one is a bit short i’m sorry 💔 also!! maknae line’s one is coming soon 🫧

𝐋. heeseung

you were seated at your desk in your room, so engrossed on studying your books, that the sound of tapping on the window almost made you flinch.

turning around to the place the sound came from, you see him. he smirks slyly, causing you to sigh and get up, opening the window “you know, you could’ve used the front door”, heeseung climbs in “i figured your parents wouldn’t be really pleased to see me” he says as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“plus, this is way more charming than using the front door, is it?” that sentence made you chuckle “oh sure, prince charming. i really want to watch you climb down from my window now”. heeseung gulps “well, i’ll worry about it after i get to cuddle you, angel” he says with a smile before attacking your face with soft pecks, making you giggle.

it was really true that heeseung was soft and caring on the inside, but you seemed to make him melt way more often than he was used to, not like he was complaining about it anyways.

“what are you studying?” “biology” heeseung scoffs “you really have to spend your night studying something as dull as biology?” you roll your eyes playfully “at least i do study, i suggest you to try it, that would be good for you” he just simply shrugs playfully and pinches your waist, making you let out a soft giggle.

despite claiming that studying is the most monotonous thing you could ever do on a thursday night, heeseung finds himself sitting with you, listening to you revise the subject, but both of you know he’s not even paying attention to anything you’re saying, he doesn’t care at all. what he’s paying attention to, is the way your eyes look up while thinking of a term, the way your hands move to emphasize your speech and the soft hums you let out while thinking of the material you studied earlier.

actually, maybe heeseung was wrong, maybe this was the best way he could spend his thursday night.

𝐏. jongseong

you watched as your boyfriend played you his self-written songs on his guitar, feeling happy to be in his presence and to be the only girl who could have the pleasure to listen to those sweet songs he wrote for you. “what do you think?”, you smile softly “it’s really great; i love it”.

the faint blush on your boyfriend’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you. “hey, can i try too?” you ask him and he looks at you surprised “the great violinist wants to play something as edgy as the electric guitar?” you roll your eyes playfully “worried i’ll be better than you?”.

jay grins and pats the empty space between his legs, handing you the guitar and guiding you through the notes “put your finger here, here and here” he says as he gently moves your fingers on the strings. your heartbeat started to quicken as he was impossibly close to you and touched your fingers delicately “give it a try, chopin” he teases as you try to play the new instrument.

after a few tries, you manage to let out a few neat notes from the instrument, eliciting a proud smile from your boyfriend “wow chopin”, you chuckle “jay, chopin is a pianist” “same thing”. you both let out a few giggles before he pecks your temple and smiles softly at you “if you learn how to play the guitar, i can’t surprise you with my serenades anymore”, you chuckle softly “well, i think my mom would be glad to not hear you play at 1am, but maybe i could serenade you too sometimes”.

jay smiles and softly pecks your lips “yea, i’d like some classical operas being played for me at 1am”

𝐒. jaeyun

you would’ve never thought to see your boyfriend all dolled up to take you to your highschool’s dance for a charity event. you insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, and you weren’t even enthusiastic about going to that dance, but your boyfriend insisted on being a good boyfriend (aka, showing you off to everyone) and decided it was important for you to attend since you were one of the top students at the school.

you arrived at the dance with jake, and calling it boring would be an understatement.

you two were sitting by a table, “jake we can leave if you’re not having fun” you said, as you knew your boyfriend wasn’t used to these boring formal events.

“don’t worry baby, i enjoy spending time with you nonetheless. plus, the food is great!” you let out a chuckle at his statement.

“i’ll go get us something to drink, how about that?” you smile at your boyfriend’s idea “alright, don’t take too long”.

he smiled before he got up and headed to get you something to drink. as you were waiting for him, a boy from your biology class approached you, teasing you like he always does.

“where’s your little boyfriend, uh? don’t tell me you came by yourself” he grins and you roll your eyes “getting me a drink, if you really want to know”. the boy looks slightly surprised at your statement “oh really? i bet he’s a punk, you could’ve said yes when i asked you to come with me, at least you would’ve been seen with someone relevant”.

just like clock work, your boyfriend arrived and wrapped an arm around your waist. the guy eyes him up and down “you must be the punk boyfriend”, jake grits his teeth and turns to you “is he bothering you, babe?” “pfft, she’s delighted by my presence”. jake raises an eyebrow and turns his gaze back to the boy “uh, really?”.

you were already preparing yourself as you knew your boyfriend, and you knew things would’ve escalated quickly. by the end of the night, you were sitting in jake’s car, treating the wounds and scars he got on his face after a not-so-friendly conversation with that boy.

“i’m sorry i got carried away”you give him a small smile “it’s alright, i’m glad you punched him. he’s annoying” “i figured you weren’t really delighted to talk to him”, you both let out a chuckle.

“hey, are you up for a frozen yogurt?” he asks, you reply with a huge smile “of course! but… maybe it’s better if you stay in the car and i go get them”. he lets out a chuckle “alright boss”

𝐏. sunghoon

“babe! what’s taking you so long?” you yell from your room, sunghoon is in the bathroom, getting ready for a dinner you insisted on having with your parents to prove them he’s perfectly fine for you. he was nervous, he probably hasn’t felt more nervous in his life, what if they ask him about his life? he can’t tell them how reckless he is, they would’ve never thought he could be perfect for you. he finally sighs before taking a last glance at the mirror “i’m coming!”.

the dinner was silent to say the least, your mother cleared her throat to escape from the awkward moment “so sunghoon, do you have any hobbies?”. sunghoon gulps “uhm… i like working out, you know, to keep myself healthy”, her mother hums, her expression unreadable.

in the meantime, you were crossing your fingers under the table, hoping the dinner would go smoothly and your parents would approve of him, considering how they’ve always considered you as a perfect child in every field.

your father asks the question both of you hoped he’d never ask, “do you study? or work?”. sunghoon starts sweating “i… i don’t work yet, sir. but, i’m looking for a job”. your father slightly scoffs and tears his gaze away from the boy, looking back at his plate and mumbling something under his breath.

the dinner luckily comes to an end, and neither you nor sunghoon were proud of how it went out.

he noticed your disappointed face, and before you two could leave and greet goodbye to your parents, he turned to them one last time “uhm… i’m sorry if i’m not exactly how you hoped i’d be, i know i might be far from the kind of person you wanted your daughter to be with, but i love her. i might not be the best and i might not provide her with everything she needs, but i love her and… and i’m here for her everytime she needs me. i want to support her in everything she does, even though i know i could never be enough for her”. his words made your heart melt, and your parents’ expression slightly shifted.

as you were getting ready to leave, your mother spoke up “we hope to see you again, sunghoon”, his eyes immediately lit up “i hope so too, mrs y/l/n. thank you”. your father gives him a nod of approval before you two left, hand in hand, and extremely proud of how the dinner turned out.

© POISTURA 🐋