#and that lorde song that i literally just heard for the first time on a greta fancam lmao

[acourtofquestions]

So Long, London is literally Feyre and Tamlin

[blkkizzat]

'SINS OF THE FATHER'

PRIEST!NANAMI X READER

✟ the liturgy: (summary) Even the most pious of men succumb to temptation and Father Kento is no exception... especially when it comes to you. (Priest!Nanami POV) ✟ the confession: (tw) dark themes, sacrilege, adultery, blasphemy, jealously, exhibitionism, blackmail/manipulation, heavy biblical references, cunnalingus, fingering, riding dick, shoe fucking, blow jobs, panty sniffing, olfactophilia, dacryphilia, lightly suggested altarboy!yuji (aged-up) x reader, oil tycoon!gojo x reader, suggested mentions of reader x other jjk men, corruption, masturbation and angst as you are literally tormenting this poor priest (lol). ✟ the sins: (wc) 4.1k ✟ the opening rites:(a/n) i grew up catholic (got confirmed too) and went to catholic school but haven't stepped inside a church in literal years. i was honestly surprised how many bible references came so easily from pure memory while writing this.

Sanctified conviction radiates off Father Kento as he approaches the inordinately adorned wood carved pulpit with authority to address his congregation. 

Despite the uncomfortable Summer heat there is no lack of attendance, a sea of familiar faces packed into the small town chapel. The buzzing song of cicadas and soft oscillation of the large fan circulating humid air through the church are the only sounds heard as the masses eagerly await his homily.

You were among them of course. 

Sitting front and center– a small saccharine smile graced your lips while your doe-like eyes, captivated and attentive, were made even bigger as they raised to the podium to meet his own.

Bible open, Father Kento takes a full breath pause before he finally speaks, his gaze is benevolent yet his voice is firm as it projects over the congregation. 

“Dear Brothers and Sisters– Let us reflect on the gospel of First Corinthians Chapter 10 Verse 13…and The Lord says– ‘There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man—”

Oh but you– you were anything but common– and irregardless of any higher standing his status as a clergy member bestowed upon him he was still a man of flesh and blood.

No matter the effort exerted, Father Kento had been unable to keep his eyes from yours during the service. The magnetism of unknown and certainly unholy forces drew him to you time and again without fail.

No beauty in town rivaled yours, not with an angelic countenance that complemented your delicate features so gracefully in your every action. 

Yours was a form of divine femininity rivaling that of Venus herself. 

If that wasn’t beguiling enough, your honeyed voice and syrupy words had the ability to sway even the most feral of temperaments. Leaving those who heard it at your mercy like a gentle but deadly siren.

“—but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able—”

Is God faithful? 

Ironic how you had Father Kento questioning the very foundations of his own faith while simultaneously indoctrinating God’s dogma to his faithful parishioners.  

If you were a test he had failed. 

Many times.

Even the first man, Adam, had fallen to Eve’s allures and not even the warrior strength of Samson was able to overcome Delilah’s seductions. 

Who was he to prevail where the biblical idols had fallen?

What actual grace could God give man against the sensual temptation that he had carved from man’s own rib? 

Father Kento had felt forsaken of God’s grace ever since you had approached him after mass to quietly request the rites of confession. He should have refused when you kindly solicited him to perform them in the cooler confines of the secluded rectory over the oven-like heat of a chapel confessional box in summer. 

Led astray so effortlessly by your genial charms as you looked to him like a lamb lost and addressed him so meekly as “Father Kento”. He would have just as easily given you access to heaven then if it were in his power.

Yet it was you who had so graciously led him to the gates of Zion— which so conveniently happened to reside in the velvety depths between your thighs. 

Consequently, the only sins that were confessed in the rectory that day were the moist squelches of your peach-ripened pussy gushing around his cock and coalescing with the frenzied sounds of hot flesh slapping together in unison. 

A child of Lilth incarnate to be sure but you looked so pure and celestial, even in ecstasy.

Hair matted to the sides of your face drenched in sweat while your nimble hands clutched onto his clerical collar. Your eyes filled with such loving devotion and you rode him earnestly as if it was your life’s penance. 

Father Kento in turn gives you his absolution by taking you from behind. The swell of your plump rear rippling against his hips and shared fluids splashing onto his hard abdomen feverishly drive him closer to God than he’d ever been.

Yes, he is weak. 

But Father Kento held the conviction that not even The Vicar of Christ, the Pope himself would be able to resist the vice grip of your silken cunt as if its true purpose was never to bear life but to wring out the very essence of the soul of man. 

He’d fallen prey to a day-walking succubus on hallowed holy grounds. 

No– Father Kento was certain if this church had ever truly been blessed as a house of God you would have caught aflame the moment you graced its threshold. 

“—but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye are able to bear it’.”

Father Kento concluded the passage. Nonetheless, neither it nor any other doctrine had provided him the solace of escape and nor biblical strength did he receive to endure against his temptations.

There was no resisting you. 

There was no escaping you. 

For anyone you cast your sights on.

This is exemplified by the obvious effect you have on the young alter boy Yuji. 

Barely old enough to be called a man, the youth's entire body flinches whenever you spare a sweet glance in his direction. 

Has Yuji’s innocence already been stolen? 

Father Kento must quell the inkling of jealousy at the thought lest he stumble over his words and shame himself further.

He was a man in every sense of the word and a man of the cloth, he would not compete for your adulterous affections with his own altar boy.

Even so, Father Kento’s lip does curl in disapproval at the deep flush of guilt on Yuji’s cheeks. Yuji clumsily trips over his own feet, nearly permitting the blessed vessels for the rites of eucharist to fall to the ground.

Harlot! Have you really allowed someone other than himself to bathe in the sins of Jezebel?

Maintaining composure through his sermon, Father Kento reminds himself that an inexperienced youth is no threat. 

However it is more than likely Yuji– who normally is so oblivious in nature– had likewise become aware of the wicked exhibition of sacrilege occurring beneath the prayer cloth in your lap at the very hands of your own husband– Satoru Gojo.

“So you may ask where does that leave us as followers of Christ? Temptations lure us into doing, saying or thinking something that does not reflect who we really are as sons and daughters of God.”

Neither you nor your husband were Christ’s children so none of these ideologies applied to either of you.

Nefarious philistines the both of you– godless and immoral.

Although Father Kento was for certain your husband, Oil Tycoon, Satoru Gojo– was the only one whose deeds could put yours to shame. 

The white haired devil had descended upon the quiet small town like a thief in the night to greedily capture the first few drops of black gold that surged from the earth before it could even fall to the ground. Quickly buying up land and resources, in less than a fortnight Gojo essentially had control over the entire town– its priest included.

But as he became more wealthy, so did the town and its people. Satoru Gojo built up the town around him to match his own gluttony for opulence, taking the town and its people away from simple old time comforts and into the more complex modern age. 

Therefore the man was seen as a saintly savior, rather than the lecherous leech he truly was.

To Father Kento’s credit, if he deserved any at all– he had initially held strong in his faith. 

He was not a man tempted by the power that would come from a promotion to bishop if a larger church was built. Nor was he tempted by monetary gain. The treasures he had always held most valuable were only those to be found in God’s kingdom.

Familiar with the tricks masked by flamboyant arrays of grandior, Father Kento’s folly had been his own headstrong vainglory in being a man above the lures of temptation. Thus he failed in recognizing you as the seductive snake in sheep's clothing the cunning tycoon Gojo had sent to be his undoing.

And you had never once failed to unravel him.

Even now Father Kento struggles to keep himself together as you inconspicuously lean against your husband, your head resting gently on his shoulder while the dainty fan you are holding obscures the lower half of your face. 

What appears as an innocuous attempt to halt the perspiration rolling from your nape into your heaving bosom is merely a front to hide the sinful ‘o’ your cherry lips form.

Your chest softly heaves although your labored breaths aren’t from the humid heat shrouding the church– but the increasing warmth dampening in your loins. All which had been provoked by your husband slipping two fingers through the buttons of your thin sundress and into your pussy, lightly teasing its gooey folds. Gojo’s movements are mostly concealed by the cloth but Father Kento can make out the skillful circular motions stroking your spongy bud and causing the sporadic twitch in your knees. 

You had writhed similarly under him. You were always far too sensitive.

Fat tears would never fail to pour from your bright eyes when he would latch his mouth onto your sex. You would be his last supper if ever given the choice. If heaven had a flavor it would surely be akin to the taste of your pink candied cunt and he knew of no sweeter treat on earth.

Twas no wonder then how Father Kento easily loses all sense of self when flicking his tongue into your gaping slit. Swirling the appendage within your gummy walls he gluttonously slurps down the steady stream of your flowing nectar. 

Your mewls and cries for him are far lovelier than even the song of cherubim. Father Kento has committed them to memory and as such he knows when they reach a certain octave– your pitch so high it's practically soundless– you're nearing your nirvana.

Arriving at your peak you would thread your hands through his blonde locks and thrust your hips forward as if his mouth were salvation itself. Your manicured nails would dig into his scalp to rock his head deeper into your plump pussy. The actions would beckon his tongue to finally give you its mercy by dragging it flat up your folds to suckle and nip at your swollen clit.

You never called on God then. 

Nor your husband. 

Only Father Kento.

Coincidentally, Father Kento’s gaze locks with Gojo’s for a brief moment and Gojo’s pale lips curl into smirk. 

A fleeting look is shared before contact is broke but the message is clear: 

Satoru Gojo own’s everything in this town. 

Gojo owns your cunt. 

Your cunt owns Father Kento.

Therefore by proxy Gojo owns him.

The revelation has Father Kento showing the white of his knuckles from the intensity of his grip on the pulpit podium as you simultaneously release a silent scream brazenly cumming on your husband’s dexterous fingers in the middle of mass. 

“The time now is propitious for us all to make a journey of conversion, led by sincere faith to allow ourselves to be confronted with the Gospel. Let us confirm this commitment by sharing in The Body and The Blood of Christ.”

Proceeding with communion the altar boy Yuji stands next to Father Kento holding the tray where the blessed chalice of wine and platter of thin wafers reside as the congregation dutifully exits their rows to receive the eucharist. 

As it is the more modern way to receive communion the majority of the congregation choses to place their non-dominant palm up over the other to respectfully receive the host. Yet traditionally, the priest placed the blessed wafer directly on the tongue of the one receiving. This practice was typically only seen by the elderly, the most exceedingly pious and of course— you.

When it is your turn to approach you beam brightly as you and all your beauty seem to float before him.

“The Body of Christ.”

Father Kento raises the host before you.

“Amen.” 

You obediently replied. 

Like expected your eyes fluttered to close as your pillowy lips parted in order to accept the host directly in your mouth. 

God help him, this was the most sacred part of mass but the way your deviant tongue lulls out hot and thick with your saliva pooled on the edge and threatening to spill onto your lips has Father Kento shifting at his post.

You look just as compliant and yearning to receive as when you had been on your knees before him taking his cock in your mouth whole.

Father Kento delicately placed the host in your mouth in a similar fashion as to when he would tap the tip of his bulbous leaking cockhead onto your tongue. 

So willing to please you kiss his angry red mushroom tip to appease his cock, swirling your tongue over the tiny hole before puckering it between your lips to greedily suck any drops of pre that dribbled forth as you pumped his base.

You were a tease. 

That much was evident both then and now as you extended the tip of your tongue to caress the tip of his finger. A tiny kitten lick, but nevertheless a tingle ran through his cock in remembrance.  

“The Blood of Christ.”

Father Kento presents the wine symbolizing the blood before you. 

“Amen.”

Again you closed your eyes and allowed Father Kento to press the chalice against your parted lips. 

The very picture of amenability, you actually enjoyed when he went rougher on you as a result of your teasing. Father Kento would gather your hair into a tight grip as he not-so-gently rammed his cock past your tonsils and down your throat. 

It was unnatural and ungodly for a person to lack any semblance of a gag reflex such as you. 

In response you pressed your fingers into his thighs– not as a means of resistance, but to control your own lust as you began shamelessly humping your mound against his leg. You were always desperate to feel any small sensation against your cunt while he ravaged your mouth.

Of course, Father Kento would oblige you and in turn he is rewarded with the heavy moans that would vibrate around his cock as his oxford loafer pushed up into your soaked core. Your white lace lingerie did little to contain your juices and as such Father Kento made use of the fluids leaking from your pussy as polish to shine his shoe.

Having sipped the wine from the chalice you peer up at Father Kento as if seeking his approval. 

He gives you a small nod. 

Similar to the one he bestows upon you after his seed has filled your stomach and you lick your lips as if it was his essence and not The Blood of Christ that lingered on them.

In the beginning, he had prayed long and hard to forget those sinful images of you that would intrude unwelcomed into his mind. 

Yet you always had ways of sucking him back in. 

Such as leaving your soiled panties stuffed between his headboard. Father Kento thought he was going mad when even after changing the sheets thrice was he still plagued with your smell.

He should have burned the offensive garment as soon as it was discovered and yet he treated it with reverence as if it were a holy object of salvation. Truly an euphoric experience, on days he couldn’t have you he’d bury his nose into the fabric murmuring blasphemy as he worshiped the very scent of you while jerking his cock.

When Father Kento finally ceased trying to resist you he then had the fleeting thought he could save you. Bring you to God and away from your villainous husband. 

But you were no Mary Magdalene, there was no returning you to the flock.

You will not leave your husband who provides you wealth and security. Father Kento is not so enamored he holds illusions that extend beyond his reality. There is nothing Father Kento owns and nothing he can offer you but himself. 

The singular consolation of the tragic circumstances is that Father Kento is sure you prefer his touch. The touch of a seemingly pious man who only has desires for you.

Unlike your scoundrel of a husband who Father Kento was sure had not remained faithful to your marriage bed. Not the way most of the female townsfolk threw themselves at Satoru Gojo. If he had no qualms using you to achieve his means he certainly had none for himself. 

You were simply a pawn to be played, as was Father Kento.

“Before we depart I leave you with these words: Let every day be a new day to renew the promises of our Baptism: We renounce Satan and all his works and seductions — for sh– *ahem* HE – is the seducer. Now go forth, Brothers and Sisters and remain true in the light of God.”

The closing rites over, Father Kento has never been more relieved nor eager for the conclusion of a mass. Watching the congregation mingle in the entrance, he gives his farewell blessings to the parishioners.

A few still remained however you were nowhere to be seen. 

This was not odd, the Gojos were a busy couple, likely excusing themselves immediately to attend to more important affairs.

Or so he hoped.

“There you are, Father! Riveting service, as always.”

With a devious grin and a firm drawn-out handshake Gojo greets Father Kento. Turning to face the devil himself, Father Kento greets Satoru in turn with a strained smile and an even firmer grip. 

Yet still he is unable to show you any of the wrath you justly deserve and Father Kento’s smile is more genuine when he faces you.  

You regard Father Kento coyly as your husband’s arm tightens around your waist. Your face is flushed and it’s evident you are still weakened from the orgasm your husband gave you earlier in front of the entire congregation. 

That knowledge though is only held by the three of you, God and perhaps the altar boy Yuji.

Father Kento had never known you to be silent when cumming so the exertion of the effort you expended likely weighed heavy on you as displayed by how you are clinging to Gojo to keep from swaying on your feet. 

“Thank you. I am but a humble messenger of The Lord’s wor–.”

“– Wait. Hold that thought!”

Father Kento’s eyebrow twitches as Gojo's attention is momentarily called elsewhere. 

Every Sunday, a growing number of parishioners would seek Satoru Gojo’s greeting and recognition after service over that of their priest Father Kento. 

True to character Gojo makes an obnoxious show of charisma which leaves the last group of parishioners fawning and singing his praises as they exit.

“Forgive me, Father. Where were we? Ah– Of course! Yes, you are quite excellent in your delivery of God’s word, a true testament to your faith!”

His flattery is so obviously false in its sincerity that Father Kento is not surprised when Gojo’s sordid smirk returns. 

“But you are not only a messenger for The Lord… isn’t that right, Father Kento?” 

Father Kento warily clutches onto the large cross dangling from the rosary around his neck as Gojo continues.

“I’ll need you to spread mine as well. Haven’t you heard? I have plans to run for Mayor.”

Mayor.

The diabolical fiend truly knew no limits in his quest for control over the town. 

“I’ll need you to come over to dinner tonight to consult with the rest of my top supporters.”

Father Kento steeled himself.. 

There was nothing he could do to stop Satoru Gojo from being mayor but his infatuation with you aside, he could not walk straight into the lion's den to collude with heathens. 

It would be the final nail in his coffin, Gojo would indeed own his soul.

“Oh! Y/N is prepping a feast too… aren’t you, angel?” 

Gojo’s grip on your waist trails lower to palm the fat of your ass and you clutch on to him tighter as you nod eagerly in agreement, biting your lip as his large hands knead into your cheeks through your wispy dress. 

Your body is ever responsive to Gojo’s touch just like he trained you to be.

“I must refuse. I have duties here to attend, I couldn’t poss–”

“P-Please F-Father…”

And just like that your delicate voice cuts through his iron defenses like it were warm butter.

“…K-Kento, p-please come!”

Your request fumbles out of your lips as a cry as Gojo’s devilish fingers dip past your ass to prod at your cunt.

“You heard her Father. She wants you to come. Break bread with us, you will be among friends. Friends who know how to share, yeah? I’ll even share a piece of her cream pie for dessert.” 

That had been the final straw. Gojo had gone too far this time.

You seeking him out was one matter but he would not allow Satoru Gojo of all people to dangle you in front of him like a master would dangle a treat to a dog.

“Begone, you foul heretic. I will not tolerate your mockery of me, this church nor God any longer.”

Commanding in his tone, Father Kento extends the cross of the rosary forward to Gojo as if he were casting a malevolent curse back down to hell. 

Father Kento doesn’t have the courage to look at you though, he can’t. Not if he wants to take a triumphant stand against Satoru Gojo.

And so Father Kento closes his eyes and silently prays. 

Immediately bored at such a devout display, Gojo sighs rolling his eyes.

“Alright, alright, Father. I get it. Whatever you say, jeez. It’s not like I need your support to become mayor– just thought it would be nice is all. ”

Father Kento remains silent as he listens to both of your footsteps exit the church but not before Gojo stops at the doors, his cheerful voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“Heh, you know, not everyone in this town is as pious as you Father. Sheriff Fushiguro has never been one to turn down a stack of bills but I’m sure tonight he would enjoy sharing in Y/N’s creampie if you don’t.”

Father Kento’s eyes open to flash red with fury.

Having received a satisfactory enough reaction from the priest, Gojo grins wildly as your own eyes widen in shock at your husband’s words. 

Has Gojo only ever used you to manipulate him alone? 

The thought remains as Father Kento doesn’t miss the pleading gaze directed at him from over your shoulder as you are led out of the church.

Goddammit– He couldn’t let you fall into the brutish clutches of Toji Fushiguro. 

Toji may have been the sheriff but he was well-known for his oafish demeanor and greasy womanizing ways. 

NO! He mustn’t think of you any longer. 

Father Kento needs to clear his mind of you for good with prayer.

Prayer and solitude.

Deep prayer and extensive solitude was what he needed if he ever hoped to rise again to gain God’s favor. He needed to call upon The Lord’s strength one last time to remain at the parish tonight and defy Gojo’s will.

Father Kento couldn’t let the pleasures of flesh continue to manipulate the very fibers of his being in such a way. 

The rosary still in his grasp Father Kento raises his hands close in prayer as a final call for God’s mercy… and then it hits him– wafting off his fingers, overwhelming his senses and igniting every nerve in his being. 

The scent of your cunt. 

The lingering perfume of your sinful drippings spilled on your husband’s hand during mass had been transferred to his own when Gojo shook his hand and held it so firmly.

The bastard. 

The rush hits him hard and he feels dizzy as his ears begin to ring. Vertigo overtakes Father Kento as he holds the offending hand out as if he had been poisoned. 

Leaning back against a wall to gather himself, Father Kento realizes once the manic pounding coursing through his veins begins throbbing in his loins that he’s fated for damnation.

This is the moment he’d always dreaded although ironic with the simple acceptance of it he feels no despair. 

Father Kento’s conviction is finally clear as he is left with a singular truth that rang through his entire soul:

Whatever solace he would know, whatever peace he would have in this life, he would only find with his cock buried in the sweet embrace of your cunt. 

✟

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

✟ the closing rites: (a/n) hell is hot and it's surely my destination after writing this. i tried to leave it a little ambiguous to whether y/n is actually in-love with nanami or just a sex-crazed slut eager to use him at the request of her husband. i don't have a pt.2 planned just fyi as this is meant to be a oneshot. although i do need to write more nanami so i will take requests for him! but fair warning i am very slow i apologize.

also shout out to the amazing art i used for the gfx ✟ art by mishwell

✟ REBLOG to be unburdened of your sins by Father Nanami but likes and comments are also appreciated!

upcoming: the nursery (yakuza!toji), please teach me! (ceo!gojo), request: teasing choso (college au), request: sukuna x blkreader, [none in any order as im at the mercy of my adhd lol]

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jane Fonda (Barbarella, Sunday in New York, Barefoot in the Park)—Feminist icon, LGBTQ+ rights activist since the 70s, Civil Rights and Native American rights advocate, environmentalist… she really is THE woman ever

Eartha Kitt (Anna Lucasta, St. Louis Blues)—My friend and I have a saying: NOBODY is Eartha Kitt. A thousand have tried, and they've all come up empty and will continue to do so. Everyone knows her for something: from "Santa Baby" to Yzma in Emperor's New Groove to Catwoman to making Lady Bird Johnson cry for the Vietnam War. She was a master of comedy and sex, an extremely vocal activist, and she aged like fine wine... I honestly don't know what I can say about her that hasn't already been said, so I'll stick to linking all my propaganda. Like what else do you want from me. She was iconic at everything she ever did. Literally name another. How can anyone even think of her and not want to absolutely drown?

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jane Fonda:

"I assume she's already been submitted but I gotta make sure. I think there's an element to movies like Barbarella or her segment of Spirit of the Dead of those having been directed by her husband, who famously made movies about her being hot, and the incredible costume design also helped, but good lord. Look at her"

"She was so pretty, dear lord! She was and still us stunning. She’s great at comedy and drama."

"Shes so hot im so gay for me i will let her hit me with hers car"

"Gorgeous and also still getting arrested at climate protests, which is sexy behavior"

"Watching her in Barefoot in the Park seriously made me, a straight woman, question things"

"PLEASE I LOVE HER SO MUCH"

"Her vibes in these movies are so interesting because she, the daughter of an Old Hollywood star, went on to make both poignant dramatic movies and the some of the silliest things you've ever seen but even in the silly space adventures and sexploitations there's always this undeniable gravitas to her. It's like she's able not to take herself very seriously but at the same time never stops having this grace and elegance and makes it all work together. And she's always been very politically active which is also sexy. Her famous mugshot is from 1970 so right at the cutoff mark but come on"

Eartha Kitt:

"A hot vintage woman who was not just known for her voice, beauty, poise, and presence, but also her unapologetic ways of speaking about how she was mistreated in the show business as a girl who grew up on cotton fields in South Carolina in the 1930s through the 1940s coming to Broadway first and then Hollywood."

"Have you watched her sing?? Have you seen her face?? Have you heard her talk?? How could you not fall instantly in love. She makes me incoherent with how hot she is."

"She can ACT she can SING she can speak FOUR LANGUAGES she is a GODDESS!!! Although she is (rightfully) remembered for her singing, TV appearances (Catwoman my beloved), and later film roles, her early appearances in film are no less impressive or noteworthy!! She’s an amazing actress with so much charisma in every role. She was also blacklisted from Hollywood for 10 years for criticizing the Johnson administration/Vietnam War, so. Iconic. Also Orson Welles apparently called her “the most exciting woman in the world.”

"She had such a stunning, remarkable appearance, like she could tear you to shreds with just a glance- but the most undeniable part of her hotness was her voice, and it makes sense that it's what most people nowadays know her for. Nothing encapsulates the sheer magnetism of her singing better than this clip of her and Nat King Cole in St. Louis Blues, she pops in at 2:49. Also I know it's post-1970 but her song that was cut from Emperor's New Groove is likely to make you feel Feelings."

"Even with as racist as Hollywood was in the 1950s and 60s, Eartha Kitt STILL managed to have a thriving career. She also once had a threesome with Paul Newman and James Dean, and called out LBJ over the Vietnam War so hard that it made First Lady Johnson cry. Eartha Kitt was talented, sexy, and a total badass activist."

[stars-and-the-min]

☆ the wrong way to hard launch (16) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n the isms of a long-distance, working couple i'm back!!! this was supposed to be published in july my bad y'all i got busy :)

masterlist | last part | part 16 | next part

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang and 298,193 others

selinabui happy birthday to the best cousin i could've asked for. thanks for being some racing-obsessed weirdo, for playing video games with me across the world and most of all for once punching some guy in the face for me. love from: the more talented, overall better, most adorable cousin you could've asked for <3 (you'll always be the coolest older brother!) tagged: zhouguanyu24

zhouguanyu24 Being nice to me 🤨 ↳ selinabui @.zhouguanyu24 just respecting the elderly

linasgirl4 THEEEEE best cousin duo

emptybottlos they're very dear to me actually

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 8h IT'S RACE WEEEEEEEEEEK ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 8h 2024 CANADIAN GP FIRST OSCAR WIN MANIFESTING MANIFESTINGGGGGGGG

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 4h berlin empty bottles fans, did lina sound stuffy live? in the videos i've seen she looks sick ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 3h heard from oomf that cami said lina had a bit of a cold :(

INSTAGRAM

chrisyamada 🎵 | Chris Yamada · Pins and Needles (ft. Selina Bui from Empty Bottles)

liked by emptybottles_official and 738,859 others

chrisyamada Surprise drop? @.selinabui and I are pleased to present, to our humble fans, a little collab we recorded back in April. Without further ado, enjoy 'Pins and Needles' tagged: selinabui

selinabui fyi the electric guitar solo is ME bc as if he could ever shred that cool ↳ chrisyamada @.selinabui i totally could

linasgirl4 yall... what in tarnation why have you been sitting on this for 2 months 😭😭😭

lukaszhang ok but when's the mv dropping 🤨 ↳ moonbeamlina @lukaszhang there's... there's a music video 🥹

ceciliapham omfg it sounds so good oooohh it's a slow song ahhh her voice is angelic fr June 7

selinabui Paris, France

liked by oliviarodrigo and 332,164 others

selinabui "are you happy to be in paris?" OUI!

pastry81 close enough, welcome back oscalina!!! ↳ selinabui @.pastry81 oscar pastryyyy 🥺

tina_kim SO NOT OVER PINS AND NEEDLES I'M STARVED FOR NEW MUSIC

oscarpiastri hey there ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri oh hi 🥰

aidan_ebass Never ever going to watch a show with you again. Please learn to shut up 🫶 June 9

TWITTER

kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h it genuinely feels like there's an EB show every second night, do these people even sleep 😭😭😭

president linami @.linaminami · 43m is it just me or is the european leg really really busy? ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 42m the band barely has any time to breathe because they keep hoping to countries with like a day or two leeway ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 42m berlin to paris had a four day gap which is one of the longest gap between shows

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 1h tbh it's not super surprising that lina got sick; it's still cold in the northern parts and she wears mini dresses and short skirts for two hours in the evening; plus she's probably exhausted and burning out

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 12m three back to back paris shows... i'm a little worried for lina's health

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

pookie piastri @.op81ln4 · 9h got blessed with cat energy oscar video from mclaren thank you lord 🙏

lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h can i physically afford to watch this race; send advice (i'm sick lmao) ↳ Aidan Park @EB_Aidan · 4h Selina, you have a 40 degree fever get off your phone ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h wdym... i'm not on my phone 🥸 ↳ Oscar Piastri @.OscarPiastri · 1h Hey... what did you mean by 40 degree fever 🤨

piaa⁸¹ @.papayaeightyone · 12m uh wtf happened to charles??? ↳ lanaaaaa @.sharlleglrg · 8m that's the monaco curse oversleeping

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

INSTAGRAM

selinabui_news

liked by ceciliapham and 12,002 others

selinabui_news 📱Screencaps of Lina from the Empty Bottles instagram live. Get well soon baby 🥺 tagged: selinabui

piastri_lina how does she still look better than me on the brink of death????

amelia_belrose i hope she feels better soon :( but did you see her face when kas panned the camera over 😭 i thought i was about to witness a murder

marie_h.sb she's been going on stage every night like that 😧 June 11

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 56m Lina was talking to a fan during the encore, asked for his name and got flustered when he said "Oscar" #TMDWorldTour ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 32m help i think she broke why did it take her 15 seconds to say something 😭😭😭 ↳ president linami @ linaminami · 49m actually wheezing at kas' face, he seriously can't believe she's that down bad oml

oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 40m i'm eating gooooooood tonight

pookie piastri @.op81ln4 · 23m somewhere on earth oscar piastri is kicking his legs and giggling at that clip of his gf's brain shutting down at the mention of his name

camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 11m this is unironically the antithesis of that sabrina moment with a fan named joshua like 😭 similar reaction of disbelief and surprise but the context could not be more different

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

TWITTER

lina !!! @EB_selina · 4h this is actually really mortifying and i'd appreciate if we all collectively wiped it from memory ↳ Oscar Piastri @.OscarPiastri · 3h It's actually my new ringtone for you ↳ lina !!! @EB_selina · 3h count ur lucky stars we're not in the same country right now

cami yang @EB_Cami · 38m what if i said i'm also feeling a little messy 🤔

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha @sp1rl @destinyg237 @iloveyou3000morgan

[felassan]

What's all this about Solas speaking in iambic pentameter? English isn't my first language so I never noticed anything odd about the way he talks, but your blog is the first time I've seen it mentioned by anyone

hello! ◕‿◕ Solas sometimes speaks in a specific pattern or rhythm. It sometimes gets described as or compared by people to iambic pentameter. (which is a type of rhythm common in traditional English poetry. Shakespeare used it in his sonnets and plays.) Though, I'm not sure that it's actually literally that or always that. The main point is that at those times, he's speaking particularly poetically, with a specific poetic rhythm in his speech. (Like where the stress on syllables is and the 'beats' in his speech.) Occasionally, the Inquisitor's dialogue line[s] in response to him are the same.

When Trick Weekes wrote Solas in DA:I, they wrote some of his key scenes to KD Lang's cover of the song Hallelujah on a loop. They talked about some of their process and the reasons for the use of this technique in terms of Solas' characterization in this DA:I-era blog post:

Trick Weekes: "When Solas talks about things that he saw in the Fade, things that speak to a distant past, I needed him to sound ever so slightly otherworldly and wistful – someone remembering a dream with a sense of both sadness and inevitability. If you follow [that link] and look at some of Solas’s lines, you may notice a familiar rhythm come out. It would have been forcing it to give lines the same rhyme scheme, but giving the words the meter captured some of that wistfulness and made Solas sound ever so slightly otherworldly. (In the rare cases the player got into the same rhythm, there was always an approval bump from Solas. For that brief period, it was like the player was thinking like he did.) I used this a few times over the game, and I love what it did to his voice. Also, Cori (who edited Solas) is exceedingly kind for putting up with my request that changes to those lines keep this surreptitious rhythm."

[source]

An example of when it happens in DA:I is:

"I've journeyed deep into the Fade // in ancient ruins and battlefields // to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash // to reenact the bloody past // in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war // has its heroes. // I'm just curious // what kind you'll be."

Compare this with the song's lyrics:

"I heard there was a secret chord // That David played, and it pleased the Lord // You don't really care for music, do ya? Well it goes like this: The fourth, the fifth // The minor fall, the major lift // The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah"

An example from Trespasser is:

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep [I heard there was a secret chord] while countless wars and ages passed [That David played, and it pleased the Lord] I woke still weak a year before I joined you. [You don't really care for music, do ya?]" etc.

Recent mentions of this are:

Q. Will Solas still occasionally or dramatically speak in iambic pentameter? A. “Massive kudos to Patrick, who always writes Solas so well. Again, Solas is a returning character. It’s the same Solas you know and love (or hate depending on who you are). The same writer. So I think the answer is yeah, it’s Solas.” – John Epler

[source: BioWare dev Discord Q&A on June 14th]

User: "you really went off with solas. but the iambic pentameter makes writing fanfic dialogue for him so treacherous..." Trick Weekes: "It doesn't always have to be in the cadence! Just when he's deeply feeling The Old Days! He's written in standard prose 99% of the time!"

[source]

I think he does it a bit in the gameplay reveal video [Veil ripping scene with Varric] too. hope this helps :>

[msg refs this post]

[For the developer Q&A from June 14th on Discord: Notes are here, re-watch link is here]

[whenindoubtfangirlitout]

So seeing people talk about Jason's potential music taste sparked a headcannon in my Jason Todd obsessed brain.

I totally agree that he would have a varied music taste. He could nod along to just about anything:

White girl music? Put on "California Gurls" (reference to this post)

Musical theater? Crank up "Micheal in the Bathroom"

Divorced dad rock? Literally anything by Three Days Grace, especially "I Hate Everything About You" when he's pissed at Bruce, "I Am Machine" or "Animal I Have Become" when he's feeling particularly inhuman, or "Riot" when he's feeling like stirring up shit.

But my main point is that I feel like he'd be hella into the most random unreleased artists. All of which are most likely the street kids he interacts with. He just wants to support them and their interests in the hopes that it helps keep them on the right track.

That one wannabe rapper posts a new song on SoundCloud? Jason's listening to it no matter how off beat the kid may be and will leave a like and comment a thumbs up to make sure they know at least one person is listening.

The aspiring midwest emo band scored a gig at some random dive bar that no minors should be in? Jason's there, front row, for moral support as they play slightly off tune due to nerves. And also to watch out for them as it is rather sketchy.

The musical theater girl got her first role? Jason's helping her run through lines and being her audience as she practices her blocking and choreography. And while he doesn't formally attend the performance, he's watching from the rafters and telling her "good job" the next time he sees her.

I just absolutely love the idea that Jason is basically every street kids' supportive parent and they all want him to be proud of them.

Bonus: Imagine Crime Lord Jason in charge of the Iceberg Lounge just having some random open mic nights before the club officially opens so that the kids have somewhere to play if they aren't able to get a gig anywhere else. He just makes his goons stand around to listen and clap so the kids feel heard and supported.

[vidavalor]

Joy

Today, as we know, the word joy usually means happiness in either a non-sexual way ("the cute, baby pumpkin I bought for fall is bringing me so much joy!") and/or in a way pertaining to religiosity ("the Lord brings me joy!"). Neither of these things were original meaning of the word.

The original meaning of joy was sexual ecstasy. It was descriptive of sensual pleasure and/or of having an orgasm. It was a very common way to refer to sex and, prior to an estimated sometime in the 15th century, if you told someone you wanted to "joy with" them, you were saying you wanted to make love with them.

How joy came to be so desexualized as a word is unknown but some etymologists theorize that it is a bit of linguistic revenge for people blasphemously evolving the word passion into being the foremost word used to describe erotic love when it was first developed by Christian theologians, intentionally and specifically, from the Latin pati ("to suffer") as a word to describe the crucification of Christ.

Yes, the current best theory for why joy's primary meanings have evolved away from the erotic is vengeful priests being big mad about people not taking their Jesus word seriously enough and using the church writings and masses to reboot the popular sexy word into a religious one... which then later was also secularized by people to mean just happy, upbeat things. So, if ever there's been a perfectly Good Omens-y word... 🤭

There is actually a song that is, more or less, about this. If you've ever heard Three Dog Night's 1970 song "Joy to the World"-- not the Christmas carol; the one that starts with "Jeremiah was a bullfrog"--what you might not realize is that the song is a trolling of the desexualizing of the word joy by poking fun at religious fundamentalists at the same time as it is using joy in its original meaning. It's both about sex positivity and an anti-war song and was a massive hit. (If Crowley didn't write it in the Good Omens universe, he definitely loved it.) What it wound up showing, though, was just how desexualized the word had become by that point, as many did not realize that the song was using the word's etymology and, instead, credited Three Dog Night with coining joy as an euphemism for sex when, really, they were just explaining its full history and using it in its original meaning.

So, anyway, if, say, a word nerdy demon who has been on Earth since its start were to say to, say, his equally etymology-loving, secret, romantic partner that he thinks it's time for a delivery of some "black market joy", he is absolutely saying he would like to joy with his partner, in the original sense of the word, later that night.

Especially because the literal thing the two of them are delivering in the moment that Crowley brings up joy is whiskey, which is alcohol, and alcohol (all-co-hol = fucking one other) is something we know they enjoy in quite extraordinary amounts (amounts 😂).

[hecates-corner]

THE VENGEANCE SAGA

🌊 SPOILERS AHEAD 🌊

PLUS, MENTIONS OF S.A.

🔱 NOT SORRY FOR LOVING YOU

Even though Calypso’s actions infuriate me, her actress’ voice (Barbara Wangui) is incredible and so compelling. She sounds like a lotus flower, and just that notion is marvelous, now that I say that. She is the island of the lotus eaters, and I do really like that she isn’t blindly in love with Odysseus.

She can see she hurt him, but she still believes she was in the right. She’s sorry she did all she did, but she wouldn’t take a single moment back. Calypso only admits she’s wrong for “pushing” him. This allusion only shows that she regrets the pain she caused him when she forced him into bed with her, for several years. But does she regret the action?

It’s so well written, an apologist song to make excuses for her. But still, it’s only meant to toy with your emotions. And yet, she doesn’t play the “one song character”, the “tiny plot point”. Jorge gave her pain, and anguish, and loss. He made her seem human, while still holding the godlike apathy and blamelessness.

🔱 DANGEROUS

And onto my favorite song, for the reason alone that it’s a crazy banger with HERMES IN IT! I knew half of this song when it came out, and can lip sync this in my sleep. By the gods, it’s incredible.

Ahem. Right, the analysis. Okay.

Odysseus’ first four of lament in the beginning hurt extra hard when the silence plays out. The crew would have responded… had they lived.

(Anyone else getting nostalgia for last winter from this?? How fast time goes! We have one saga left, and— shoot, right. Ahem ahem.)

And then, the beloved Trickster Lord comes whirling into frame. Dancing. I can just FEEL the light-up floor, the disco ball… you’d think he and Hera would be good friends, huh?

This gives us a little glimpse into Hermes’ lordly self. That he is great with instructions, that he’s almost prophetic with them. He’s not specific, he’s vague, but looking back, you can only go, “OHHHH!” Hermes is a cunning god, and aside from that, he lifts Odysseus’ spirits. He really is Odysseus’ friend.

And then the parallels. To Wouldn’t You Like, to Keep Your Friends Close. Ouch. No, wow. No, scratch that— both.

It makes me wonder if Odysseus “Danger is my middle name” of Ithaca will ever figure out that Athena rooted for him, in the end. Makes me wonder if we’ll hear from Athena again.

🔱 CHARYBDIS

GYATT DAMN. TALK ABOUT INCREDIBLE?!

THIS might be my favorite song, for the typical reasons. You can hear the actions, and when I watched the animatics, it only showed me what I pictured. Perfectly portrayed.

I avoided spoilers for this song, not knowing how good it would be. Damn, am I glad.

Storm parallels, of course. And then, the sheer terror and turn of relief, when suddenly you realize he’s not as close as he thought he was. One last obstacle.

Love the fact that when he sings, “So if you don’t have much to say,” you realize Charybdis won’t be singing. I adored that. This song shows off how smart Odysseus really is.

🔱 GET IN THE WATER

This song is just plain terrifying. It’s scary. It’s cold.

The screaming shakes me to my core. At first, I hadn’t been fully on board (haha) with the choice of Poseidon’s voice actor, and then I took a few more listens to Ruthlessness, and reevaluated that thought. Besides that, he’s quite literally perfect for this song, specifically.

Let me tell you that Steven Rodriguez understood the assignment when he was told to say, “I can’t,” “No,” and “Ruthlessness is … mercy upon … ourselves … DIE!”

Realizing that the line about “gouging [his] son’s eyes” is a cheeky revenge for Polyphemus is incredible. You know what’s funny? Poseidon and Odysseus aren’t so different from each other.

Especially now.

Besides that, oh god, the memories of his loved ones singing into his “final moments” is painful. Thought we’d heard the last of Polites, Jorge? REMEMBER, JORGE?

It’s a double entendre, too. They’re singing to him, telling him to keep going, and yet, they’re telling him that they’re waiting for him, too. Now… some for better, and some for worse.

Will they forgive him the same way he’s forgotten how to do, when he dies?

🔱 SIX HUNDRED STRIKE

Aka, Poseidon discovers the indomitable human spirit.

Let me tell you, hearing the guitar made me gasp. Missed that riff, in all its glory and power, let me tell you. Plus, the wind bag’s theme, too!

This is a boss battle. That’s it. I swear to god, put the instrumental of this banger in Hades by Supergiant.

The screaming in this really made the song. The voice acting. The change of tone. The change of Odysseus’ tone. He’s never been afraid to talk back to gods, has he?

I was only miffed that there was blood on the trident in the animation, and not ichor. But that’s what you get when you’ve been devoted to Greek mythology all of your life, you become an accuracy snob. All in all though, I ADORED that animation. Like… holy shit. Holy FUCKING SHIT!!!

Then, the stabbing and gasping. Poseidon attempting to make him feel bad, second-guess himself, by screaming and calling him a monster.

“Look what you’ve turned me into! Look what we’ve become!” Odysseus KNOWS that he and Poseidon are similar. Fathers willing to defend their honor, and the honor of their sons. However, Poseidon was always defending his own honor, and Odysseus was always protecting the lives of those involved.

And the CHOKING NOISES from POSEIDON??

“After everything you’ve done… how will you sleep at night?”

“Next to my wife.”

AND I GASPED. AND I CHEERED!!!!!!!!!!!

On a much more hilarious note, I saw @justvea18 post a version of this meme as Poseidon. Was giggling my ass off. Go check it out, please.

[acatnamedpusheen]

Dinner & Diatribes (Gabriel Rossetti smut)

Dante Gabriel Rossetti x fem!reader Words: 3.3K (I got carried away) Genre: Smut (18+) with some angst (half of it is literal filth) Warnings: fingering, handjob, oral fem!recieving, edging, unprotected sex (don't do that kids) Summary: The infamous painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti realises he's falling in love with Lord Whitewood's wife, when he's invited to paint her portrait. Lucky for him you're on the same page and things take a heated turn when your husband unexpectedly leaves London and you find yourself unable to stay away from the devilishly handsome painter. (I made Gabriel a lot less of a jerk and the title is one of Hozier's songs that I recently discovered and thought was perfect for this fic.) - A/N: Sorry this is going to be a bit long because I have many things to say. First and foremost, sorry for the super random tags, but I'm trying to reach the Aidan girlies out there and I'm sure nobody goes on the Desperate Romantics tags. Moving on I want to say that this is the first time in 3,5 years that I've been able to write anything and it was so liberating, because I feel like I lost a great way of expressing myself all this time. Nevertheless, please be kind to me, english is not my first laguage, this took a great amount of self pressure to actually be finished over a course of about 2 weeks and it might just be nothing but cringe (don't come at me pls). Now on to the fun part. So, apparently I'm currently hyperfixating HARD on Aidan Turner after watching Rivals and my long hair kink is just making things worse. When I tell you I could literally do anything for him. Writing the smutty part of this fic at some point had me feeling like I was in some sort of high. I mean just look.at.these.eyes dear Lord. Ok enough with the yapping omg, it's getting too tmi.

You didn't even realise how you ended up at his front door in the middle of the night. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself, in hopes of avoiding or simply delaying feeling the shame of being an awful wife to your husband, Lord Whitewood.

You knew you'd find him there, at the old greenhouse he called home, under the gentle warm light of the candles, working on either some new sketch, or your portrait. And after catching a glimpse of him actually immersed in the latter, you felt your heart flutter. He turned away from his painting abruptly when he heard the door open and for a moment he believed he hallucinated you standing in front of him, because of the endless hours he'd been working on your portrait. But the way you stood there, your chest heaving, your frame slightly trembling from how nervous you were and your eyes glinting that all too familiar spark, he knew you were really there in the flesh. And it felt just like the first time he'd ever seen you, that day at your husband's house.

Lord Dorian Whitewood, a great fan of the arts, had shown interest in the works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti and after paying him a couple of visits to his studio to buy a few paintings, he invited him to his house to request a portrait of his beloved wife. Little did he know, that this would be the very start of a great forbidden love.

Rossetti was known to have a weakness for women. He would never hesitate having his way with any of his models at any time he'd please and could swear he'd never settle for just one woman. Until the moment he saw you sitting in that room waiting for him to start your portrait. He felt something he'd never felt before, but couldn't really explain it. This surely wasn't because of how majestically the light from the window ever so gently illuminated your face or your thick hair that fell freely on your shoulders. No, there was definitely something utterly unique about your aura.

"Lady Whitewood" he paused as he rose from his seat "What brings you here at this hour?" his eyes betrayed hopes that this wasn't really what he thought it was. Of course he couldn't be more pleased with the idea of finally getting to have you, evern for a single night, but he knew this could all possibly lead to a big scandal that would harm his already bad reputation. He never thought his flirting, which always came so naturally, so involuntarily, would actually have such effect on you so as to come running to him in the middle of the night alone.

Did he really worry so much about a potential scandal, though, or was it all just a cover for the fear that he might have actually fallen in love and you'll forever remain out of his reach?

"Dorian is out of town. He left for Oxford this morning, his brother has fallen ill. I might have to travel soon too, but for the time being, he insisted I stay here in London." He stood silent, looking at you straight in the eyes, waiting for your next words.

"I haven't been able to get the thought of you out of my mind, Gabriel." you admitted hesitant to move, while your gaze fell to the floor. Gabriel took a few steps forward instead, until he was right before you, lifting your chin up with one hand, locking eyes with you yet again. Just as he'd done that day at your husband's house while he was trying to figure out which pose would be better for his painting.

"You look absolutely stunning, do you know that?" he said walking back to his canvas after finishing with his adjustements on you. "I'd be lying if I said I'm completely oblivious to this fact." you replied teasingly, without looking at him, maintaining your pose. You were a confident woman after all, never afraid to show it when you had to.

"Does your husband know that?" his voice sounded lower than before making you feel things forbidden for a married woman. Gabriel's question took you so much by surprise that you turned to face him, only to realise he was doing the exact same thing. His eyes fixed on you, his gaze hungry, full of lust. Gabriel was a confident man too, never stopping himself from getting what he desired, never afraid to show it blatantly and straight away.

"Are you trying to tell me something Mr. Rossetti?"

"I'm just making sure that a beautiful woman like you is appreciated in the way she deserves, Lady Whitewood." You turned away, resuming your pose, trying to ignore how his smirk was igniting the heat deep within your core.

You liked your husband Dorian, he was a kind man who treated you well, took care of you. At this very moment, however, you were beginning to question whether you actually, genuinely loved him. He was a dear friend to you and your family, 10 years older than you. The marriage was of course arranged but you'd known Dorian for a long time, you trusted him. Was it ever something more than that, though? You never had such thoughts because, to your bitter realisation, you'd never actually fallen in love with someone. Up until now, that this devilishly handsome painter, who also seemed to be much closer to your age, stood opposite you almost every day, for far too many hours than your sanity would have preferred.

"Would you consider sitting for me for other paintings as well?" his voice interrupted your thoughts after a while of silence. You laughed bitterly."You clearly know this is no occupation for a lady. My husband would never allow it."

"Do you want to, though?" he insisted, not once breaking away from his canvas.

"Mr. Rossetti, are you asking me to go against the morals of our society for what I, a mere woman, want?" you kept looking straight ahead, trying hard not to glance at him.

"Would that be so bad?"

You scoffed at the audacity of his question before answering "Perhaps it really wouldn't, if we were living under any other circumstances."

"And what would the ideal circumstances be?" he continued, acting completely oblivious. "Are we playing some sort of game here, Mr. Rossetti?" you broke your pose again to bring him within your field of vision. "You and I both know what I'm talking about."

"Please call me Gabriel and no, I don't quite understand why someone can't have a bit of fun from time to time" he had left his work and strode his way to where you were sitting. His eyes bore into yours, a subtle smirk danced on his lips.

"Because as I've mentioned, I'm a woman that also happens to be married. And I respect and love my husband." the words sounded so foreign to you as you spoke. You were using every ounce of willpower to stop yourself from rising from your seat and falling in the arms of Gabriel, who was now slowly walking to your side, then your back, trying to carefully pick his next sentence.

An ever so light flinch was inevitable when he placed both his hands on your shoulders. You'd be heavily lying if you didn't admit you wanted them on every other inch of your body as well. He could feel his effect on you. If only you could feel yours on him. He wanted nothing more than to turn you around and crash his lips to yours hard. Instead, he contained himself, and whispered his reply close to your ear: "I don't really believe we'd still be having this conversation if that last part was true."

A knock on the door, brought you both back to reality and Gabriel moved away from you just as the maid came in with some tea. For a split second you believed it was Dorian, having somehow heard everything, coming in to catch you red handed. "If you do change your mind, however, you know where to find me." he gave you a quick wink, referring to his initial request earning him a stern look from you as the maid had yet to leave the room.

"Tell me you never truly wanted me to come. Tell me I shouldn't be here, I should be home, I should stay loyal to my husband." you pleaded, his pained expression was already telling you he didn't want you to leave.

"I could never lie to you, my dear." his lips now inches away from yours, god knew how he had been holding himself all this time. It was different with you. It always had been. He never felt the animalistic urge he felt when he was with a prostitute. No, he felt the need to treat you like fine porcelain, he could never break you. And so he contained himself, only for you to take him by surprise when you crashed your lips to his. His hands instinctively cupped your face as yours found purchase on his shoulders. Before you had time to indulge in one another, however, you pushed him away-one final attempt to avoid infidelity.

"This is madness!" you panted "We have to stop!" tears were welling up in your eyes. You wanted him so much it was painful. Yet, you still tried to convince yourself it was less painful than living the rest of your life knowing you had cheated on Dorian.

"But do you want to stop?" he raised his voice slightly, with a firm grip on the side of your upper arms, making you look at his hungry eyes. "These ideal circumstances that we were talking about are right here, right now. No one knows about this besides us. So if you still truly wish to stop, you're free to leave." he couldn't push you, but could at least try to persuade you. He needed you as much as you needed him.

"You're right I do want to stop, I got carried away, I shouldn't have come in the first place." you lied and felt him slowly release you letting you turn away to leave and put an end to this brief encounter. No sooner had you taken two steps than he caught your arm, spun you around and met you in a heated kiss that you neither could nor wanted to escape.

One hand on his chest the other tangled in his black locks, you let out a quiet moan as you felt him squeeze your waist and swipe his tongue over your lower lip. You granted him access and the groan he involuntarily let out hit you straight in your aching core. Breaking away from your lips, his mouth travelled to your jaw, then your neck, all while his skilled fingers had started working on the buttons of your outer gown. Kissing you was no longer enough, he had to feel you under his touch and was pleased to see you were on the same page as he sensed your hands on his waistcoat.

A pause was much needed for the unbuttoned items to be discarded. Gabriel then watched you take off your petite coat skirt, leaving yourself in nothing but your corset and short undergarment. He was quick to stop you from going any further.

"Let me, sweetheart." his fingertips momentarily brushed over the exposed skin of your breasts before moving to undo your corset, giving you goosebumps. Although very eager, his hands worked steadily, slow even, as if he was trying to imprint every little detail of the moment in his mind. Yours on the contrary, seemed to be moving on their own, finding their way along Gabriel's dishevelled dress shirt and opening it all the way down.

Once your corset was undone, he peeled the straps off your shoulders and took a step back to admire his 'work'.

"Breathtaking" he whispered with a smirk upon finally eyeing your exposed chest under the faint light of the candles and you felt the need to cover yourself. "Don't hide from me, darling." he came closer once more, opening your arms and placing them on his still half-clad torso instead, for you to free him of his shirt.

As soon as it was off, he attacked your lips yet again. The kiss being more heated than the previous, with the addition of the newfound feeling of each other's skin. Gabriel's strong hands on your waist turned you around and pressed you against him, before moving to undo the final piece of clothing separating him from your body, letting it pool around your feet. "Can you feel what you do to me, what you've been doing to me all this time?" he murmured breathlessly on the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

"Gabriel...please..." your voice was barely above a whisper, his erection undeniably pocking your ass through his pants. Hearing his name fall from your lips in such lust coated way, had him loosing his self control, unable to stop his hands from leaving your waist and roaming your bare skin as he kept kissing the side of your neck.

One hand finally found its way to one of your breasts, greedily kneading it earning himself sighs of pleasure. The other hand, travelled south, his fingers brushing your wet folds, to land on your clit."All this for me, darling?" he was panting, already lost in your body and the way you reacted under his touch. "Only for you" you moaned, eyes shut, trying to take in all the pleasure. You couldn't help but reach one hand behind your back and palm him, to which he reacted with a low grunt and a bite on your shoulder.

"Careful darling, you wouldn't want me to paint your skin with my teeth, would you?" he elicited another moan from you before his hands stopped their ministrations to grab your waist and turn you to face him once again. "Now get ready to jump." he flashed you his signature smirk that was enough to have you coming undone right then and there, as you felt him grip the back of your thighs.

You did as you were ordered to, tangling your legs around his waist and slipping your arms around his neck, letting him carry you to the bed and spill you on the sheets. He barely had time to remove his pants, before you pushed yourself up to kiss him hungrily and pull him back down on the bed with you. One hand on the curls you could never get enough of, the other reaching for his cock, gently beginning to squeeze and pump him.

Soon, Gabriel was a moaning and grunting mess around your hand. You had moved to straddle him, while he was propped on his elbows, head thrown back in pure bliss, giving you access to leave kisses on his neck. It wasn't long before he felt he was getting close and that's when he sat up to stop you. "Not yet, I want to give you more." he was out of breath but had no intention of giving himself time to catch it, so he met you in a desperate kiss as he laid you down on the sheets.

"I was thoroughly enjoying it, though." you grinned cheekily once he broke the kiss. "Patience, my dear, for the best is yet to come." he placed one final kiss on your lips before starting a trail down your jaw, neck and collarbones, stopping right on the valley of your breasts to glide his tongue on one of your nipples. Your arms found their place on his toned back as he began sucking, your moans getting mixed with his low grunts. He briefly switched to your other mound, growing too impatient to continue his trail south. Going past your navel, he paused upon reaching your pubic bone and while maintaining eye contact, giving you his dirtiest looks, his hands found your knees and spread your legs further apart.

You tensed and let out a gasp when you felt his mouth on your clit. "Relax darling, I just want to make you feel good." the look he gave you was intoxicating, pupils dilated, lips parted, you wanted him to have you in any way he pleased and so you proceeded to push his head down to where you truly needed him the most. Your fingers found their all too familiar place between his black curls as he ate you out like a starved man. His strong hands holding your hips as his mouth alternated between kissing, licking and sucking, earning himself the filthiest of sounds escaping your lips.

But just as you were starting to feel that all too familiar tightening deep in your core, Gabriel's mouth was no longer on you. Instead, he moved to hover over you, his lips glistening with your arousal under the warm candlelight, hair a mess from your pulling. A sight that definitely seemed like it was coming straight out of a fantasy.

"I need you, Gabriel." you didn't care if you sounded ridiculously desperate, you were for this man. You wouldn't have come running to him in the middle of the night once your husband was out of town if you weren't.

"Tell me how you need me, sweetheart." he knew full well what you were both aching for at that very moment, but still wanted to hear your words.

"Hard and slow, then you can do as you please." you'd barely finished your sentence before he entered you in one swift movement, dragging out a long moan from you to match his own groan. And he did as you asked, setting a slow pace with long hard strokes. You were bitting your lips trying to stifle your moans.

"Let me hear you, let me hear how I'm the only one making you feel like this." this pace was already too hard for him to maintain, he craved more and reached for your clit to get exactly that and the next moan of his name was no longer silent.

He started picking up the pace, his strokes remaining deep. You were both close after previously taking your time to indulge in each other's bodies.

You'd be lying if you said you could recall a time when Dorian had gotten you this close to the edge of heaven.

Gabriel's strokes were now getting sloppier as he buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, his thumb never leaving your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Let go for me, darling, I know you're close. He was breathless, barely able to contain his release with the way your walls were gripping him. "I want to feel you too, Gabriel." it was all it took for him to loose control and come undone within you. His heavenly sounds pushing you over the edge shortly after. His name was the only thing leaving your lips as your nails run down the tensed muscles of his back.

You rode out your highs and stayed tangled in each other for a few moments, trying to regain a sense of reality. Both dreading to look into each other's eyes after what you'd done. You wanted this night to last forever, the sun to never rise. Hoping that this way you'd never have to face the cold reality in which you were an infidel wife and your newfound lover had to live the rest of his life in the embrace of other women to try and forget the one who had managed to show him how love truly felt.

-

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 1)

Summary: A serf attracts the attention of Perturabo, unaware that she looks exactly like his deceased sister Callifone.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda? it's not his sister but she's her copy)

Word count: 1022

This is my first work on Tumblr. I haven't written anything for a long time but I hope that next time it will be better. English is not my mother tongue. So hope that everything will be more or less readable.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

“Almost all of my assistants died as a result of one... incident. So we are definitely lucky to have found you among this herd."

You could only purse your lips at that statement. Lucky. In a sense, this was true. Almost all the slaves were immediately sent to hard labor, where only death awaited them. But one of the primarch’s sincere serfs was just looking for a literate slave. So you haven’t really had time to experience all the horrors of a new life before you got a chance to survive yourself.

Still, you continued to think. Why did the Iron Warriors attack a loyal world of the Imperium? If you broke the law, Rogal Dorn would always find out about it and reveal the villains. But like a bolt from the blue, Iron Blood appeared and the assault began. All who miraculously survived were sent into slavery. Almost all the people were from the lowest classes, and only you, the local chronicler, somehow miraculously found your way among this whole crowd.

Your mentor said that lord Perurabo didn’t tolerate illiteracy and ignorance. He didn't want to see such people. That’s why the serfs of the primarch had to do more than just monitor the library. But also carry out other tasks that regular servitors could do.

That's how you start cleaning the primarch’s room. You, three other servants and your mentor briskly huddled around your duties in the hope of not bumping into lord Perturabo. But fate decreed otherwise, and after a couple of minutes the door opened.

“Lord Perturabo,” the mentor spoke by mail, bowing before the primarch. You and the slaves stood near the wall, humbly lowering your head. - “I apologize for disturbing your presence.”

He didn't answer. He didn't even move. Several minutes passed, but he continued to stand in the doorway. Your mouth started to dry. You tried your best not to fidget, so as not to bring down the primarch's wrath. But you still couldn’t shake the strange feeling, as if he...

looked straight at you.

You so wanted to close your eyes and leave this room as quickly as possible. But you could only wait for his order. Goosebumps ran through body. The tension grows. Even your brave mentor became worried. It was immediately clear that such behavior was not characteristic of Perturabo.

“Out.”

A relieved groan almost escaped your lips. It was unbearable to be in this place. Almost suffocating. You hurried after the slaves, continuing to look at the floor. You were almost over the threshold when you were stopped by a huge hand on your shoulder. No. Why? It was your first day. You almost believed that you could adapt to your new life. Maybe it would be better if you died under the rubble. And you never ended up on the Iron Blood.

"Except you".

You almost heard the serfs' thoughts. How they feel sorry for you and how glad they are that they are not in your place. You were still standing when the door closed behind the last serf, and the primarch sat down at his desk, turning his back to you. He didn’t touch the blueprints, instead staring at the table and clenching his fists tightly... as if he was holding himself back from anger.

Startled, you decided to go back to cleaning without waiting for his order. In the end, you managed to overcome your fear, and you were even able to relax. If a mentor were here, he would definitely scold you. But you cannot do your job quickly and efficiently. How could you ignore all these things?

A model of an amphitheater, the structure of Ancient Terra, an unusually shaped clock, puzzles. Never in your life have you seen more skillful work. But most of all, you stayed close to the golden birdcage. It was made so exquisitely and with such love that you kept wiping the non-existent dust off the table. You even saw images of birds and flowers on the bars.

"Like it?"

You shuddered involuntarily when you heard the primarch’s voice. Turning around, you were surprised to see Perturabo. He was still sitting with his back to you, turning his face just a little, as if he didn’t want to see your whole. His eyes shone with curiosity and wariness. He still didn’t touch the drawings.

“Y-yes, very much.” - you whispered, holding the rag to your chest. The primarch continued to glare at you, and you decided to continue the conversation. - “But why is it empty?”

"What is your name?" - Perturabo ignored your question. Confused, you almost whispered your name. Perturabo's face smoothed out slightly. - “Were your ancestors from Olympia?”

You shrugged in confusion. How were you supposed to know? Your family was not poor, but you did not wallow in money. You did not keep records of your family as you did. Perturabo continued to ask you the most common questions. Who you were before becoming serf. As if he was trying to know something that you didn’t understand.

You thought that talking to such an insignificant person like you only disappoints the primarch. But he only relaxed more and more. But when you said that you only have two brothers, he winced. Finally, he turned his gaze to the drawing. Before you could return to work, he suddenly looked at you. There was something in his gaze. You couldn't say exactly what it was.

"Do you wanna take a look?"

Your lips parted in surprise. When you boarded the Iron Blood, you thought your life was over. That you will never see your home world again and will forever be locked in this terrifying place. But here you stand before a primarch who strikes fear and worship into the hearts of humans. And he asks you, YOU, if you want to see his work.

“I'd love to.” - you nodded, holding back your excitement and unrest. You were really curious to know what Lord Perturabo was working on. Perhaps it was your imagination, but a shadow of a smile flashed across the primarch’s face.

Maybe he'll even let you come home.

[th3-ann0unc3r]

I’m back for my favorite time of the day taylor swift x marauders!!!! i’m doing rep because 4th favorite album (i love rep its so fucking good but i can’t put ttpd or folklore or evermore above it….)

(thanks guys for literally listening to me rant about my 2 biggest fixations more to come soon…) (it’s almost 4 am help me)

1. “…Ready for It?”- ROSEKILLER (“knew he was a killer first time that i saw him?!?!) (that’s so them core)

2. “End Game”- Wolfstar (i love “i don’t wanna be just another ex love you don’t wanna see”)

3. “I Did Something Bad”- Regulus when he’s going for the horcrux (or peter being a spy)

4. “Don’t Blame Me”- Roskiller again (“lord save me my drug is my baby” COME ON)

5. “Delicate”- GIVE ME JEGULUS (IS IT COOL THAT I SAID ALL THAT IS IT TO SOON TO DO THIS YET?)

6. “Look What You Made Me Do”- sirius to his mom i truly don’t have an explanation i just think he would say some of this shit to ms wally

7. “So It Goes…”- wolfstar 100% (“You did a number on me but honestly baby who’s counting? i did a number on you but honestly baby who’s counting”) that line is so them it’s so fucking wild

8. “Gorgeous”- REGULUS TO JAMES (“you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk”) i love drunk regulus not knowing what he’s doing

9. “Getaway Car”- rosekiller but only if bartlyus was first

10. “King of My Heart”- JILY OH MY GOD (“Salute to me, I'm your American queen And you move to me like I'm a Motown beat And we rule the kingdom inside my room Inside my room, oh”)

11. “Dancing With Our Hands Tied”- JEGULUS AGAIN (“I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know?”) what if reg lived and they dated in secret….

12. “Dress”- WOLFSTAR (the entire bridge makes this song so them core)

13. “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”- regulus about literally anything (my sassy king)

14. “Call It What You Want”- JEGULUS OR WOLFSTAR (for jegulus: All my flowers grew back as thorns Windows boarded up after the storm He built a fire just to keep me warm) (for wolfstar: My castle crumbled overnight I brought a knife to a gunfight They took the crown, but it's alright All the liars are calling me one Nobody's heard from me for months I'm doin' better than I ever was 'Cause My baby's fit like a daydream)

15. “New Years Day- sirius to regulus when they still live together…. (PLEASE DONT EVER BECOME A STRANGER WHOS LAUGH I CAN RECOGNIZE ANYWHERE) (ILL DIE RIGHT NOW)

[decadentfantasy]

Could you do MK11 Fujin, MK1 Earthrealmers (plus Syzoth and Lord Liu Kang) with a DJ/music producer reader?

𝑴𝑲1 𝑴𝑬𝑵 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑨 𝑫𝑱/𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑫𝑼𝑪𝑬𝑹 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: Syzoth, Liu Kang, Johnny Cage, Kenshi Takahashi, Raiden, Kung Lao

𝑻𝑾: brief mentions of alcohol

𝑨/𝑵: i'm sorry i took so long to answer, i've been so busy with school and it's completely drained me </3 i promise i'll be active again very soon

❥︎ 𝑺𝒀𝒁𝑶𝑻𝑯

❥︎ Being from Outworld, Syzoth is obviously unfamiliar with your line of work. But that doesn't mean he doesn't like it, quite the contrary in fact: as I've mentioned before dance in Outworld is considered a sacred art, and such appreciatetion is extended in regards of music as well. At every important celebration there are musicians and singers, in charge of entertaining the guests all evening. In Syzoth's eyes, what you do is very similar if not the same thing exactly, you just use different means.

❥︎ If you have one of those neon DJ consoles, Syzoth is going to be enamored by it. Reptiles have four color receptors in their eyes, one more than humans, so what he sees is far more vivid than what you see.

❥︎ Accessing the club you work in isn't a problem for him, after all he can turn invisible and walk right past the bouncers. He watches you from above, clinging to the ceiling, and sees the bustling sea of people surrounding the small stage you play on, colorful lights hitting the shimmering glitter on your face. It's the most beautiful and happy he ever saw you.

❥︎ 𝑳𝑰𝑼 𝑲𝑨𝑵𝑮

❥︎ I think it's important to mention Liu Kang lived in the '90s (his Friendship in MK11 is literally him dancing under a disco ball), he's a big fan of disco and pop music. And, despite that not exactly being your genre, he grows fond of it very quickly. After all it's your passion, it's only fair he interests himself in it at least a little.

❥︎ He likes to sit in on your recordings, especially if there are lyrics. Despite appreciating your music, he prefers the sound of your voice: he finds it sweet, caressing his ears softly. He could listen to you singing for days on end.

❥︎ Over the eons he's become increasingly good at sneaking around unnoticed, so he often goes to see you when he's not particularly busy and it's one of your quieter evenings (as quiet as a DJ can be). He doesn't want to disturb you so he just stands back, watching you from afar as you enjoy making people dance under the bright lights.

❥︎ 𝑱𝑶𝑯𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑪𝑨𝑮𝑬

❥︎ As a person who works in cinematic productions, Johnny deals with music producers all the time, so it's suffice to say he's not easily impressed. But, from the first time he heard you, he was hooked to you and your music. He doesn't know what it is, it could be the basses or the echoey vibe it has, but he loves the atmosphere it sets.

❥︎ He hired you on the stop after he saw you perform for the first performance, in his mind there's no other producer that can compete with your work. He has you compose and play the soundtrack for all of his movies, and some of your songs become hits thanks to him! Not to mention he brings you to a lot of his interviews and other occasions, increasing your popularity tremendously.

❥︎ When you're not busy composing, you still perform at one of the most exclusive nightclubs in Hollywood. And you better believe Johnny will attend every time he can! If he has to black out drunk, he'll do it with your music on, slowly growing to become white noise as he passes out.

❥︎ 𝑲𝑬𝑵𝑺𝑯𝑰 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑨𝑯𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑰

❥︎ He goes to nightclubs regularly, more out of habit than anything. He generally doesn't pay attention to the music that plays, huddled away in his VIP, but it's different when you play. He sees it in the way you move, the way you sing along to your own music: you pour so much passion into your job, he finds it contagious.

❥︎ Kenshi likes your more upbeat music, the fast-paced, bass-boosted kind. He's always been a fan of the more energetic genres, specifically synth-pop. He teaches you some Japanese words and phrases to use as lyrics, after a bit of coaxing he even relents and lets you record him for some of your pieces (much similarly to Lady Gaga's bodyguard in "Government Hooker").

❥︎ He doesn't tell you, but when you perform he takes it upon himself to look out for you. He knows how easily these events can escalate into violence, especially if there's alcohol available. He stands just behind you, watching over you from the shadows. And if nothing happens it's even better: he gets to just bask in the lovely atmosphere you create.

❥︎ 𝑹𝑨𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵

❥︎ Raiden isn't that big on clubs and nightlife in general, he's a very calm person who enjoys calm places. Still, the only time Kung Lao manages to convince him he gets to see you perform and instantly feels more comfortable in what he otherwise would find to be a suffocating atmosphere.

❥︎ He asks you to play privately for him often, in the comfort of your bedroom or living room. Truthfully, he enjoys looking at you as you play more than listening to the music itself: you look so relaxed even as your hands move so quickly over your console, a sequence that seems to be engraved in your memory from how effortlessly and fluidly you carry it out.

❥︎ While he doesn't attend many of your performances, he uses the lo-fi compilation you composed for him to do basically everything when you're not around, namely cook and meditate. He makes him feel like you're right there at all times, it brings him great comfort.

❥︎ 𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑮 𝑳𝑨𝑶

❥︎ While he can't exactly be described as a party animal, Kung Lao is still much more socially active than Raiden. Before your relationship developed to this point he was your biggest fan, doing his best to attend each and every one of your performances. He even got his t-shirt signed once, and it's the one he insists you wear when you sleep over at his place. Call him cheesy, but for him that was the fateful moment your lives crossed.

❥︎ If you were up to teach him, he'd love to learn how to play your console. It looks so complicated and cool with all its buttons, switches and levers, he has so much fun messing with them! Though he gets the worst jumpscares sometimes, making you laugh until your belly hurts. He almost doesn't mind.

❥︎ Even after you start dating he's still your biggest fan, maybe even more so than before. He's the type of boyfriend to brag about you to all of his friends, he's just so proud of you he can't keep it to himself! He especially enjoys helping you with your make-up before you go up on stage, it's an excuse to smother your face in kisses.

[sincerelyneo]

little run down: i want to thank the wonderful @hazyhae for tagging me to do this—it looked super fun, and i think it’s so cute to reflect on your works. i will say, though, my layout won’t be anywhere near as cute as theirs because i’m lazy and completely lacking any once of artistic talent. so we’re stuck with comic sans.

i didn’t write as much as i wanted to this year, and i went MIA for six months without a word—sorryy. but somehow, i still ended up with a total of 23 works. if you’d like to check them out, i have a very interesting masterlist for you to peruse.

“every fic you write is a song fic”…well sorta kinda 😋

FIRST WORK OF 2024: woman- renjun (27/3)

notes: i wrote this because i’m a firm believer that renjun is so hs1 coded. i was obsessed with the line “i’m selfish, i know” from woman, so it felt fitting.

my writing in this just annoys me, like paige shut uppp and stop yapping, my lord. my earlier fics are so wordy and long winded and it bothers me so much.

LAST WORKS OF 2024: igloo - renjun (17/11)

notes: started with renjun and finished with renjun yup. i love kiof, and when i heard igloo, i was like, this needs a fic—but i couldn’t settle on an idea i liked. originally, it was gonna be a toxic enemies-with-benefits fic for jeno, but i scrapped it because i wasn’t feeling it. then all of a sudden, it was november, and everyone and their mothers were writing nnn fics, and i was like… hm, okay.

i’m not really a lover of no nut november fics, but the lyrics were too fitting for the idea i settled on. so, alas—igloo.

LONGEST FIC OF 2024: fireproof - jeno (8.4k)

notes: is this cheating because i technically posted it in 2023 on my old blog? yeah. but it’s my wrapped, and i make the rules. my blog is a dictatorship, and whatever i say goes. also, if i hadn’t picked this, woman was the next longest, and i’ve already talked about her.

my writing in this is honestly horrific, and i think my old blog fics make me feel the most insecure as a writer. still, so many people asked me to repost it here, so i did—but i really wish i’d edited it first lol.

SHORTEST FIC OF 2024: sunflower vol 6 - hyuck (1.4k)

notes: harry styles wrote this song about haechan and i think about that all the time so i wanted to write something short and sweet. this is my only sfw fic as of now…

MOST POPULAR OF 2024: mad at you - mark

notes: umm…thank u for making this my most popular fic. ily <3

one thing about me… i’m a sucker for miscommunication, angst, and arguing in my fan fiction. a third-act breakup? sign me the hell up every single time. i love that this is my most popular fic of the year because i love the hurt/comfort trope.

PERSONAL FAVE OF 2024: heaven - chenle

notes: chenle is my bias, and it’s so hard to find fics where he’s a silly, lovesick lover boy, so i had to take matters into my own hands. i know i literally just said i love angst, but sometimes all a girl wants is tooth-rotting fluff with her smut, and i think i pulled that off pretty well in this fic. idk…

notes: i posted at least 3 fics for each member this year because i have a lot of ideas, and i like to spread them evenly—i also know the struggle of trying to find fics for your bias. however, hyuck + chenle definitely got a little more love (nobody’s surprised).

haechan (5 fics total: 12.1k words)

chenle (4 fics total: 16.0k words)

warning: i can be a little flaky with my writing. sometimes an idea hits, and i’ll write it in one sitting; other times, i’ll start something and forget about it for months. so, don’t be too disappointed if some of these never see the light of day.

guilty as sin? — park jisung (college!au, golden boy x nerd)

The hot upperclassman on the basketball team is every girl's fantasy - well yours. He's tall, and sweet and lean and hot and the object of all your late-night scenarios. And you like it like that. He's simply a thought, a dream, escapism and completely unaware of your existence. Well, he was, until you're assigned to tutor him. And now you have to teach the guy you've been getting off to at night how to do algebra...or fail the class yourself.

unadulterated loathing — na jaemin (enemies to lovers)

Every winter break, you and your best friends rent a cabin to escape the stress of college for a week. Except this year, your best friend is bringing her new boyfriend, Jeno, and with him comes his best friend, Jaemin—the one person you cannot stand.

ballad of a homeschooled girl — lee haechan (college!au)

Jumping from 18 years of homeschooling to living in college dorms would be hard for anyone; so imagine that mixed with a party animal roommate, a first crush and the cocky arrogant Lee Haechan who you just keep running into at inconvenient times. And he’s so irritating. Ugh. Could this get anymore awkward? 

if you steal my fic ideas i will be in your walls. 🤨

oh and…i forgot to mention: @sincerelyriize

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

Nerdy Prudes Must Die; musical motifs

i have so many thoughts about Nerdy Prudes Must Die and specifically the musical motifs used throughout. so buckle up, i want to talk. (theres a whole breakdown under the cut.)

so, if you didn't know already, Jeff Blim is a musical genius. and in the Hatchetfield universe, theres so many musical motifs that get used in every show. but there's one in particular that i don't know what to call it, but i'm gonna say it's 'the nerds' theme'. it's this one right here;

i've heard some call it Pete's theme, which is wrong. this specific melody is the theme of Pete, Richie, and Ruth's self worth and their inescapable tragedies. when we meet the three friends, it's very obvious that they see themselves at the bottom of the high school food chain. the nerds have accepted that they are worthless and will amount to nothing in school, because that is where society has placed them. it's as simple as Pete's song Cool As I Think I Am. he very literally does not see himself as valuable as the other students. but when that idea shifts from Cool As I Think I Am to Cool As She Thinks I Am, suddenly we have Pete realising his self worth, and the motif shows up;

and right after that, Pete is beat up in a parking lot by Max Jägerman. Pete's own self worth can only go so far when you have people like Max denying it constantly.

so now there's lyrics to this motif, and yes, Pete is the first one to sing it. But that doesn't make it any less Ruth and Richie's.

just like Pete, Richie finds his self worth in the acceptance from others. Once Max is gone and Richie makes friends with the football team, he realises how great it is to be alive. he realises that he deserves to be alive.

when Max comes to kill him, Richie justifies his self worth with the motif that returns for him this time, not Pete;

now they're not his final words, but Richie dies after declaring, "I'm Not A Loser". when he finally gets some self worth, he is murdered and never gets to fulfil that worth.

Ruth's self worth is a little different. she views her worthlessness as unfair. she believes that if she was different, she could be something great. unlike Pete and Richie, Ruth really shows that she has bigger dreams. Ruth wants to be the star of the show. she wishes to be appreciated, and her ungodly horniess can honestly be seen as a metaphor for wanting to be loved. Ruth sings about her self worth in the most Ruth way, with her own number in the BBQ Monologues.

the climax of the song (which Lauren kills, btw) the motif comes back again in the background. This time, it's for Ruth and her self worth;

does the fact that Ruth's version of the motif doesn't include the 'im not a loser' lyrics have to do with Ruth having more belief in herself? that she doesn't need to explain she isn't a loser because she knows she isn't a loser and deserves to have a chance in the spotlight? i sure as hell think so.

but Max kills her immediately after. he stops her from ever living out her big dreams of being a star.

the motif comes back again, obviously, in the reprise of Cool As I Think I Am;

the lyrics change this time around, and Pete sings 'you have to do it', which is him telling Steph that she has to be the one to kill him. despite Pete learning how to have self worth throughout this whole show, he still views himself as expendable. could this be justified with the fact that his two best friends just had their hopes and dreams shattered in death? probably. the point is, at some point during Max's killing spree, the death of his best friends, and the summoning of the Lords in Black, Pete has managed to convince himself that he's worthless again.

now. in the end, it feels like a happy ending due to the nature of The Best of You, but there are still a lot of loose ends to be explored. and on top of all that, the Nerds' motif comes back one last time;

because Grace kept the Black Book and continued to use it, and the Lords in Black are far from fair, i think Pete's torment and tragic narrative is not over by the end of NPMD.

so yeah. Pete, Richie, and Ruth are 'doomed by the narrative', as are most people in Hatchetfield. but these three characters are specifically doomed by their own self worth, and the narrative will never let them truly become their true selves.

and Jeff Blim wrote a banger melody to tell that story.

[senditcolton]

can this be a real thing? can it?

a/n: here is my submission for @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy 's Eras Tour Challenge. I was given "Snow on the Beach" and Jeremy Swayman. And I went out there with this song, transforming it into another royalty au. Did I shove multiple Taylor Swift lyric references in here? Yes. Does it connect to the Prince Andrei universe? Yes. Did I write this whole thing while live-streaming the last show of the Eras Tour? Yes. Hence why I'm posting in literally in the middle of the night, my time. I had hoped to get it out sooner but I ended up sobbing during surprise songs and needed to take a minute. But anyway, I love this fic and creating it made me appreciate this song a lot more than I did.

summary: Princess Patrycja Berezovsky is a pawn in the game of thrones. She is seen as the eligible princess of Roslindale, destined to be married off to the highest bidder. Nothing more. The only person that sees behind the mask is her sworn protector Jeremy. song inspo: "Snow on the Beach" (feat. Lana Del Rey) word count: 4.9k warnings: royalty au! knight x princess, forbidden romance, unresolved angst, the general medieval attitudes towards women, attempted suicide, and tragedy with a capital T (i'm sorry).

The moonlight casts a silver glow over Princess Patrycja Berezovsky’s room, overpowering the small golden light emanating from the dying embers in her hearth. It cascades over the new gown hanging on her wardrobe, dancing over the jewels resting on her vanity. Everything glitters and shines in the light, flawless and beautiful and perfect. Just like she was.

But in the silence of the early winter night, the princess’ eyes remain open, sleep evading her even now. In this moment, Patrycja felt like she might shatter into a million pieces. Like she was the embodiment of the crystal swan – the emblem of her country of Roslindale – perched on her nightstand. False and fragile. All because of what tomorrow would bring.

Tomorrow was the reason for the brand-new gown on her wardrobe. The reason for the royal tiara on her vanity. Tomorrow, she would be boarding a boat and sailing down the coast to be married to the crown prince of Carolyna. A marriage that Patrycja had no say in.

She knew this moment was coming. She had known it from the moment she turned fifteen. That was the first year that the scrolls had started arriving from all across the land, when she was fitted for a new dress every month, when she was paraded into the throne room and forced to meet the suitors that came to offer their hand in marriage.

Back then, it had been exciting. She had been giddy, her mind swimming with the songs that she heard played in court and the stories passes down from folk tales; stories of beautiful maidens meeting handsome princes, of knights rescuing damsels, of lovers whose romance brought about magic and overcame every obstacle.

But she had quickly learned that life was not like the songs.

She couldn’t pinpoint a precise time when that realization hit her, if there ever was an exact moment. It felt more like a slow build, a chain reaction of events leading her to that conclusion.

The first time she met one of the suitors in her father’s throne room who happened to be thrice her age.

The times her father refused to talk to her about her choice of suitors, instead looking towards the councilmen around him as if she weren’t even in the same room, as if she didn’t have an opinion in these negotiations.

Every time she was asked what she felt about one particular suitor or another, her concerns of age or cruelty or just general dislike were brushed off as vanity, glossed over because that prince or lord had a kingdom that yielded good crops or commanded a strong army.

Marriage was a political arrangement. And it was arrangement in which she hastily learned she had no say.

It had been three years since the first scroll arrived, her marriage to whatever eligible man her father and his council chose delayed. Mainly because of their focus on the war against Her father and his council held off for three years, their focus more on the war against Vizcaya. But when the opposing countries army had secured their claim to the lands surrounding the Stanley River Valley in the west, the council’s focus shifted from winning the war to recovering their losses. And the easiest recovery for the kingdom of Roslindale was by securing the engagement of Patrycja to the crown prince of Carolyna. A man that Patrycja had met only once before – two years ago.

The entire situation – her entire life – had turned from a fairytale into one giant tragedy. Her path had been planned out since she took her first breath. Her fate was sealed, the prophecy was written. Now, the weight of her future was locked onto her like a ball and chain, dragging her down. Something that she could not fight no matter how hard she tried. It felt ironic: here she was, princess of a great country whose name carried great power but she herself, had none.

There was nothing she could do.

That was the thought that had been twirling in her head, the image of her dancing in a strange ballroom, trapped in the arms of a man who did not care for her. A man who could bed a hundred other woman without penalty. A man who she would essentially be sold to for what? His country’s naval power?

There was no escape. She had no power to stop it, to change anything.

There was nothing she could do.

Patrycja can feel the panic rise in her chest, her ribcage rising and falling at a rapid pace. In a haste, she throws off her bedcovers, her body lifting from the plush mattress. The moonglow is still flooding into her chambers, casting a ghostly silver light over everything. She rises from her bed, her bare feet hitting the cold stone floors as she walks towards the glass doors, pushing them open and walking onto the balcony overlooking the ocean.

The early winter chill hits her skin, causing goosebumps to rise, helping to slow her panicked breathing, if only slightly. Her blue eyes stay fixed on the horizon, watching as the waves crash onto the shore, the beat of the ocean slower than the beat of her heart. The cold air stings her lungs with every inhale and she can feel the scream perched just below jaw, begging to be released. But she doesn’t let it fall.

It was a skill that she had perfected long ago. Hide every ugly, raw, uncouth emotion behind her polished façade. Never let them see you crack. Accept your fate with a demure smile and a graceful curtsy. It was what was expected. It had been expected of her from the moment she was born. It would be expected of her till the moment she died.

There was nothing she could do.  

She felt fake. Part of her wondered if she was even a real human anymore or if she had been transformed into the crystalline swans embroidered onto tapestries, engraved onto the palace doors, embossed into the castle walls. That she had turned from a person with emotions and needs into something monetary – something beautiful and valuable and disposable.  

Patrycja knew she hadn’t faded entirely because she could feel the pure want build inside of her body. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted… to have a say in how her life was plotted. But there was nothing she could do.

The crash of the ocean waves draws her back to the present moment, her eyes refocusing down the cliffside the castle was perched on to the dark blue almost black ocean, the darkness broken only by the white foam on the waves. And the sight of that sea, so far below her, pulls a story from England into the forefront of her mind. A story that whispers through her thoughts in a voice of a young maiden so much like her. A maiden who, driven to despair over the lack of control and agency in her life, chose to meet the waters and drown.

Patrycja Berezovsky had no power in this life. Except one.

She had the power to say when it ended.

The clarity settles into her bones, as cold as the air around her, freezing any panic that once existed in her veins, replacing it instead with a chilling acceptance.

Patrycja spins away from the stone railing of her balcony, crossing her bedchamber to the door. The heavy oak gives way with the push of her hand and she pokes her head out of the small crack, eyes glancing around the silent hallway. It is abandoned, the moon the only light and the sheer luck of being able to slip out of her bedchamber unnoticed seems like a sign from the universe urging her on. She doesn’t hesitate to leave, not even grabbing a cloak or candle or slippers.

She knows that her current fortune would not last to the seashore. The night patrol would be walking the halls, guard would be posted outside every exit. But Patrycja knew the secrets that the palaces stone wall held, secrets that most guards were not privy to.

You see, there were tunnels that wound their way through the bowels of the castle and led directly to the cliffside overlooking the ocean. Her uncle Brajan had showed her these passages when she was a child, excited to share his hidden playground with his niece. Patrycja wondered if he saw something of himself in her. He had always been the black sheep, willful and wild and never tied down. She shared a similar desire. Maybe that was why he showed her a way to escape.

However, she knows that her current plan, one to not only escape the castle but escape the trappings of her life was not the form of freedom he had in mind. She sends a silent thank you to him anyway, hoping that when the news reached him, he would understand. Pressing on a painted panel a few paces down the hall, the entrance whooshes open, reveal a staircase to Patrycja.

The tunnels are cold but comforting, a labyrinth that she knew like the back of her hand. Her body naturally moves her around turns and corners, the steeled resolve never wavering in her veins.

The chilled ocean breeze is the first thing she can feel, even before the world appears to her, the exit a small silver box promising her a getaway. The cacophony of waves is louder down here than from her chamber’s balcony, only increasing in sound as she walks closer.

Finally, her bare feet hit the delicate grass of the cliffside, the wind ruffling her pale blonde hair. The edge of the outlook is within sight. Patrycja moves forward, her eyes fixed on the line where the earth ends and the sky begins until she is near enough to the edge to see the ocean waves crashing beneath her. She watches the water break against the rocks below, the waves beckoning to her with their steady ebb and flow, the foam retreating back into the darkness, seemingly begging her to follow their path. The wind picks up the edge of her long nightdress, the hem fluttering in the breeze, her long flowing sleeves cascading behind her.  

She is sure she looks like a character from a song, ready to meet her fate. She is sure that her life will be reduced to a tragedy. What kind? Of that she isn’t sure. People will either whisper about the princess who went mad and killed herself or she will be an archetype in a folk tale, a tragic heroine that took control of her life in the only way she could.

There was no way of knowing what she would become once she was gone. There was only the going.

A small slip of the rocks beneath her lurches her body, the surprise pausing her forward momentum briefly. She takes a small breath, steadying herself again, before taking another step forward. She could do this. There was nothing stopping her but her own fear and hesitancy.

That is, until she feels the tight grip of a hand on her shoulder.

The mere touch stops her in her tracks. She was supposed to be alone. This was supposed to be her escape. Her entire body stays frozen in place, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. She just keeps her gaze focused on the beach below, the waves still kissing the sharp rocks. Then, a voice sounds out, rising above the crash of the sea.

“Princess?”

Patrycja recognizes its tone and timbre. Her own surprise accompanied by the press of the hand on her shoulder forces her to turn around. And her blue eyes land on the concerned brown ones of Ser Jeremy – her knight, her sworn protector.

The moonlight glints off his armor, the black metal looking even darker in the night, the only color on his body coming from the gold of the cloak clasped around his shoulders. Patrycja watches as his gaze dances across her face, glancing down at her thin nightdress, her bare feet.

“What are doing out here?” he asks, the concern lacing his question. The query demands an answer, an explanation – one that Patrycja is hesitant to give. So, she stands frozen, her eyes still distant and stare blank as Jeremy continues to look at her.

His hand falls from her shoulder, tracing down her arm to loop around her wrist. The hold around the joint is delicate, as is the pull of it on her arm. Jeremy’s gentle urging makes her walk a few steps forward, at least until they are away from the edge of cliff. Patrycja watches as he reaches behind him, tugging the golden material of his cloak. Above the ambient noise of the ocean, she can hear the clasps holding the material click, the fabric releasing. He twirls the material around her, quickly and efficiently wrapping it around her frame, the soft cotton descending upon her own shoulders. Jeremy pulls the fabric tight around her, willing the winter chill away.

Jeremy’s voice sounds again as his hands move against her arms in an attempt to both warm her and shake her out of the fugue state she was in. He repeats his prior question, the syllables still laced with confusion and the silent request for any response lingered in the air.   

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrycja finally speaks, her voice quiet and humorless. She watches his eyes look over her before flicking to the where the earth gave way to the sea and then back to her. She can see the realization settle in his dark irises and she can feel a strange ache in her heart at the sadness that seems to spark in his eyes along with that understanding.

“Why?”

His question is a genuine one, she knows this. But his ignorance at the position she was in, the choices made without her consent, choice that drove her to choose this path, ignites a righteous anger in her. That fire flows through her veins and all that bottled rage and anguish that she had been holding back for years finally bursts forth.

“Why? Why?! God, Jeremy, why do you think!?” Patrycja says, her voice rising with every sentence.

She throws his hands off her with a sharp shake of her body, the anger forcing her to move, even if it is only to pace side to side in front of him. Part of her knew that she couldn’t go further even if she wanted to, not with Jeremy’s eyes following her every step.

“I am about to be married off to someone I met two years ago, a marriage that I have no say in in a life that I have no say in! I have no control, no power. I might be a princess but I am not awarded the agency that every man around me is given freely. I am an item: a brood mare, a diamond to auctioned off to the highest bidder. Percious cargo to be shipped off to another country. Forced to be tied a man that I do not know and do not love. At the worst, he could be cruel – at best, indifferent. Regardless, I will belong to him for the rest of my life. And there is nothing I can do to stop it except walk off that precipice, let the rocks meet me and the waves take me.”

Her final declaration is emphasized with a point of her finger towards the cliffside. Jeremy’s eyes follow her gesture and Patrycja sees the dark brown irises harden in a rocky determination before returning to her, locking with her hysteric gaze.

“I can’t let you do that,” he says, his voice steady in its resolve.

“Yes, you can,” Patrycja replies, stalking towards him, the finger that had been pointing to ocean now pressed against his breastplate. “You are sworn to me. So if I demand you to return to the castle and let me die, you have to obey.”

“I cannot obey you in this, Princess. You are right, I am sworn to you. I took an oath to guard your secrets, to defend your name and honor, to give my blood for yours and protect with all my strength and – ”

“Then protect me!” Patrycja screams. Her hand reaches for the hilt of the sword hanging at his side, her hand stopped by Jeremy’s own calloused palm wrapping around her wrist. She can feel the tears that are tracking down her cheeks, her blue eyes gazing up at him as her voice breaks.

“Please. Jeremy, please. Save me from a fate that I do not want, from a life that I cannot control.”

“I can’t let you die!” Jeremy exclaims, pulling her body to his, his hands turning to grip her waist as he meets her pleading gaze. The close proximity forces Patrycja to keep his steady gaze. She had never noticed how the moonlight turned them from their normal dark umber to a brighter chestnut color.

“I can’t let you die. Even if it is by your own hand,” he declares, quieter this time, one of his hands reaching up to brush away her windswept hair from her cheek. “Not if I can stop it.”

This was dangerous. The thought passes through Patrycja’s mind before she can help it and she quietly scoffs at its absurdity. Of course this was dangerous. It would be that way even if her and Jeremy were twenty paces apart from each other. The two of them shouldn’t be out of the castle, alone together, at this time of night. But standing here in her thin nightgown, her sworn protectors’ cloak around her shoulders, his hands on her body, their frames close enough that Patrycja can feel his breath fanning across her cheeks, the warmth a sharp contrast to the chill around them… it was compromising.

Very compromising, in fact.

The realization seeps into her bones faster than the realization that she could jump from the cliffside if she wanted to. Here was another way to escape that wouldn’t cost her life. There were few weapons in a princesses’ arsenal but one was their virtue. And if that was sullied, she would be shunned, most likely disowned. She would be free.

So, without hesitation, she lifts her body up to press her lips against Jeremy’s.

It was an impulsive decision, not even entirely thought out. She didn’t know if anyone had already discovered them standing on the cliffside together, if there even was a witness to this indiscretion. It was reckless and rash. But all thought: her original plan to throw herself into the ocean, her reasoning behind the kiss, her anger, her anguish, her desperation, her hysteria… it all disappeared with the touch of Jeremy’s lips.

And in its place… a peace.

The feeling of his lips against hers was indescribable. The sensation was… magical. It felt similar to the emotions that used to fill her body when heard tales and songs of true love, an emotion that she had hoped to experience for real when she kissed her own prince charming; warm, beautiful, and all encompassing.

And it certainly didn’t hurt that Jeremy was kissing her back. The hand that had been on her waist had tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer to his body, the cold metal of his armor pressing against her front. His other hand had fallen from behind her ear where he had so tenderly tucked her hair to cup her jaw, guiding her deeper into the kiss. The way his fingers rest on her skin is delicate, touching her with a reverence that she had never felt so personally, holding her like she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Which, considering the position he had found her in only moments ago, might have been true.

The sensation of Jeremy’s kiss is gone as swiftly as it came. He pulls away from her, his head ducking down. In regret? In embarrassment? In disgust – at her or himself? She didn’t know.

The two stand there frozen and it only then that Patrycja notices the snow falling from the sky. The white flakes land on Jeremy’s dark hair and armor, covering him with a natural silver glitter that sparkles in the moonlight. He looks even more like a hero in the songs – the melancholy knight, honor bound to his king… to his princess.

“Why did you do that?”

His question is slightly muffled by the tilt of his head and the gentle snowfall but Patrycja can hear the sharpness of his words, a small undercurrent of anger painting the syllables. She stands frozen, unsure on what to say in response, much like when he asked her a question earlier that night. But unlike before, the reason she does not answer is not because she was caught in a catatonic state. It because she wasn’t sure of the answer now.

“Was that your newest escape plan?” Jeremy continues, his dark eyes finally reconnecting to hers. “Kiss me and be shunned? It is clever – your father would most likely disinherit you, send you away to a convent or some other institute where you would never be seen again. But I would be killed for besmirching the Princess’ honor.”

The guilt crashes Patrycja with the strength of the ocean waves beating on the cliffside. She should’ve realized that her choice would affect Jeremy. Even before the kiss and the feeling that it brought forward, she had always cared about him. He was kind and noble and brave. He had always kept his oath, preformed his duty as her sworn protector. Tonight was no different. He stopped her attempt to end her life and how had she repaid him? By trying to implicate him in an action that would not only undo the honor that he had worked so hard to achieve but would force him to meet the hangman’s noose.

“So did you?” he asks, his voice pulling Patrycja back, her blue eyes meeting his hardened gaze. “Did you kiss me in the hopes that someone was watching and would report back to your father?”

The shame thrumming through her body forces her to respond.  

“I did. At least, that was the plan. But now…”

Patrycja’s voice trails off and she can see Jeremy’s eyes soften in understanding. He must’ve felt it too, that force, that magic between them; rarer than a comet or the aurora borealis. It had enveloped both of them, covered them like the snow now covering the beach… unlikely, strange, but beautiful.

“Why did you kiss me back?” Patrycja questions, her head tilting ever so slightly in confusion. “Even if it would mean death for you?”

The change of expression on Jeremy’s face is almost imperceptible, just a small lift of one corner of his mouth in a subtle smirk.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he responds, an echo of the first words she spoke to him that night. “I’m sworn to you. I am willing to die for you. In every way.”

Oh. Oh.

It had always been Jeremy. He had always been there, by her side and not just because duty demanded it. It was because he felt something towards her – something more than just the devotion of a knight to his princess. It couldn’t be real. This was impossible… as impossible as the snow falling around them. Jeremy… loved her? At least, he cared about her – deeply.

Patrycja watches Jeremy’s head drop, the smile disappearing from his face.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything. Not now, at least.”

She knew what Jeremy meant with those words. There was never a time or place for him to confess his feelings towards her. Their positions simply didn’t allow it. But his confession coming out now, mere moments after she was planning to end her life, the night before she was to be married off… it was jarring to say the least. But a small part of Patrycja doesn’t care.

“Would you ever have told me how you felt?”

“It is not my place to ask for the affection of a princess,” Jeremy replies, the smile returning to his face but this time it was laden with sadness.

The reasoning behind his melancholy seems to hit Patrycja slowly. Of course he wouldn’t have told her. Even if he had confessed to her before tonight, they would’ve never been able to explore their feelings, safely. It would be forbidden, dangerous. One misstep could spell the end for them both.

These emotions existed in a space that they could not survive in. This could never exist. All they could only have this moment – in the peace and calm of snowfall on the cliffside, the moon as their only witness.

“I’m glad you told me,” Patrycja whispers, her gentle confession drawing Jeremy’s attention back to her. “At least I know that there is someone out there who sees me as more than just my title and my inheritance. It’s a comforting thought.”

Jeremy only offers her a subtle bow of his head, the action of a knight proud to serve his princess. Nothing more. Patrycja can see the rise of his chest is response to his deep inhale, his head lifting, shoulders straightening and she heartachingly watches as his own mask – one of a  duty-bound knight – falls back into place.

“We should get you back inside, Princess.”

The words aren’t meant to be cruel but Patrycja can feel the cut of them in her heart, the pain of which shocks her back fully to the present. She registers the numbness in her fingers and toes, feels the dampness of her now snow-ladened hair, and a shiver wracks through her body. And finally, the wave of exhaustion sweeps over her, brought on by the lack of sleep and every choice, plan, secret that had been revealed.

There is no arguing from her, no fight. Instead, she just nods her head and walks back towards the castle. She can feel the familiar comforting presence of Jeremy trailing closely behind her, an energy that meant so much now, after the revelations of tonight. Patrycja walks back through the hidden tunnels, turning the opposite directions that she had mere hours ago until she was climbing the staircase that would lead to the secret entrance a few paces down from the door of her bedchamber.

Before they walk out into the hall, Jeremy steps in front her, his head poking through the crack in the wall, checking to see if anyone was lingering the corridors. It was only when he confirmed the coast was clear did he step forward, allowing Patrycja to walk into the hallway before he clicked the panel back into place. He escorts her to her chambers, standing a few paces behind her as her hands grasp the iron doorhandle. But before she can pull open the carved oak, Jeremy’s hands once again stop her.

In a move that was laden with every ounce yearning, every impossible desire, his hands gently grasp the edges of his golden still thrown over her shoulders. The fabric falls from her, exposing her skin to silver moonlight. Patrycja can only let in a shuddering breath, brought on by the intimacy that was a whisper of what she now knew they could’ve shared… if only they were different people. 

“Good night, Princess,” Jeremy says, his whisper echoing down the hallway and Patrycja desperately holds onto warmth that his devotion provided her, if only for a moment, before she steps back into her gilded cage.

She walks into her bedchamber, ready to lay her head down on her pillow and let herself fall into what she hopes is a deep and dreamless slumber. But as she is about to pull the door close behind her, a tremor of fear runs through her. She turns, her gaze now landing on Jeremy’s back, his golden cloak once again secured to his shoulders.

“Jeremy,” she says, her voice calling his attention back to her. She swears she can feel her heart skip a beat when his gentle brown eyes fall on her. “You aren’t going to tell anyone anything? About tonight?”

She can see the understanding cross over his expression, knowing that she meant her sneaking out, the hidden tunnels, how she had been on the cliffside, ready to jump into the waves, their kiss, everything. A soft smile tugs at his lips before he speaks.

“I swear to ward the Princess. With all my strength and give my blood for hers. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

His words were verbatim to the vow that he took in the throne room, kneeling in front of both her and her father while the rest of the court looked down on them. That day where he became more than a knight from the Rosalind ranks, when he turned into her sworn protector. It was his promise to her.

“That was the oath I took,” Jeremy says, his voice filled with the sincerity that Patrycja had only dreamed of receiving. “My first and only duty is to you.”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @svexhenthusiast

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[bloodhoundluke]

secrets?

pairing: luke hemmings x f!reader (fc: claudia tihan)

a/n: hello dear people! 🎀 i haven't had the time to write basically anything, so here is another instagram blurb. i love doing these, it's so fun! in this blurb, y/n is a songwriter and she is assigned to have a songwriting trip with 5sos. the fans start to speculate if luke and y/n are dating. later, luke and y/n decide to go on a vacation together. ( Y/S/N stands for your ship name).

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, 5sos and 51,054 others

yourinstagram Song camp and late night hours

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lrhcurls97 Are they dating??? Luke what are you doing there???? Who is this girl????

cakelm1_ OMG GUYS! Michael commented 'So there the blondie still is...' and deleted it right after?? 😳

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, michaelclifford and 39,214 others

yourinstagram Mama loves u (and MISSES U)

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michaelclifford Still can't get over Moose's reaction to him lol

yourinstagram Omg it was hilarious!

yourbestfriend I can tell he misses you too...he's been cryin' a lot since you left 🥺

yourinstagram Stooop 😭😭

lukehemmings Cute 🐕

lrhcurls97 LUCAS????

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, 5sos and 49,201 others

yourinstagram Thanks for this opportunity fellas. Calum, Michael, Ashton and Luke, I loved working with you guys. You taught me so much. The passion you have for this job is admirable. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Ps. And thanks for the occasional secret selfies you took with my phone.

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5sos Thank you Y/N for working with us, you are so talented. We were a bit of a pain in the ass sometimes, but you tolerated it well. Love you! ❤️

calumhood Thank you Y/N, you're a literal sunshine!

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, yourbestfriend and 40, 693 others

yourinstagram This vacay got me glowin'

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5saucymalum LUKE LIKED!!

yourbestfriend ILYYY BUBS 🥺 happiness looks gorgeous on you <3

5sos.updates

Liked by loveroflukey, lrhupdates and 1,894 others

5sos.updates Luke posted this on his Instagram with the text 'Love the view' and deleted it right after. It's speculated that the girl in the picture is the songwriter 5sos worked with a while ago.

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lukeswildflower ALERT ALERT!! LUKE HAS A FINSTA GUYS

cashtonscherry LUKE???!!

loveroflukey i really hope she makes him happy ❤️

lukehemmings

Liked by yourbestfriend, 5sos and 706, 586 others

lukehemmings I heard vacation photo dumps are cool. The word itself is horrible.

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michaelclifford You're ridiculous

lukehemmings C'mon man

5sosforlyf OMG THEY ARE ON A VACATION TOGETHER?? Y/N HAS TO BE THERE TOO???

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, yourbestfriend and 46, 901 others

yourinstagram Hi lovers 🤍 These past two weeks could be described in just three words: reading, sunbathing and eating. I've read so much that you just might call me the next Shakespeare (not really).

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sgfg_1049 IF THEY REALLY ARE TOGETHER, LUKE IS A LUCKY MAN...LIKE WOW...i'm definitely a bisexual.

nitswdefender imagine y/n and luke reading together?? 😭😭

yourbestfriend never knew Shakespeare looked that good 🥵

yourinstagram I love youuu 😭💗💗

ashtonirwin Big love! ☀️❤️

lukehemmings

Liked by yourinstagram, 5sos and 689,024 others

lukehemmings Beer and a pretty view.

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calumhood Enjoy the trip man!

teefsos THE TABLE IS SEATED FOR TWO????

5sos.updates

Liked by 5cashton, lrhupdates and 2,103 others

5sos.updates Luke and Y/N were spotted in Rome, Italy earlier today. Apparently they were in Greece last week and then traveled from Spain to Italy.

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5cashton OMG!!!

vapory_cal I LOVE THEMMMM ❤️

saucymikey FIRST OFFICIAL Y/S/N PIC OH LORD I AM CRYING

yourinstagram

Liked by lukehemmings, ashtonirwin and 48, 183 others

yourinstagram Hi again...🎀

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lukehemmings Hi 🥰❤️

y/s/n.updates THEY HAVE NO BUSINESS BEING THIS CUTE ASDFGHJKL

glitteryash my Y/S/N heart ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

lukehemmings

Liked by yourbestfriend, 5sos and 789,104 others

lukehemmings Pick the cuter winner.

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yourbestfriend Hmmm lemme think… my bestie

yourinstagram Bby I love u 💘

5sos Definitely not Luke

yourinstagram LMAOOOOOO

lukehemmings HEYYY

a/n: ps. i just wanted to say that i came up with the usernames randomly, so if you identify yourself or something, it wasn’t intentional 🥺 hope u enjoyed this one!

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