#i was listening to music as i wrote this so all the music questions gave me a mini stroke

[tsyvia48]

Author & Mensch: Reflections on the impact of @neil-gaiman on my life, in essay and doodle

As a woman of a certain age, I am a well-practiced overthinker. Nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual, the names have been biting or praise depending on who wielded them. They’re all true, and I embrace them. 

In the early days of adulthood, when I was a wee 20-something overthinking nerd, geek, know-it-all, intellectual (20+ years ago), I became deeply interested in image and text and text-as-image. While friends were watching and arguing over Survivor, I was obsessing over Peter Greenaway’s The Pillowbook and Prospero's Books and Neil Gaiman’s Sandman. (To this day my copies of the Sandman graphic novels and the English translation of The Pillowbook of Sei Shonagon are proudly displayed on the good bookshelves—you know, the ones I want people to peruse.)

Sandman isn't merely good storytelling and good art, it teases at some of the fundamental questions to which my religion-major heart was consistently and reliably drawn. It modeled a way of rendering the questions—and suggested answers—I would never have imagined on my own.

In those days, I created an artist's book: an altered gift edition of Hamlet. I explored Ophelia’s femininity and the inevitability of her break with her mental health, caught as she is between Hamlet and her father. I imagined her story if she’d had true agency. I investigated the way art (fan art?!) had shaped my understanding of the play and my relationship to it. I layered in my story—my resonance and dissonance with hers—and my art, along with images of famous and not-so-famous paintings of Ophelia. I proudly named Greenaway and Gaiman as influences. 

I imagined myself an artist. And, truthfully, I suppose I was one. 

I read Good Omens back then, too, delighting over the religious tropes and subversions, the humor, and the fundamental faith in humanity that shone through. 

In the two decades since then, below the din of “responsible” choices (that have mostly moved me away from imagining myself an artist) there has been a melody quietly bringing me comfort, shifting my perspective, and reminding me who I want to be. When I stop to listen for and name the music, I realize much of it generates from Neil Gaiman. 

The Graveyard Book gave me comfort and hope as a new parent. 

Ocean at the End of the Lane reminded me of the layers and the depths⏤the archetypes and metaphors⏤present in everything around me, if I am willing to seek them.

Neil’s anecdote about meeting Neil Armstrong has been a talisman against imposter syndrome. Or, more precisely, it has been a permission slip for forgiving myself when the imposter syndrome inevitably surfaces.

The episode of Dr Who he wrote (“the Doctor’s Wife”) changed the way I understand the entire Dr Who experience before and since. 

Lucifer (tv), which his work inspired, gave me joy, comfort and distraction through a tough time in my life. 

When, a few years ago, I realized he is Jewish, I had that swelling of pride and resonance that I always get when someone I admire shares that identity with me.

And now there’s the Good Omens tv series. It has opened something in me I didn’t realize was closed. Crowley and Aziraphale are helping me better understand myself, and love, and gender, and storytelling, and, believe it or not, Torah. I am writing again for the first time in ages. I'm drawing more often and with more joy than I’ve known maybe since childhood.

I’ve been getting back into my gratidoodle practice, drawing and writing what I’m grateful for. And when I decided to add Neil Gaiman’s face and some words about my appreciation for his work to my sketchbook, I realized he’s brought me full circle.

Text and image and text-as-image + Neil Gaiman + story is an old constellation for me. And once again, I find my thoughts dancing, shifting, blossoming to the quiet melody of (one of?) the greatest storyteller(s) of this generation. 

And now that I am actively engaging with other Gaiman fans, I see how responsive and kind and encouraging he is to those of us who love his work, and his name is permanently etched on my heart: a benefactor, a teacher, a role model.

How satisfying and fitting that such a powerful and resonant voice, miraculously, thankfully, beautifully, also seems to be a genuine mensch. 

B”H (thanks to God) that I am alive at the same time as such a one.

#I didn't realize I was going to write AND draw when I started this #but I felt I needed both #I wish I had a flatbed scanner #this photo doesn't do it justice #there's greater nuance in the color in person #Stories matter #Art matters #like, really matters #Neil Gaiman is a gift to this world #Good Omens #Crowley and Aziraphale #Ocean at the End of the Lane #The Graveyard Book #Neil Armstrong and imposter syndrome #The Doctor's Wife #So grateful for tumblr

#crowley x aziraphale #good omens #neil gaiman #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable husbands #jewish good omens #aziracrow #jumblr #my art #ocean at the end of the lane #the graveyard book #the doctor's wife

[hwallazia]

MAKE UP SEX

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem! reader

word count: 2,7k

tags: smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, switch!woo, switch!reader (both are switches bc I can’t imagine it any other way), foreplay, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dry humping, dirty talk, praise oh so much praise, nicknames (love, baby, princess, love of my life, sweetness...) deepthroat, just the two of them being two fools in love,

synopsis: you tried every way to be understanding, but the lack of attention from your partner was suffocating you. He would have to compensate this to you somehow, and fortunately he knows exactly what you need.

| a/n: I initially wrote this (in spanish) for Arisu from Alice In Borderland, and I randomly read it again today and Wooyoung was the only thing that came straight to my mind. Him being all whiny and dominant at the same time??? Where do I pay?

Wooyoung was right next to you. As always, he was enjoying his video games during the weekend, he had his headphones on and the microphone just a few inches away from his lips.

He insulted and shouted, causing you discomfort, which is why you looked for your headphones to listen to music, looking for a way to overshadow your boyfriend’s voice.

You couldn't blame him. You knew how much his video games meant to him, and how little time he had for them now that he started working.

You met him during high school, and fell deeply in love with him in your senior year. You had to confess your feelings to him immediately, before you parted ways and it was too late.

One lovely, chilly night you did it, you pulled up the courage and said those two words, which would change your lives forever.

“I like you. I like you a lot, Wooyoung.” you avoided eye contact at all costs. You couldn't allow yourself to see your loved one's gaze trying to reject you, in case the feelings weren't mutual. All those insecurities vanished with the wind that there was at that time of the night.

“I… I like you too, y/n.”

You finally looked at him. There was something special in his gaze, hundreds of galaxies collapsing into his orbs and illuminating them, more than the buildings and traffic lights that were scattered throughout Seoul that night.

“A-are you serious?” you questioned. Everything felt unreal, you needed him to say it one more time, maybe then your heart would hit the, now, sweet ground of reality.

“Yes, beautiful. I like you, a lot as well.”

You swore you could die right there. You would finally have him to yourself, something toxic of you, but it was what you wanted most: for Jung Wooyoung to have eyes for no one but you.

What could you say? You liked the attention, and even more so if it was his attention.

After months of dating, on one of the few dates you had in that period of time, he asked you to live together.

“Oh? Isn't that a bit hasty? How will we maintain the house? And the food?” so many things were running through your mind that they made you forget who you were talking to. Wooyoung.

“Hasty? Sweetheart, I’ve worked hard since we started dating to finally live with you, and only you. I even got a job!”

“A job? Are you serious?” you expressed, a smile starting to be drawn on your pink, plump lips.

“Damn right I am. You're looking at the new 8TEEZ’ choreographer, dear.” he announced with a certain tone of arrogance that could only scream “Jung Wooyoung”.

“Choreographer? Love, that's amazing.” you rushed at him, knocking him down the green grass of that park where you were holding your date.

“You’re definitely the love of my life.” he murmured, his fingers stroking your long dark hair.

And this memory is what brings us to the present. Your loved one was resting his body in the comfortable gaming chair you gave him for his 25th birthday, it embraced his anatomy as if it didn't want to let him go —he didn't really want to get up from his comfortable seat either. “Shit!” you heard him shout, despite having your headphones on with music at a moderate volume. You sighed and then saw it, the big screen painted with blood stains and ‘Game Over’ written in a somewhat crooked letter.

“Ugh, I almost had it.” he exhaled to turn to see you. “Love, did you see how—”

His words were cut off when he saw how your gaze did not show the same adorable, big eyes that characterized you, but had now transformed into an annoying, and somehow penetrating look.

“I screamed a lot, didn't I?” he shrugged his shoulders like a little kid, afraid that you would scold him.

“What do you think?” your tone was notoriously angry, yet you had to inhale and exhale a generous amount of air since you didn’t want to yell at him to fuck off. “Wooyoung, try to stay somewhat quiet, not even the headphones can overshadow your voice.”

“’M sorry, babe.”

He took off his headphone set and placed it on the small dark oak nightstand located a few meters away from him. He pushed himself up with his feet to approach the edge of your shared bed, and settle himself behind you. He adjusted himself so that you were between his legs, enveloping you with his strong arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading, maybe this way I can unwind” you took off your glasses to clean its glass in three quick seconds and put them back on the back of your nose. You looked at your partner's dark and beautiful orbs and noticed how they moved from side to side slowly, apparently reading the book’s pages. You immediately turned off the screen of your tablet and looked at him in the eyes. “Do you remember what I asked you a few hours ago?”

“Hum, would there be a problem if I said no?” he gave you an innocent smile with his barely curved eyebrows.

“Yes, there is. I asked you if you wanted to cook with me,” a sigh leaving your lips “During these last few weeks, I’ve been trying to do things with you, but your routine is always work, video games, eat and sleep. It's fucking annoying.” you finally confessed everything you had stuck down your throat for the last three weeks. Not being able to see his face made it, somehow, more comfortable for you to tell him your feelings. “I know I have to be comprehensive and all that shit but lately, this has been unbearable”.

“Oh, sweetness. I'm so sorry” he hid his face in the hole formed in your collarbone, resting his cheek on the side of your neck “I promise to compensate you for everything, beautiful.”

“You promise?” now you rested your right cheek against his messy raven hair.

“Mmhm,” he claimed, “And you know what, I'm starting right now.”

And with that, he began to leave a nice trail of wet kisses along your neck. A small gasp slid down your tongue, this just being the fuel for your lover’s plan. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his nose smelling your intoxicating scent until he went up to your ear and lick its lobe.

“Have I already told you how beautiful you are?” he kissed the back of your neck, licking where his lips had passed.

“Woo— Ah, w-what do you intend to do? Mhpm—”

“Make up for lost time, pretty.”

Even though you couldn't see his face, you could feel his arrogant smile. He loved knowing the power he had over you, how much he could turn you on with just a couple of his kisses.

And sure enough, you were melting under his touch, his heavenly touch.

“Babe— A-ah.” nonsenses were escaping your lips. Though talking was practically impossible you still tried to. But fuck didn’t he had you fucked out with just a few touches.

Before you could realize it, he slid his hand under the silk sheets which only covered your legs, dragging his middle finger and ring finger towards your clit, which was beginning to get wet under his touch.

“Wooyoung, oh fuck” you hissed “You know how sensitive I am there- Ahh!”

You finally discovered what he was trying to do, and maybe a fetish of his: interrupt you so you would moan more. In broad terms, fewer words and more pleasure. Maybe you could take advantage of that and get what you wanted.

Your lover moved his phalanges with agility and mastery over your soft, pinky button. At this point, it was funny to you that moment where you asked him "Are you a virgin?" and he quickly denied —he had only fucked once. He now looks like a fucking playboy, satisfying you so well.

“You're soaked, gorgeous.” he whispered “Is this the effect I have on you? Do you like me that much?”

He mumbled before directing his left hand to your nipple to pinch it and rub it against his fingers. Your back arching accordingly.

“God, yes Wooyoung yes. You make me feel s-so good, love.”

You knew how much it drove your boyfriend crazy when you complimented him or verbally told him how good he made you feel. He responded with a growl, attacking your neck.

A couple of minutes were enough for you to feel your orgasm coil in your stomach, making your thighs fall into desperation. Finally, you let your anatomy rest on his chest, completely surrendering to him.

“Are you close, pretty?” you moaned in response “It seems so, you’re trembling so much.”

“W…Wooyoung, shut your mouth— ngh!”

His left hand, which was previously occupied satisfying your nipple, abandoned it, to grab your jaw and finally bring you together in a wet kiss. He inserted his tongue in a few seconds later, drawing a gasp from you. Wooyoung was the one who dominated in that dance between tongues.

“Cum for me, beautiful.” he whispered millimeters from your swollen lips.

Once he gave the order, you came. Your body trembling against him, his cock rubbing against your lower back thanks to your little convulsions from overstimulation. Wooyoung made sure to help you ride your orgasm, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses down your neck as he whispered the sweetest things to you.

“Look at all the mess you made on my fingers. Since you are a bit tired, I’ll do your job and clean them up for you.”

He guided the fingers he put into activity to make you cum towards his lips, so he could suck and lick them, his tongue savoring your exquisite essence. You could hear him slurping on his fingers which only made you even more aroused. Your back arching a little, separating it from the lump that was crashing against it.

“Wooyoung-ah, I want to suck you off.” your words impressing your boyfriend “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, darling. I’m all yours.”

He settled against the headboard of the bed while you turned and crawled in reverse to reach the height of prominent tent. Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat when he saw you on doggy style with your glasses on.

Someone is developing a lot of fetishes in a very short time.

You pulled down his blue shorts along with his underwear, freeing his erection which had been uncomfortably covered for a while now.

You didn't hesitate to massage it a little and put it all at once into your oral cavity. You were going to give him the best deepthroat he ever had in his life. A growl crept into his throat.

“Holy fuck, you’re so good baby. You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”

You were so excited by that compliment that you began to suck it and lick it as if it were a lollipop. You massaged his balls to increase his pleasure, and also for him to praise you more.

“Does that feel good, handsome?” a smirk drawn on your lips.

“It feels so- ngh! So good... Your mouth was made for my cock, baby.”

His right hand was positioned in your hair to gently grab it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, clearly telling you that he was close to cum. You took it out of your mouth to run your tongue over the tip of his member, making him tremble. The man felt as if he had been electrified, this was accompanied by a loud moan.

“If… If you keep doing that— a-agh, I'm not gonna last long.” he said softly, his hand caressing your scalp.

You raised your gaze to meet his eyes full of lust and lasciviousness, the shine that characterized your boyfriend's orbs was replaced by a small flame, which could only represent how horny he was and how much he needed to make you his. His face had a strong blush, minimal drops of sweat sliding down his temple due to the cold of the season.

The state of him alone made you think how cute he was.

“Do what? This?” you directed your lips to welcome him into the heat of your cavity and then slid your tongue again and repeatedly, making his breathing heavier and drawing more moans out of him.

“I'm gonna cum, a-ah fuck. Take it all like a good girl.

You watched as he squeezed his other hand, which rested at your side, his knuckles were painted a pretty white, just like your face at that moment.

A strip of cum hit the roof of your mouth, scaring you due to your lack of concentration. You quickly pulled it out to swallow your boyfriend's white essence, you thought that was it since you had swallowed too much, like a shot of juice, but no. You were impressed when Wooyoung's long strips of cum also reached your cheek, lips, and the glasses’ glass making you gasp in astonishment. Your boyfriend was able to speak when he finally came down his high.

“Love... You look so beautiful with... With my cum on your glasses.”

Something ignited inside you. Your cunt was already dripping non-stop, and you needed even more contact with Wooyoung. So you straightened up, remaining on your knees in front of him, two steps were enough for you to bring your intimacy closer to his flaccid cock.

Wooyoung watched you expectantly, thinking you would rub against him, but was surprised when you grabbed his cock and lined it up against your dripping cunt.

“W-wait, I'm still a little sensitive- ng-ahh!”

You finally sat on him, joining you into one. Several moans and pleas slipped past Wooyoung’s lips, and you decided to seal his prayers with your sweet lips.

“D-darling, you're... so tight. It's too much, hah.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

“Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

You laughed at his quick response as if you had pressed a button and an automatic voice responded. His fingers were nailed to your hip, trying to restrain himself and not lose his sanity.

You rode his cock as your life depended on it, you felt him scrape against your walls. Eventually his tip touching your cervix, drawing a loud moan from you as you increased the speed of your jumps.

“Is that the spot, baby?”

“Oh yeah, shit. You're so deep, Woo. Ngh.”

His mischievous hand left your left hip to grab the back of your neck and unite you tightly in a kiss, his tongue and yours dancing again.

Meanwhile, his right hand also released your hip to go to your clit and rub it, your cunt squeezing deliciously his member consequently. Both moaning in the middle of the kiss.

“Don't touch there, ngh Woo— ahhh!” you screamed, finally cumming. Seconds later, he did the same, this time gripping harshly onto your hip.

After a few minutes of rest, he held you as if you were a plastic bag and settled the both of you into the bed. Now you were lying face to face against him, his strong arms wrapping your anatomy once again.

He reached for the sheet that covered you before to throw it over the two of you, and you were warmly tucked in.

You sighed before settling down and laying your head on his chest, while he stroked your hair. You were about to close your eyes when your partner moved in place.

“Love. You're still inside.” you punctuated, Wooyoung didn't seem surprised, in fact, it seemed as if you had caught him.

“Aw, can't I stay inside? You feel so warm and so... good.” he murmured, his ears and cheeks blushing slightly. A sigh left your lips.

“Hah, okay. But tomorrow we’ll take a bath. Now we shouldn't feel it because of the cold, but we're probably disgusting.

“As my princess desires.”

A giggle slipped through your red, swollen lips, finally resting your head against his chest, close your eyes, and fall into an abysmal sleep.

“One day I’ll put a ring on that precious finger of yours.” you managed to hear before falling asleep.

Due to tiredness, you only managed to mumbled a dull “hmm”, kiss his chest and let out a small, cute giggle.

“Looking forward to it, love.” you continued, “I love you.”

#jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung one shot #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x fem reader #wooyoung fanfic #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung

[matrixbearer2024]

HEYYYYY so ive been thinking, what if reader is like good at singing and one day when vox tells her he’ll be out for a meeting and then they start busting down them tunes not knowing vox came back and then after theyre done singing vox is just like “wow that sucked” (bro does NOT want to compliment them🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️🚫🚫)

Sing-Song Shenanigans

A/N: HAHAHAHAHA I've been wanting to incorporate this into a new interlude and now this has absolutely given me the chance to- Vox at this point is practically wrapped around our dear Reader's pinkie, he's just in denial about it not to mention absolutely clueless. He compliments (Y/N) easily whenever he can pull the charm but his default is usually: "Haha lol u suck + ratio" while he not so subtly overheats and melts on the other side-

A/N: Also- this is the song Reader sings- I know the voice for Vox is outdated but the point is just it's his song that Reader sings lololol- Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one and as always- happy reading!

You honestly didn't know if you should've expected this or not.

For someone as egotistical as Vox-

It kind of made sense that he would've straight up written his own theme song.

You only joked about it offhandedly-

Only for him to actually send you an audio file with a song he wrote and SANG.

Did he just have the file on hand or something??

You just looked up at the TV screen dumbfounded.

"I never aired it, I was just an up and coming overlord when it was made."

Came his nonchalant reply, you could only guess he shrugged but since his face was all you saw it was just a guess.

"I'll give it a listen later, you weren't finished with your story!"

"Right, where was I?"

And just like that, you both continued talking well into the night.

You'd actually almost forgotten about the audio file when Vox disconnected and bid you good night and adieu.

But seeing it in the chats when you opened your phone reminded you.

Well, it was probably cringe and you could make fun of Vox the next time around-

So you gave it a listen.

Only for the song to be pretty catchy and good.

Like the beat was stuck in your head good.

You didn't think that would've been the case at all.

And he said he didn't air this??

What the hell Vox???

Before you knew it, the darn thing ended up playing on loop more times than you would dare recall.

Too bad you couldn't include it into your playlist since that would mean having to publish it.

And you were just not ready to have that conversation with Vox yet.

Especially when it meant admitting that you liked listening to his singing.

And fuck THAT.

You absentmindedly hummed the tune on the way to university-

While you traversed between classrooms-

Even during breaks.

It only hit you that it actually was stuck in your head when you were asked about it.

"Yoooo (Y/N), what's that new bop you're listening to? It sounds pretty good from just your humming."

"Oh uh... it's a song a friend wrote. He sent it to me to... ask for my opinion!"

"Really? Can you send it to me too? I want to give it a listen!"

At least they didn't notice your awkwardness answering their question.

But because you didn't want to make it seem even weirder-

You hesitantly agreed to let your friend listen in as well.

Only for them to seriously cement what you didn't want to hear.

"Dude! They should publish this! It's a banger!"

"Eh? You think so?"

You knew the last thing Vox needed was another ego boost.

Maybe you could just keep silent about this whole thing?

"Hell yeah! What's their name?"

Or not.

Fuck.

"Of the song-?"

"The artist you goof, what does your friend call themselves? Surely they've got to be making music for a while with this experience."

Your friends had absolutely no idea you were friends with a technology demon overlord.

Even if it was their shenanigans that summoned his presence in the fucking first place!

You still couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or grateful for that fact-

What the hell were you even supposed to tell them??

"Uhhh... Vox?"

"Vox? That's a weird name. I almost thought you said 'aux', like the aux port."

You didn't notice that before, was his name actually an alias?

You weren't even surprised at this point if it was.

"Y-yeah, it's a mix of the words voice and aux! He came up with it!"

You pat yourself on the back for that bullshit reason, who cares at this point if it was right or not-

You could always just ask Vox personally later.

"Well you should ask him if we can make a music video for it!"

"Excuse me what-"

That immediately made you blank.

Did you seriously hear that right-

A fucking music video???

Problem was, you were way too deep into this conversation to back out now.

"Yeah! It would work for the music project the school's been encouraging!"

Right... the community music program your university's been doing to help spread the names of up and aspiring artists.

Problem being how in the fucking hell were you supposed to dodge a very blatant unspoken issue.

Which was the fact the song's writer and producer had been dead for DECADES.

That and you didn't even want to think of the ego boost Vox would get if you told him that your friends wanted to make a music video of his theme song.

They didn't know about him, but you were sure it would immediately go to the overlord's head.

Could this day get any worse??

"Uhhh- yeaaaah- I'll see what I can do?"

"Come on (Y/N)! You've got to at least try and convince him! This'll be a hit once it's out!"

You hated that you agreed with the fact the song most likely would be a hit.

Especially with the new rise of electro-pop.

God fucking damn it-

So that's how you found yourself pacing your living room waiting for Vox to finish with his meeting.

Well, if you guys were to make a music video anyway... might as well practice right?

Vox was a little bit concerned when you suddenly shot him a message during a meeting asking to meet up.

Especially when he couldn't really figure out what was wrong.

You seemed just fine a while ago?

Did something happen in class?

He looked back at your messages in the chat while he wracked his brain for any clues.

"Hey uh- if you're not busy I need to talk to you?"

"Why the rush doll? Miss me already?"

"In your dreams Samsung! Something came up and I need to talk to you."

"I'm in a meeting right now but I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks."

Suffice to say, he rushed the meeting so it would end quickly.

Vox didn't really even care that there were some things that still needed polishing with the presented concept.

It was a problem he could deal with later.

First, he needed to check what was wrong with you.

So you could imagine his surprise when he saw you on his feed dancing and singing.

Had you connected your computer up to the TV while waiting for him?

Vox just silently watched your antics while a familiar tune played in the background to accompany your actions.

"So I'll corrupt, manipulate, control what they see~"

Admittedly, the overlord found himself enraptured by your movements and singing.

He really couldn't help but stare as you danced around and performed to no one in particular.

If he'd only known that you would like his music sooner-

Maybe he'd have sent you more.

"I am the master of obscuring through our technology~!"

Vox didn't really think much of the song he'd sent you the other night.

A slight nervousness hit him when he was about to sleep wondering if you'd like it-

But clearly-

He didn't need to be worried at all.

"I'll sell your every single weakness back to you for a fee!"

A part of him wanted to just appear and see if you'd notice-

But the risk of cutting your performance short stopped him from going through with it.

"Don't be a fool and stand there droolin'-"

Vox couldn't help but chuckle, well-

That line was more ironic that it should've been in this situation.

"Get those Eyes. On. Me!"

His fans whirred loudly at this point, while your dance moves were quite clumsy and even random compared to more seasoned dancers-

Vox couldn't help but think you were just friggin adorable.

"Take a chance, play my game, get the rush in your veins~"

He really tried to keep his cool-

The overlord really really tried.

But he couldn't help the stupid grin on his face when he discreetly appeared on your TV.

"I'm sending out my signal download into your brain~!"

That was when he realized your eyes were closed.

It seems like whether or not he'd have appeared you wouldn't notice.

"And I'll be conquerin' the airwaves, I'm on all of your screens-"

As much as it was his theme song, Vox felt like you could rock the vibe just as well.

Which was so hilariously disconnected that he couldn't help but softly chuckle imagining it.

Well, maybe it was about time you realized he was actually here.

"So pay up motherfuckers, you belong to Vee!"

You screamed in surprise when you heard his voice from behind you.

The direction of the speaker was far enough for you to realize your digital companion appeared on the TV.

Of course he just had to join in at the last moment!

Wait-

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN THERE?!"

Your face was beet red from embarrassment, he wasn't supposed to see any of that!

"Long enough, I didn't realize you liked the song that much dollface!"

You practically swore at him up and down as Vox laughed and mercilessly teased you.

He seriously could've given you any hint if he arrived!

The fucking jerk-!

"I'm not doing it for you! My friends gave a listen to your song and they want to make a music video for it!"

Vox hummed thoughtfully, he was still on his high watching you get all shy and flustered.

You were so fucking cute-

"I'll agree to it on one condition."

You were almost too scared to even ask, weighing your choices before eventually daring to inquire.

The grin the overlord gave you immediately made you regret pushing forward with it.

"Fine fine, what's the condition?"

"That you perform and sing in the music video and send it to me."

"What?! Why?!"

Vox just laughed at your expense, the fact you were practically steaming out the ears because of him was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all day.

"Why not? Can't I have a look at the final product I'm agreeing to?"

You stuttered and huffed, he had a point there.

Fucking hell....

You should've never agreed to that fucking music video!!!

"Oh shut up, you just wanna see me sing and dance."

"Not really, your performance sucked."

"Oh fuck off Vox!"

The overlord just continued to laugh at how blushy and red you got.

Maybe he did enjoy your singing and dancing.

Well, it's not like he'll ever admit it.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel x reader #vox #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #vox x you #get off my screen series

[riaisnotok]

Could you do a Bill or Tom x reader where the reader is a pop star like Britney Spears and is related to some sort of big 2000s celebrity? Hopefully I'm not asking for too much!! THANK UU xx

Imma do both because why not? I hope I did this good ♡ enjoyy

LOVES ROCK

Bill and Tom X pop star!reader related to a 2000s celebrity

Tom

Tom was sitting in his room watching your new interview.

And the big question comes..

"And Y/N, a lot of people say you have something to do with Jessica Alba, is that true?"

You chuckled at this question and continued to smile. "Yes, this is very true. I am her cousin." You said. Tom was surprised when he heard that you are Jessica's cousin, he couldn't believe it.

"Hmmm, interesting. I don't think anyone in this room expected that answer."

"Yeah..." You said laughing. "I hope y'all aren't too surprised..."

"No, no! Y/N, we have two more questions."

"The first one is..what do you think of Tom Kaulitz from Tokio Hotel?"

Tom's heart began to beat faster and faster. He was worried about what your answer would be about him and he hope is a positive one.

"Hmmm...well Tom is very cute, he's my type actually."

Tom almost passed out when he heard the words that came out of your mouth. He was so happy that you think of him as cute and that he's your type.

Now Tom can't choose to have both you and Jessica. He will have to choose only one of you 😔

Bill

Christina Aguilera's sister, everybody knew that it's just that Bill didn't know about it yet, I don't know why. After all, you were like Britney Spears to him.

The first meeting between you and Bill. You took pictures and joke around, of course.

You liked the vibe Bill gave off. You really liked him as person. Let's say that somehow you ended up being friends.

Everyone saw you and Bill everywhere, and in the newspapers it was written that Bill has a new girlfriend. This thing kind of bothered you a little bit because of his fangirls swearing at you and stuff.

I swear all the papers had it on the front page: Y/N Aguilera, pop singer and younger sister of singer Christina Aguilera, spotted with Tokio Hotel singer Bill Kaulitz out in city holding hands, is there something between the two singers?

Bill took one of these papers to read it, and when he saw that it said 'younger sister of the singer Christina Aguilera' he went crazy. How didn't he found this out about you yet? He really didn't know you had an older sister, and that is Christina.

Bill's phone starts ringing. It was you.

"Hello Y/N"

"Hey Bill, you've seen all the papers go crazy, haven't you?" You asked him, just like Bill, you were also reading one.

"Yeah..it's annoying."

"What can we do?" You sighed.

"I think I have an idea..." Bill said, leaving the newspaper on the table.

"What idea, Bill?"

"Let's give the world what it wants."

"Bill...I don't think that's a good idea...I'm already bombarded by your fangirls."

There were fans on the internet who said you two are cute when together. But there were also these fans who wrote messages like they wish you dead and that you don't deserve Bill, when they were secretly listening to your music.

"Ughh..."

"However, Y/N.."

"What it is, Bill?"

"Are you Christina Aguilera's younger sister..?"

"Yes? Don't tell me you didn't get it by my name." You said laughing on the phone.

"Leave me alone, it's not my fault that this information doesn't appear anywhere."

"Ohh Bill, you're so funny sometimes."

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz imagines

[simp2537]

Hey there, I saw your requests were open and just wanted to ask if you’d be willing to do a yandere Percy Jackson x a male or gender neutral reader who happens to be an actor— I myself am male, but I also think it’s annoying to look for a fic about your favorite character, only to find out it’s written for the opposite gender. The reader can either be a demigod (probably a child of Apollo or Dionysus since those two are closely related to acting & whatnot) or just some mortal that can see through the mist like Rachel or something. Either way, would you mind writing about Percy seeing the reader & a co-Star share a stage/film kiss? It could even be Percy & Annabeth since both are pretty cool and I like them both as a couple; plus, poly yandere situations are fun. You can also decide whether or not the reader and Percy/Percy and Annabeth are dating or not; thanks for taking the time to read this, and have a great day :)

-🪑 (I am now chair anon)

Stage Lovers

A/n sorry if this isn’t what you wanted, I took a small guess in a few things. Not sure if everything I wrote was canon but whatever. I wasn’t sure if you meant the show of book so if the books image their older and the same goes for the show. Also I used the Little Shop of Horrors play in this. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, possessive behaviors, slightly(a bit more then slightly) himbo reader, mention of killing someone later.

Anon - 🪑

All Characters are aged up to 18 plus

Percabeth x Male! Reader

Camp half-blood was a buzz with people. Apollo’s cabin was preparing the annul musical/play to celebrate their father’s birthday. Percy and Annabeth hovered around the scene as they watched their boyfriend practice his lines with some daughter of Aphrodite. The girl was too close, too touchy, to smiley for the pairs taste. Their sweet and kind boyfriend Y/n just helped her with a smile in his face. Percy kept an arm around the visibly seething Annabeth as they watched. Everyone at camp knew that Y/n was there. They all got the message but this stupid girl.

Open distain was on Annabeth face as Y/n walked over to them. His script loosely in his hands and a bright smile. He’d been working for weeks on this play, but he wouldn’t say a word about it. Y/n being the sweet boyfriend he is, wanted his lovers to be surprised when they watched him.

Y/n kissed Annabeth’s forehead first, hoping to soothe the anger visible on her face, then he moved to Percy. When he pulled away Percy held his hand.

“Who was that?”

Y/n turned his head at Annabeth’s tone. It’s irritated and annoyed.

“Who?” Y/n questioned unsure. Percy traced the back of Y/n’s hand.

“The girl over there, you were reading with her a moment ago Sunni.” Y/n blushed at Percy’s nickname for him. Looking back quickly Y/n missed the look of hatred his partners gave the girl.

“Oh, Vanessa, she’s my stage partner for the play.” The pair stilted. His partner?

“What play are you doing again?” Annabeth pondered twisting a lock of her hair. Y/n’s face lit up and he chuckled softly. The pair basked in awe of his voice. They could listen to him all day.

“Little Shop of Horror… Wait! No! I’ve spoiled it now! It was meant to be a surprise!” Y/n groaned softly. Percy laughed at his silly little Sunni. Annabeth raised a brow intrigued.

“Who do you play?”

“I’m Seymour!”

“And she is?” A moment of silence filled the air after Annabeth’s words. Percy brought Y/n closer and sent him a look.

“Who is she?” Percy demanded not liking that Y/n wouldn’t answer.

“You can’t get mad.” They pair furrowed there brows.

“Why would we be mad lovely?” Annabeth muttered softly moving some of Y/n hair. Y/n didn’t meet either of his partners gazes.

“She’s Audrey.”

Silence echoes through there conversation. Y/n had shown his partners the movie of Little Shop of Horrors once. In that one time they knew who Audrey was. Y/n took a nervous gulp and his partners shared a look.

“Are you mad?”

“No, lovely we’re not mad.”

Y/n breathed out a sigh of relief. One of his other siblings motioned for him to go back. Y/n kissed his partner goodbye quickly and dashed back to the stage.

“I’ll grab her after the show.” Annabeth voiced softly.

“Why can’t we grab her now?” Percy snapped. No one other than them was going to touch Y/n. They could allow that.

“We’re nothing going to mess up Y/n’s play, he’s been working so hard. We’ll throw her in the lake afterwards, then celebrate with Y/n.”

With Annabeth’s words said the pair returned there gaze to Y/n who was singing with one of his siblings who was playing Audrey two.

#percabeth #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase x reader #percabeth x reader #percy pjo #percy series

[wholoveseggs]

~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Kol♡

You are drowning your sorrows at the bar, but Kol has an idea on how to cheer you up...

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers♡ I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡ Warnings: smut, drinking, riding, face sitting...Kol saying darling a lot... {Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Leaning against the bar, the neon lights flickering around you, you let out a big sigh. The bitter taste of your drink matched the bitterness in your heart.

You had been stood up, and usually, these situations wouldn't get to you, but tonight felt different. You had invested time in those back-and-forth messages, letting your walls down and you actually believed he would be different. The worst part was that he had suggested meeting at the club, only to not show up.

As you drowned your sorrows in the dimly lit ambiance, a voice cut through the thumping music. "Looks like you could use some company," he said, a wild glint in his eyes as he slid onto the barstool next to you.

He signaled the bartender and ordered another drink for you. "On me," he added with a charming grin. The scent of his cologne and the warmth of his presence filled the air, momentarily diverting your thoughts.

"So, what's got you looking so troubled?" he inquired, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "A pretty little thing like you should be enjoying the night."

You gave him a sweet smile, his charm melting the ice around your heart. "Just a case of being stood up, no big deal," you replied, giving him a casual shrug.

He chuckled, the sound resonating in the lively atmosphere. "Well, anyone who stands up someone as captivating as you must be blind or daft." The drink he ordered arrived, and he slid it over to you. "To lift your spirits."

Taking a sip, you felt a warmth spreading through you, not just from the alcohol but from the unexpected camaraderie. The neon lights played on his features, casting intriguing shadows as he leaned in, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"Tell me about this fellow who dared to stand you up," he prompted.

"He's not worth the effort," you chuckled, reaching your hand out to him. "Thanks for the drink?" you questioned.

"Kol, darling, and you're quite welcome," he replied with a smirk, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. The feel of his warm, soft lips made a shiver run down your spine, and he smirked, knowing the effect he had on you.

"So, what has this scoundrel done to deserve such ire?"

"You really want to know?" you questioned, and his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I would not have asked otherwise."

The drinks kept flowing and you found yourself divulging all the sordid details. To his credit, he listened intently, only interjecting a comment here and there.

By the time you had finished recounting your tale, you were both laughing and enjoying each other's company. 

"Well his loss is my gain," he remarked, flashing you a smile that made your heart skip a beat. "Would you care to dance?"

Graciously accepting his hand, he led you to the dance floor, the music pulsing through the air. With his hands on your hips and yours around his neck, the two of you swayed to the beat, the heat rising between you.

Your body was pressed against his, and as the music flowed, his gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips. Leaning down, his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, making your head spin. Your tongues danced together as your hands tangled in his hair.

Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at you with lust-filled eyes. "Want to get out of here?" he purred, his voice sending a wave of anticipation through you. Nodding your head, you let him lead the way.

Walking hand in hand, the two of you headed out of the club, the cool air refreshing after the heat of the dance floor. The streets were quiet, the streetlamps casting a warm glow, and the world was your own as you headed towards your apartment. You both were a little drunk, swaying into each other and giggling like teenagers as you stumbled down the street. 

You fumbled the key in the lock before opening the door to your apartment, you made your way inside, kicking off your shoes as he removed his jacket, closing the door behind him.  You walked to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water and offering one to him. 

"Thank you, darling," he murmured, taking a sip of water, his eyes never leaving yours. He set his glass down and moved towards you, his fingers running along your jawline before cradling your face and bringing your lips to his in a hungry kiss.

Your hands instinctively reached up, roaming his body, tracing his well-defined muscles and pulling him closer. He gripped your waist and picked you up with ease, placing you on the counter. His hands ran up your thighs, his fingertips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He kissed down your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

"I always found dating apps a bit useless to be honest," he teased, his voice husky and low.

"Why's that?" you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

"Well, it seems much more efficient to just go to the source," he drawled, his eyes darkening as his lips brushed your ear.

Your hands traced the muscles of his arms, tugging on the fabric of his shirt. "Is that so?" you whispered, as his lips ghosted over your  jawline.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, his mouth capturing yours again. Your lips melded together, the intensity growing.

"Tell me, darling," he panted, breaking the kiss and gazing at you with an intense hunger. "Did you imagine your night going like this when you decided to swipe right?"

You laughed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. "Not exactly, but I'm not complaining," you quipped, earning a smirk from him.

Your hands roamed over his toned chest and abs, the heat pooling in your core. You pulled his shirt off, your hands exploring his smooth skin, admiring his defined muscles.

His fingers trailed along the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head, and tossing it aside. His gaze drank in the sight of you, his tongue running along his lips.

"Fuck, darling, you are stunning," he purred, his hands sliding under your skirt, pushing it up as his fingers teased your skin.

You giggled, the alcohol making your cheeks flush more than usual. "Such a charmer."

"It's easy when it's the truth," he grinned, his mouth claiming yours again.

He pulled you to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of you.

"Now, let's see how long we can keep that smile on your face," he mused, his accent thick with lust.

He made quick work of the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him. He leaned over you, his hands exploring your body, leaving no inch untouched.

He began to trail kisses downwards, his mouth reaching your core, and he began lapping at your clit, moving his tongue in slow circles. He let out a gentle hum as he tasted you, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

Your hands tangled in his hair as his mouth devoured you, your moans filling the air. He pulled back, wiping his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with a smirk.

"I have a request," he drawled, his eyes shining. 

"And I promise I will make it worth your while."

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "And what might that be?"

He grinned, his lips curling upwards, his gaze dark and seductive. He moved up your body, his mouth brushing against your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin.

"Let me show you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Your curiosity was piqued, and you nodded, giving him the green light. He deftly flipped the both of you around, so you were on top of him.

"Sit on my face, darling," he rasped, the words sending a wave of heat through your body.

You blushed, the request making your pulse quicken. You straddled his face, your knees on either side of his head, his strong hands gripping your thighs.

His tongue darted out, tasting you, and a moan escaped your lips as his tongue explored you. He roughly pulled you closer, the sudden movement taking you by surprise. You let out a surprise gasp as his tongue found your clit, the feeling driving you wild.

"Oh," you moaned, your hands gripping the headboard as his tongue swirled. Your thighs began to tremble, the pressure building, his touch making your head spin.

He let out a muffled chuckle, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. His tongue delved deeper, tasting you, his eyes closed in ecstasy. You ground against his mouth, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin.

His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks on your flesh as he held you in place, his mouth ravaging you. Your hips rolled against his tongue, your moans filling the room.

Your head tilted back, your body writhing as the pleasure washed over you. Your thighs tightened around his head, your fingers gripping the headboard as you let out a low moan, the sound reverberating throughout the room.

You rode out the waves of pleasure, your legs trembling. You gasped for breath, the feeling overwhelming. You released the headboard, your hands running through his hair as his tongue lapped up the last traces of your orgasm.

"Fucking hell, Kol," you panted, the words coming out in a rush. You moved down his body, pressing your lips against his, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

He gave you a wicked grin, his eyes dark and hooded. "I told you I would make it worth your while," he murmured, his fingers trailing up and down your back.

You peppered kisses along his jawline, your teeth grazing his skin. He let out a soft groan, his grip tightening on your hips. You moved further down his body, planting kisses along his skin, stopping at his abs.

You reached his hips, his erection straining against his jeans. You unbuttoned them and slowly pulled the zipper down, his eyes locked on yours.

You pulled his jeans and boxers down, his erection springing free. You took him in your mouth, his head tilting back in pleasure. You swirled your tongue around the tip before lightly sucking, making him moan. You pulled off of him, a thin string of saliva connecting you. You moved back up his body, straddling his hips, looking down at him with a smile.

"I like it when a woman takes charge," he purred, a devilish glint in his eyes. He moved back a bit to sit against the headboard, and you moved with him, taking his cock in your hand and slowly stroking him. As you circled your thumb around his tip, he threw his head back and groaned, then thrusted his hips, seeking more. You gave him a sexy smile as you positioned his cock at your dripping entrance and lowered yourself onto him. His eyes screwed shut, and he exhaled deeply, relishing the feeling of being inside you.

Fully seated on him, you began to grind your hips in circles, letting out soft moans as your clit rubbed against his pelvis. You steadied yourself on his shoulders and slowly started riding his cock, his hands gripping your hips and helping to guide your movements. You smiled as you watched his face twist in pleasure, his lips forming a small o. The feeling of him inside you was divine, hitting just the right spot. The sounds of your moans and his soft curses echoed off the walls as you picked up the pace.

"You like that?" you breathed, smirking, as his eyes met yours, lust clouding his expression. He merely nodded, his lips parted, before biting his lower lip, throwing his head back against the headboard again.

"Do you want me to go faster?" you teased, changing your pace and moving your hips in a torturously slow motion, causing him to growl in frustration. He dug his nails into your hips, his chest heaving.

"Darling,.." he pleaded, his voice breaking. You could feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, desperate to go harder. Grinning, you increased the pace of your movements, causing him to moan in both relief and pleasure.

"Yes, like that... just like that...," he mumbled, his mind clouding with ecstasy. You repositioned your legs and began to bounce up and down on his cock, throwing your head back in bliss. The sounds that escaped him were animalistic as his fingernails raked across your hips, surely leaving marks. This only spurred you on as you increased the pace even more—the sound of your skin slapping against his every time you slid down on him, the feeling of him stretching you driving you wild.

You began to pant, your legs getting sore, but you were determined to give it all you had. His cock was hot and heavy inside you, hitting all the right places. You were close, and you could feel the familiar tightening within you and you closed your eyes. 

"Fuck," you moaned, your movements faltering as your sore legs struggled to keep the pace. Suddenly you felt the sharp sting of a slap on your ass, your eyes shot open as you looked down at Kol.

"Darling, are you getting tired already?" he teased, a look of pure lust in his eyes. You whimpered as your legs shook, struggling to remain upright. His hand came down again, the stinging making you cry out.

"Fuuuck," you breathed.

"Ride my cock for me. I want to see your tits bouncing," he purred, squeezing your hips and guiding your movements, allowing you to focus on pleasing him. Soon you fell back into a good rhythm, riding his cock and pressing your hands into his chest. He let out a satisfied groan, the heat building within you.

You dug your nails into his skin and rode him as hard as you could. He slammed his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you, his moans and growls becoming more frantic. Your legs ached, and you felt like you were about to collapse, "Kol, I can't..."

"Come on, you're doing so well." He replied, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. Your head fell against his shoulder, and he nuzzled your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin.

You felt yourself tighten around him, your climax swiftly approaching. His mouth found yours, swallowing your moans as your orgasm crashed through you, and you cried out, his name tumbling from your lips. You were trembling, your pace slowing as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

Once you had caught your breath, you lifted your head, looking down at him with a blissed out expression. He smirked, a hunger in his gaze. "We're not finished," he whispered as he gripped your ass. You laughed, the sound cut short with a sharp inhale, as his hand came down hard on your backside.

The sting caused your breath to hitch as you peered down at him, "I thought you liked a woman in charge?" you mused.

He gave a throaty chuckle before grabbing your arms, gently pinning them behind your back. "All due respect, darling, but we're doing it my way now," he rasped, his lips brushing against your own. You melted against his mouth, unable to refuse. A sharp gasp escaped you as he began to thrust upwards, a surprised look crossing your features at his sheer strength.

He moved so effortlessly, as if his stamina were boundless. You realized just how much he had been holding back and a chuckle rose from your throat, which swiftly turned into a series of moans. He yanked gently on your arms, causing your back to arch, then buried his face into your breasts. You squeezed your thighs as you felt his lips suckling on your nipple, each grazing of his teeth heightened by his relentless thrusts.

Your sweat-covered bodies moved together perfectly, and as the noises escaping your lips became more intense, his thrusts sped up to match the urgency. He continued to use your body however he saw fit, his mouth roaming every inch he could reach as he repeatedly impaled you on his cock, his pace leaving you breathless.

Another feeling of bliss spread throughout your body as his cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you mad, making you a whimpering mess. His grunts became louder with each thrust, one hand firmly holding your arms, the other gripping your ass lifting you and bringing you back down on his cock. 

"I need you to cum again, darling," he ordered, his voice raspy as his dark eyes gazed up at you. 

Your back arched, your whole body trembling and trying to break free from his grasp. But he simply chuckled, maintaining the ferocious pace of his thrusting, which caused your eyes to roll back in your head as another wave of pleasure racked your body, your orgasm intensified by his unwavering hold and the way you were stretched open.

A guttural grunt escaped him, followed by a string of expletives, his final few thrusts almost lifting the two of you from the bed. His back arched, pushing his cock deeper than you thought possible, a loud moan echoing out from your lips as he filled you.

He let go of your arms, and they dropped uselessly by your sides, limp and unable to move. He began kissing along your shoulder, your neck, and collarbone, whispering to you as his hands moved gently up and down your spine. You leaned into him, closing your eyes and melting into his touch.

He was a vision in the dim glow from the city outside, the light catching on his sharp cheekbones and the contours of his muscles. He cradled you in his arms, his body warm and comforting against your own as your breathing slowed.

"Thank you, for saving me from a dreadfully lonely evening," you whispered.

He kissed your cheek and tilted your head up to look at him, his hair falling in his eyes. You brushed the hair away from his face and kissed him softly.

He rolled the two of you over, his weight pressing against you. He looked down at you, his eyes shining in the dim light, his thumb stroking your cheek.  

"That man that stood you up? Idiot." he remarked, giving you a wide smile. 

You laughed. "Absolutely."

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

shout-out to @perseephoneee for requesting some Kol ♡ I hope you like it!

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson smut #kol mikaelson fanfiction #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #kol mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikaelson smut #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson smut #marcel gerard #marcel gerard imagine #marcel gerard x reader #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson smut

[gravehags]

unholy, unholy, unholy

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: the ministry being the catholic church's evil twin, manipulation, masturbation, confession, copia lowkey being a desperate little sex freak my beloved

Words: 5,153

Summary: You really walked right into this, you tell yourself. You can't even be mad at Copia for suggesting it.

a/n: can't believe the last thing i wrote for these losers was at christmas...damn. anyway you know how i like my non-chronological shit so this takes place somewhere in between take me apart and satan baby. i'm not done making these two dance around their feelings just yet.

divider by @gothdaddyissues!

“Jesus fucking Christ Almighty.”

You slam your office door shut with your hip and Cardinal Copia turns to look at you from his seat.

“Need help?”

With a grunt and a shake of your head you walk past him and set the bag of food down on your desk, heaving a deep sigh.

“Had to go on a fucking scavenger hunt because the goddamn DoorDash driver left the bag with a maintenance worker, who gave it to one of Terzo’s ghouls, who left it in a stairwell for some reason…don’t ask me how I managed to find it because fuck if I know.”

Dramatically you flop into your desk chair and give your lunch companion a look as he begins to sort out your meals with a smile.

“You know you eh…take the Lord’s name in vain quite a bit for someone who wasn’t raised in religion.”

When he passes your container of Pad see ew to you, you grin.

“Ehhh you know, the perils of being raised in a predominantly Christian society. It’s funny, the first time I said ‘Jesus Christ’ I was maybe…I don’t know nine? Ten? And my mom tersely told me ‘don’t say that’ to which I replied ‘why not?’ I don’t think she knew how to answer that question in a way that would make me care, you know? I had gone all my little life not giving a shit about Jesus, why would I now?”

Copia chuckles and cracks open his own takeaway box.

“Ah cara, you continue to stray further and further from God’s light every day. Thank Sathanas for that, hmm?”

With a smile, you clink your soda can against his and dig into your meal.

“You ever think about how fascinating your religion is, Copia?”

You prop your feet up on your desk as Copia delicately picks noodles out of his box with chopsticks. 

“Eh, how do you mean?”

“Like…you’re a Satanic cardinal. You’ve sworn your life to uphold the tenets of Satanism. You…we live at a massive complex dedicated to Satan. One of many complexes throughout the world, apparently. And yet, barely anyone knows of the Ministry’s existence. It’s wild, really.”

He makes a thoughtful noise as he chews on a particularly crunchy piece of bok choy.

“Ah, well,” he begins, setting his chopsticks down and reaching for the soda resting on the desk, “we’re trying to change that. In…subtle ways.”

“Mmm, the Ghost project.”

“Sì, the idea is we use Papa to spread our message through music - something that is accessible to many people.”

“With the hopes that you and your evil brethren can dominate the globe?” you say, scrunching your nose playfully and giving him a big wink.

“Something like that,” he smiles wryly.

“Well I’ve listened to some of the project’s music and I gotta say…big fan. I think your sinister subliminal messaging is working on me.”

“Oh?” he asks, setting down his food in order to cross his legs and give you a curious stare. “Tell me more, cara. Do I have a future sister of sin on my hands?”

You close your eyes and laugh, missing the hungry way the Cardinal watches the line of your throat as your head tilts back.

“Maybe…let’s just say I’m intrigued. How could I not be when I’m surrounded by it all the time?”

He nods, resting a gloved hand on his knee and straightening his cassock.

“Perhaps…”

You fix him with a look you know will make him lose his train of thought for a moment. Positively wicked.

“Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps,” he clears his throat, eyes darting away from yours, “you would like to attend one of our services?”

You nod gamely. 

“Is a super cool and hip youth pastor going to tell me about the ways the Devil cares about me unconditionally?”

He rolls his eyes and fixes you with an unamused stare.

“Very funny, dolcezza. Would you prefer that I have you sit with Papa Nihil while he explains the history of the Emeritus bloodline?”

You balk. The wizened Papa had a distinct dislike of you for some odd reason. You often wonder how he manages to give you such dirty looks through his cloudy eyes. You didn’t particularly care, however, as you saw the way he constantly brushed off and mistreated Copia during staff meetings. Nihil irked you to no end, no matter how much Sister Imperator liked him.

“Alright, fine, sorry. I only jest to get a rise out of you, I know how important your religion is to you. And hey, anything that has the drama and aesthetics of the Catholic Church without all the guilt and trauma has my full attention. Please don’t be mad.”

He grunts but you see the way his mustache twitches as he fights back a smile. You flutter your eyelashes a little and in a moment of boldness, take your lower lip between your teeth. The way his mismatched eyes dart to your mouth and his jaw hangs open makes you giddy.

“I’m–,” his voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, “I forgive you, cara.”

“Thank you for absolving me of my sins, Your Eminence.”

He has to know you’re doing this on purpose at this point. You’re not sure what has gotten into you today but something about the way he stares at you now makes you want to grab him by his pellegrina and haul him over your desk for a sloppy kiss. There’s a heavy tension between the two of you, not for the first time, as if all one of you needs to do is take a step forward and all hell would break loose.

“So, you want me to go to a service? What like black mass? Unholy baptism? Virgin sacrifice?”

The spell is broken and briefly your swagger flickers, wondering if you’ve crossed a line.

“Eh, maybe someday but your statement about sin made me think…perhaps confession would be more suited to you?”

Now your jaw falls open and you can feel your cheeks light up as he watches you with a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. The tables have turned and now you’re the one left speechless.

“O-oh?” you ask, voice a little higher than normal, “so if Catholic confession is about getting your sins forgiven, then Satanic confession is…having your sins…celebrated?”

“Corretto,” he says with a generous nod, “we’ll go through each one in ah…intimate detail.”

“We?” you squeak out, stomach dropping severely, “I hadn’t realized that you would be presiding.”

“Oh sì,” he says, the smirk on his face positively devilish, “although if you’d prefer someone else…”

“No,” you say just a little too quickly, your heart pounding, “I…I don’t know how much sinning I really get up to. I’ll probably bore you to tears.”

“You might be surprised, dolcezza,” Christ the nickname sounds devious on his lips right now, “What is it they say? ‘Still waters run deep’?”

Your laugh comes out just a little too loud and unnatural and you kick yourself.

“Ha…right. We…we should probably get back to this cataloging or Sister Imperator is going to publicly execute me.”

The rest of the afternoon proceeds normally, with the two of you diligently organizing the abbey’s collection of illuminated manuscripts. When you finally part, he gives you the date, time, and directions to the chapel where the confession booth is located.

“Cara,” he murmurs as you begin to walk away, “you don’t have to do this.”

You give him a half-smile and shake your head.

“I think it will be good for me,” you say, hands behind your back as you rock onto your heels, “and besides, how could I say no to spending an evening with you?”

You make sure not to turn away until you see the full breadth of his dazed expression and by the time your back is to him and you’re walking away, there’s a loopy grin on your face. It’s not til you turn the corner and reach the staircase to your quarters the full realization of what you’ve agreed to dawns upon you. 

Oh fuck.

You don’t see Copia the next two days between his duties and your own and for that you’re extremely thankful. The date of your confession has arrived and you’re equal parts nauseated and exhilarated. Having never gone to confession of any sort before, you’re not entirely sure what to expect. You’re not ignorant - you’ve seen confession scenes in the media and have heard from friends raised in Catholicism - but what little you do know doesn’t assuage your anxiety. This was Satanic confession. A whole different beast. Your mind conjures images of blood rituals and sacrifices and being on your knees before Copia…his gloved hand tilting your chin upwards to look at him…

Christ Almighty, get your shit together.

You desperately try to, as you sternly told yourself, get your shit together but your mind is clouded the rest of your workday with positively sinful scenes of the two of you. You’re particularly fond of the one where he’s got you in his office, your skirt hiked up over your hips as you bend over his desk and he pushes himself inside you from behind. The thought of his voice in your head, calling you his sweet little nicknames as he fucks into you, makes you practically drip. The final two hours in your office are torture before you’re able to skitter back to your rooms. You’re not meeting with Copia for another few hours and you need to do something about the ache between your thighs. Impatiently, you fumble for the buttons on your blouse with one hand while pushing your skirt off with another. You must look a sight, ripping your bra off and flinging it somewhere on the floor, but all you can think about now is getting to your bed. You almost trip twice in the journey to your room, blindly stumbling over and flinging yourself on the mattress. What has gotten into you? You’ve been horny before, about Copia sure, but this? The way you’re practically whining when your hands meet your bare breasts? You feel positively feral. 

“Copia,” you breathe, fingers pinching at your nipples. You imagine his hands on you, the way the leather would warm as he strokes your soft skin.

Dolcezza. 

Fuck, you can hear it perfectly and it makes you sigh, one of your hands slowly sliding down your body to cup the heat of you. You’re sopping and time feels like it slows as you spread yourself open and slide two fingers against your engorged clit. All of your frantic rushing from earlier ceases as you twitch under your own touch, his name on your lips. You’re so sensitive right now it barely takes anything to bring you over the edge, but, you think as your orgasm wanes, it’s not quite enough. Taking a slow exhale in you slip your fingers lower and tease at your entrance. The digits glide in easily enough with the abundance of slick coming from you and languorously you begin to pump them in and out. Your eyes slide shut and you imagine it’s his dexterous fingers instead, curling inside you so you can feel every stitch and groove of his glove. 

Cara mia, he’d murmur into your ear, so wet for me. So sweet for your Cardinal, eh? You honor me.

The whimpers crawling out of your mouth are getting more frequent and higher in pitch - you know you’re close. You bring your palm flat against yourself to push on your clit as your hips continue to make little circles, driving your fingers deeper in. Your hand is aching but it doesn’t stop you from pulling another orgasm out of yourself, chanting his name. Tears pool in your eyes and slide down your temples as you sob aloud and all of a sudden it’s too much. Your body spasms on the duvet, breath coming in harsh pants as you attempt to slow the thundering of your heart. It’s not the first time you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, by any means, but something feels…different. More charged. You’re exhausted, bone tired as you try to organize your feelings. Reaching a hand up to rub your face you turn over and look at the clock. 

5:32 PM

Your eyelids are heavy but you manage to lean over the side of your bed and locate your phone to set an alarm. Some sleep would do you good. Clear your head.

You don’t dream.

—------

Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.

Copia paces back and forth in the small, dimly lit (romantically lit, some would say) chapel. The last sibling of the evening just left and now all that remains is…you. He barely heard what the siblings were telling him this evening, so anxious was he and caught up in the thought of you soon being in their position. More than once his vision went blurry as he imagined you a breath away, separated only by the decorative wooden screen.

He was so eager for you to walk through that door, now he’s not sure. With a heavy sigh through his nose he looks down at his watch.

6:58 PM

You’re always punctual and he counts on tonight being no different. Resigned to his fate, he shuffles over to the confession booth and opens the door, slotting himself inside. Shit, his ass hurts from the hard bench, why in fuck’s name had they not added a cushion to this side like there was on the other? He’s grumbling to himself in Italian when he hears the chapel door squeak open and firmly shut. Your soft footsteps approach - you must be wearing your sneakers and not your boots for the distinct clacking sound he usually hears from you has vanished. He sucks in a breath when he hears you open your side of the booth and quietly shut it. There’s a silence between the two of you so profound that when you finally speak he jumps.

“Hey. You’re in there right?”

He makes a loud, vague noise and sees your shoulders drop through the screen. He can’t get a read on your expression but the anxiety in the air has softened with your posture. 

“Good evening,” he begins, a little stiffly. “Eh, welcome.”

You breathe out heavy through your nose.

“Copia, is this a good idea?”

He pauses and looks down to pull at a loose thread on his cuff.

“Are…are you nervous, cara?”

You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fucking nervous! I’ve never even been to a regular confession let alone…this.”

“Well, we begin with the ceremonial bloodletting and–”

“Oh fuck off,” you grouse, flicking the screen that separates you. You fall silent after a moment.

“Cara, are you truly that anxious? Because we don’t have to do any–”

“I’m fine, Copia. Really. I don’t know why I'm so worked up. Fear of the unknown, I suppose,” you clear your throat and hears you crack your neck.

“Bene. Shall I go over the process with you? And remember this is a celebration. No shaming. No guilt. No wrong answers.”

You take a deep breath in and he sees you nod.

“I will start with the blessing and then we will go through the seven cardinal sins one by one. You may describe yours as briefly or lengthy as you like and we will venerate them. Once we have finished, I will close with a blessing. Then we will part. Nothing to be nervous about, eh? Are you ready?”

“Yes, please.”

“Very good,” he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “In nomine Padre, et Filio, et lo Spiritus Malum…we welcome this most sacred sinner into your embrace that she may revel in her transgressions against God.”

When he addresses you by name, he sees you jump.

“Let us begin with the Original Sin - pride.”

“Okay. Yeah. Pride.” There’s a few seconds of silence before he hears you softly curse. “Sorry, I should have made a list or something.”

“Take your time,” he says with a smile, simply content to be in your presence, “I have nowhere to be, cara. I am right here, ready when you are.”

He can see your eyelashes flutter as you look down and your cheeks bunch in a soft smile. Although mostly obscured, the sight still makes his heart soar. After a minute or so of silence you speak.

“Oh! Okay, uh pride. Well I was going to tell you about this anyway but…you know that little write-up I did of Satanic art in the time of the Counter-Reformation?”

“Naturalmente, it was superb.”

“Thank you. Well I thought it was too so I submitted it to a journal for publishing…and they accepted it.”

He can practically hear your grin and it makes him beam in return.

“Cara mia! Congratulazioni! You deserve nothing less! Although I hope you do not consider it a sin to rightfully celebrate an occasion such as this?”

You sigh.

“Ah, I don’t know. I may have bragged a bit too much to other people in the field. Felt a little too self-satisfied about it. So I think that would count, right?”

He scoffs.

“To Papa Frankie, maybe. To us it is a well-deserved acknowledgement of your hard work and something you have every right to be proud of. Dolcezza, even if you hesitate to celebrate yourself, know that I always will do so for you. Published in a journal, well done cara.”

He may not be able to see it in the low light of the confessional but he can picture your flushed cheeks perfectly in his mind.

“Anything else you would like to say on the matter?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Are you ready for the next?”

“Yes,” you say, with greater confidence, “let’s continue.”

“Onto the next. Envy.”

“Ah,” you seem to deflate a little and his brows knit together, “well about that. This…wow this is embarrassing.”

“No such thing as embarrassing at this moment. It’s a safe space, remember?”

“Right,” you huff, “okay well here it goes then. I see the sisters of sin every day walking around the corridors, working in the library, in the dining hall and…I envy them. I envy their bold confidence in their appearance and their sexuality.”

He’s silent for a moment, weighing whether or not he should say what he’s thinking. But you deserve to hear this.

“Confidence is not only represented by eh, wearing short skirts and high heels. I see you exude it every day when you’re bossing me around, no?”

You bark out a laugh and it lightens his heart.

“Truth be told,” he sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “I’m not the best person to be taking advice on confidence from. But I know how to recognize it and I see it in you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur so softly he thinks he might have made it up, “can we move on?”

“Si,” he says before clearing his throat, “next one is wrath.”

He hears you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Oh, I’ve got a good one for this. Well…not good. It wasn’t my best moment. But it definitely fits the bill.”

He makes a noise prompting you to continue.

“You know that new painting that Sister Imperator got at auction? The one of Lilith and Faust? It arrived last week and she asked me to oversee its unboxing. I told all the siblings working with me that once the box was open the painting was to be handled with archival gloves. I had to step out of the room for a second to talk to the head librarian and when I came back…not a glove to be found and the painting was halfway out of its crate. Copia I…I lost my shit. You know me I-I don’t get mad. But the fact that they had disregarded my instruction and got their bare fingers on that canvas, then acted ignorant about the whole thing…Christ, Copia I saw red. I don’t even remember half of what I yelled at them. I had to walk out before I did something I would regret. God, I already regretted raising my voice. I didn’t report them to Sister Imperator but she found out somehow…maybe the librarian? I don’t know what their punishment was but I haven’t seen them since. Copia, it was awful. I was awful.”

“With good reason,” he replies promptly, “they should have respected your authority as a professional in the field and by not doing so not only did they potentially damage Ministry property, but they also embarrassed themselves. Idioti. Though I would have liked to have seen you all riled up.” A confession of his own - Sathanas would he have loved to see you flying at them like a demon, your claws sharp and your words sharper. The thought sends a shiver of arousal down his spine and he takes a moment to gather himself before speaking again.

“Is that all you wish to say?”

“Yes. Can we please move on?”

“Very well. Next is sloth.”

You’re silent for a moment and his heart sinks, hoping you’re not dwelling too much on your last confession. He opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it.

“Sloth, yeah. I, uh,” you let out a giggle and he’s relieved to hear it, “none of these can get me in trouble with Sister Imperator, right?”

“No,” he says slowly, a grin curling his lips, “this is just between us.”

“Okay good. Do you remember a couple weeks back when I texted you that I wasn’t coming in because I was having a migraine?”

“Sì…”

“I was lying,” the words blurt out of you in a rush but you sound almost gleeful about it, “I was so fucking tired and so cozy in bed and it was raining outside…I just couldn’t do it. Stayed under the covers all day watching Ghost Adventures.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he playfully chides, and he can see your shoulders shake with laughter, “Signorina I am stunned. Horrified, even–”

“Oh it’s not that bad.”

“Horrified…that you didn’t tell me so I could join you. I love those ghost hunting shows.”

Your laugh makes him smile in return, “Next time we’ll play hooky together, I promise.”

He sighs deeply. “Please. I could use it.”

“I know,” you murmur, “no one in this abbey works as hard as you do.”

“Grazie, tesoro. I appreciate your kindness.”

You make a warm noise of affirmation before speaking, “What’s next?”

“Gluttony.”

“Oh Christ,” you cringe, head falling forward, “Maybe…about a month ago? Primo came by my rooms and handed me a Tupperware container of brownies. Told me to eat one per sitting with a sweet old man smile on his face. I’m not an idiot, I heard what he grows in the abbey gardens but my God the stink that came off of these things. I knew I was about to get my shit rocked. So I ate my designated brownie and just puttered around, cleaning up the kitchen. All of a sudden, I’m flat on the floor in front of my fan having an out of body experience. I don’t know how long I was lying there for but by the time I hauled myself up I was so hungry I thought I was losing it. Went through a box of cereal, a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and the next thing I knew I was in the papas’ kitchen making a bag of popcorn. Don’t remember getting there and don’t remember coming back up to my rooms but the next morning I was tucked in bed. So weird.”

He chuckles nervously as if he wasn’t the one to find you wandering the kitchens stoned out of your gourd and put you there.

“Ha yes…weird. That’s…that’s all you remember?”

“Mmhmm. Talk about the devil’s lettuce. Was pissed I didn’t have any cereal the next morning, though.”

“Let’s move onto the next, hmm?” He’s a little louder than necessary but you don’t question his suspicious behavior.

“Yeah sure. Hit me.”

“Eh, greed.”

“Hmm,” you ponder and he hears the back of your head thunk against the wood of the booth. “Damn, this is a hard one.”

“It usually is, funnily enough. You can always skip it, if you like.”

“No, no, no,” you say, leaning forward, “I’m trying to get the full set, let me cook.”

That actually makes him laugh out loud. How he adores you so.

“Greed, greed, greed,” you mutter to yourself, “Ah…greed would include covetousness, yeah?”

“Mmm, is there something or perhaps…someone you have been coveting?”

It’s a leading question and he knows this as he hears your breath quicken. It’s at this point in his fantasies where you confess your adoration for him, where he flees the confines of his side of the booth to fall to his knees before you and worship you as Sathanas intended. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he tastes the bitter tang of his paints which distracts him for a moment when he hears you say–

“Yes. There is someone.”

The silence is deafening between the two of you and his heart thuds against his ribcage, desperate for you reach over and tear it from his chest. He flexes his hands, the leather squeaking as the both of you sit with the words.

“O-oh?” he finally manages to stutter. He can see your eyes are shut and hears you loudly swallow.

“I, um,” you begin, “yeah. There is someone I’ve wanted for…a long time. I…I think he–I mean they–might reciprocate but…”

Tell her, you fool.

“Can we do the next one, actually?” your voice is so painfully soft and his stomach drops. She is doing you a kindness, his brain cruelly provides, by not telling you of who she truly wants. A sibling, perhaps. Or perhaps…one of your fratelli. The thought pains him so he nearly doubles over on himself as if being punched in the gut. Pride, envy, wrath, sloth, gluttony, greed.

Lust.

He’s startled by the sound of his own voice and you are too judging from the way you twitch. From his obscured view you look positively horrified, as if you had forgotten about this one.

“I haven’t been with anyone,” you blurt out, sounding both panicked and deeply embarrassed. He hardly recognizes his own voice as he responds with uncharacteristic calmness.

“Lustful acts…do not always have to involve another person.”

Now why the fuck would he say that? He can see your eyes widen and even in the dim light of the confessional he registers the violent blush on your cheeks.

“Oh I…oh.”

You raise a hand up to rub aggressively at your face, breathing deep.

“In that case, yes,” you finally say and his gut clenches, “I have indulged in the sin of lust.”

“A-about the person you covet?” He’s pushing it but he can’t help himself, can’t help the hope that simmers in his belly and makes his pants tighten.

“Mmm…mhmm,” you respond and you open your mouth to speak but hesitate. When you finally do, there’s a new tone to your voice - something low. Sensual.

“It’s…good. Fuck it’s good. When I think about them I-I go a little insane. I want them so fucking badly and it’s so easy to think about them and what they could do to me. What I would let them do to me.”

His fist flies to his mouth to stifle the whine that threatens to escape from him and his cock throbs underneath his cassock. He can feel your eyes on him, see your lips parted and it makes him lightheaded. Focus. Focus. Go over there and fuck her against this goddamned confessional. Focus.

“Sathanas bless you, tesoro,” he finally ekes out, his voice hoarse, “in celebrating your body a-and your desire you have made Him proud. Well done.”

A beat passes until you clear your throat. He thinks if he doesn’t tend to his dick soon he’s going to pass out.

“That’s all of them then, right? Got the full set?”

“Mmhmm. You can go if you like.”

“Didn’t you say there’s another blessing at the end?”

Satan damn your ability to vex him when he needs relief…and you…the most.

“Eh, yes. In nomine Padre, et Filio, e-et lo Spiritus Malum,” Cazzo what was the rest of it? “Ah…Sathanas bless this most sacred sinner for reveling in her transgressions against God. Nema.”

“Cool, well uh. Goodnight Copia. This has been…enlightening.”

“It certainly has,” he mutters under his breath, fingers itching to adjust his bulge. He’s not sure if you heard him or not because in an instant you’ve opened the booth and skittered down the nave to the door. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears you firmly shut it behind you and within seconds he’s fumbling for the hem of his cassock. He knows the likelihood that you were talking about him is slim but simply entertaining the thought that it could be has him unzipping his pants with vicious determination. When his cock finally, blessedly meets leather he could cry with relief. He knows he’s dribbling pre on himself but he doesn’t care - all that matters is the way you sounded confessing your lustful actions to him and how it drives his fist back and forth. Oh, how sweet you were. Tempting even when you weren’t trying to be. How he would revel in ruining you. The thought makes him double over, his unoccupied hand pressed against the wall of the booth in an attempt to stabilize himself. When he thinks of you eagerly spreading yourself open for him a broken moan escapes his lips, hips rutting upwards into his grip. What sweet little noises you would make - right there, Copia, please, that’s it - your body eager to yield to his touch. 

“Dolcezza,” he grits out, “ragazza perfetta mia. S-so good–ah–for y-your Cardinal.”

His hand is a blur as it rockets along his shaft and he grunts into the silent chapel. He thinks of you looking up at him with that heart-shatteringly kind look on your face, your lips in a soft smile and he cries out, his seed painting his grucifix in desperate spurts. His mind is fuzzy but his hand doesn’t slow, determined to wrench every last drop out of himself until his head falls back and hits the wood of the booth. Groggily, he puts himself away and lowers his cassock before stumbling out of the confessional. His spend drips onto the stone floor but it matters little - surely it’s not the first that floor has seen. All of a sudden he’s exhausted - feeling every second of his five decades - as he blows out candle after candle. When his task is complete he trudges to the door and rests his forehead on the wood for a moment. 

He thinks of your smile once more.

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

[helpallthenamesaretakenblog]

so :D i wrote my first ever fanfic because i was intrigued and want to know if i could do it. i hope you like it :)) i nerded out way too much on this one so spare me pls be kind!

description: set during the battle of manhattan, tlo. slightly canon divergent. lot of percy angst. tw: su!cidal thoughts. percys pov. percabeth being cute. based on the poem 'stopping by the woods on a snowy evening' by robert frost :)

Miles to Go Before I Sleep- A PJO Fanfiction

I couldn't sleep that night. I paced the room for two hours until late night as if there was something terrible was going to happen. I was worried sick--about Annabeth, about the war, about everything. At midnight, moonlight streamed through the hotel window as I sat, almost lifelessly on the bed, staring into nothing. Suddenly, I heard a creak in the door, and I was about to snatch riptide before I heard a whisper, "Percy? You awake?"

In the shadows, I saw the familiar figure of Grover, tired after a long day of attending to the satyrs. He sat down next to me on the bed, and we both stared at the wall in comfortable silence. For a moment, I could almost close my eyes and imagine that we were 12 year olds at Yancy again. "The Apollo kids are seeing you through the hotel surveillance cameras. They sent me to ask you to sleep" "Since you're the only one right now who I'll listen to?" ".....yep"

While Grover rambled something about him being my unofficial mom right now, I looked at my bedside table, and there it was. Pandora's Jar. Man, I wished the stupid thing would stop following me around, and right now, it wasn't the best time for me to want to resist opening it. Unfortunately, Grover read my emotions. "You want to open it, don't you?"

The question, which had always been on the back of my mind, really stung now that it was said out loud. I think Grover could see I was breaking down a little on the inside, and wrapped me in an awkward hug. "I-I do," it came spilling out of my mouth, my voice cracking. "It just feels like the Fates are giving me an opportunity instead of a challenge. I feel like everything around me is falling apart. I'm not good at handling war. If I give up to Kronos, he'd kill me, as long as I'd make him promise he wouldn't hurt you guys. It's just easier. It's better for everyone else" My eyes felt wet, and I pulled away quickly. Grover looked so lost, I immediately felt bad for making him worry about me. "Go to sleep, Percy," he said in a painful tone, as if I was a delusional grandpa who had gotten loose from the nursing home bed. Before I could say anything, he pulled out his reedpipes. Before I could protest, he started playing soft, sweet music and before I knew it, I was asleep.

In my dream, I was sitting with Annabeth in the strawberry field, while she had a book in her lap. Annabeth was smiling, her hair glinting in the sunlight. She was okay. We were okay. It was a sunny day and all the campers were having fun. I remembered this day; this conversation had happened two months before the war. Woah. That felt so far away.

"I finally found the greek version of this poem!" she said excited, her eyes sparkling, which gave me butterflies. "This poem is really famous for the last four lines, wait-wait, I'll read it out to you" She picked it up. "So the English version of these lines are: "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep" I bumped her shoulder with mine. "Ok, nerd...what's the point?"

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "It basically means that the poet wanted to die and found death a beautiful easy way out, but he realised he still had a duty in his life and that he still had a long way before his time to go, isn't that so poetic?" "I guess. You're better at this than me"

This didn't happen that day, but she opened her arms, as if about to hug me, probably due to Grover's magical reedpipe music, and for a second I felt elated that life felt livable again, before the ground opened up before she could, and I fell into endless darkness.

I woke up, shaking. I felt like I had been given a sweater in the cold before it got snatched away, leaving me back in the freezing winter. Grover was gone. I wanted to go back to sleep. I wanted things to be alright again. I wanted to see Annabeth happy and nerdy as usual and hug her. But sunlight streamed in through the window, and I forced myself out of the bed and went up the stairs to where Annabeth was.

When I walked up to her in the chair, my heart broke again. She looked so different from the dream. Her eyes were weakly staring at the view, she was shivering and her face was still a little gray. "Hey" she said. I checked up on her, talking to her about her health, which was slowly getting better, thankfully, but it didn't stop me from feeling guilty.

As I stared at her hopelessly, Pandora's Jar appeared on the table next to her. Annabeth studied my face. "We should put it in a place where it stays there"

I nodded my head in agreement. I took the jar gingerly in my hands. I looked out into the view from above. The whole city was in my sight. I saw demigods rebuilding the mortal's homes, some of which were damaged after the day's fight. I saw Nico rejoining a skeleton from his army's bones, with Will hovering curiously from a distance. "Is that a coccyx ?" "Gesundheit" If I died, he'd be the prophecy kid. I saw two tired aphrodite girls staring at a broken mirror, as if wondering where their life (and skin) started to break. I needed to keep them going. I needed to survive, I couldn't let them down. I needed to give them what they were fighting for. They were fighting for me. All my depression would have to wait for another day.

"It must be annoying," Annabeth said. "Don't you ever just want to open it?"

"Nah," I gave her my bravest smile, as I carried the jar to the door, where I would give it to be locked in a storage locker in the hotel. "I have promises to keep; and miles to go before I sleep"

#pjo fic #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson angst #percy jackson #pjo #annabeth chase #rick riordan #percabeth #pjo fandom #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv series #percy series #pjo series #annabeth pjo #perseus jackson #percy pjo #the last olympian #percy jackson spoilers #pjo fanfic #annabeth percy jackson #percy and annabeth #annabeth #grover underwood #nico di angelo #pjo hoo #hoo #rrverse #pjo hoo toa #solangelo

[crypticcowboys]

hi there, i absolutely love your writing! please may i request some general headcanons for mike x gn!reader where both he and the reader are autistic? i’m glad to see that someone else headcanons him as such :D i hope that’s not too vague!!

a/n: thank you for being my first ask :3! and ofc it's not too vague! this is going to be focused more on mike's traits and basically his interactions with you. this was also lowkey self indulgent. i actually really enjoyed writing this so i think i might make another one of these focusing just on him@))@ pairing: autistic/audhd!mike schmidt x autistic!gn!reader headcanons, also autistic abby (the entire family is autistic) warnings: brief mention of autistic meltdown, otherwise fluff. wc: 836 (i ran out of ideas.)

not proofread i wrote this while high

mike schmidt didn't find out that he was autistic until a lot later into his adult life-- only knowing that he had adhd. he always knew that abby was autistic, she had been diagnosed earlier into her life. but him? he never gave second thought to it. of course, he felt disconnected in a sense to the rest of the world. he was there, but he felt like nobody truly clicked nor resonated with him besides abby. of course, until he met you.

to say that mike was truly comfortable with you was an understatement. he didn't feel forced to make eye contact with you, and of course, ended up feeling comfortable enough with you to make full-on eye-contact... each and every time.

i feel like mike's love languages are definitely quality time and physical contact. he enjoys sitting in a room with you as a sort-of body double-- you two don't have to talk at all for him to have a good time with you. he enjoys being close to you, or being in a room with you, the both of you engaging in anything that you'd like. as for the physical touch part, he always needs to be connected with you in some way. in public, he's behind you, interlinking your arms or your hands together and giving you a soft squeeze. or when you're both in bed, and you two can actually fully hold eachother, this man needs pressure. he needs to feel like he's being pressed by a hydraulic press. either lay on-top of him or squeeze him from behind whilst he's the little spoon-he's in heaven.

mike definitely loves the sound of your voice. when you're talking he's pretty much giving you his full attention, even if he's not looking directly at you, or doing something else. he won't mind if you ramble about your special interest or your hyperfixation, he'll listen and ask you as many questions that pop into his mind. he's genuinely curious about what you're into!

as for mike's sPin/hyperfixations, i feel like one of the biggest hyperfixations he ever had as a child was pokemon. it's basic and mainstream, i know, but i feel like he especially took interest in card-collecting. i feel like he's a big collector in general-- he likes seeing physical groups of things that he either picks up or buys himself. he doesn't have much money to expand his collections now, but every once in a while he'll save up to expand them. i feel like he really enjoys miniature things-- like tiny things he can build. this may seem a bit childish to him and he'd never admit it-- but he likes calico critters because of the small objects. he can just never afford the sets. i feel like he also watches tiny cooking videos on his phone when he can't sleep.

mike's also a really big music enjoyer. i feel like he's always got his walkman on him-- several tapes. this man is a sade and jeff buckley enjoyer and you can't tell me any different.

despite the fact that he needs a job to support himself and abby-- mike is quick to burn out with work. he'll start off strong at first, and then later, everything down to the very air he could breathe in the place could just irritate him. besides all the stuff that happened at freddy's, it was... sort of a fresh breath of air, being his 'own boss.' no coworkers that couldn't understand the meaning of taking a break due to overstimulation to nag in his ear during rushes. not that rushes even really existed in the first place at freddy's. but for all his other jobs, he either got fired or outright quit less than 6 months of work because of his dull-minded managers. fast food was the worst-- he'd always encounter rude customers. he got a drink thrown at him, once, and he swore to never work fast food again. he does not back down on promises.

but whenever he does have burnout, or have a meltdown, mike instantly seeks you out first. he's clinging to you like a lifeline, feeling tears springing to his eyes whenever he's thinking about the amount of bills and fees he has to pay, or the chores he needs to do. he needs you to distract him from it all, he needs you to hold him tight and just distract him from everything. the burnout takes weeks to go away, but you and abby just make the experience so much smoother for him.

i feel like mike really enjoys going on road trips and long drives. no destination, just driving around with you and abby, making up dumb stories or you giving storytimes from your job that abby probably shouldn't be hearing, incase she starts picking up words like 'shit.' but she's already picked them up, honestly.

both you and abby are his lifelines. and the world wouldn't quite click if it weren't for you, especially.

#mike schmidt is autistic #i feel like the miniature stuff is so real #like he definitely loves tiny cooking #i feel like he really loves cats too #ahh i have so many ideas brewing ill def make another #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt x reader #movie!mike schmidt #mike schmidt x gn!reader #mike schmidt x you

[nerdygaymormon]

Queer Gospel Music

This past year I came across several songs that I enjoy listening to on Sundays. I created a playlist for myself for Sundays and thought I'd share with y'all.

Yet : Ashley Hess - Ashley Hess was a finalist on the 2019 season of American Idol. I heard her perform this song at the Gather Conference where she introduced it by saying, "The next song that I'm gonna play is a song that I wrote in my lowest time. But it's a song that's so special to me because it was the moment that I felt like I finally came out of hiding, and that the Lord not only saw me, but loved me and embraced me." I can relate so much to that. Plus, I don't hear many songs from the perspective of "I'm trying, so God please don't give up on me."

God Loves Me Too : Brian Falduto - Brian played the gay kid in the movie School of Rock, and catapulted the character into an LGBTQ icon when he delivered the line “You’re tacky and I hate you.” Now as an adult, Brian is back and singing that no one has to earn God’s love. Brian wrote the song after visiting a church that was welcoming and accepting of queer people. I look around and see I’ve found a place where peace and love abound. I’ve waited my whole life for the truth. It is true, God loves you. It don’t matter if you’re LGBTQ

My Little Prayer : David Archuleta - David wasn't out yet when he recorded this, but I imagine he really related to some of these lyrics, such as I'm beginning to understand that you (God) have a plan for me.

The Queer Gospel : Erin McKeown - I love these lyrics. There are those who think we're wicked. There are those who call us names: depraved, lost and sick, and would rather bathe us in shame. But we put the "sin" in sincere, we put the "do" in the doubt. God is perfectly clear. We are perfectly out. Love us as we are. See us and we're holy. In this shall we ever be wholly ourselves.

Good Day (feat. Derek Webb) : Flamy Grant - Matthew Blake was a worship leader for 22 years who has become a “shame-slaying, hip-swaying, singing-songwriting drag queen” named Flamy Grant (it's a play on the name of gospel singer Amy Grant). The lyrics talk of coming back to church after having left for feeling oppressed. They’ve come back to church because despite what some say, God’s love is expansive enough for everyone. God made me good in every way, so I raise my voice to celebrate a good day. 

Believe : GENTRI - The pianist for this group is gay. After coming out, he was having a hard time with faith and was angry at God, and he felt God gave him this song as part of his healing process. Believe there is an answer. And while you feel you're buried deep in a disaster, believe more hands are waiting, ready to lift you up and carry you back to safety. You're not alone, keep holding on. And believe.

Explaining Jesus : Jordy Searcy - In 2014, Jordan was a contestant on The Voice. He grew up active in a church and since being on the television show he has written several religious songs, including this one. Jordy discusses the shortcomings of churches, comparing the ways in which church members act and interact with each other, including how they treat the gay community and oppress women. If you're gay and over 85, you've felt for your whole life that when God made you, he just messed up. In the chorus he apologizes that this has been the experience, I'm sorry no one explained Jesus to you.

Satan's Tears : Kyler O'Neal - Did anyone ask how real you are? Has anyone said that you are loved, or that you’re the one they’re dreaming of? Those questions start this beautiful song by trans woman Kyler O’Neal. The song addresses a young gender non-conforming person unaccepted by their world, and the singer promises to wipe away Satan’s tears which were created by a cruel society

Same Love : Macklemore & Ryan Lewis feat. Mary Lambert - Macklemore sings that his gay uncles should be allowed to marry, and speaks of how Christianity has hurt gay people. "God loves all his children" is somehow forgotten, but we paraphrase a book written thirty-five hundred years ago. The song concludes with Mary Lambert singing I’m not crying on Sundays, which I think means not letting religious intolerance and churches harm us anymore

No Place in Heaven : MIKA - Mika is singing about how religion teaches there’s no place in heaven for gay people because the way we love is sinful. Father, won’t you forgive me for my sins? Father, if there’s a heaven let me in

God Is : The Outer Banks - I don't know that they had queer people in mind when they wrote the song, but the lyrics relate to the conflict between one’s queerness and relationship with God. God was never angry. God was not against me. God was never far away. God is not disappointed.

I Know it Hurts : Paul Cardall & Tyler Glenn - I just wanted to believe, but how am I supposed to believe this about me? And then we find each other, queer church members who can understand what we’re going through, who know the hurt. For most queer people, they leave church and go on a different path. They’re not lost, a faint light at the end is guiding their way, they’re finding another way back home.

Losing My Religion : R.E.M. - The song was interpreted as the struggle of a closeted gay man coming to terms with what his religion taught about gay people and is seen as an example of queer coding in the era of “don’t ask, don’t tell.” Lead singer Michael Stipe had declined to address his sexuality, so when “Losing My Religion” came out, people assumed Stipe was coming out as gay. Consider this the hint of the century. Consider this the slip.

HIM : Sam Smith - This is a song about a boy in Mississippi coming out and the conflict between his sexuality and his religious upbringing. He is grappling with the feeling that there’s no place in church for him because he’s gay. Holy Father, we need to talk. I have a secret that I can’t keep. I’m not the boy that you thought you wanted. Please don’t get angry, have faith in me.

Pray : Sam Smith - You won’t see Sam in church, but they say they’re a child of God at heart and are begging God to show the way. I’m not a saint, I’m more of a sinner. I don’t wanna lose, but I fear for the winners

Faith : Semler -  This song reached No. 1 on the iTunes Christian music chart and is about growing up queer in a faith community and how the rejection by the church left them scarred. When my religion turned against me, they said my hopes and dreams were faulty. I showed these holes inside my hands, and they claimed they couldn’t see.” Even as they struggled with the church, Semler kept a relationship with Jesus and flourished far more than she did in any church building. But I don’t wanna get small to be in those rooms

Hey Jesus : Trey Pearson - Trey made headlines in 2016 when as the lead singer of the Christian rock band Everyday Sunday, he came out as gay. Three years later and Trey has a question: Hey Jesus can you hear me now? It's been awhile since I came out, I was wonderin' do you love me the same? As a person who struggles to reconcile faith with sexual orientation, I find this song quite moving.

Heaven : Troye Sivan feat. Betty Who - Troye sings about what it’s like for a religious teenager to come out as gay. Without losing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven? Without changing a part of me, how do I get to heaven? All my time is wasted, feeling like my heart’s mistaken, oh, so if I’m losing a piece of me, maybe I don’t want heaven? Troye explains “When I first started to realise that I might be gay, I had to ask myself all these questions—these really really terrifying questions. Am I ever going to find someone? Am I ever going to be able to have a family? If there is a God, does that God hate? If there is a heaven, am I ever going to make it to heaven?” The video features footage from LGBTQ+ protests throughout history.

Revelation : Troye Sivan and Jónsi -This song was written for the movie Boy Erased, which is about a young man being sent by his parents to a conversion therapy camp to try to change him to not be gay. The lyrics are about feeling liberated from the toxic teachings he learned at church about LGBTQ+ people. It’s a revelation. There’s no hell in what I’ve found, and no kingdom shout. How the tides are changing as you liberate me now and the walls come down. In other words, God doesn't condemn me for my queerness.

Orphans of God : Ty Herndon & Kristin Chenoweth feat. Paul Cardall - The message of the song is we are all loved by God, we are all thought about, we are all created equally and God loves us all the same.

Midnight : Tyler Glenn - The Neon Trees frontman gives an emotional song about his departure from the Mormon church but not from God. The ballad is accompanied by a video that shows Glenn removing his religious garments and replacing them with a glittery jacket, which is such a powerful metaphor.

#queerstake

[silaswritesthings]

‘I am not in love with a criminal.’

Summary: Reader comes across an intriguing individual that captured their attention months prior.

Starring: Multi character x gender unspecified reader (the characters I had in mind as I write this are mainly Scaramouche and Childe from genshin impact, Dazai from bsd and unknown from mystic messenger but you can imagine whoever you wish to imagine)

Genre: romance, sfw, sharing an umbrella (that's not a genre but its valid!)

Warnings: A bit of cursing, implications of stalking, implications of murder, first person pov :)

Author’s note: It took me three days to write this and I hope it matches the effort I put into it. I was listening to goth and alt music as I wrote this so take that however you wish to take it. Likes, comments, reblogs and new followers will always be welcome!

Word count: 914

Part two is here

No. Just no.

He didn’t deserve a single drop of any affection from me, not a sliver of attention. He was not even worthy of the mud beneath my boots, but…

“Is there something on your mind?” His voice was accompanied by a flash of lightning. The dull sky rumbled as if the heavens were sending a warning. Bitterness gathered in my chest.

“I don’t want to talk about anything with you.” My words were almost drowned by the rain hitting the umbrella he held above our heads; we stood in the middle of the pavement, and pedestrians gave us odd and disapproving looks as they walked around us. The rain had just started but it had picked up quite a bit and I would have been drenched if it weren't for him.

His next words sounded almost hesitant. “You were more friendly when we first met.” My gaze remained fixed on my wet boots, his own facing mine, and I didn't miss the way he shifted on his feet, the umbrella shifting along with the action.

People like him, criminals, are well versed in lies and manipulation. Feigning distress wouldn't have been a hard task for him and I was aware of that. Despite knowing that, the bitterness in my chest lifted just a fraction.

“It’s been months, I can hardly remember your name.” My eyes remained lowered, watching water droplets slide down the leather of our boots.

“But you remember my face.”

“What?”

“You haven’t looked at me at all during our entire encounter yet you seem to know exactly who you are talking to you.” It was his observation not mine. Our first meeting, which happened over four months ago (not that I have kept count), remains as a vague memory in my mind. I would have voiced my thoughts but he was right. Why would anyone entertain a conversation with a stranger like this; with their eyes on the ground and heart in their throat as if they knew something that they shouldn’t.

I knew something that I shouldn’t. No- he revealed things to me that I shouldn’t have known. He’s a criminal.

My gaze lifted to his, regrettably, and my argument stopped at the back of my throat along with my breath. This was not the face of a killer but rather the face of someone that many would kill for.

His eyes lit up. “You’re looking at me.”

I narrowed my own. “You’re a criminal.”

“I’ve never been incarcerated for a moment in my life.”

“You killed people.”

“Without context, it sounds worse than it actually is.”

My right eye twitched. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

He leaned forward, his mouth curving into a light pleasant smile. “Why don’t you test that by asking me every question that comes to your mind? I’ll answer anything, everything even.”

I shifted my eyes from his, a simple look was all he needed to convince me to take his offer. “I have-" I cleared my throat, "plans.”

My eyes returned to him when he straightened himself with a sigh and took out his phone. He messed with his screen for a few seconds. When he showed me the screen, it was a copy of my schedule.

Fuck that.

I turned and walked away from him and forgot why I had even left my apartment half an hour ago. The rain was the least of my concerns because there was a lunatic who had a copy of my personal schedule on his phone. The rain was not the problem.

He spoke in a sing-song manner, “you’re in quite a rush for someone without any plans.”

Anger rose from the bottom of my chest and I turned to face him and yelled, “Fuck you!”

His mouth fell open before he burst into a fit of laughter. My blood boiled as I watched him clutch his abdomen as if he had heard the funniest joke in existence.

Now he was gasping for air.

Now more people were giving us more odd looks.

I marched to where he stood and whisper-yelled, "You're embarrassing me, stop it."

He beamed at me. “I’ll text you later since you have ‘plans’ today.” He handed me his umbrella and waved with the hand holding his phone, the screen and my damn schedule flashing at me, before he stepped backwards.

“Criminals have feelings too,” he said before he walked away with an energetic stride.

“Lunatic.” I cursed him. I was annoyed, wet and could feel the start of a headache from my now ruined day.

When I arrived back at my apartment, I paused by my door where there was a vase filled with flowers and herbs; lavenders, roses and rosemary were bunched together in a deliberate manner. I picked up the vase and read the little white card that was sticking out from the flowers. I then remembered why I left my apartment. It was to find flowers to decorate my apartment.

Do you know you smell like lavenders?

My face burned because of anger.

Right.

Anger.

I entered my home and placed the flowers on my kitchen counter with care, only because the vase looked fragile and I didn't want to clean up the mess of a broken vase.

By the time the sun had set that day, I was already facing another problem. Should I answer the text from the unknown number on my phone or call the police to spare my time and sanity?

#silaswritesthings #silas #wanderer x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #childe #childe x reader #dazai x reader #unknown x mc #mystic messenger #bungou stray dogs #genshin impact x reader #Eater love unholyc #criminals basically #please don’t flop #jjk x reader

[edgrara]

Could you do headcanons of the MK1 Earthrealm Defenders with a street racer reader?

helloo! sorry for the delay as I have school and family problems! :( I tried my best writing this and this request is actually a fun challenge for me to do! Hope you enjoy it!

no warnings, sfw, reader is gender neutral

RAIDEN

he was shocked when he found out that you street race.

first thing he ask , “isn’t that illegal?” 

every time you came home, he’ll be grateful that you went back home in one piece. When the moment you came home, he’ll would be praying fervently to the elder gods that you did not passed on or get into an accident. He’ll hug you and give you lots of kisses

he sometimes hides your car keys when you want to go out whether you want to street race or not. My boy just taking precautionary actions for your own safety 

“Aw come on! I just need to get groceries Raiden! I’m not going to street race. Trust me on this,” you whined. you tried convincing Raiden but it did not work. “Ah, Ah, Ah! I’m not going to let you drive and go out by yourself! I’ll bring you there. No complaints,” you huffed but have no choice but to let Raiden bring you and accompany you to the market as to avoid you street racing (and also he doesn’t trust you going out alone)

he tries to be a bit supportive but not too much to be point that he wants to actually street race

KUNG LAO

“Wait, not gonna lie that’s actually cool,” like his reaction was like “WOAHHH” 

he has a curious mind. Sometimes, he’ll ask you tons of questions about street racing like “do you ever go to jail for over speeding?” “Have you got yourself into an accident because of street racing?” or “Why did you do street racing?” 

sometimes, you’ll bring him on a street race. You’ll even let him sit at the passenger seat! (He’s your passenger princess). he would like blast music inside the car until you could not focus.

“Kung Lao! I can’t focus! Could you mind lowering down the music please?” You were in the middle of a race, fighting for first place. Kung Lao on the other hand, busy karaoke out loud and making remarks on the racers. When you peeked on the rear mirror, you noticed that a car was behind you and you needed to speed up a little bit. Little did you know that the car wants to push you offtrack. “Oh no Kung Lao! We’re gonna get crash! Brace yourself!” As you seen your very own life flashing right before your eyes,  Kung Lao peeked out of the window and threw his razor sharp hat and aim it accurately on the racer’s wheels. “Thanks Kung Lao, you know, don’t let anyone catch you next time doing that, it’s considered cheating,” you gave him a stern warning. “Okay, to be fair, you’re going to be in danger!”

JOHNNY CAGE

“Whoa woah! I didn’t knew a babe like you do street racing!” With your sweet and innocent aura, you smiled at him cheekily.

he could come up with tons of wacky ideas about you for his film about you

wants to make you an instant celebrity/superstar as your street racing could make you famous in a snap

he’ll purposely ask you if he could follow you to some of your races as he wants to do some ‘research’ on his movies (actually my boy here js wants to be w you) 

“okay Johnny, just to let you know, this is where the spectators-“ as you were explaining things about street racing to Johnny, Johnny was busy writing about all the things that you have said. You decided to have a peek at Johnny’s notebook. Apparently, all he wrote was all scribbles. “Johnny Cage! Have you been listening to a word i have been saying? All you wrote were just scribbles!” You scolded him. You caught him in the act and now Johnny is trying to debate with you saying that scribbling helps him to ‘focus’. “Helps in focusing what exactly?” You tried to twist your words so that Johnny would stop giving that excuse. “Alright fine! I actually just want to spend time with you,” Johnny pouted and hugged you tightly. A smirk appeared on you lips and you pecked him on his cheek. “You could have said so, love!” you rubbed his back with your hand and he looked at your with dearly eyes. “Let’s ditch this race, shall we?” You elbowed Johnny and you both laughed and ride on your car.

KENSHI TAKAHASHI

“You don’t sound like the person who would, you know, street race?” He was confused. REALLY confused 

He’s also curious, on how a person like you even street race 

You’ll show him your awesome driving skills by bringing him along to some of your street races

he’ll be at the spectators space and cheering for you (he sometimes jokes around that Sento also cheers for you)

doesn’t matter if you street race or not, he likes you for the way you are 

“Let’s go (name)! Don’t disappoint me or Sento! You can do this!” Kenshi was cheering for you so loudly to the point people gave him weird stares at him. They were all wondering who and what is  a ‘Sento’. You were drifting left and right, fast forward. You are at maximum speed, focusing for first place. Your opponent suppressed you that you didn’t even see him. You were right behind him. You pressed down the paddle with force and successfully out tracked him. As you were near the end, you give in all your might and you won first place. “Woohoo! That’s my love! They won first place!” He walked towards you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m so happy that you won first place,” Kenshi says cheerfully.  “Thanks love,” you chuckled and smiled at him. “Let’s go home and celebrate!” You were over the moon and you both went back home, happily.

reposts, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

@edgrara ‘24

#mk1 imagine #mk1 x y/n #mk1 x you #edgarawrites #mk raiden #raiden mk1 #raiden mortal kombat #kung lao x you #kung lao x reader #kung lao #kenshi x you #kenshi x reader #kenshi takahashi #johnny cage x you #johnny cage x y/n #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage

[angelofthenight]

What Doesn’t Kill Me Pt.1

(Yandere!Alex Delarge x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You were finally free from your abusive and obsessive “boyfriend” when he was arrested with a long sentence. But when he comes back to you on his knees in tears after the Ludovico's Technique, you can’t help but welcome him back into your arms once learning that he is literally incapable of harming you ever again. Yet you begin to question your own morals.

Warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Ladstat, Swearing/Language, Unhealthy/Abusive relationship, Sexual context/themes, Non-Con (off screen rape), Gangs, Obsessiveness, Home invasion, Sexual sadism, Physical abuse/Violence, Knife threat, Blood, Spitting, Brief pussy slapping, Alex is his own warning, You are responsible for your own content consumption

Word Count: 4.2k

( Fun Fact: I fucking hate Alex so much but I wrote a very long essay about A Clockwork Orange’s moral of redemption for my senior year of film studies class and I got an interesting idea for a yandere fic. Like how would the darling react if the yandere was “cured into being a good person”? )

Table of Contents

~

You hated Alex Delarge. You hated him. You loathed him. You despised him. But most of all, you were terrified of him.

On the contrary, Alex was head over heels in love with you. He was absolutely smitten with you and you were the center of his world.

You were practically forced to be his girlfriend. He just one day walked up to you and declared that you were his girlfriend now. And every day since that day was hell for you, the torturous part of hell that you are chained to.

Your soon to be nightmare all started when you two were just standing next to each other at the record store flipping through rows of records that were next to each other. He pulled out a record that caught your eye, it was one of your favorites, you thought you were the only one in town who listened to that band. Your passion for that specific artist made you smile and say aloud, “I love that record.”

He looked up at you with surprise in his eyes. He didn’t think anyone in town knew the record.

His silence made you awkwardly rant. “I honestly thought I was the only one in town who liked them. No one knew who the hell I was talking about when I would bring it up.” You gave a lighthearted laugh. “I love how the order of the songs makes a story and how each melody can, like, control what you feel. It’s a work of art. Gives me chills every time I listen to it.” You said all of this with your grin growing bigger, so happy you could talk to someone with taste.

The corner of Alex’s lips lifted up and his eyes gleamed with genuine joy, thrilled to meet someone who understands the brilliance of his favorite record. The two of you had a very long conversation about the record which extended to talking about other kinds of music. You both would drag each other around the shop to show the other some of your other favorite records.

You two instantly clicked and got along. Alex felt so comfortable with you, his mind felt at ease, and he enjoyed just simply talking with you. He’s never felt that way about anyone before. He actually enjoyed listening to you. You were so understanding, so open minded, so fascinating.

You two met in the record shop about three more times after that and would hang out for the rest of the day. You liked being around Alex. He was very funny and always put you in a good mood with his positivity. He was a very easygoing and eccentric guy; a rarity in this town full of people with sticks up their asses.

You thought nothing but good things about Alex. You really enjoyed having him as a friend. That is, until he fell for you.

In his own defense, how could he possibly not?

You were so kind and gentle with him, treating him as if he were your priority. You could get so feisty, like a house cat. As much as he loved his women defenseless and frail, your straightforward approach and no-nonsense attitude in situations that called for it really riled him up. You made him laugh and always had knowledgeable opinions. You were so smart and had an ability to be unashamedly open. And you had some real horrorshow groodies.

It was as if you were specifically and meticulously and personally made for just him. You had the same music interests as him, your exact physique was his dream girl body, your jokes always landed perfectly with him, your eyes were coincidentally his favorite color, and your breasts were the perfect size for his hands.

Alex didn’t believe in love, nor believe in wasting time seeking it. But you… you had just infected him with a fever no ice pack could soothe. Your ivy vines laced and intertwined around the wrinkles of his brain making you his constant thought. And those leaves left behind a poison ivy rash he couldn’t scratch away.

You were everything he had ever wanted. Everything he would never be… but still wanted to own.

After a night of exhilarating ultraviolence, terrorization, and vandalism with the gang, he felt such a rush. And because of that rush it was that moment where he realized he had to tell you the truth. He must have you. So he left his pals a little early to make his way straight to your apartment. He knew where you hid your spare key so it was easy storming into your living room and finding you cleaning up after yourself of your dinner.

Alex was too caught up in his adrenaline to take notice that he only took off his mask and hadn’t changed out of his gang-related wardrobe, far too focused on getting to you. But you had noticed. It was the very first thing you noticed as he stood in front of you with a breathless grin. And it was all you could focus on even as Alex declared with a cane in his hand that the reason as to why he’s been acting so strange lately was because he was in love with you.

Your iris’ were shaking and your breath was heavy within your chest as you took in the clothing from his bowler hat down to the visible codpiece. What he was wearing looked exactly like what one specific violent gang wore in the papers next to the article explaining the increase in gang terrorism due to the reduction in policing effectiveness. Juvenile delinquent gangs populated the streets because of how understaffed the police force was, most people barely even went out these days. But, for a reason you now understood, you always felt safe yourself when you went out into public, especially with Alex. But now you understood why you were safe when seen with him.

“Alex… what are you wearing? Is this a joke?” You shakingly spoke out, not responding to his confession which appeared to irk him. He took a step toward you which prompted you to take one back. Alex glanced down at his clothes and in honesty… he didn’t really care if you knew. He was creative with ways he could keep you quiet. He honestly kind of liked it if you knew.

"These here are just my nochy on the town duds with my droogs.” He announced with a sharp grin, gesturing towards his white clothes. “You won't dob me in, won't you, devotchka?” He said with a joking tone despite the threatening look in his eyes.

Your frown sunk down, your lungs feeling as if they were closing in on your heart making it harder to breathe steadily. Your hands wrung together in a nervous fashion as you seemed to cower away from someone you considered a friend. “Alex, you’re scaring me. I… I think you should leave.” You said with the delusional hope that he would respect your wish and exit the way he came.

But Alex wasn’t having it. “Leave without your answer?” He exclaimed as he held out his cane then slammed it down against your floor with one hand on his hip, tilting his head up with a sense of pride. “I think not.”

He wasn’t going to leave until he got your answer to his confession. You felt sick to the pit of your stomach. Your lips parted but no words were released. You didn’t know what to say, too caught up in the chilling realization of Alex’s secret life.

You’d be lying if you said you never really thought of him in that way, because you have once in a blue moon. How could you not with your handsome and funny male friend who always made time for you? You always teased the idea of dating him in your mind, experimented with the thought of being in a relationship with him. But it was never more than that though. More of curiosity and craving a partner rather than a crush.

You struggled to find the right words. “I… I… I feel… I-” You were torn between not wanting to encourage or provoke him yet also fearing your safety. “Spit it out, devotchka. Koshka got your tongue?” He giggled with a devilish smirk.

“I just…” You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, as if trying to swallow your fear, before it got too big that it would render you mute. “I really like you as a friend.” You fully expected him to lash out, scream at you, anything of the sort. But he simply cackled like a child.

“Nonsense, dearie!” He said in between the chuckles. “You’re just taken by surprise, is all! You’ll surely change your mind after some lubbilubbing.”

Your eyes widened in shock and horror and offense. You thrashed your arm up to point at your front door with a face full of upset anger. “Get out, Alex! I mean it!” You demanded, not believing this was all coming from someone you used to respect and think kindly of.

He, however, wasn’t phased by your raised voice and demand as he began to take swinging steps toward you, his cane lifting up to rest over his shoulder. “You’re not just gonna send me off without any sweet treat, are ya, love?” He said with a sick smile, his eyes going hooded with a predatorial shadow over his blue orbs that began to travel your body.

Your blood went cold, stinging your bones like frostbite, as you took notice of your nighttime wear. You didn’t plan for company and due to living alone you had the habit of dressing a little more indecently, as well as because you planned to go to bed right after finishing cleaning your dinner dishes. Your goosebumped skin hardly had the safety of coverage from your silk one-piece pajamas that consisted of thin tank top straps and shorts.

Your bottom lip grew so unbearably heavy that it began to shake, you taking a slow step back despite how close he’s gotten already. Your frighteningly alarmed eyes kept themselves trained on Alex’s as he stalked forward like a lion cornering an antelope, that shit-eating grin still intact.

“Y’know,” he started while he slowly began to close in on you as you walked backwards, “I think, deep down, you’re a bit of a bad girl.” He said, a tone a tad darker than before which only made your heartbeat pump painfully in your pulse. Your terror was slowly swallowing you whole like a drain.

“I think you might get a kick of it if I come on strong, just a bit rough.” He said, and before you could react in fearful panic to what he was implying, he held both ends of his cane in his hands and swung it over your head to land on your lower back. He used the position of his horizontal cane to roughly pull you closer to close the gap, sending you straight into his chest.

You gasped at the action and instantly began to struggle, throwing your hands up in an attempt to push him away by his shoulders or to at least grant some distance between the two of you. But he kept you tightly against him. “Excited now are we, eh?” He chuckled down at you, your resistance getting him all hot and bothered.

Before he confessed how he felt about you, Alex had already assumed that you felt the same way. He had an intense belief in his own perception of reality and didn’t really consider the possibility that you may not share the same feelings. His view of love was distorted and interpreted any signs of kindness or attention as your reciprocation.

But Alex was a self-aware guy. He wasn’t blind and deaf to how you clearly did not want him by how you panicked and struggled within his hold. But now that he thought about it… he didn’t really care about how you felt. Your rejection surprisingly affected him a lot less than he would’ve guessed, it actually didn’t really hurt that much.

He was naturally driven by his own twisted desires and impulses. He just wanted to exert control and power over you, rather than to seek your genuine love and affection, even though he had to admit that those would be nice to have. It was like he was in his own world, detached from the reality of reciprocal love.

He loved you. And that was all that mattered. He could still do whatever he wanted to you. And with the right tactics, he could make you do whatever he wanted. So what exact difference would your feelings make?

Alex’s cane dug into your lumbar spine, springing a pained wince past your teeth. Your attention was so focused on the pain on your skin that you gasped in unpleasant surprise at one specific tug on your body that made your pelvis grind right into the bulge of the codpiece. You stifled your whimper behind your teeth, the hard pad rubbing a sensitive part of your clit as Alex continued this action with a malicious grin.

When he got you distracted enough he took the opportunity to quickly pivot around you, rotating his cane around your body from your lower back to against your neck. The sudden harsh pressure on your throat instantly made you wheeze, your hands flying up to grasp onto the stick to try to grant you some air but to no avail due to the imbalance of strength between you and Alex.

You felt his chin rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his cheek also pressed against the side of your neck. You felt his smile and heard his pleasurable inhale through his nose. He was enjoying your struggle. He lifted his head so that his lips touched the shell of your ear, prompting you to make an effort to squirm away from his touch. But the grip he had on the cane across your frail throat made it easy to keep you as close as possible.

“Very well tomorrow’s your laundry day,” he practically purred into your eardrum which only created nausea that spread throughout your gut, “because those sheets of yours are about to get very merzky.”

If his innuendo hadn’t paralyzed you to absolute terror, you would’ve paid more fearful mind to the question on how he knew when you did your laundry.

You whimpered in powerless fear when he jerked you with the cane to force you to walk backwards. Well it was mostly him walking and your feet practically being dragged; your hands still remained on the cane to try to loosen its pressure on your cartilage. He led the two of you into your bedroom, jabbing his foot back to kick your door open in a wider frame. Once you were in he had tossed you onto the mattress with little care.

Tears began to prickle your eyes once you had collided into your bed, coughs following from the stinging pain on your throat as you gently touched where it hurt. You weren’t allowed much relief of personal space when Alex threw his hat to the side before crawling onto the mattress to reach you. He tightly grasped your biceps to flip you onto your back, him taking a comfortable seat on your waist.

He angled his torso above you and rocked his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your pelvis just once before he placed one hand next to your head. His other hand slowly wrapped itself around your face to force your shaking, watering eyes onto his carnivorous ones. He stared at you for a moment, a moment too long for your comfort. He stared at you and you could practically see the feverish twisted and covetous thoughts stream behind those bright blue eyes. And then a Cheshire Cat grin spread his lips after realizations awoke in his mind.

“Thou art such a beauty when you platch.” He said. The feeling of sadistic fervor and his far-too-long repressed lustful temptations were morphed together into bedroom eyes.

You went owl-eyed around your petrified pupils. Finally, you couldn’t hold the weight any longer as the situation became much too real to you and the heavy tears spilled out of your eyes. Alex’s smile widened before he pushed himself back up to straight posture, both of his hands reaching behind his back to unsheathe a dagger from his cane.

The sight of the long and sharp blade made your deep frowning lips part, a faint yelp weak in your throat. It was as if your horror stole all the words from you and left you far too terrified and weak to say anything. And your ears felt nearly deaf from the violent beating of your heart that rang in your eardrums. The only sounds you could hear were your scared sobbing wails and the sound of your pajamas ripping as he dragged the dagger down the clothing like a zipper.

Once sliced open enough, Alex placed the knife in his mouth to hold it with his teeth as he used his hands to tear it open the rest of the way. You were left in nothing but your panties, no bra due to the fact you had planned for independent slumber. But now you wished your sleeping customs were different as you laid exposed and helplessly vulnerable underneath the wicked monster you once felt joyful to call your dear friend.

And that monster’s eyes took in your vulnerability with a deranged infatuation; eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily. With the dagger still clenched between his white teeth, Alex’s hands were free to reach down and grope your breasts like dough. You whimpered with a feeble tremble, your leaking eyes squeezed shut in severe discomfort as you tightly gripped the sheets with white knuckles.

He grasped the side cups of your chest to push your bust together, giving him a better view of both of them at the same time. The action made you sharply inhale from the sensitivity, but it was as if that woke you up because you then felt the protective courage to snatch his wrists in an attempt to claw his unwanted touch off you; furious and disgusted by his animalistic audacity.

Your attempt of defense was rendered as nothing but a detriment to yourself as it was simple for Alex to free himself from your hold. One hand slammed onto your elbow to cage it to the mattress and his other hand retracted the dagger from his mouth to push it horizontally against your still hurt throat. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make you cower away from him and attempt to push yourself deeper into the mattress to escape the touch of the blade.

“Now, now, now, my dear darling.” He spoke with a sharp smile and pupils dilated in insanity. “Don’t do anything you will regret. Best to just lay back, relax, and enjoy the show. Maybe a couple of tears here and there for sweetness. But be the noble girl you always are and behave while I ravage your cunt.”

He turned the dagger diagonally to rest the tip atop the center of your collarbone. His grip on the handle was tight and you knew one wrong move on either of your ends would end with your blood gushing down your naked body. “I’d hate to carve up such elegant plott. It’d be a sin!” He tapped and glided the blade against your neck teasingly.

He leaned down to position his lips next to your ear. “But it’s a good thing I’m not a gloopy malenky dobby church boy.” He breathed out, causing your limbs to shiver in sickened fear. “I’m not afraid to get a little sinful.” He husked before he opened his mouth to drag his wet, warm tongue from your jawline up to your ear. Your joyless frown involuntary trembled.

Alex angled his face above yours, taking in your visibly terrified features and your salty rivers of tears and nearly salivating at the sight. “Now… Do you promise to behave?” He asked you with a cruel, mocking tone. The breathy, agonized sob you were holding occupied your throat so all you could do was reply with a twitchy yet compliant nod.

His smile practically lit up. “That’s my devotchka!” He exclaimed proudly before parting the dagger from your chest and instead moving it to rest against your jawline, allowing his thumb to caress your tearfully wet cheekbone. He dipped his head down to capture your lips within his for a sweet and simple kiss. He separated himself after he was satisfied with the taste to look up into your immensely glossy eyes with unfiltered fondness.

Your intoxicating lips tempted him to return for another, but quicker, deep kiss before his hands slid down your waist to hook his long fingers around the hem of your panties. He kept them there as he moved himself to come face to face with your sheltered cunt. Your frowning lips quivered as you bit them to ease your pounding heart. But not even your mind that tried to make you recite an entire work day in your head to distance yourself from your reality could distract you from Alex lifting your hips high up into the air so that he could straighten his back.

He smiled devilishly down at your forbidden flower with unhinged admiration laced within his features and eyes, your legs dangling over his shoulders. And without a hint he had shoved his nose straight into your clothed clit and took a deep, dirty inhale. You whined at the contact. He removed his nose to look down at you. “My, oh my. Your sladky von of strack is quite to die for, my dear.” He chuckled sardonically in his throat to himself before jokingly pecking a kiss to your clothed folds, creating a ‘mwah’ sound, and chuckling again at your second whine. He truly found your meek fear amusing.

He released the hold he had on your hips, letting your lower body plop back onto the bed with a bounce. Then he jumped the gun, his hands back onto the band of your panties and tugging them off down your shivering legs. Clasping his hands tightly onto your inner thighs, he pushed them apart to spread your legs wide open to put your cunt on full display for his ravishing eyes.

Breathy sobs began to invade your voice despite your desperate resistance to such. You just couldn’t believe this was happening. Your body shook as if you were freezing yet you felt your humid sweat as if you were boiling, it was a sickening feeling as your once sanguine world crumbled around you.

Alex retched inward to spit onto your clitoris, gave it a second to let his thick saliva ooze down your folds before using his fingers to rub in the slimy substance. He used an up and down then circular motion before giving it a slap, creating a wet, lewd sound.

You barely even registered Alex removing his codpiece then pants and boxers until he positioned his erection near your now wet hole and climbed on top of you, leaning his face awfully close to yours with his hands pinning your wrists. He relished the sight of your bloodshot eyes coated with hot tears and the sound of your distressed sobbing begs. A sense of sick euphoria swelled up within him.

Oh god how he adored you; his severe psychopathic obsession. Truthfully, Alex would’ve done whatever it took to have you.

He held a predatory gaze. “You’re my world, darling.” He purred to you before thrusting himself into you with a possessive claim and lustful selfishness fueling him.

Alex was right about your sheets. After a very long night of the old in-out-in-out, multiple rounds and positions and orgasms later, he finally left you on your bed and made his exit. Not without promising that he'd be back and proclaiming that you were now his and his alone though. And threatening you as well about tattling.

He was right, your sheets became filthy. They were vandalized with both of your climax’s and your blood, as well as your tears and a few rips that had been made with your gripping nails and his dagger. Your body was as vandalized as your sheets. The elegant skin of yours he seemed so fond of was now littered with bruises, hickey’s, bite marks, nail scratches, and small blade wounds (you just couldn’t stop yourself from resisting and fighting back so many times). But it seemed like he loved the sight and color of your blood as he had lapped it up every time his dagger and his teeth punctured into you.

You laid in the mess and weeped. Your mind was vandalized worse than both your sheets and body. Vandalized with betrayal, trauma, violation, dread, and a mortified horror. All of what Alex was deep down this entire time.

That was when your life became the torturous hell you had to live with.

#reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #dark fic #alex delarge #yandere Alex Delarge #alex Delarge x Reader #yandere Alex Delarge x Reader #a clockwork orange #clockwork orange #stanley kubrick #malcolm mcdowell

[accio-victuuri]

marie claire cpns by xiao zhan 🤍

let’s start with this one first, i will definitely do a separate cpn analysis of wyb’s songs and the MV, god i hope there’s a music video and we’re not just hoping for nothing. lol. anyway, i started with pointing out the jewelry which turned out to not be that big of a deal as i thought it was. but that’s the reality of clowning. this post is about the shoot itself and the interview.

as usual, all of these are speculations/interpretations of someone with a bxg lens on. 😎

starting off with the photo i used for this post. i’m sure most of us noticed the similarities between the shoot. tho the b&w were very few and that tank top! the long hair! can you believe, after all the hair disasters we’ve been through with this two— that we will get them in magazine covers with long luscious hair? in the year 2023? we are so blessed! i hope this trend doesn’t get banned or something cause i love it. here’s one more! they look so good! 💦💦💦

we have also caught on the art director for their shoots is the same person. you can say that marie claire is not as personal as working on yibo’s single but the this is not the first time that this happened. and it’s one of those cpns that we think they recommend stuff to each other and that includes people and companies they can use for certain projects. ✌🏼

there are elements of the plane and dreams, which are cpns we hade before but i won’t say much cause i think that’s really more of the magazine’s concept. i don’t think xz will have that much say on that and he only showed up their to shoot and interpret the concept the best way he can.

the meat 🥩 is truly in the interview. it’s a long one that talked about his career and personal life so let’s see what he said. 💭

Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the sweat from the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked again, and continued to retreat.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this the 380 yuan fan wyb gave you? It’s just too funny that it’s the first thing the interviewer wrote about.

What he shares is only his sincere daily feelings.

"Don't you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be read and watched, and old songs will always be listened to over and over again, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged through the ages. Only sincerity can move people."

This really stood out to me, the message of sincerity. It’s something that both of them has talked about and especially WYB. Bobo was big on sincerity during Hidden Blade’s run and it’s nice to see the same thoughts come up in XZ’s interview. They really have the same view in life and it’s why they are loved by many. Also thinking about emotions that don’t change is so them. After so many years, their love remains strong.

Old songs? My mind immediately went to Wuji. Lol. because personally, that song will always make me feel the love!

Almost every time he shoots a movie, he has a routine: dreaming. I dreamed about memorizing lines, dreaming about acting against a director, or even dreaming about taking a math test, but couldn’t solve any of the questions on the paper, and then I woke up with a start.

Dreaming! The lyrics for Everything is Lovely 🎶 has the same thought as this. WYB saying he loves to dream.

Deep down in his heart, he does not regard himself as a qualified actor, but always puts himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he goes to a crew, he has the experience of starting all over again.

Another same outlook as WYB. They never see themselves as the best in the room, there will always be something new to learn. They are not afraid to look at things with fresh eyes and like a child.

As for what role he most wants to play, Xiao Zhan said: "I have been mentioning it for many years, a cute and charming villain, if I get the chance."

I’m adding it here cause at this point someone should cast him as this type of villain already 😂 WYB sort of got this with Mister Ye but I hope XZ gets his dream role!

Xiao Zhan seems to have a special sense of time. He is nostalgic. Whether singing in variety shows and evening parties, or listening to them in private, he always has a preference for old songs. They are memorable, rich in meaning, and give him space to think.

I have always seen this with XZ, how his taste leans towards the older stuff. It’s so interesting cause WYB has recently been into old rock songs. I wonder if they share songs and what their updated playlist is. WYB can now related to XZ’s old songs! Maybe this is an indirect influence.

During his spare time, he just works out and watches movies. He never regards watching movies as a task. He watches everything regardless of genre, whether it is popular movies such as popcorn movies or niche movies such as art films.

Yes. Yes. ZZ & WYB are not the only people in the world who loves to watch movies. But this little tidbit coming out when we just had that info about WYB watching a shit ton of movie. They don’t even have to be together, we had fake rumors before that they watch movies together even if they are apart. Whether that’s them on the phone/video while the movie plays or recommending movies then discussing it later. 🎬

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i need some more time with yibo’s songs 🥹🥹🥹🥹 #it’s so overwhelming 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[paper-crab]

Distance

1 use of y/n and some swearing

just some weird little soulmate au i wrote but it didn’t have any direction so i kind of gave up

wc: 1264

part 2 part 3

‘Well, shit’ you had thought, reading the carefully printed letter containing the delicate cursive “M” in the center. Your 18th birthday, revealing what you’d known all along but refused to admit. It's always been him.

“Well, what letter did you get?” Your mom asked, but you waved her off, shaking your head and blinking your tears away.

Congratulations

Your soulmates name starts with an M

You fold the letter back up accepting the other gifts around you but the mood has obviously dampened, M is out of reach.

“Thank you for coming” you tell the various relatives with a fake smile. They hug you, or give you a pat on the back, and some just walk away. When the house is finally empty, you retreat to your room without so much as waving to your parents, taking the letter with you for safekeeping.

You wish you had stashed it when you’d seen it, or not allowed your mom to convince you to open it at your party.

‘It will be good!’ She had said, ‘This is a joyous occasion, your first soulmate letter can’t ruin it!’

The first of 5, and you had a feeling it would only get worse from here. As far as you were aware, “M” hadn’t surpassed his 3rd yet, even at 20 years old.

The more letters that came, the less you could hide from your parents. The second they saw the “M”, they’d know too.

You couldn’t risk Marylou finding out.

You know she’d immediately tell Matt, and he’s happy in LA with his brothers and his pretty girlfriend whose name coincidentally starts with the same letter as yours, his fancy influencer friends, and his missing letters.

He’s happy in LA, without you.

Sure, you occasionally stalk his instagram, but he had unfollowed you long ago when you had questioned his soulmate status.

“Are you sure it’s really her, Matt?” You had said, and sure enough they were still together, even after you found her first soulmate letter containing an “E”.

“Look, I don’t know why you’d go as far as to make a fake letter, but it’s concerning. Just get out of my life already!”

“Matt just listen to me!”

“I’ve listened enough, leave me alone!” His voice had finally escalated from a loud talk to an exasperated yell.

It does you no good to dwell on the past, shoving the events out of your mind; but you’re still scrolling through his Instagram absentmindedly.

Similarly, Matt is sitting in bed, listening to whatever music Chris is playing far too loudly at 9:00 in the evening. He’s drafted out some form of a “happy birthday” message despite knowing your birthday has passed in Boston. “Fuck,” he whispers to himself, deleting the message again. He wonders if it’s too weird, or if Nick and Chris have told you happy birthday on his behalf, or even if you would want birthday wishes from him.

He turns in his bed, waiting for Nick to call for him to come film, a knock on his door interrupting him before he can spiral. “Come on,” Nick says as he walks away. Matt barely bothers to put on some Crocs before running down the stairs, grateful for a distraction.

Chris runs a hand through his hair while he hops in, patting Matt on the back to snap him out of a daze. “Ready?” He asks, Matt only nods.

In his almost 3 years of making YouTube videos, Matt likes to think he’s grown out of his shell a little. He offers more input in the videos, doesn’t hesitate to speak, and overall has left behind some of his anxieties and shyness. During this video he spoke, maybe, twice.

“Is everything alright?” Nick asks when the camera shuts off.

“Yeah, fine.”

Chris glares at Nick, cutting him off from questioning any more.

By the time he sends the happy birthday message, it’s 4 a.m. in Boston.

You awake with a jolt, but the house is dead silent. The clock reads 9 a.m., so you roll over to try and find some meaning in your day.

Matt: Happy Birthday

You stare at it. What is he playing at? No contact in 1 ½ years, and you get a “Happy Birthday”? He couldn’t even bother to send it on time, you tell yourself, trying to be mad.

You walk into the kitchen, phone still open to Matt’s message when you notice another letter lying on the counter. Your 2nd soulmate letter, shouldn’t it be a little more spaced out?

Congratulations

Your soulmates hair color is

Brown

This letter only continues to confirm what you already know. You stash it with the first, away from the eyes of your scheming parents.

You: Thanks.

You sigh, setting your phone down, only to pick it up again. He had stopped talking to you because of her, did they break up? You wondered, but weren’t bold enough to ask. Maybe this text would bring you back together, maybe you would get your happy soulmate story.

Life had other plans, you realized mere minutes later; her Instagram story containing a lovely picture of her and Matt and the caption ‘Happy 2 Years Matty’.

Well, fuck.

“I’m home!” Your mom says, walking through the door. You greet her half heartedly, barely moving your hand with a wave when another voice makes you jump. “Hi honey, how are you doing?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth dries, but you offer a semi-pleasant smile. “I’m doing well, Marylou. How are you?”

“I’m good,” She offers, turning back to conversation with your mom. You’re almost 100% sure she had mentioned your letters, but you’re grateful Marylou doesn’t bring them up when you return to your room.

Matt lays on the couch, his girlfriend cuddled up next to him, staring at your message. He doesn’t know what he expected, but maybe he was hoping for more. A jumping point to start a conversation, perhaps.

“What are you looking at Matt?”

“Nothing,” He replies, shutting his phone off and wrapping an arm around her.

“Can we go to McDonalds?” Chris asks, walking down the stairs.

“Yeah-” Matt says, beginning to stand.

“We have to finish our movie first.”

“How long is left on it?”

“An hour.”

Chris groans, turning to walk back upstairs. “Hold on,” Matt says, shrugging his girlfriends hold off so he can stand. “We can go now, I don’t mind.”

“But Matty-”

“I’ll be back in a minute, I’ll get you something.” He tells her, rushing out the door. Chris follows closely behind, unwilling to face her wrath.

Nick: I’ll stay, I need to finish this. You know what to get me.

Matt shrugs some tension out of his shoulders, turning the key. “Nick?”

“Not coming. He’s editing.”

Matt nods, pulling out of the driveway and beginning the trek. He’s normally talkative, but things are weighing on his mind; like how to break up with his girlfriend of two years on their anniversary. Chris takes it upon himself to fill the silence with ‘shitty trap music’, but even that doesn’t get Matt talking.

“Order when you’re ready.”

Unfortunately for Chris, the ride back is just as quiet and thick. He’s played all the music Matt hates and still hasn’t been smacked- something is wrong.

“Did I make you leave?”

“No, I wanted to.”

Chris shakes his head. “Something is up, I can tell.”

“I want to break up with her.”

Chris immediately inhales a fry, beginning to choke.

“You can’t do that, you’re soulmates!” Chris tells him, but Matt only shakes his head.

“(Y/n) was right, she lied.”

The truth is, he’s received his 4th and 5th letters, the ones that confirm his soulmate, and it’s not his girlfriend. He’s kept them a secret from everyone- his mother, his brothers, his girlfriend, and you.

“Are you sure you haven’t gotten your letters yet Matty?” His girlfriend had asked. He had always disliked that nickname; it made him feel small, but she claimed it was cute. “I haven’t. Maybe the system malfunctioned,” He offered, lying through his teeth.

“If you say so, Matty.”

You’re lying down, tapping through her posts for the 4th time today. It’s 10 p.m. when you tap on her story, ‘Happy 2 Years Matty’, but it’s not there. You shake your head, blinking. That’s not right- it shouldn’t be deleted yet.

You tap out, reloading the page. You half expect to be blocked; maybe you’d accidentally liked something and she realized. She’d never liked you much, even going as far as asking Nick And Chris to stop inviting you over because your presence made her uncomfortable. You reload the page, maybe you’ll be blocked now. Still a no, but her latest 2 posts containing Matt are deleted. Reload, and more are gone. You’re stuck in a loop until all of her posts containing Matt are gone, and you head to his page.

His posts are gone too.

Matt: Hey, I’m coming to Boston. Can we hang out?

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo

[skylarsblue]

✦Soldier, Poet, King, Lord. ✦

(I had this idea for awhile as a little blurb. I could draw it, but I don’t have the patience. I wrote this with a headache so it’s not great but I hope you’ll be okay with it anyway) ✧Blurb, GN!reader, They/Them used, no Y/N, random callsign✧

Gaz lifted his head as he entered the common area, listening to some faint singing and some even quieter music. He leaned in carefully and looked around, eyes falling on his teammate. Their sniper, having joined the task force months prior. They had proved themselves quite capable and likable in a short span of time. Kind, strong willed, gently spoken and a good listener. Captain liked that most about them. Johnny liked their creativity, often sharing doodles and ideas for tattoos. Simon…well, he was an enigma, but it was safe to say he liked the new member now. Gaz certainly did.

He crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway, watching them make a cup of tea whilst singing to a song on the phone. He realized that he’d heard it before, they often hummed this tune when things felt too quiet. Occasionally, they could be heard quietly mumbling the lyrics when pulling an all-nighter. Johnny gave them a nickname based on it, and eventually tried to brainstorm call signs for the sniper. Throwing ideas back and forth. Lyre, harpy, songbird. The last one stuck around but was too long for a callsign. It was actually Price that landed on one.

Suddenly, the sniper was Siren.

It was certainly fitting, their voice was rather pleasant. Gaz had fallen asleep to it more than once, much to his embarrassment. He smiled as he listened to them pour the tea. He waited for them to set the kettle down before clearing his throat, startling them. “Jesus! Gaz, you prick, you scared the hell out of me.” Siren sighed, resting a hand over their chest, feeling their beating heart. Kyle chuckled and approached while giving an apology, raising his hands. He watched them add a single spoon of sugar, stirring it. “Good timing though, I finished your cup, it’s still warm.”

Gaz took his specific cup from their hand. Siren had insisted everyone had designated mugs, bought some themselves. Gaz was a forest green with a little cartoon owl on it. They insisted it was fitting for him.

“You’re smart, swift, and deceivingly approachable. People won’t see the danger coming. Plus the flying thing…”

He smiled and took it, sipping the beverage. It was coffee, not tea, and perfectly made to his tastes. It always warmed his soul when Siren remembered something so small about him. About all of them. “Thanks, dove. Those three for the rest of’em?” He asked as he motioned to three more cups, all sporting a specific animal. Siren always enjoyed using metaphors and symbols to represent people, a large sign of their creative side.

Ghost’s was black, sporting a cat with an angry expression. “Because he’s an introvert. Stealthy and sneaky, and dangerous.” Soap had received a red squirrel on a deep blue cup, which he’d managed to chip the edge of within a week of having it. “A small and feisty scavenger.” That was all Siren had said to explain it, which made the team laugh at Soap’s offense at the “small” comment. And the orange cup filled with the strongest, most bitter cup of coffee, displayed a fluffy bear. Siren had given it wordlessly, and when John have a questioning look, they moved on. Refusing to elaborate.

“The guys are getting done with sparring. Captain went pretty hard on Ghost & Soap, tea will probably make’em feel better.” Gaz praised. Siren grabbed their phone and paused the song. “I hope so, you all have been working so hard.” They smiled. Kyle waved his hand dismissively as he took another sip of his coffee. “Oh hush.” They laughed in reply. “I mean it! You guys really deserve a break.” This was something the rest of the team also enjoyed about their most recent teammate. The selflessness they showed, trying their best to make everything easier for those around them. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Siren went to speak again before their phone buzzed loudly. Kyle bit back a snicker as they juggled them device a bit from being startled, thankfully, they caught it. “Ah shit! I can’t stay to chat with you guys, the medic needs my help with some soldiers. Just make sure they get their cups before the drinks go cold, yeah?” Kyle reassured them he would and wished them luck, watching them sprint away.

Kyle sat and waited for the other three men to arrive. But as he waited, he finally noticed a closed book on the counter. A sketchbook. He’d seen Siren using it every now and then. He wasn’t intending to snoop, really, he wasn’t even thinking that much when he slid the book over to him. He opened it and scanned the first page, full of random doodles. Most of the pages were random sketches, some of landscapes, some of objects, a few that he recognized as tattoo designs Siren had proudly shown.

It was toward the middle that Gaz found a sketch of himself. A 3/4 profile of his face. He recognized the moment instantly. After a long mission coming back from a safe house in Siberia, they were picked up in a military issued truck. Gaz spent most of the time staring out the window at the rolling hills covered in snow. Kyle set the cup down and rested his chin on his hand, flipping the page. He found more sketches of his teammates. A bust profile of Soap with a large grin. A sketch from the waist up of their Lieutenant with his arms crossed. Kyle snorted at the drawing of Price, drawn in his typical ‘dad pose’, where he’d lean back and cross his arms.

Siren seemed to draw a lot of inspiration from their team and their life in combat. It was rather flattering, in all honesty. Kyle was so focused he almost missed the sounds of Soap, Ghost, and Price entering the common room. John was first to spot the cups on the counter, gunning for his. “Siren make these?” He asked before taking a drink, Kyle nodded. “What’cha lookin’ at, mate?” Soap asked as he sat beside the pilot, awkwardly stretching to grab his own mug. Simon grabbed his own, but he didn’t remove his mask to drink it, even if they had seen his face before.

“Siren left their sketchbook. Look, they’ve drawn us.” Kyle turned the book to show a page full of doodles of their faces. “Wow…” Soap said softly. “Certainly make my beard look better than it really is.” John complimented. Ghost tilted his head to better look at the pencil marks, gaze softening as he scanned the page. Soap reached for the book and turned the page. These set of drawings were different, and it caught the team’s eye particularly. “That’s Simon and I, yeah? Look like we walked outta fantasy show.” Soap commented as he looked closer. These drawings were more stylized. Johnny & Simon drawn in fantastical clothes and armor. The next page was the designs again, but this time with more movement. Showing both men back to back, Ghost with a sword, Soap with a molotov set ready to throw. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Johnny laughed. Gaz narrowed his gaze at the text on the page, carefully written in swirly handwriting.

“There will come a soldier who carried a mighty sword…” A familiar line situated by Simon’s head.

“He will tear your city down. Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…” The line finished by Soap.

Kyle blinked and tapped the words. “These words, it’s the lyrics to that song they sing all the time!” He stated. It seemed to jog the memory of the rest of them. Price chuckled and looked at Soap & Ghost with a grin. “Suppose you’re the soldiers then. Soap’s certainly torn down some cities.” He commented. Kyle turned the page again and found himself once more, donning medieval fantasy clothing. Scrolls littered around him with a quill in hand, a book in the other. He dabbled in creative writing, mostly in high school. Very rarely did he ever share it with anyone however. But when he was stressed, feeling overwhelmed and in need of an outlet, he would write. He remembered being rather embarrassed when Siren accidentally found a poem he’d slapped together after a mission. Though, they weren’t judgmental, they’d been encouraging actually. But he didn’t think they’d truly remember it.

“There will come a poet who’s weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue. Oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…”

“Poet huh? You do like your words and metaphors, Gaz.” Simon said. Kyle flipped him off but it was all light hearted. He lingered on the drawing, unable to prevent himself from smiling. John continued to casually drink his coffee, but he wasn’t expecting himself on the next page. Dressed in robes, settled on a throne with a cigar, a crown boldly placed on his skull. With the second page once again showing this design more in depth. Crown fallen on the ground with a sword in hand, graphite smudged meant to express grime and blood. A stern and calculated look on his face.

“There will come a ruler who’s brown is laid in thorn. Smeared with oil like David’s boy, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…”

It clearly meant a lot to their teammate, what the song represented and the team’s dynamic as a whole. So much so that it inspired them. The sentiment wasn’t lost on the four men either. Hence why Soap stole two pages of their sketchbook to make his own addition, taking suggestions from Ghost, Price, and Gaz as he drew Siren. Going away from the lyrics. They didn’t draw attention to it, making sure to leave the sketchbook in the place Siren had left it. Allowing for the sniper to pick it up before they went to bed. There was very little time to relax between errands, training, and missions. So, naturally, when lights out was called, Siren took out their pencil and book.

Humming their favorite song as they flipped past the pages. Breath catching in their throat. An image of themselves in Johnny’s drawing style, distinct from their own, but mimicking the layout they had. Decorated in flowing cloth and extravagant jewelry. Almost omnipresent. They knew the words weren’t written by Soap, the handwriting was too clean for that.

“There will come the lord, gently made on a battlefield. Oh lei, oh lai, oh love.”

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