#oh god writing this was like. you are MUTUALLY obsessed with each other in an unhealthy manner

[reapersmarch]

tell me lies, and i'll justify them look before you leap, orrr, what happens when it all comes tumbling out start here prev • next

a note from me to u: this is (very slightly) canon divergent in the sense that I wanted to write a very specific confrontation between ricardo and bel and even though I think placing it in the canon "legs broke" ending would have worked just as well, I think the stress would've killed him and would've just been... kinda depressing honestly, so. slight divergence of "they narrowly avoided the semitruck and now have to deal with the fact that bel told him he's entropy", so please be advised and enjoy!

There are no two ways about this, and no sense in mincing words: this fucking sucks.

And that doesn’t even really begin to cover it.

In fact, there probably aren’t enough words in the English, Welsh, or French languages for you to begin to describe what, exactly, you’re feeling here. Awkward. Tense. Edgy. Uncomfortable. But, none of those are enough, either. It’s more like… you’ve been in a dead sprint for so long, your lungs have finally given out, and you know that the only way this ends is in death.

No one to come save you, no way for you to crawl your broken body out of this one.

You condemn yourself to your fate, and stretch your neck across the block.

The executioner, this time, takes the shape of Ricardo’s side profile as he drags a hand down his mouth, turning over and over and over what you’ve just told him.

There’s a saying that you’ve always been particularly fond of—if you smell shit everywhere you walk, check the bottom of your shoe.

Or: you are the lowest common denominator. 

Your strength was never math—it was always science, a natural inclination towards it, which is ironic given how much math there is in astrophysics. You were only ever a casual observer, though; never really one to know the exact application of the first and second laws of thermodynamics, but you knew what they felt like. 

The first law states that energy cannot be created or destroyed; only changed. You suppose that’s true enough. It did hurt, when you fell from the heavens. It hurt when you felt your wings melt, the wax burning skin like molten glass as the ground rose to meet you, kiss you, embrace you like an old lover. When you felt everything in you shatter and shake, stain the concrete, rearrange at the molecular level until you were no longer you, it hurt.

So, maybe you can’t destroy energy. You can fundamentally change it, however. You can destroy a person—ah. But you’re not a person. You never were. Let’s try again.

You can destroy a thing. Push it to the brink of ruination, only to bring it back from that point and say, “See? You were fine. You were just fine.” Do that enough times, and eventually the thing breaks. Machines slow and rust, clothes get holes in them, regenes snap and bend and morph until they do what they’re supposed to. They break.

And then what? The energy changes. Sidestep dies, Entropy is born.

If the first law is the making, then the second law must be the unmaking.

It states that when energy changes from one form to another, entropy in a closed system increases.

Funny how that works out.

But that’s true, too.

When did you start tearing yourself apart? When he entered your life again? When you let him enter your life? When you handed him the scalpel and lay yourself down across the operating table, guided his hand to your chest and said, ‘cut here’?

There is a bitter edge to the very idea that he occupied so many of your thoughts, had you tearing yourself asunder every other night, but you could never tell if you took root in any of his. That the bliss of silence could just as quickly be replaced with the violence of static—you never knew just how violent static could be until you met him, that it was even capable of doing that kind of damage.

Anchors, as you are learning, can be used to sink as readily as they can to secure.

So. Yeah. It’s you. You’re the through line here. And so is he. And you’ve just confirmed that for him.

He was bound to figure it out eventually; you couldn’t hold it together long enough to keep the division separate. The lines of Sidestep and Entropy blurred into one another forever ago, when you decided to stop and do good, be good. You just couldn’t stop being Bel, even if you wanted to—and you desperately wanted to.

In your ardent need for affection, your unholy want for companionship, you lowered the drawbridge, and you took everyone in. You put the crown to his head, made him king of your domain, and couldn’t fathom how you were dethroned.

“Ricardo—”

“Don’t.”

He’s not done processing, it seems.

That’s fair. You might not’ve even foreseen this conversation, but he had an entirely different vision of how this would play out in his head.

(Not that you would know.

This is all just conjecture.)

The smoking wreckage of this barely functional car that you managed to veer into a back alley in an industrial zone is not where he pictured having it, for one. For two, he thought you were related to Hollow Ground, somehow.

Also kind of fair. You did have an uncanny resemblance to one another, one which you are not in a place currently to dissect, and he did spot you exiting his… lair, you guess.

You have a sneaking suspicion that neither of you expected to live through that encounter, and now that you have, it’s like holding on to a lit firecracker and waiting for it to blow your arm off.

“I’m sorry,” he lets you say. You’re not sure why. You don’t know what you’re even apologizing for, and it rings remarkably hollow when the ripple effect of your actions outweighs whatever guilt you could possibly be feeling. He does not acknowledge this though. He can’t even look at you right now.

You’re not sure if it’s better or worse that you told him the truth. Maybe letting him believe his conspiracy theory would have been the safer thing to do, but you have always laughed in the face of safety.

“I think,” he starts after an eon, “the part I hate about this the most is that I still love you.”

There it is, the axe. The blade right at your neck.

He told you this already. In his apartment when you let yourself be convinced to stay the night; let him talk you into his bed, let him hold you and tell you everything you’ve been wanting and waiting to hear, what you foolishly refused to see across all this time—the second time you’ve ever shared a bed. Quite possibly the last.

He told you he loved you, and the weight of that crushed you instantly.

It was fine when it was just you—burying yourself in years of regret, choking back every almost half-muttered declaration, and forcing yourself to be content with whatever you had going on. It wasn’t so much a problem when you were two ships passing in the night; everything you were experiencing was all self-inflicted. Sure, it was miserable. Sure, you thought it would be kinder to drive your car into the ocean. But you had a handle on it. Mostly. It was contained, even if you couldn’t keep it from showing in your face. Even if you couldn’t hide the way you still look for him first in a room, or the way your hand always manages to find his arm when you need it—a steadying point on the horizon.

It was contained. You never let it spill out of you in more than a trickle.

This, though.

Sitting there and being told it’s reciprocal, that he loved you—still loves you, somehow.

This is killing you.

He loves you, and you still can’t unstopper the bottle.

Not because you don’t want to—you would love to. You have been shouting it with your actions for years, you have been howling it, without ever saying a single syllable of the sentence that is piercing through your skull, currently.

You can’t uncork this because the truth has to come out, and when the tell-all gossip column finally spreads the word straight from the devil’s mouth to his ears, he’ll hate you, and you’ll still love him.

“I don’t know what to say,” you tell him, because you don’t, and you can’t stop looking at him but he won’t look at you.

“Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Eventually,” you try to assure him. You can’t really assure him of anything, but you are baring as much of yourself as he’s willing to see. “It was always—I wanted to. Ricardo, I really, really wanted to, but—”

“You couldn’t.” He finishes for you.

You don’t have anything to add, so you purse your lips and fidget with your hands for a while. He doesn’t say anything else, still gazing out the window as though something fascinating will occur there.

“Ricardo, please, just… look at me. For a second. Please.”

He doesn’t.

You reactively reach for his hand, then stop yourself halfway, fingers curling in on themselves. You don’t deserve comfort. You have no right to ask for it.

You betrayed his trust.

You may as well let your head roll.

Your hands find the hem of your sweater and lift until the flesh of your abdomen is exposed, intricate lines of bright orange crisscrossing in every direction.

He finally looks, but you can’t anymore.

“This is why,” you state, as though it’ll answer everything—and in some ways, it does.

This is why: I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t be honest. I never let you in. I never asked for help. I tried to lock you out. I was afraid of you. I'm sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Take your pick.

“After Heartbreak,” you drone, like you’ve numbed yourself to it, “I didn’t exactly have the best time.” Understatement of the century. “I’m sorry you mourned. I’m sorry you had a funeral, and that, in your eyes, I’m dying a second death currently, but I fucking had a good go of it, Ricardo. When they hauled me back to the Farm, they poked and prodded and so much worse. They fucking—please don’t look at me like that—they put me back together so they could split me apart again, and do whatever else they wanted, because it didn’t matter; I don’t exist. ‘Less than’—isn’t that what you said once?” He flinches.

“I didn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant.”

You let your sweater fall back into place.

“When I was there, they did everything within their power to keep me out.” Two fingers against the temple. “Went so far as to take something they knew had the potential to fuck them up worse than I ever could, they were that afraid of what I would do. You…” With thumb and forefinger, you rub at your eyelids, exhausted. You sort of wish you could gouge them out. “Sometimes, not being able to feel you is nice. It’s nice not hearing everything so loudly, knowing that I don’t have to try to shut you out because you can’t let me in. Knowing that I could relax because it’s just you—it’s Ricardo, it’s Charge, it’s just my shadow. But on my worst days, you fucking… you feel like them, Ric.”

You feel like you’re going to vomit.

“You feel just like them, and then my shadow isn’t comforting anymore, and suddenly, I’m afraid of the dark.”

You pivot before you’ll let him acknowledge any of that. You don’t want it acknowledged. You don’t want to know what he has to say about any of it. Maybe that’s selfish. You don’t care.

“So that’s why… Entropy. The only way I could see how to fix it was by becoming Entropy and giving the public something to rally around. Voice of the fucking people and all of that bullshit,” you chuckle in spite of yourself, dropping your head back against the seat. “Which meant that by default, I couldn’t tell you a thing. Even if you wanted to, there wasn’t a way you could help me that wouldn’t also make you a target,” you say, “and I couldn’t trust myself around you.”

That’s a fairly important distinction.

You didn’t trust him enough to reveal anything, this is true. The Rangers were staunchly in the adversary bucket given the nature of what they are. But you didn’t trust yourself around him.

You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t unhinge that jaw and speak. You couldn’t trust that you would be able to control yourself.

You were right.

You threw yourself at him, hoping the landing would be softer this time, and it was worse.

“You’re right,” you hear yourself say, head lolling to the side to smile bitterly at him. “The worst part about all this is that I still love you; I can’t make myself stop. In seven years, I couldn’t make myself stop. It’s pretty stupid, actually, because I knew, deep down, that you were just like that. Ricardo Ortega, the flirt. The unfairly handsome, outrageously friendly Marshal Charge. You knew how to make someone feel like the most important person in the room. That was just you, but I couldn’t stop myself from falling for it. No one had ever looked at me the way that you did, and I—”

He kisses you.

He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, like you’re the oasis in the desert and he hasn’t seen water in weeks. He kisses like a man starved, and you’re the last thing he’ll ever taste. He kisses like he loves you—still, despite—and it knocks the breath from you.

He pulls back enough your lips are just barely grazing, stroking his thumb along your neckline and pressing your foreheads together.

“—I just wanted to feel alive,” you finish. 

And you do. You feel more alive than you ever have in your thirty years, and now he’s looking at you the way he always did, seeing you, intent on you, and you realize—he has always looked at you this way. When his eyes fixed on you, they were waiting for you to notice. Even here, in this barely functional car in the back alley of some industrial zone, where you thought you were going to puke your innards out from the stress of this conversation.

The only thing you did vomit up was words, so that’s incredibly impressive for you. 

You were surprisingly calm about the whole thing. You don’t think you are physically aligned with your body at present, so this is probably the biggest contributing factor, but maybe that therapy session did you some good after all.

“You’re an idiot,” Ricardo tells you gently. “The biggest idiot I’ve ever met. The biggest, prettiest pain in the ass idiot to deal with.” And you laugh, even if you do feel yourself wanting to cry. “You still look like you, Bel, at the end of the day. This is just you on a really bad one.”

“The worst fucking day imaginable, really,” you manage, muffled against his shoulder.

“Yeah. But you’re still you, and that’s all I care about.”

[bighitfics]

recent jungkook fanfics that you should read for your own sanity.

(a recommendation for all the girlies who miss him like crazy!)

one rule by @/jasminefanfics on youtube

— dark romance, mean and morally ambiguous jungkook, hostage au, enemies to lovers, smut, love triangle (but it’s just a deranged schizophrenic being the ‘bone in a kebab’ for the gorgeous couple)

— this is ART. this is true unleashed YEARNING. dark ROMANCE done right, literally the perfect read for winter! this is my absolute fav read of this year 🫦

bonded by @borathae

— werewolves au, forced marriage au, childhood besties to lovers, angst, romance, smut.

— will this queen ever stop producing art after art? she’s not capable of doing that, god this was such a good read, I’m still not over this, THIS IS MY SHEYLA FR! (iyykyk) they’re everything to me gawd 🥺

mon révé by @sweetcarrotsandroses97

— archdeacon jungkook, forbidden love, age gap, romani character reader, dark romance.

— I’ve never read something so beautifully, perfectly executed, every scene she wrote is plastered into my brain, the amount of times i think about this fic is not normal, I’m desperately awaiting the new chapters 😔✋🏼

the love prognosis by @awrkive

— friends to lovers (the og), medical au, unrequited love, roommates trope.

— nobody gets them like I do fr! my precious ship! 🥺😻🤲🏼 i loved how down bad he was for her from the beginning, we love a man who worships the ground his woman walks on LIKE AHHHH the author executed the one sided pining from jungkook so well! THE ANGST IS DELICIOUS IN THIS.

christmas & chill series by @girlygguk & @lovieku

— special xmas edition, jungkook and reader.

— the way I’m about to eat this up. u guys aren’t ready for the obnoxious amount of times I’m gonna be crying ab this whole series on my blog, oh lord have mercy on me, this is so brilliant oh how i wanna kiss their hands for this, SUCH DIVAS BOTH OF THEM 🫦

infrunami by @kooktrash

— friends to lovers, mutual pinning, smut, angst.

— boom shakalaka yes gawd! after I completed reading this fic, i took a moment to myself, clapped and took a lap around my bedroom, then I also did a 7 min standing ovation, this deserves more hype ngl.

burning hour by @jungqkook

— established relationship, smut, exhibitionism.

— the amount of times i’ve re read this is embarrassing but it is that LEVEL of good, oh god when is it my turn to experience something like this?

catch twenty-two by @miraclemaven on wattpad

— forbidden romance, age gap, smut, older reader & younger jungkook, angst.

— im so hooked into this story, even though i haven’t started reading properly, this is a promising one, with really good writing.

chained up by @jikookie17

— obsessed addicted jungkook (my jam), smut, angst, fluff.

— reading this made me feel like im watching a melodramatic story of two idiots who literally can’t live without each other, its a cute lighthearted read, 100% recommend!

THE END OF TODAY’S LIST.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

⠀⠀ hope the girlies like it ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[kamaluhkhan]

you are so gorgeous (it makes me so mad)

pairing: young!coryo snow x fem!reader

summary: clemensia dovecote has a theory that you and snow are destined for an enemies to lovers arc. you're sure it's completely, absolutely not true...right?

warnings: 18 + smut; biting + mention of blood ; both reader and snow are not the best ppl and have some very classist/elitist opinions

a/n: finally!! i wrote one of the ideas that has been haunting me ever since i've been back in my hunger games obsession + watched tbosbas...needless to say this will likely be a series inspired by taylor swift's reputation album. also i am so sorry this is unedited bc ofc it's 3am when i had the motivation to write this but i hope y'all enjoy ♡

i've had enemies so intense it felt like love, so mutual it felt romantic (chelsea hodson)

"what in the name of all the gods is he doing here?"

you're practically seething when coriolanus snow walks into your foyer. he's wearing an ensemble made with crisp white silk and intricately embroidered with gold thread - elegant, eventhough its silhouette would have been fashionable last year. a single white rose sits in the pocket of his jacket. he surveys the crowd, like he's calculating who's most worthy of his attention, platnium blond hair perfectly curled and practically glowing under the light of the chandelier. he looks beautiful, almost angelic.

you absolutely hate it.

"oh, i invited him," clemensia dovecote informs non-chalantly.

coriolanus makes eye contact with you from across the room, and you turn your head sharply to your best friend.

"why would you think it was okay to invite him?"

clemensia smiles mischeviously, grabbing two champagne flutes from a passing silver tray. she hands one to you.

"i know the two of you have your petty squabbles — "

"they are not petty, nor are they squabbles," you grumble, taking a sip of your drink.

your contempt towards coriolanus was perfectly reasonable and absolutely mutual. he had some ridiculous notion that snow had to land on top, that it was his right to be there instead of yours. your relationship, if you could call it that, was limited to nothing more than snide remarks, sarcastic comments, and scornful stares. you both hyperaware of the importance of keeping up appearances, but the older you got - the closer to life outside of the academy and the higher the stakes - the more any sense of civility between you two faded. just earlier this week, you'd gotten into such a heated debate about the best way to increase viewership for the upcoming 10th annual hunger games, that your professor excused you both from the class early due to the disruption. it seemed that no one knew how to make you burn with anger quite like coriolanus snow.

clemensia rolls her eyes. "whatever you want to call it, i actually think the two of you would get along if you really tried."

one of the things you admired - and, frankly, loathed - about clemensia was her determination to always prove herself right. she had this theory - one you would call ludicrous - that the tension between you and coriolanus had nothing to do with academics or status and everything to do with wanting to rip each other's clothes off.

your eyes catch coriolanus' icy blue ones again and you down the rest of your drink. obviously, clemensia was wrong about this. so, very wrong.

"well," you huff, setting your empty glass down on another silver tray that passes by. you brush invisible dust off your dress - a deep red lace, short and form fitting with exaggerated long sleeves - and add: "you'll be lucky if i invite you to my next party."

clemensia might have had the sense to apologize then, but you walked away before she had a chance.

you allow yourself to weave through the crowd, greeting every guest with an equal facade of enthusiasm and grace. you smile as brightly at one person as you do the next, showing off your newly bleached teeth and making sure that everyone feels special. silver trays of food and drinks appear and reappear throughout the crowd, being carried by nameless waiters. there's a table overflowing with gifts concealed by crisply folded wrapping paper - you expect at least half of them will be worthless.

you put up a good front, but soon enough your lipstick needs reapplying and your hair readjusting, so you briefly excuse yourself lest anyone notice a crack in your perfectly constructed image. the door to your room is slightly ajar, and you open it to reveal none other than the person you'd deliberately, but not so successfully, tried to ignore all night, his white silk shirt stained a dark crimson that happened to match your dress.

coriolanus was furious when he found out you'd invited the entire graduating class, except him, to your birthday party. you'd even invited sejanus. it wasn't that he particularly wanted to celebrate you, of all people. you were the most brilliant, biting, enfuriating person he knew, but to be excluded in such a way was insulting. when clemensia extended him the invite, he jumped at the chance to prove to everyone, to you, that he belonged here. tigris curated his outfit, and it would have been perfect had arachne crane, vapid creature she was and ever the lightweight, spilled an entire glass of red wine on him. he hurried away before anyone could see him in such a humiliating state. coriolanus is in the middle of calculating his options when you walk into what he now realizes is your bedroom.

you don't say a word at first. you haven't said one to him all night. instead, you close the door behind you and your eyes graze his figure.

"you show up to my party, late no less, and now you're parading around in what looks like a bloodstained shirt that is far too outmoded to be appropriate attire for this occasion," you remark, displaying that signature fierceness. "are you trying to ruin my birthday, snow?"

"don't blame me," coriolanus scoffs. his shoulders tense and he makes a point to stand up a bit straighter. "blame arachne for not being able to hold her alcohol while she's complaining about the food."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "what did she say?"

"something about people in the districts having better options."

"vapid bitch," you mutter under your breath. you walk over to your closet, disappearing for a few seconds before bringing out a fresh shirt. you extend it to him, but he doesn't take it.

"i can't very well have a good time when one of my guests looks like he just got killed in the hunger games," you huff. "so either you put this on or your leave my party. now."

coriolanus holds your gaze, his jaw clenched, before giving in and taking the shirt from you. he goes to undo the buttons of his shirt, but stops when he notices that your eyes never leave him.

"some privacy would be nice," he says sharply.

you roll your eyes, muttering something about it being your house and your room, before sitting across the room at your vanity. as he undresses and throws his soiled shirt on the floor, coriolanus watches you closely. you meticulously apply lipstick, the shade of red almost as dark as your black nails.

you were attractive, there was no denying that, but ultimately dangerous. because you weren't carelessly cruel like arachne, nor did you wear your heart on your sleeve like sejanus. you didn't use your family's status as an excuse to avoid hard work like felix, nor were you a spineless know-it-all like clemensia. no, you were different from the rest. you had a fiery ambition and a sharp tongue, a wicked streak with just enough charisma to lure people in. sometimes when he thinks of you, coriolanus recalls stories his grandma'am once told him and tigress, about sea monsters who would tempt sailors with their bewitching voices and enchanting beauty, enticing them to risk everything - to jump into the ocean and never be relevant as anything more than a midnight snack. you were a constant, suffocating reminder of how quickly he could lose everything if he lost control, if he gave in.

coriolanus watches you set down the tube of lipstick before picking up a compact. you lightly brush the shimmery powder inside over your face to accentuate some of your gorgeous features.

the desire that burns throughout his body now has to be a side effect of the few glasses of liquor he managed to drink, allowing himself the appearance of having a good time alongside everyone else without losing control.

your eyes leave your reflection momentarily, and you finally catch coriolanus staring at you. you wink at him from across the room just as he's finished with the last button. the way you look at him makes the collar of his shirt feel tighter.

he can not give in....but what's the harm in admitting, just for one night, that he would let you drown him? devour him? beg on his knees to give you pleasure, and then thank you after the fact?

coriolanus clears his throat. "this feels wrong. i should be the one gifting you with a new shirt. it's your birthday, after all."

you let out a breathy laugh, setting down your makeup. you walk over to him, until there are only a few inches between you despite the vastness of your bedroom.

even you had to concede that coriolanus snow had such a gorgeous face for such a vicious person. you're infuriated by how elegant he looks now, in your shirt. your hands busy themselves in smoothing down his already perfect collar and you take note of the intensity of his heartbeat. you notice the way his jaw remains clenched, his posture stiff, his skin flushed. you realize that he must be trying so hard right now to retain his composure around you and you feel something that can only be described as triumph.

you smile at him, sickly sweet, and remove your hands from his body. "the best birthday present i could get is winning the plinth prize over you, snow. we both know you're not good enough, let alone better than me."

he hesitates slightly before responding.

"sorry, valerius. that's the one thing i can't give you. is there anything else you'd want from me?" he whispers, words dripping like honey.

"that depends, is there anything you want from me?"

he hums, moving his hand to cup your cheek. he begins to trace your lips with his thumb, ruining the look you had so meticulously crafted.

if only you knew.

"you're the birthday girl, sweetheart," he chides. "i'm supposed to be the one giving the gift. you do know how birthdays work, don't you?"

he's mocking you, you know that. he's trying to make you feel weak and small. you had the power a second ago, his heartbeat in the palm of your hand, and normally you wouldn't stand for him turning the tables. you'd push him away, storm out the door. but right now all you want is to tug on his perfect blond curls, to bite the smirk off his lips. maybe it's the way he's so close and can't seem to take his eyes off your lips or the calculated amount of wine you drank that's made your head a bit foggy, made you put your guard down. made you start to entertain the idea that maybe possibly clemensia's theory had some truth to it.

"why don't you surprise me?" you suggest.

coriolanus surges forward and kisses you with such ferocity, he might as well be a man starving. teeth on teeth on tongue. you instantly tangle your hands into his hair, pull on some curls just to see what he'd do. he retaliates by biting down on your bottom lip, hard enough that you taste the metallic tang of blood mixed with the remnants of honeyed wine on his lips. you whimper and pull away slightly. he holds your face firmly between his two hands, so you cannot go too far.

"sorry." but he smirks, and you know he doesn't really mean it.

eventually, you've both stumbled onto the bed half-naked. coriolanus positions himself above you, effectively caging you in with his arms and legs. you take note of his lean thighs, his bare torso with skin taut around his bones. you're almost taken aback by how frail he looks - like a malnourished teenager from one of the districts. you reach out to trace the outline of his ribs, your nails scraping against his skin, and he shudders. your hand moves lower, teasing the waistband of his underwear. he stops you before it slips underneath the material.

instead, coriolanus begins to indulge in his deepest fantasy. he kisses and sucks and bites down your body, his tongue trailing down your chest, over your breasts and around your nipples, across your stomach. he laps up your soft whines, the curses that tumble from your lips for him to do something more. you sink further into the silk sheets when he arrives between your thighs. you raise your hips, desperate to find any sort of relief, and you feel his nails dig into your hips.

"patience," he teases, his breath fanning over where you needed him most. "so needy." you could practically feel coriolanus roll his eyes.

"i swear to god snow, if you don't do something soon. i-i'll go find someone else to fuck me. felix, or maybe sejanus --"

you yelp when his teeth sink into your inner thigh. he looks up at you, eyes the darkest blue you've ever seen them.

"don't," coriolanus warns, and he gets back to work, lips actually arriving at where you needed them most.

after you've reached your high, he comes back up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls away, you take note of how his lips and nose shine with remnants of you. the way he looks at you while he licks his lips shows you that he wants more. you move your hand down, and you're deeply satisfied when you feel him half hard, already sticky with his release.

"oh." you smirk. "you already finished."

his eyes widen, skin flushing pink. you could feel his heartbeat grow faster above you. you could imagine he was debating the best way to restore his dominance from before. yet, here he was, nothing but a horny teenage boy who came untouched as he was eating out his worst enemy. you find it in you to not call him pathetic, but instead decide, in your post-orgasm haze, you find it endearing.

"i-i didn't mean to, but --"

"i'm just that sexy when i cum," you suggest, running your hands through his curls to calm him down. "how about we try again, pretty boy?"

soon enough, he's sitting up with his back against your headboard and your legs wrapped around his waist, his length fully nestled into your warm cunt. coriolanus' blunt nails graze your hips, moving lower to your ass to guide you with each thrust. you love seeing him underneath you, seeming completely mesmerized by how your breasts bounce up and down in front of him. he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple, but you beat him to it. you bend forward and suck bruises onto his skin, everywhere and anywhere: underneath his chin, across his collarbone, where his neck meets his shoulder.

his moans are so loud, and you're sure he's not going to last much longer. you're also worried that some of the other party guests might catch you, so you pull his head away from your shoulder and crash your lips back onto to his. you swallow his moans as best you can, tongues fight for dominance, but he lets out a deep groan, and lets you win. you bite down on his bottom lip just as you reach your climax, causing him to let out a deep groan once more.

you gasp when he suddenly flips you over, pulls out of you and stokes himself a few times before painting your body with his release. coriolanus all but collapses on the bed beside you. you're both breathing heavily for a few moments, on your backs looking up at the ceiling, before he turns on his side towards you. coriolanus trails hs fingers down to your abdomen, sticky with his cum.

"i told you: snow lands on top."

"was that a joke, coryo?" you guffaw, genuinely surprised at the mischievous but playful glint in his eye. a bit surprised at yourself, too, for using his nickname that you'd so carefully avoided. you had to remind yourself that he was still the same coriolanus snow you'd grown to hate.

the boy tangled in the sheets beside you, his messy curls translucent under the light of your chandelier, his skin glowing with sweat and decorated with lipstick and rose-petal bruises. the boy who now smiles at you with dazzling blue eyes, leans closer and whispers:

"don't get used to it. it's a special occasion." coriolanus kisses you sweetly, and you shiver before he adds: "happy birthday."

this boy in bed with you now is the same manipulative, power hungry snake who would stab you in the back if need be. and, the truth of the matter is: you aren't much different, either.

you get up to grab his wine-stained shirt, use it to wipe off his release and toss it back down to the floor.

his eyes follow you the entire time, even as you come back to straddle him again. almost instantly, you feel him harden underneath you. you hold his head in your hands, kiss him deeply, tease his bottom lip between your teeth as you pull away.

"snow lands on top, huh? not for long, if i can help it."

[star-girl69]

Your Girl

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

synopsis: late at night, you and clarisse get to know one another.

a/n: ykw i dont even know what i write anymore just enjoy it i truly just listen to the wind oh my god

Your Girl - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: im sorry im obsessed w the nightmare trope, friends to lovers MEYOW, HURT COMFORT, clarisse just wants to KISS, light tension, very light and fluffy tho…. not a lot of angst tbh, POSSESSIVE CLARISSE I SCREAMED, mutual pining YESSSSS, they’re in love but they don’t think the other could be in love w them, clarisse knows what she wants and sets out to get it, monsters- again it’s a drakon bc i’m evil, mentions of death, swearing, mentions of weapons, weed and smoking, substance abuse idk if it’s addiction my health teacher would be so disappointed, shotgunning weed, idk what’s happening honestly we’re all along for the ride, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You don’t know where Clarisse gets it from, but she has good weed.

They’re these perfectly little rolled blunts, with some sort of amazing concoction inside- you can’t even be bothered to care that it’s bad for you. Not when it makes you feel so good, not when it makes everything else fade away.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Sitting in the woods, leaning against a rock covered in moss, staring up at the stars. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you’re just here next to each other. But tonight, you think you took one too many hits, so you’re feeling a little sentimental.

“I would fucking die without you, Clarisse.”

She snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“No, no, not just like- because you’re so strong, and stuff, but because of this fucking weed. I can’t sleep without it, y’know.”

She hums.

“And, like, you need sleep to live, or else your brain will like eat itself, or something ridiculous. Did you know that?”

She looks at you, mouth curved into an unimpressed smile, eyebrows raised. “I didn’t, and I care so much. Thanks for telling me, leech.”

“That’s mean,” you huff.

“Then stop leeching off of me and stealing my weed.”

Clarisse always looks so pretty in the moonlight. You would never admit that to anyone, but in the dark when your head is all hazy- you know she’s pretty. She’s beautiful, if you’re being honest, but she’s also your dealer- you can’t risk upsetting her. But still, sometimes you’re not sure how she isn’t a daughter of Aphrodite.

But you know better than anyone else that she gets everything from Ares, like she’s a carbon copy of him.

She gets her precision, her strength, her tactical mind, her rolling storm of emotions from him.

Except, there’s a softness in her. Only here, in the moonlight. You don’t know if it’s you or the weed, but you like to think it’s you. You like to think that Clarisse likes you as much as you like her, not just tolerates you for your mediocre company.

She’s sitting with one foot planted onto the ground, hair pulled back all messy, her arm balancing on her knee. The joint is held out conveniently towards you, lazily in between her fingers, so you flip yourself onto your stomach and reach out with open lips.

She smiles and flips the joint around, placing it onto your lips. Your close your eyes and your mouth, breathing in deeply. Gods, does it taste horrible, but you love it too much.

You pull back and breathe out the smoke.

“You love me, and my weed-stealing tendencies.”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” she rolls her eyes.

—-

Clarisse probably trains more than any other demigod at camp. Thirty minutes after dinner, like clockwork, you can find her heading to the field where all the sparring dummies live.

Clarisse is probably your only true friend at camp. You stick to yourself for the most part, hang out with your siblings, but besides for that it’s Clarisse. And she’s the same way. She hangs out with her siblings, and then you. Of course- everyone at Camp knows her name and her ruthless reputation.

You’re unknown, she’s known. She’s the best fighter you’ve ever seen, you’re mediocre, compared to her. She helps you at every turn, you’re the one getting helped by her. She’s mean to everyone, and you’re kind to whoever happens upon you.

You force each other to bring out the other sides of yourself no one gets to see. Clarisse gets to be soft, you get to be loud and annoying. You’re friends, but you both get something out of it.

She’s your friend, your dealer, your savior.

If the first day you came to camp, running through the woods with a drakon hot on your heels and your mouth split open into a scream- maybe Clarisse and her siblings wouldn’t have turned around and noticed the drakon.

Of course, Clarisse was the one who actually killed it, and she was the one who hoisted you up from where you had collapsed, breathing heavily. She was the one who actually made sure you weren’t hurt while your satyr protector panicked about having to face the Cloven Council.

She was the one who found you in the middle of the night, that drakon hissing in your ear, she was the one who gave you the claw she had pried from it’s dead body, she was the one who told you it was dead and nothing could hurt you in Camp.

“Clarisse!” you call, running towards her. Most campers like to wind down after dinner, so the field is empty.

“Leech,” she says when you reach her, leaning her spear against a dummy and stretching her arms above her head.

You always come everyday. You ask her the same question.

“Do you have it?”

She digs under her armor, pulling out the small cloth containing the blunt. “You would probably go insane if I didn’t.”

You feel calmer just looking at it. You smile sheepishly up at her.

“You know I can’t sleep without it, Clarisse.”

She looks away, stuffing it back under her armor, against her stomach.

“Maybe you should try and skip one night.”

You scoff. “I don’t feel like pulling an all-nighter, Clarisse.”

She nods, but her face is riddled with concern. “Okay, angel,” she mutters, so low you can barely hear it. But you do. You hear her call you angel, and you turn away instead of slamming your lips into hers.

—-

After that first night, you slept with that claw tight into your hand. And it was fine. You still had the occasional nightmare, but every demigod had those. But the older you got, the more monsters you learned about, the more comfortable you got with being a demigod- the more the nightmares came. Knowing the drakon was dead didn’t help, and the nightmares got worse and worse until Clarisse found you again one night.

You had drifted apart from her. She had her life and you had hers, but ever since you’ve been bonded by the nights.

She wrapped her arms around you and let you cry, mumbling about how she was the strongest demigod at camp, and there was the barrier, and nothing would ever get through to you.

She was soft in that moment. And you could tell she regretted it, because she ignored you for the next few days until one of her siblings pushed you to the ground. She appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his shirt, yelling that if he ever touched you again, she’d fucking kill him.

While he sputtered and asked why she cared about some stupid weak girl, she helped you up and said: “She’s my girl.”

And since that day 3 months ago, you’ve always been her girl. Neither of you really knew what that meant, except you liked being around each other and you liked this transaction. Clarisse liked owning something. You liked belonging to someone.

That’s what this entire friendship is about- convenience.

So, that’s why Clarisse being concerned about you makes you feel weird. You care about Clarisse, she cares about you- but only enough that she doesn’t want to see you hurt by someone else. But who is she to stop you when you’re the one hurting yourself?

You arrive at the rock in the forest, fingers twisting together. Clarisse is already there, lighter and blunt set out on the ground, polishing her spear.

“Hey,” she says, looking down.

“Hi.”

You sit down, eager to get your hands on the weed and forget about the way Clarisse’s concern confuses you.

You stare at your shaking hand.

Gods, are you really that nervous?

Clarisse’s eyes are sharp, she notices everything, she processes it much faster than you can ever dream to. It’s why she’s so quick in battle. She’s a well oiled machine and you’re the one job she’s assigned to do- she knows you by heart after all these nights.

Her spear is pushed off her lap. “Why are you shaking?” she says, voice low and raspy, her hand cupping yours.

“Low blood sugar,” you lie. “I’ll grab a snack before I go to bed.”

She says nothing, but you watch her hesitate as she grabs the blunt and the lighter from the ground, you watch her hesitate again as she goes to light it. But she lights it, she sticks it in between her fingers and holds it out to you.

“C’mere,” she mutters, and you lean forward and let her place the blunt on your parted lips. You breathe in, only for a few seconds, and you could go for a lot longer.

“I wasn’t done,” you huff as she takes her own drag.

“My weed,” she shrugs. “I decide how much you get.”

“You’re a bitch.”

She laughs. She laughs and it makes your stomach twist in such a good way you can’t feel like this anymore, you can’t remember what she does to you, what she called you.

You reach out blindly for the blunt, biting your lip as you practically climb on top of her.

“Clarisse!” you yell, but she seems to find your desperation hilarious, holding the blunt out as far as she can. “I fucking hate you, oh my Gods.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she says, pushing you off of her. You realize you’re laying on your stomach in between her legs, one hand planted to the ground around her leg, the other reaching out.

She leans back and takes another drag. You roll your eyes and move to attack her, but she’s too fast, sitting up and holding your hand down, her other hand grabbing your chin. She breathes out the smoke right into your lips that are parted in shock, smiling as you stare right into her amused eyes.

She leans back while you sit there stupidly on top of her, blowing out the smoke. “That- that’s- I hate you, did I mention that?”

“You did,” she muses. “But we both know you’re lying.”

You look at her, at her wide smile, at the look in her eyes. You want nothing more than to be her girl- her girl in the way that she’ll kiss your head, tell you about all the things you’ll never do, she’ll lay down with you in a bed of soft pillows. Her girl in the way the reason she’s soft in the moonlight isn’t the weed, it’s because of you. Her girl in the way you can run to her, the way you do now, but with the added connotation of love.

You grab the joint, and she lets you, watching intently as you breathe in and blow out the smoke. She has no right to be worried over you. Not when you’re the one making the choice to waste away your youth. And especially when you’re not her girl- not in the way you want to be.

—-

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she hums.

You sit back against the rock. Normally, you would have been here 20 minutes ago.

You didn’t catch her after dinner, and you stayed firmly in your bed until it all got to be too much. You’re terrified of sleeping, of the nightmares that will come- but for some reason, the weed just puts you at such ease that you don’t have any nightmares.

You didn’t want to be near Clarisse tonight. Not after yesterday, not after the way she’s been making you feel, and the fact that you know she could never really like you. Why would she? You are the stupid weak girl who gets pushed over. You run from drakon’s and can’t even sleep because of nightmares.

Clarisse is fiercely protective of those she loves, but you’re too much work.

You wanted to go one night. One night without the weed, and prove to her and yourself that you don’t need it. You’re not that weak.

But you couldn’t.

You sit down, she looks at your tense shoulders and doesn’t tease you, just hands you the blunt. You mumble something of a thank you, looking up at the stars, shoulders relaxing after a few more breaths.

“I, uh, I tried to skip. Tonight, I mean. I tried not to come.” It’s embarrassing to admit this. You’re so scared of the nightmares that even if it’s a placebo effect, you come back to this clearing every night.

“But you couldn’t?” she asks.

“I couldn’t,” you affirm, staring at the ground.

“Well, you can’t just go cold turkey, dummy. You have to wean yourself off of it. Do you not remember, like, any of those nicotine patch ads?” she laughs. “You’ve got a good memory, you remember.”

“Shut up, meanie,” you mumble, raising the joint to your lips. She stops you.

“Ah-ah. Starts now. Make it a good one, ‘cause that’s your last, baby.”

“Fine,” you mumble, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You breathe in for a long time, tempted to go a little longer, but Clarisse reaches over and pinches your cheek. “Okay!” you yell, throwing the joint back to her.

She laughs and raises it to her own lips, taking in another long drag before putting it out.

You look at her, silent question in the air. She shrugs.

“Been meaning to slow down for a while, why not do it together?”

“Yeah,” you hum, looking back towards the stars. “Oh, hey, Ares is out tonight.” She looks over.

“Yeah,” she muses. “Fuckin’ Ares.”

“It’s still beautiful,” you say, stars in your eyes. “You have to think about it the way mortals do. They don’t know the Gods put them up there- they think it’s just some random spotting of stars, they think they made patterns out of it. Isn’t that beautiful? To make patterns and people out of stars? To look for humanity where there is none?”

“I never thought about it like that,” Clarisse says.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” you ask. You can feel her eyes on you.

“Yeah,” she affirms. “Beautiful.”

—-

The next two weeks goes by the same. You don’t catch Clarisse after dinner, but you come every night, you smoke a little less, she teases you and gets closer to you. She gets bolder and bolder and you get shyer and shyer.

You still feel like too much. If she just lets you prove this to her and to yourself, the maybe you can lean against the rock with her and flirt back.

—-

You meet Clarisse by the rock. She’s still standing, waiting for you. She takes the last of the blunt you’ve been using for the last few days and lights it, taking one small drag before she flips it around and holds it out to you.

“C’mon,” she guides. “Not too much, I’ll stop you.”

You feel kind of like a baby as Clarisse puts the joint on her lips, fingertips against your face to steady her hand. You breathe in for just a second, tempted for more, but she takes it away. You look up at her, fingers twisted together.

“Clarisse, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She leaves the blunt to blow out in the wind in the natural dip of the rock, your own little ashtray at the top. Of course, Clarisse will come and collect it the next morning- you don’t want to upset the nymphs and satyrs in the forest.

“It’s a good idea,” she affirms. “Don’t worry, okay?”

You’re scared. You remember being chased by the drakon even now, you remember it’s snarls, you remember it’s claws moving through the air. You remember your heart pumping in your ears, you remember the stones in your stomach that were supposed to be fear.

You feel like Kronos, but what you swallowed wouldn’t just sit idly inside of you- no, your fear would rip through your stomach and your skin and burst out of you in an explosion of blood, like some sick joke of a firework.

She grabs your wrists. Clarisse is soft, here, in the moonlight.

“Hey, it’s okay. I-I was thinking, I didn’t know if you were gonna be okay, but why don’t you sleep in my cabin?”

You shift on your feet. “Clar, no, I can’t ask you to do that. What if we get caught? And I-I- it’s embarrassing, what if your siblings see? What if they tell everyone?”

Clarisse rolls her eyes and tugs you closer from where you had subconsciously started to drift away.

“They already think we’re dating, anyways. Besides, Y/N, no one cares. Most of my siblings have secrets anyways,” she smiles.

“Wh- we’re dating? They think- why?”

Her face is deadpan. “‘Cause you’re my girl.”

You pull back. “Clarisse.”

“What?” she says, slightly incredulous. “You are. You’re about the only person I can tolerate at this camp. I hope you know that. I know I can be horrible, but really, I… care about you a lot.”

You look in her eyes. There’s no lies, no insincerity.

“I know, Clarisse. And I… I appreciate it so much. You’re, like, my only friend,” you smile.

She smiles back but it’s tight. “Friend, yeah.”

You put your arms around her neck and hug her. It’s the first time you’ve ever really hugged her, and her arms wrap tight around your waist. Her mouth presses against your hair. You let yourself be her girl in this moment.

Clarisse is your best friend. She cares about you. Of course she helps you with this. She’s your best friend. Of course you let her.

��-

You do follow Clarisse back to the Ares cabin, back to her bed- and she points to one of her siblings you can’t see in the dark, but there are two figures in the bed. She smiles and you stifle a laugh.

You know better than anyone else that big bad Ares kids are like a marshmallow on the inside. They act all tough, and they are pretty tough, but there’s a soft spot inside of them only unlocked by one person with the right key.

You notice her sibling has their arm around the other person. You wonder if Clarisse will wrap her arm around you like that too.

Clarisse climbs into her bed, opening the covers for you. The beds at Camp are twin sized, but you can fit two people on them if you’re close together. You don’t hesitate, not anymore, not when you have one chance to pretend you’re really hers.

You lay on your side, facing her, hands tucked up by your chest. Her eyes meet yours, she brushes her curls out of her face.

“Good?” she asks. You nod, breathing out.

“‘M fine,” you say.

She rubs your arm, cold from the dark night. “Just relax, okay? Just close your eyes, Y/N.”

You do, you close your eyes, but you’re so fucking terrified you can’t.

“Clarisse,” you breathe, a plead. For what, you don’t know. You want a million things from her in this moment. It’s not fair of you to ask her, you know this, but it doesn’t stop you from asking.

Your breath comes fast, your nails dig into your palms, but you keep your eyes screwed shut like sleep will just magically hit you like a train.

“It’s okay,” Clarisse says, firm. “Why are you so scared?” she whispers.

“They’re so real,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“They’re not.”

She wraps her arms around you so tight you feel like she’s crushing you. But it keeps you in the moment. If you focus on the way her skin feels against yours, on the way her thumb brushes your shoulder blade, her fingertips scratching the back of your scalp.

If you focus, if you imagine all the thing you and her will never do, if you imagine being her girl, then you can fall asleep.

You dream of her lips pressing against your head, her voice in your ear, calling you her angel.

—-

You wake up, Clarisse still wrapped around you, and slowly detangle yourself. Drool pools at the corner of her lips, and you have to bite back a giggle as you slip out of the blankets and into the warm riding sun.

She looks just as pretty in the sunlight as she does in the moonlight. You feel like a lover slipping out of a bed of secrets. But you’re not. You’re just a friend slipping out of a bed of rumors.

She looks so peaceful, you can’t help but wonder if she always sleeps like this- or if having you next to her had the same effect on her sleep as it did to yours.

—-

There’s a loud knock at your cabin door.

There’s only you and a few of your siblings in here, putting the final touches on their outfits for the day, grabbing the last items they need. One of your younger siblings open the door, and you look around the pillars- maybe it’s a counselor doing some sort of inspection? You take a glance around your bunk- but it’s all clean.

Your eyes meet hers.

“Out,” she says, roughly. She looks at you so intently you almost wonder if she’s talking to you. But when you siblings stand there in shock, she looks away. “Well? I said get out, dummies.”

They exchange looks with you, but eventually shuffle out, not wanting to risk Clarisse and her wrath.

She shuts the door behind your last sibling.

“Being tough has it perks, huh?” she smiles, leaning against the door. Your shirt isn’t even pulled on properly, one of your bra straps is already falling down your shoulder from the act of putting your shirt on, and you’re staring at her with your mouth wide open.

She looks you up and down.

“C-Clarisse, what-?”

She walks over to you, frown etched onto her face.

“I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Oh,” you say. “I… I thought you would have wanted me gone-”

“Don’t care. If you’re going to sleep with me then you need to wake me up and tell me you’re leaving.”

She rolls her eyes at your confusion. She sits on your bed and then gestures animatedly for you to sit down.

“Did you not sleep well?” she fusses. “What’s up with you this morning?”

“I slept great, Clarisse, it’s just- why are you here?”

“To tell you that you can’t leave,” she deadpans. “I mean, you spend all night shaking in my arms, terrified, and then I wake up and you’re not there? I almost killed someone. You’re lucky I decided to check here first, Y/N.”

She laughs. She laughs like it’s so funny.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause you’re my girl,” she shrugs. “And-”

“Clarisse, what does that mean?”

You know what you want. And you’re not dumb, but you’re the only friend Clarisse really has- what did you have to compare it to? You’ve been thinking about it in your head, rolling it around like a diamond- each side reflects something you want from her. Her love, her protection, her touch, her time, her.

She plays with her fingers. “It means… I like touching you. I like protecting you. I like being near you. I like your voice and your face.”

She stares at you blankly, like she’s recounting a grocery list, waiting for an affirmative “yes, I heard you.” But all you can do is stare in shock, trying to make your brain catch up with your heart- Clarisse likes your face. Clarisse feels the same way you do. You can be her girl, and you’re not too much for her, you’re not just friends.

“Oh, fuck it,” she mumbles. She places her hand on your face and pecks your lips. “That’s what it means, okay? I’m, like, embarrassingly in love with you, if you haven’t noticed.”

Clarisse is so blunt and forward it makes your head spin.

She stares into your eyes, searching them for something other than shock and confusion.

“Okay,” she says. Shuffling back. You can tell she’s hurt and embarrassed, but her face reveals nothing other than faux confidence and indifference. “I’ll go, I guess-”

“Bitch,” you mumble, slamming your lips onto hers.

It feels so overwhelmingly right and fills you with such a calmness that weed could never compare to. If you were dependent on the joints, then one taste and you’re addicted to Clarisse. She kisses you back with just as much ferocity, throwing your arms around her neck, trying to swallow you whole with her mouth as she grabs your neck with one hand, your face with the other.

It’s months of tension and wanting, lips touching through the passing of a joint, all of it coming down to this moment that feels so bad, so sinful- surely the Gods must frown upon loving someone this much. You would never pray to any of them again if it meant Clarisse would keep kissing you like this.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both smiling wide, leaning into her palm, hands playing with the curls at the base of her neck. You feel like a giddy school girl. You feel like a lover discovering something wildly new and unknown, promising to keep it secret, sealing it with a kiss of pure fire.

“That was such a mean way to confess to someone,” you say. “Just bitchy. Brass and blunt- harsh, even.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, pressing her face against yours.

“Yeah, it’s okay. I know you’re a big softie who drools in her sleep.” She pulls away and glares at you.

“I don’t fucking drool, Y/N. You’re seeing things.”

You fake frown, bringing her closer to you. “Such a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.”

“My girlfriend?” she breathes, swollen lips parting like she’s aching to kiss you again.

“Your girlfriend,” you affirm, staring straight into her eyes.

You sunk more into becoming a demigod and all it got you was nightmares and a fear of sleeping. But the more you sunk into being her girl, the more you sunk into loving her and being loved.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from. Certainly not from her father. She didn’t learn to kiss your head from him. She didn’t learn how to hold you, how to call you hers, how to whisper in your ear from Ares.

You don’t know where Clarisse gets her softness from, but it’s good.

—-

SHOUTOUT TO clarisse “cause you’re my girl” la rue LOVE YOUR POSSESSIVE ASS!!!!!!!!

—-

clarisse when y/n smokes weed: oh so pretty……

clarisse when y/n can only fall asleep bc of her arms or her weed: my girl fr……..

clarisse when y/n: oh my wonderful perfect angel

—-

y/n: BITCH

clarisse: YOURE SO HOT FUCK

—-

where did clarisse get her weed from you may ask? me that’s where she got it from i ripped through the fabric of reality to give it to her to make this happen actually and you’re welcome

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

@sincerely-silk

[dazealigner]

hi hi hi

i have a request! could you write julien x reader where julien is obsessed (in a good way) where she only talks about reader in interviews and stuff

pls pls pls

and thank u

hiii anon !!! i’ve actually thought about this thoroughly in the past so i have a couple of hcs stirred up for you ! but i also wanted to say that @itsrorysstuff has also wrote for this same idea awhile ago and did an amazing job at executing it (:

jb talking about her gf in interviews hcs!

(i’ll preface by saying that jb’s girlfriend is a famous singer-songwriter in this scenario, just because interviewers would then ask about their relationship more frequently and i don’t get why julien would talk about her girlfriend excessively if she wasn’t exposed to the public eye like julien is. also to give some background, i’ll say that they discovered each other’s music prior to their romance and met through a mutual friend, lucy or phoebe perhaps)

because you two both listened to each other’s work way before you guys even started talking, julien definitely brought one of your albums up in the Records In My Life interview and even spends some time analyzing it as well before she’s subtly cut off given the time limit and their remaining questions

there’s occasional mentions of you here and there, to which you reciprocate until finally lucy/phoebe unites you two

and man oh man are lucy and phoebe third and fourth-wheeling because the entire night you two are trading ALL of the compliments and the analyses you’ve been itching to share since the moment you both discovered the other’s work

fast forward to julien and singer-songwriter!gf NOT beating the u-haul lesbian allegations, this is where julien really begins to excessively talk about you

philosophical question? she’ll mention your input on the matter. question about a lyric on the record that you helped with? oh boy that interviewer is in for a ride.

and there’s nothing more phoebe and lucy enjoy than teasing julien about you two’s relationship

“After the show in Dallas, me and Lucy went to grab something to eat, and—” “Wait, where was Julien again?” “You know where she was.”

and julien FLUSHES pink not just because the entirety of the camera crew were exchanging confused glances but because she herself knows where she was and more importantly who she was with

anyways you being known for having schemes up your sleeves when it comes to your albums, julien’s now getting asked about your music as well, and she LOVES it because she knows everything about your upcoming albums in secret and she’s now become apart of the scheming and teasing

if you announce a single release and you wanna hint at its title, let’s say you use the single title in your instagram caption, and then julien somehow finds a way to insert it smoothly into something she’s saying in an interview and lucy and phoebe are like “😏😏” cause they’re in the loop too

and then in the nardwuar interview as he’s handing out the most thoughtful gifts, in the back of julien’s mind, all she’s thinking about is how much you’d love those gifts

“Oh my god, me and my girlfriend were just talking about Trio. .” and phoebe and lucy are snickering from beside her as she goes on a rant about what specifically you two were talking about.

when the boys are on the red carpet for GQ Men of the Year and they’re already all rocking hickies and then they get into the conversation of dates when amelia interviews them…..

“What about you? Have you ever been on a date?” “A date? I’ve been on one.” “Recently, too.”

and on top of her remark, lucy’s eyes trail down to julien’s hickey. not that it’s noticeable in that exact moment, but fans inevitably notice

and finally when you do release any projects you’ve been working on, julien is so incredibly vocal on how well-deserved the recognition you receive is and how proud she is of you. she acknowledges every single hour you spent in the studio and its merit outcome.

and, of course, the level of affection julien shows is obviously reciprocated by singer-songwriter!gf

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

OH!!!!!! Can you do "What do you believe in?" for the Jily prompts please? I'm OBSESSED with every single thing you write fkjhsd;lfhna;jlfna;jl

from this prompt list

“Everything has to come from something,” Lily says, her finger tracing the mounds of his knuckles as she lightly follows their contours, holding his hand gently in her lap. “I mean, that’s like the first rule of Transfiguration, right?”

“Well, it’s not technically the first—”

“God, you’re such a swot!” She throws her head back and laughs, her eyes crinkling with mirth. James turns his hand over to catch hers, using the leverage to pull her closer, his knees bumping against hers under the soft light of the Charms classroom.

They had originally snuck into the room for more, ahem, amorous purposes, but those plans were set aside an hour or so ago, giving way to the intimacy of conversation as they sat across from each other on Flitwick’s desk.

“You love it,” James says, his voice low and teasing, a self-satisfying smirk playing on his lips because he knows he’s right, the smug bastard.

“Shut up,” she says, but doesn’t make an effort to move away. “I’m just saying, that it’s not as mutually exclusive as people like to believe. I think there’s a reality in which God and magic can coexist. Maybe one created the other.” She reaches for his other hand, bringing them both to rest on top of his bent knees. “What do you believe in?”

“You,” he says without hesitation, his eyes soft and earnest behind his glasses.

“James,” she admonishes, though her heart flutters at his sincerity.

“What?” He grins, picking up her hand and twisting the opal ring around her thumb, the cool stone contrasting with the warmth of his touch. “I’m not just being cute—” He glances up over his glasses, flashing her a boyish smile that melts her insides. “Even though, yes, I know I’m always cute, thank you for what you were surely about to say.”

Lily snorts, rolling her eyes affectionately.

“I just…” He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that belies the depth of his words. “People look to religion and spirituality for peace and understanding of their purpose or whatever, but—I already know all that.” He removes the ring from her thumb, carefully moving it to her ring finger. The opal stone turns over upside down because of its too-big size, and he watches in satisfaction as it slides down toward her knuckle. “I’ve got you, Evans.”

“You realise that sounds absolutely mental, right?” she asks, her voice steady despite the way her stomach flips upside down.

“Religion rarely makes complete sense, Lil. There’s always a certain element of faith.”

She laughs, the sound light and disbelieving. “I am not your religion, James Potter.”

“Why not?” he asks, grinning, tugging her closer, their knees bumping together again.

“Because—because that’s ridiculous!”

“I happen to be very fond of ridiculous things,” he says, his grin widening.

[dirtysvthoughts]

oh, so y'all thought i wasn't gonna write about this? everyone's gonna suffer along with me on this thursday, bc he's literally my adonis, his sexy ass </3

general tags/warnings: boyfriend!chan, female! reader, sexting into video call sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, reader (kenny) is obsessed with chan's muscle groups

word count: 1.3k

notes: y'all this chan dropped this morning, had me feeling things, and then this was born, god he's so sexy, wanna suck him off so bad.. anyways, hope y'all enjoy and lemme know if ya liked it :')

imagine chan working out after his schedule, alone in the gym, finishing his last set of weights. he notices his phone light up from across the room, picking it up from where he left it on the floor. he smiles as your name appears along with the green message icon, envisioning your sweet voice as he reads your text:

baby: heyyy, how was ur day? been thinkin about you 🤍

you lie in your bed, in nothing but one of chan's t-shirts and a pair of panties. chan was coming to see you later on the day, and you couldn't wait. even though it had only been a few days since you last saw each other, you couldn't get enough of him. as your mind continues to wander, the ping of a new notification immediately brings you back to reality.

channie: it was pretty good, i'm about to finish my workout. i've been thinking about you too, pretty girl :)

you clench around nothing as you read his new message over two things. one, he called you pretty girl which always got you going; two, he was at the gym. working out. probably shirtless. all of beautifully shaped muscles on display.

you never admitted this to your boyfriend directly, but you were obsessed with his muscles. his shoulders and back are so broad and strong, you felt them up whenever you could. whenever his arms flexed while doing something, you couldn't help but bite down on your lip, thinking about what it would be like to slightly tighten his grasp when his hands were on your throat. and his abs? you so desperately wanted to sink down on them and ride chan, praising him for how sculpted he is and how he makes you feel so good.. all this was on your mind and more as you typed out your response.

baby: oh? ur working out today? 😏 knowing you, ur shirt's probably somewhere across the room 🤣

chan smirks, laughing to himself at your guess. he still had his white shirt on with his sleeves rolled up, but something in him wanted to take the conversation in a new direction.

chan: i mean, it's not, but who's to say i can't take it off right now?

chan: maybe send you a pic or two...

you freeze at the most recent message. you were already needy for him, and he was voluntarily giving you the chance? you couldn't pass this up.

baby: chan, don't tease me.. pls..

baby: if ur serious about this, then lemme see

baby: wanna have you pin me down with those arms 😩

without a second thought, chan takes off his shirt and tosses it across the room. he angles himself in the mirror correctly so you can see all of him, his left arm holding the waistband of his shorts as if he wants you to see more.

then, he takes a video, the camera facing him this time. not saying a word, he smirks at the camera as it goes from his face all the way down to his waist, making sure you could see his defined muscles up close.

he can feel his dick get hard as he types out his next message, sitting down on one of the benches, already thinking about what he would do to you later on that night.

channie: [image]

channie: [image]

channie: [video]

channie: how is it, pretty girl? like what you see? 😏

you were already gone, hands playing with your clit outside your panties, thinking about the last time you had sex with chan. how he pinned you down, how his thrusts were so strong, and how his muscles flexed so deliciously...

you grab your phone with your free hand, and you whimper at the pics he sent you. but you're not ready when you press play on the video, moaning at how insanely hot he is, and he wasn't even doing much.

baby: fuck, channie

baby: ur so fucking sexy

baby: i need u so so bad 🥺

chan moves to lock the door of the room he was in, making sure no one could disturb or see him. he sits back down and opens up the camera again, this time taking a video of him from the waist down.

channie: [video]

channie: need you too, baby

channie: so much that my dick is rock hard now

channie: need you inside of me too

you open the video to reveal chan's big dick, his hands running up and down his shaft, his tip starting to get red. you were in a trance at how he moved, your hands starting to hurt from moving faster.

an idea pops in your head, and you find the voice recorder, tapping on it and the numbers appear across the screen.

"mmm, channie, a-ahh, channie... i'm so wet for you, i'm touching myself but it doesn't f-feel the same at all," you whine feeling your stomach starting to coil, "want you to make me come all over my sh-sheets, a-ah!"

you hit send, and sit up, not wanting to come just yet. you get your vibrator from your drawer, glancing at your phone and noticing that chan has listened and kept your dirty little voice message. seconds after, his name flashes across your screen as a video call. you toss your vibrator on the bed, and set up your phone on top of your pillows. you accept the call just before it disappears.

"damn, my pretty girl doesn't waste any time, does she?" is the first thing you hear as you lift up your shirt so he could see your lower body. you grab the vibrator and slowly place it on your clit, looking directly into the camera as you begin to grind down, loudly moaning at how it amplified how you were feeling.

"s-shit, ch-chan," is all you can manage to say in the moment.

"does it feel good, baby? i know you already wish it was me filling that tight pussy up," he groans as he goes back to touching himself. "god, you're gonna be so in for it tonight."

"i wish you were here, this vibrator only does so much, you're so much better, fuck, those pics you sent me turn me on so much.. you're so big and broad, i just want you ruin me and make me yours."

he smirks, wanting to take you further to the edge. "well, who makes you feel this good, baby? who always gets you so wet your panties are soaked? say my name, baby, tell me you're mine," he tilts his head back as he moves his hand faster on his dick.

"i'm yours, chan, i'm yours! 'm gonna cum, gonna cum, love you s-so much, are you close? " you whine, feeling your climax quickly approaching.

" 'm getting there baby, but you're gonna cum? do it for me then, baby. cum all over those sheets while you're thinking of me fucking you, can't wait to get inside of you.."

you gasp for air as you finally release all of you, chanting his name as if it was the only ting you knew. seeing you cum, chan comes into his hands, his fingers coated in his own juices.

"channie," you sweetly say as you bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean, teasing him by taking them in and out. "don't you wanna come taste me yourself?"

he groans out, clearly enjoying the extra show you were putting on for him. "you better take off those panties and get ready for me," he says as he comes out of view to grab his shirt. "i'm hightailing it to your place, i need to have you."

"then come make me feel good baby," you say as you blow a kiss, smiling at chan, ending the video call.

[midnightanxietytm]

Carve my wounds (lick them clean)

Summary: Lamb thinks over the cannibalism trait, ends up liking it a little too much, Narinder encourages it.

WARNINGS: Cannibalism, semi-graphic depictions of violence, CANNIBALISM again just in case you missed it, mutually obsessive relationship.

A/N: Rejoyce, Narilamb be upon ye! Once again i was possessed by the spirits (hyperfocused) and these are the consequences. My lamb is a fucked up little thing and everyone is into it, apparently. Also, if you catch me switching from they/them to he/him for the lamb you can just ignore it, I was writing wangxian b4 this and my brain scrambled, but I think I corrected most of those cuz I just prefer to use they/them for the lamb.

The Lamb's fingers run through the words that describe the ritual in their grimoire with a certain reverence. Outside, the wind and heavy rain rage on, the farms prosper, and there is really no need for an extreme ritual such as this one, but the leader is a curious one.

The deity that looks over them knows of that curiosity, relishes in it, and encourages it. “My lord..?” Comes the awaited call as the Lamb removes the crown from their head and places it in front of them, looking into its eye, knowing there is someone beyond to listen. “Why did you recommend such a ritual? We are not going through famine, I don’t see any other need for it…”

There is no answer, not really, but a shiver runs through their spine, and they hum, leaning back on their chair. “How would it generate devotion? I mean, sure it’s a way to dispose of bodies at least…” Suddenly, the crown startles, floats up and settles on their head. “Oh, should I visit?” They smile oh-so brightly, standing up from their chair, little lamb tail shaking excitedly. “It's been so long since you asked!”

A dagger is quick to be fetched, merely a decoration item, but it would work. And the Lamb looks around, searching for a place where their temporary death would be less messy. They settle for the fountain, where the water would dilute their blood quickly. They remove their fleece and get into the fountain, not minding their wool getting soaked.

The dagger is driven through their heart, by their own hand, without hesitation, and their mind is quick to accept death.

When they open their eyes, they are laid down, curled upon the pentagram on the stone like they had been peacefully sleeping there all along. They sit up, crossing their legs and looking up at their beloved Death.

The One Who Waits had grown to appreciate how eager his little vessel answers to his call; how unafraid they are when their consciousness starts to drift and their vision to go dark. They perk up so easily too; quick to offer a smile, a greeting and to bleat until their little mind can’t even come up with a new subject. It's not everyone who treats death with such casualty.

“You were asking about the ritual Consumption of a Kin…?” He reminds them, his voice reverberates even in the infinite space of his domain, but his lamb no longer flinches upon hearing it.

“Oh! Yeah, I was wondering how it would help with devotion, maybe it’s because I’m herbivore, but I don’t really see it…” Says the lamb, swinging their body back and forth slightly, the bell around their neck jingles softly with each movement.

Death laughs, a heavy sound, deep and gravelly, reaching their hand to completely envelop the little lamb, then carefully picking them up and bringing them up to his face. “It’s different from simple consumption for nutrition, my little vessel.” The vessel in question leans back on his hands, making themselves comfortable, ready to hear. “It’s to feel closer to something, someone, to make them… part of you. Besides, it’s literally taking something dead and using it to fuel new life… Do you understand, Lamb?”

“I think I do… It’s all about a deeper connection with death, right?” They hummed, curling up on their god’s palm. Said god only nods in agreement and hums, rubbing his thumb over his vessel’s soft wool. “Have you ever tried it? I mean, have you ever eaten someone?”

Their teeth ache and itch, a gift from their deity, begging to be tested. Try it raw, says a faraway voice inside their mind, and they hesitate, but slowly lifts a bloody hand along with an equally bloody piece of meat into their mouth.

“Once, during a banquet.” Said death. “You should do it, little lamb… Maybe I’ll give you some predator teeth to match…”

...

The moon shining through the windows is their only company as they carefully drive the knife through the still-warm body on the counter, the process requires focus; they rip through skin and cartilage, separate tissue and then finally start separating each piece.

Their new teeth rip through it with ease, and a metallic taste fills their every sense, the texture is foreign, and blood drips from the corners of their mouth. It’s amazing. They hastily cut another piece, bring it up to his mouth, licks the spill on their hands, hum in pleasure and their eyes roll back as they chew.

Narinder is honestly surprised this habit has lasted until now.

The crown watches as the soon to be god of death indulges their newfound need, for death must consume everything eventually.

...

He watches with feign boredom as his usurper brings the raw meat up to their lips as if it is the most delightful thing they will ever taste, their sharp teeth easily tearing the piece of flesh, pearly white being tainted by the crimson blood that drips down to their chin and trails down to their throat before they wipe it off with a hand.

It’s a quiet night in the temple, the remains of the banquet served that night were wiped away, the followers gently coaxed to their shelters, and only the Lamb and their darling disciple remained.

“Are you sure you don’t want any, Nari?” They asked, honeyed words coated with the blood of their lips. Their legs were nonchalantly thrown over the arms of their mighty throne.

“No, I’m saving for the main course…” He answered, using his claws to mindlessly pick at the pomegranate on his plate.

“Oh?” Hummed the Lamb. “And what would that be?”

“Lambchops.” An empty threat, as were the many others he had thrown at them though the last half a century.

Still, the Lamb laughed with gusto for a good few seconds. “Come on, My Lord,” They said with a smirk and stood up, bringing their plate over and sitting on the arm of his chair. “You suggested that I eat in the first place… Maybe take it as an appetizer; It’s not as tasty as me, but it should do, right?” And they brought a piece of flesh, dripping with blood, up to his lips.

Despite all the talk, Narinder took a bite, and it was just as tasty as he remembered it to be, flavor melting in his tongue. The Lamb giggled and smeared a bloody finger over his lips. He swallowed and licked the blood before roughly pulling the cheeky lamb onto his lap and claiming their lips.

Indeed the Lamb’s taste was far better, Narinder thought as he bit their lip and was bitten in response, their blood mixing in their mouths.

A/N: For the first time in forever, Hozier was not involved in the making of one of my fics. Cheers to that! Anyways hope yall enjoyed this, my asks are open, byee!

[imaginarylungfish]

Hello, if you don't mind, can I ask, who are your top favorite romantic relationship's couples in any media, like anime/manga, tv series, books, etc (can be canon or non-canon)? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them....Thanks if you want to answer....

Ooh how fun! I should just screenshot my ao3 dash lol. Let's see... almost all of these are all animanga (and not canon), but in order of my love for them at this particular moment in time:

TodoBakuDeku

BakuDeku

KilluGon

MatchaBlossom

SatoSugu

ShiGuang

TigerGhost

SasaMiya

ShunMio

KazuRei

Now, explanations, *spoilers*, and honorable mentions below the cut!

TodoBakuDeku (My Hero Academia)

Obviously not canon and never will be but oh does this ship have a chokehold on me. I just think this trio is so balanced in every way. Like we have our precious TodoDeku who connect by being nerds and the sweetest boys. Then we also have TodoBaku who are just lovely little menaces. And, of course, BakuDeku--can't beat friends to enemies to lovers. And then they all come together to form a masterpiece. Idk I just love this ship so much.

BakuDeku (My Hero Academia)

So I honestly really wasn't into this ship too much until reading the final war arc and meta. Other people's viewpoints changed my mind! Hori has done a really great job of portraying BakuDeku's complex relationship in the manga (for however you view their canon relationship). So like idk how can I not ship For-the-Rest-of-Our-Lives Katsuki with Control-Your-Heart Izuku?

Sidenote: I almost didn't include this on the list because I tend to only really ship this pair while reading the manga. I never shipped them in the anime unless it was TodoBakuDeku with Deku as a hinge. And I don't even read many fics with just Katsuki and Izuku. I just feel like fandom BakuDeku feels incomplete without Shouto for some reason. Like I'm Team BakuDeku for the manga, Team hinge TodoBakuDeku in the anime, but throuple TodoBakuDeku in the sanctuary of my mind/on ao3. (Maybe that'll change once I start watching Season 7 though.)

KilluGon (Hunter x Hunter)

I only watched this anime this year but ohmygod I immediately fell in love with Gon and Killua. They are so precious. I mean, Killua is just a little smitten kitten. And Gon? He's in it. Anyway, love their dynamic and of course I ship them. Gon is Killua's light after all!

MatchaBlossom (Sk8 the Infinity)

Literally just started shipping this so I'm in the throes of obsession rn but their dynamic? *chef's kiss* (hehe, you like what I did there?) Childhood friends? Pining while the other falls for another? Realizing feelings? Already married bickering old couple? Give me all the headcanons please!

SatoSugu (Jujutsu Kaisen)

I mean, c'mon. Tragic gays are my weakness. They're gonna be OG for me. No one can compare. They're on a different level. All I want is for them to have hopped on a plane and gone somewhere they can finally find peace, is that too much to ask? (Gege??)

ShiGuang (Link Click)

Again, I said I like tragic gays. But god, I do hope they don't end up too tragic! I love this pairing. They balance each other out well. We have puppy dog Cheng Xiaoshi and cat Lu Guang. Perfection thx.

TigerGhost (Nicktoons Unite)

Ok so this crackship was brought on by my serendipitous viewing of Nicktoons Unite fanart on this beautiful app and subsequent reading of all their fics on ao3 (a grand total of four, btw). And I'm obsessed. I was a diehard Danny Phantom fan as a kid (we stan our queer/genderqueer/bisexual/trans ghost boy). And I never watched El Tigre as a kid, but the way the fandom portrays him and Danny together just hits. Salty and sweet with a lil bit of darkness? Yum.

SasaMiya (Sasaki to Miyano)

First canon ship on this list lol. You want fluff? You got it. Give me some good pining, consent, and mutual respect, thank you.

ShunMio (Stranger by the Shore)

Second and last canon ship on the list! Love me some good ole sun and moon. Idk their story is so cute. Plus, I like how Kii Kana portrays Shun's feelings regarding his sexuality and how that affects his relationship with Mio. It's relatable.

KazuRei (Buddy Daddies)

I mean, this is practically canon, right? Well, at least queerplatonically (which we stan). Love our little found family. This anime had such a cute and goofy premise, how could I not fall for this ship?

(Honorable mentions: TodoDeku, TodoBaku, Labru, DabiHawks, Renga, VashWood, Kappa x Siren, Boyfriends, EraserMic, ItaFushi, InuOkko, ShokoHime, HaiNana, LeoPika, KudoIchi, TogaChako)

[sanityshorror]

the julius redraw of my beloved patrick led to julius becoming my other beloved. they're both so.....😍*chef's kiss* 💋could you please write a scenario about these two pretty boy psychos meeting each other for the first time? thank you❤️

Awe thank you so much, I'm glad you love Julius! I put so much work into him and I'm working on soooo many projects about him 👀 As for the scenario, I apologize but I really don't have time and I don't write fanfiction involving my own characters (I created Julius, to be clear; he's my character 😭) BUT I can tell you my silly HCs of if somehow their different universes collided and they met!

Given Patrick's personality and knowing Julius' like the back of my hand, unfortunately I do not see any sort of friendship ever forming between the two. Neither of the men are prone to form a genuine bond with anyone. Now, I can confirm that there are a few exceptions for Julius but it's very, very, very few. As for Patrick, it's up to one's interpretation of if he can/does form a true bond, I personally interpret him to be similar to Julius: no, with extremely rare exceptions.

While I do not see a genuine bond being able to form between the two, I absolutely do see them both as having a mutually beneficial fake-friendship. They're both east coast, coked up, sex addicted, rich white men who lead double/multiple lives and are deceptive as all hell. They both are also very obsessive over image, appearance and social status/perception. Now what I absolutely do believe would happen is Patrick forming an obsessive infatuation but intense jealousy towards Julius due to multiple reasons.

I'll explain:

Julius was born in a working class family during the Victorian era who immigrated to America and became a mainly self made multi-billionaire (being married to the Boss of the Boston Irish Mob brings in a lot of money on top of his own very successful business). Patrick on the other hand, despite being born into wealth still doesn't hold a candle to Julius' riches. Patrick may own a Manhattan penthouse but Julius could buy the entire building if he wanted to, and without batting an eye at the price tag given the multi-millions that roll in weekly for him.

That brings me to another reason: sheer status and power. Julius is so elite that brand names mean nothing to him and he sees brand names as something for the poor. Julius owns a very popular, top of the line, extremely expensive dress shop and boutique. Everything is hand made by him (he doesn't even use sewing machines), one of a kind and the man is talented. His shop is so revered you need an appointment just to get in and people will save up for years and fly across the country, even across the ocean to get a dress. (Of course, only the lucky actually leave the shop....) Basically, Julius' wealth and god like status (he can literally have anything he wants, whenever he wants and gets endless attention) is something Patrick would, though be very jealous of, lead Patrick to suck up to Julius. Our boy Patrick would set his homophobia aside in a second if it meant being seen going into Doherty's Dress Shop without needing an appointment.

Julius would look down on Patrick. He would find him annoying and pathetic. However Julius loves attention and loves people sucking up to him (and loves cocaine-murder buddies) so he probably wouldn't kill Patrick as long as Patrick played his cards right and didn't challenge him. I see Julius using Patrick as a verbal punching bag and forcing him to smuggle drugs and traffic humans and other shit, and probably also just make him do degrading things like "I'll let you enter my store wherever you want if you suck my boot until you jizz in your pants hahahaha nasty bitch" just for shits and giggles. And Patrick probably would because oh that sweet sweet sweet status.

Julius also would make fun of Patrick for being 'short and fat'. Patrick is said to be 6'0 and 190lbs whereas Julius, who is anorexic, stands at 6'5 (in the human leather boots he always wears, he's 6'2 without them) and horrific mere 135lbs (please seek help if you struggle with eating, you deserve it/gen). I think they would both feed into each other's body issues and obsession with perfection.

It would be interesting to see them meet, I must admit that lol.

[bistaxx]

An annoyance I specifically have about qsmp tntduo fics is that they don’t even (usually) try to be like the qsmp versions of the characters. They have them act like dsmp, rivals that have a weird homoerotic tension. While in the qsmp, we’ve had Quackity being obsessed with Wilbur and Tallulah < and being convinced that Wilbur was the dad and tallulah was his kid. This is just the early stuff but it’s annoying how they pretend it’s qsmp when it’s clearly not.

(TNT MUTUALS SKIP THIS POST- SORRY ILY I PROMMY SRY! THIS ENDED UP TURNING INTO A RANT LMAO)

(Also none of this is my griping over what people are allowed to write or draw lol- i'm just bitching for my own sake LOL)

Yeah that's definitely a major part of my annoyance too, not helped by the fact that I also dislike /r c!tnt LOL- And I was actually interested in what q!Tnt as dynamic could've been but canon doesn't offer a whole lot to work with these days and fanon like you said either just makes them a poor man's rehash of c!tnt despite their q! counterparts being VERY different form those men or, like a mutual of mine brought up in their post, reduce q!Quack into this poor sad little wet cloth of a man that ONLY qWilbur could ever understand or fix because he's the ONLY man who actually cares about q!Quackity... just ignore Roier, and Etoiles, and Forever, and Baghera, and Cellbit, and Bagi, and- You get the point lol.

I think my last straw personally was seeing everything that Quack goes through be made to be about Wil- getting Tilin? Him and Wilbur can raise them together despite us knowing Luzu was the other parent! He loses his child? Dw he can raise Tallulah with Wilbur! Quackity's been kidnapped and replaced with Elq? Oh no! Onyl Wilbur will ever care or notice :( Just ignore that Jaiden witnessed this happen- Quackity is back, but his memories are gone and his mind severely messed with? Oh Wilbur will fix him- he'll teach him how to read and write and take care of him and they can be a family alongside Phil Tallulah and Chay! Quackity's been kidnapped again? Oh no only Wilbur will care Part 2 even though everyone quickly noticed Elq isn't Q! Quackity (and Phil) have weird tickets? This must be related to WILBUR somehow?! Quackity's DEAD?!? OH NO- WILBUR WILL BE SO SAD AND DEVASTATED! Quackity's back but extremely traumatized and broken after everything he's been though? He needs Wilbur to hug him and heal him :((((((((((((((-

And I wanna take a brief aside to complain about how people treat them and the eggs too- See I really like Quack and Pepito's dynamic, so I give into temptation and look on Twitter to find fanart of them... only to see them paired with Wilbur and Tallulah... with Quackity's OTHER CHILD Richas nowhere in sight! Because he just... doesn't matter I guess even though the two still care about each other a lot and still call each other father and son! Also the god damned disservice this stuff does for Talsy's character too- yeah she'd so be running over to hug Wil with her current growing resentment of him- but to know that'd require people to acknowledge her as more then just Wilbur's cute little daughter who exists only as an extension of him- SOMETHING SHE'S COMPLAINED ABOUT TO PHIL. But back to Quack...

Would you believe me if I told you people also did this shit during KARMALAND too- A SERIES THAT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE WILBUR PLAYING IN IT! That during the early days people were CONVINCED that k!Quackity was secretly an amnesiac c!Quackity and he was only drawn to k!Luzu because he reminds him c!Wilbur... yes people really fucking said that and god it made me so mad I won't lie 😭 People can headcanon whatever they want that's fine even if I don't gel with, the thing is it was just everywhere during the early Karmaland V days and people were doing to most to push it 'canon' cuz God forbid Q exist outside of Wil or c!tntduo in this Spanish server.

Listen- I never wanna be That Guy who DEMANDS people stop doing this or that- people can do whatever they want- I get missing a ship, I still miss Karmaland Luckity- I just wished people cared about q!Quack for q!Quack and not just tntduo. q!Quackity is a very flawed screw-up of a man with a big heart whose been through Hell and even though he wants to give up still chooses to keep on going for the sake of his new child- not to mention his mysterious connection to Elq and being forced to be a pawn to Oscurucho! He has a lot going for him outside of his celebrity crush! He has a lot of really good and complex bonds with other characters- he has a strong friendship with Etoiles, Forever tried to look out for him after Quackity lost his memories and Quackity in turn was visibly distressed when Forever went missing, HIS WHOLE THING WITH ROIER- LIKE- Quackity being a major part of the betrayal at the start of the server and Roier in turn ruining Quackity's reputation on the server in revenge but Quackity still tries to help Cellbit fix things with Roier during Festa Junina, Quackity admires the strength of Spiderbit's love to the point that it makes it reconsider his own view of what love is after his fake wedding with Wilbur's cardboard cutout, Roier still tried to help Quackity regain his memories when Quackity found Tilin's old diary, Roier is listed as one of the most important people to Quackity, during his hell coma in the maze portion there are photos of him and Roier everywhere, they even share custody of a child now- but no, Wilbur is the only one who gets or cares about Quackity, okay sure.

Anyway rant over- sorry anon I pretty much just used your ask as an excuse to vent about all my grievances I'm sorry 😭 People can send more anons about this if they want but I prolly won't answer- I don't like to bitch too much on this blog- this is the exception to that LOL I don't hate qWilbur either- I just don't care for q!tnt.

[amaiguri]

oh your tag about arls being trained to fawn over people that hurt her 🥺 my poor little heart. was there a catalyst in which they went from hating each other to loving each other? or was it a gradual love?

Oh my goddddd thank you for the ask 💜💜💜

(Damn, I made a good choice when I accidentally followed you thinking you were the Slay the Princess Dev 💜)

SO

Arlasaire was a victim of a Dragonstorm that let her with the burn scars -- but luckily, she was adopted by a rich mafia-like family who could keep her from dying. And they trained her to be a hitman/bodyguard/glorified pet for the heir -- his name was Gil. He, like... did his best to take actual care of her but clearly, it's kinda a fucked up environment. And HE was engaged to the lovely noble daughter of a rival clan, Lucienne.

Lucienne and him had a love-hate relationship -- and Luce was an entitled menace as a child. So, she bullied Arlasaire a lot. And Arlasaire, being a servant, just kinda had to put up with it. And Gil didn't really know how to fix it, because he liked Lucienne and the power dynamic made it so he just like... couldn't entirely get it.

So as they got into their teens, they all started messing around...

You see very quickly why their relationship is a mess 🫠

Lucienne and Arlasaire had a lot of fights and a lot of (semi-fake) promises to do better but they were also like.. pitted against each other by all the people around them. So, instead of being able to admire each other, they were just both jealous of the other:

Lucienne admired that Arlasaire and Gil had a real relationship built on trust and mutual respect. Arls and Gil were always together because they went on hitman missions together. In fact, Arlasaire and Gil practically invented a whole language to talk to each other because of Arlasaire's burned throat -- they invented a homesign. Luce wanted that kind of real, genuine relationship and people she could trust too.

Arlasaire, meanwhile, admired that Lucienne was able to talk to people so easily and win them over. The secret to Lucienne's popularity is that, while in public she seems vapid and cruel, if you get her alone, she's intelligent, thoughtful, and actually has good advice. She is only confident because she knows she's a disaster and she's generally fine with that. (And God forbid she take any of her own advice 😬) Lucienne lives in two layers of reality -- real reality and like... the politially charged niceties that govern their realm. And that's what Arlasaire admires about her.

AND SO, when they lose the War and Gil dies (this happens in the first sentence of my writing, it's not a spoiler lol) and THEN through the story, they're separated and stuff... it's kinda like... all the teenage drama has some time to blow away. Because at the end of the day, all the people they grew up with are gone now except each other. So even though it was fucked up, they're the only ones who ACTUALLY understand what it was like.

And now, they can start to try to break the patterns and form a real connection 🥺🥺🥺

Also, thank you again for reading 💜 I am obsessed with them lol

[leaveitbythewave]

I honestly do not have a title for this yet...it was originally a shifting script ...

PROLOGUE:

They say that the way of water has no beginning and no end… and up until now, I believed it to be true. 

“Here pull him up on this, support his head.” Even though the intent of my voice was to scream, I felt that these words came out as harsh whispers. 

1

2

3

4

5…

Your heart was racing, there was a blush amongst your blue skin but to the naked eye, I couldn’t see where it was coming from. 

6

7

8

9

10…

Voices surrounded us and shaking hands were placed on your chest…there is the place that made you this way…”oh god”

11

12

13

14

15…

Your wandering eyes shifted to each face…I wish they didn’t land on mine…

15 seconds. 

That’s how long it took for me to realize that the way of water does indeed have an end…and this was it. 

You took the way with you…

First I do want to make crystal clear that I aged everyone up quite a bit. Neteyam is 19, Lo'ak is 18, Kiri is 17, Tuk is 13, and Spider is 17.

Character Information:

Rachel (River) Quaritch: Born as Rachel, she is the daughter of Colonel Miles Quaritch and sister to Spider. She is 19 years old and was given the name River by Max due to her obsession with open water. Her relationship with her brother is very close, and at times she almost feels like a mother figure to him. Growing up her and Spider became very close to the Sully family (without the approval of Neytiri) and she found herself becoming significantly close with Neteyam. They both had a mutual understanding of what it was like being the eldest sibling and the responsibilities that came along with it. She also envied him in a way. Sure, he had a ton of pressure placed upon his shoulders because of who his parents were and his place in the family but, he had something she dreamed of, a family. She loves her chosen family, Max basically stepping in for the role of "dad" but seeing the way the Sully's are with each other, she can't help but want.

Claire Augustine (aged 29): She is the niece of the late Grace Augustine. Prior to Grace's arrival on Pandora, she gained custody of Claire after her mother passed away. While Claire may resemble her mother Sarah, she and Grace share the same passion for the Na'vi and the fight to protecting them while studying the ecosystems. After the passing of Grace and the birth of Kiri, Claire has made the lab her permanent residence. She hopes to fulfill Grace's work and to continue on the path of conservation since she is the only one able to access the locked data Grace kept secret. She acts as a big sister to River and Spider in times of need but she also is given words of encouragement from them when it comes to slowing down.

Robin Anderson 32(basically picture kathryn hahn): She was Grace's right hand woman in the lab and her best friend. When Robin was first brought into the AVTR program she was doubted by Grace not by her knowledge and skills but by her age. She was 25 when she first begun assisting Grace in the research with the RDA and had to prove herself with again not only her knowledge, but with how she would react if the well-being of the Na'vi was ever at stake. After the passing of Grace, Robin felt not only lost but also empty. She wasn't sure where to even continue her research and without her best friend she felt alone. Claire had noticed the change in Robin throughout the years and tried to be cautious but friendly towards her. They both completed numerous research assessments and configured many theories together, and due to their constant communication and closeness...they began to see each other in a different light. *kiss kiss*

FUCK. that was a lot of character information but hopefully this seems interesting...if not, i am still going to write it anyways lol.

[viperwhispered]

I don't know about you but I'm a huge fan of the "mage x tank" dynamic. Why? Because it can be combined with this!

Which is why I am here to declare that Jamil should have a buff s/o. And when I say buff, I mean strong enough to princess carry him and break the spine of anyone who dares harm him.

Picture Jamil, exhausted and overworked, being picked up like a potato sack and carried off the bed.

Of course this can't be a dumb himbo situation. Jamil aint really the type for airheads, not after years of trauma from Kalim. I mean someone who's crafty enough to keep Jamil on his toes and also strong enough to break bones. Best part being that the s/o is genuinely good person who prefers to talk things over only to go absolutely berserk when things involve Jamil.

The best part of this dynamic would be people assuming the s/o is more of a "pet" to Jamil than an equal. After all, they're calm, crafty, and tend to serve more as his conscience rather than go in guns blazing. That is until anyone dares become a legitimate threat to him. Then heads start rolling.

Oh imagine those poor innocent fools daring to insult the s/o, not realizing that Jamil is just as devoted and will pay them back 100 times. Either by poisoning, cursing, or manipulating them into ruining their lives.

GOD! Just this dynamic of both being extremely dangerous in very different ways but still equally as obsessed with each other is just *screams into pillow*

Brings me back to my OB!Jamil being a total malewife hot take. Picture this badass evil power couple being so mutually obsessed and in love with each other that they would bring an end to the world for one another.

Also the power trip Jamil gets cause this s/o could easily crush his head between their thighs and yet they still prefer bottoming.

Hasdfgh I first saw this just before going to bed and it gave me immediate brainworms (in a good way).

There's just so many juicy bits here. 

That post you linked? Yes, I've seen that before, and the way you describe this situation I could see it being applied both ways between these two (and both of them getting just as huffy about their partner being referred in such a manner while also yes absolutely ready to wreck havoc for each other)

Exhausted Jamil being picked up like a potato sack… Oh what an image. I love it. (Also the thought of him letting s/o do that without protest, either because he's too tired to even keep up appearances, or is willing to let them do that for him and be vulnerable himself…)

One of my “maybe I'll write this one day” fic thoughts involves a generally kind/patient reader getting all protectively angry over what Jamil's been gone through (it might or might not be a thinly veiled self-insert in disguise) and your ideas of the s/o losing their mind over threats to Jamil definitely resonate (am I the sort who always tries to see the best in people but is ready to fight anyone who hurts someone close to me? absolutely)

Evil power couple yes yes yes gimme (the corruption arc fully realized perhaps? Or just Jamil finding out just how far s/o is willing to for someone they care about (which probably would be a different kind of power trip for him - figuring out just what sort of lengths his s/o is willing to go to for him. He just might ascend being someone’s number one priority like that))

And that last line… Oh boy. There's so much to think about there and it's definitely not making me think of Jamil's head between my thighs not at all.

So basically yes to all this. Mind if I borrow that pillow for a moment?

Truly your mind with all these scenarios.

[uchihakeimei]

Helloooo, hope it's ok if I reply here! Also I forgot to apologize in advance for my terrible English, hope it's understandable!

What a relief to find someone who actually understands Kaiser! He's one of my absolute favs together with Rin and Isagi, but I never really spoke much about him since I noticed the fandom has a bad habit of misinterpreting him. AND Kaisagi in general. No, Isagi is not his soft-uwu toyboy, he's a badass, a menace and if anything, it's him that would put Kaiser in his place. And yes, they totally hate each other. Like, super hate. And that borderlines on obsession from Kaiser's part. (Ngl, that's my favorite part in all Isagi's ships, how he's unbothered, moisturized, living his best life, and the counterpart is decaying in their obsession in beating him. God, he's such an icon.) Their mutual disdain is what makes the ship so balanced, and also the reason why I dislike Kainess, I don't really appreciate the power imbalance and how submissive Ness acts around him. He deserves better than that. Oh, how I would love to see him leave Kaiser in the dirt to fight alone: that would be such a great character development for both of them. Ofc I'm not judging anyone who ships Kainess, it's a perfectly valid ship! I just love both Kiis and Rnis cause they check all of the boxes of the chemicals in my brain. And when the Kaiser flashbacks drops? I'm gonna go absolutely crazy. I need to be the worm in his brain and understand him in a much deeper way than Kaneshiro ever could.

(Also, I love your headcanon about their alternative jobs. I tried to come up with something for Rin too, and I concluded that he definitely could only ever work in front of a computer, where he would never have to interact with people - and traumatize them with his weird bullshit, lmao). (Oh, and Kaiser would be an even worse boyfriend than Rin, let's be real. One small argument and he's dumping your ass to ""find himself"" like any mediocre fuckboy).

Yes, despite my BLLK obsession I'm keeping up with other mangas! I've been reading One Piece since I was a child, but lately I got invested in Chainsaw man, Choujin X, Kagurabachi, Bungou stray dogs and My hero academia, too. What about you??

Of course, it's totally okay!!

And hello fellow Kaiser fan, great to meetcha!!

And yes. A lot of people mischaracterise Kaiser- either as an Isagi simp (most common in fanfictions) or a complete asshole with no depth.

KaiSagi characterisation tends to be even worse (which, this is NOT me criticising authors at all, people are entitled to write what they enjoy!), but either Kaiser or Isagi gets reduced to a desperate simp trying to get into each other's pants (mostly I have seen this with Kaiser, actually) and that's not very likely.

The charm of KaiSagi is their mutual hate, and the ways they overcome that!

And yes. You hit the nail right on the head! Such unbalanced ships, like KaiNess (SasuSaku or NaruHina from Naruto) are the one kind of ships I can never get behind. Whether it's love or hate, it needs to be mutual for me to enjoy it. Power unbalance is not my thing but different strokes for different folks and all that

And yes, Kaiser currently obsessed with destroying Isagi while all Isagi wants to be is no 1 is a delicious flavour and Kaneshiro is cooking

I need an explanation. Of everything regarding Kaiser. That flashback needs to be longest flashback in the manga. I want a biography I can write a thesis on.

(True!! He definitely isn't a people person. He will most likely be doing a job that requires minimum human contact lol)

(And yeah, Kaiser is such red flag, we'd need rose colored glasses to date him 😝)

Hehe. Fellow CSM fan!! My fav is Denji, and I am eagerly awaiting Season 2!

And although I haven't seen the rest of them, I have they are very good anime as well!

My absolute favourite would be Naruto, as I have been in that fandom for years as well. Apart from that, I am currently keeping up with Solo Leveling and Windbreaker!

(Although listing all the animes I have watched will require a separate post, I watch a lot of them!)

Ps: Your English was lovely, no worries!!

[stabbyfoxandrew]

9 people you’d like to get to know better

tagged by @ittyybittybaker MUAH <333

last song: one of the songs from the fairy tail anime's soundtrack!

favorite color: ... orange. for no particular reason. :^)

currently watching: a show called perception. it's about a college professor who's a schizophrenic and helps the fbi solve cases. i know it sounds stupid but it's honestly quite good i think. :) i hate that i like detective shows, but i only like the ones that have a Special guy. like this show. and lucifer where the actual devil is helping or forever where an immortal is the helper.

sweet/savory/spicy: ALL, plus sour! i'm not putting four bad bitches against each other! :)

relationship status: unloveable single

current obsession: hmm... being as i just re-read all my angel neil notes and i'm in love with that au... my angel neil au. also... lego fortnite! :')

last thing you googled: "college humor sims movie" bc allie was talking about it and i had no idea what they meant. :')

tagging: @quiescentdestiny @rekikiri @deklo @andrwminward @tisaqslur @dayurno @c-lion @cummandercold @bikevindayy @angryscreeching (oh my god beloved im so sorry i forgot you! TWT i used all my brain power earlier trying to write!)

and anyone else who wants to share! i love you! (also i was gonna tag a lot more people but i don't wanna be super obnoxious and steal tiff's uh taggees? we sort of have a circle of mutuals i think)