#they're both disasters your honor

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

This is something that happens after a few years of Blake and Yang being a couple and knowing their boundaries. Nothing is really being forced.

Yang: (adjusting her tie) Hey, Babe. Can you help me with this thing-gah....

Blake: (wearing a backless dress) Hmm?

Yang: (dumbstruck) Wow.... You look... Amazing.

Blake: Well. Thank you. You're looking rather dashing yourself.

Yang: Mmhmm... (steps closer to Blake)

Blake: Ah-Ah-Ah! (pulls Gambol Shroud out of the dresser and points it at Yang) No. Down, girl. I know that look, and I can't afford to be late to this dinner.

Yang: (holds hands out in a grabing motion and whimpers) But-But-But... pretty lady deserves kisses.

Blake: (can't help but smile) No.

Yang: (steps forward)

Blake: (pulls GS back so it doesn't rip Yang's shirt) Nooo.

Yang: (takes one more step forward and puts her hands on Blake’s hips)

Blake: (drops GS and puts a finger on Yang’s lips with a giggle) Yang!

Yang: (puppy eyes)

Blake: Okay, one kiss.

Yang: Yay! (Kisses)

Blake: (kisses) Yang.

Yang: (kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss-kiss-)

Blake: (Falls back on the bed with a girlish giggle as she keeps up with all of Yang’s kisses) Yang, come on. Oh!~ Maybe a few minutes~

[charbroiledchicken]

Jesper "WHY THE FUCK DID I KISS KUWEI WYLAN IS TALLER" Fahey and Wylan "I think my father sent someone to kill me, but at least he's pretty" van Eck

[tei-to-tei]

December 6 - Pillow Fort

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ...

closeups under cut:

[ghost-town-story]

“Alright!” I grin up at the [bird]. “Ready to dance?”

The [bird] responds with another shriek, lightning crackling in the shape of feathers along its wings.

“Oh crud—”

The [bird] flaps, dislodging the electric feathers and sending them shooting my direction. I run for cover behind an overturned table, but I’m not fast enough to avoid all the feathers. Each one that hits leaves a shock that feels like gravel scraping against my skin, followed by tingling numbness.

“Well I suppose that’s a yes,” I mutter to myself. One of the feathers hit my elbow, and when I try to flex my fingers, nothing happens except a wave of pins and needles down my forearm. Normally, now would be about the time Ciri would heal me with a word or three of caution, but she’s not here right now. I’m going to have to figure this out with half my limbs not responding properly.

“Think think think,” I mutter, risking a glance over the table at the [bird]. It’s turned its attention away from me for now, focusing on one of the potted plants close to it. “What would Ciri do?”

“She’d say you’re a reckless idiot for trying to rush in like that,” a familiar voice snapped.

I whirl around and blink in shock. Ciri’s irritation melts into something more like relief. “Be careful,” she adds, her hands lighting up with her cyan magic as she presses them to the red marks where I was hit.

I hiss as tingling replaces the numbness and blurt out the first thing that pops into my head to distract myself. “You got a haircut.”

Ciri gapes at me, unconsciously going to tug on her bangs. Instead of the long mess of curls I’m used to, her hair curls just below her ears in a cute bob.

“That’s seriously—” Ciri starts, but cuts off with a huff and a shake of her head. She reaches over my head, and I sense more than anything the wave of magic she summons, buying us more time before we’re attacked. “That is really not the point!” she says.

“I know, sorry, just startled me.” The pins and needles have died down to something manageable, and I shift onto my knees. “Speaking of, what are you even doing here?”

Ciri gives me an unimpressed look.

“Okay, fine, later,” I concede.

[astarab1aze]

'light blue heart'! - kaede

who curses more?

it's a tie, i feel like. nao for sure says fuck a lot, but kaede's always saying shit and fuck. the only thing that would really get in their way here is social standing, given that nao is a zen'in and kaede's just conditioned to behave a certain way in front of the right and wrong people

who is more patient?

LOL neither of them. maybe kaede slightly more so than nao, but it's really not by much. they're both such brats BI

who does the driving?

neither of them, they pay somebody for that wym

who is louder? who is quieter?

it depends on where and when, but both of them can be pretty loud - kaede, most definitely, in bed. nao, all the time. he's always yelling - with kaede sksksk

who is more physically affectionate?

they have their ways, but i'm going to say kaede. he's always, always touching nao in some way, clinging to him, demanding attention. nao does the same at times, but it's still mostly kaede lbr

who is more likely to tease the other?

naoya. 100% naoya and you know exactly why. because he's a little bastard

who is better with time management?

i would say, naoya. if only because of his position as head of the hei and all the adulting he's gotta do in relation to that. kaede more or less does whatever he wants with his time, within reason, which is why he can be found at the zen'in estate so often unu

who wins the arm wrestling matches?

they don't have time for arm wrestling. any wrestling they do is going down in the sack, like let's be honest megu. if, if they had an arm wrestling match, it could go either way because both of them play dirty, and of course their prides would be wounded whoever loses

who controls the music in the car ride?

probably naoya, kaede doesn't care all that much. actually, i don't think either of them do. they'd be too busy making out behind the privacy window. what's their driver gonna do? tell somebody? no

who covers dinner when they order in?

naoya, and i think we talked about this. he does some spoiling, even when he doesn't know what to do or give, but he defaults to clothes and jewelry - expensive things, which kaede likes so it works. i mean, vacationing at some island resort for the weekend? naoya pays for that and that's gift enough on its own, since they get to spend time alone together in private and do whatever they want unu

who is more outgoing? who is more shy?

i wouldn't say either are specifically outgoing or shy, but abrasive and moody. because they are. they are that way, no matter what situation they're in and especially with each other

who has the more outlandish fashion sense?

neither of them really. i mean kaede dresses a little provocatively sometimes, but for the most part, he's wearing modified haori and hakama, so nothing really all that out there. and nao's always got on kimono, so again nothing crazy. the only thing nutty about nao's clothes is that sometimes he wears casual clothes and drives kaede wild

who starts the tickle fights? who ends them?

i'd say nao would start and end them, if ever, and he'd end them with bites that turn into something more where they can afford the time. i just don't see it ending any other way really ububu

who has the darker/more “edgy” sense of humor?

i'm once again saying nao--

who is more competitive when it comes to games?

they're both fairly competitive, so i can see them both trying to one-up each other literally every chance they get. they've been that way since they were kids, why should it be any different now omg sore losers and sore winners both let's be honest

who has the bigger appetite? the bigger sweet tooth?

kaede eats a lot, but usually through snacking throughout the day. he has his boba, and just nibbles on grapes, energy bars, the odd bowl of fish and rice, street foods, things like that. i fully believe nao eats. he can put some food away

who is more likely to get in a confrontation in public?

both of them wym skdjkfjhf no but, i think it depends on the circumstances. curses abound? yes, immediate i think. random dillholes being dicks? yeah, maybe, depending on how egregious the dickishness, but also i have to think of nao's reputation and how he has to maintain that in order to be clan head - i am not sure there, but i like to think a man throws down

who hosts the parties/hangouts? who organizes them?

naoya does, and kaede sneaks away with him while everyone is distracted- no but, i think they organize their time together in a more reciprocal, mutual sense. like they take turns, it doesn't really matter. they're both needy as hell. idiots to lovers here

who is better at cooking? do they ever cook for each other?

kaede can cook, but the real stars here are naoya's chefs and the restaurants they go to like ksjdhfsdf

who is more likely to engage in dangerous and/or illegal behavior?

dangerous behavior? both of them. entirely. illegail activities? depends on the activity, but not really for kaede. except he's paid for sex once so, prostitution...? in terms of sorcerer society, he disregards the rules 99% of the time

who is more likely to notice when something is wrong with the other?

they both notice but for different reasons and not always out of the kindness of their hearts. sometimes naoya's an ass about things, and sometimes kaede hits the 'foot in mouth' button and makes things worse himself. they just handle things poorly. for example: naoya cares that kaede was hurt in that one thread we had, and he shows it by being visibly upset about it in that very mean, dysfunctional sort of way, berating kaede who just kind of takes it. toxic way to deal with someone you love incurring horrible injuries, but in the end he carries him to bed and tends to the rest of his wounds, so it's clear he very much cares but is just an ass. yanno what i mean?

who does the talking in public settings (i.e. to the waiter at a restaurant)?

i'm going to say it's a 66-33% kinda deal, cos kaede doesn't really give a shit and naoya's so domineering, but then kaede has his moments where he can be much the same - it just kinda depends, but i'm willing to say naoya does most of the talking, maybe even orders for kaede sometimes, just talks over him sksk 'shut up honey, i got this'

who is more likely to extend a helping hand & provide emotional support?

i think, kaede is. he's much more sensitive and understanding than naoya is, but tbh he could rationalize himself into a death sentence so i'm not entirely sure he's healthy about it skjdfhf he loves naoya and can see when he's stressed or tired and needs some sort of comfort, and will go out of his way to give it. naoya will do the same as it suits him, and in a wholly dysfunctional way. honestly both of them but in different...like, ways

who is the bigger prankster? do they get the last laugh or do they suffer for it?

i wouldn't say they prank each other at all, but they would both be made to suffer ksjdfh they're just. not big jokesters with each other

[undressrehearsal]

a bite of luxury

summary: you decide to look for a sugar mommy and stumble across this strange girl that seems to have more to hide

tags: sugarmommy!ellie, rich!ellie, vampire!ellie (yep, we got it all) alcohol, reader is poor lmao, reader uses she/her and is referred to as a girl once or twice, no smut in this one sorry gotta establish the world first

word count: ~8k

a/n: it's been so long since i posted a fic lol working full time and trying to finish my book is killing my schedule BUT i hope y'all like this this was my fiancee's idea and i'm running with it i got a LOT of plans for this one - plans i think y'all are gonna love

also the drawing in the cover is made by @nramv seriously go check out their work they're so talented!!

if you wanna be added to my tag list just lmk!

You hadn’t been searching for a sugar mommy. 

Truthfully, when your best friend had sent you the link, you had dismissed it immediately. She had been joking about it for months, talking about how much easier it would be if you just found a nice older woman to take care of you. You hadn’t even opened the link - you only rolled your eyes, replied with a middle finger emoji, and left it at that. 

And yet things kept piling up. The stack of bills on your kitchen counter was growing to a concerning height, a mountain of unanswered responsibilities that was getting harder to ignore. Your landlord kept calling you - you no longer answered, just watched the phone ring until it finally stopped and ignored the increasingly angrier voicemails. Your apartment was an absolute disaster; you could never be bothered to clean it, because by the time you got home from working both of your jobs, you only had enough energy to eat a bowl of leftovers and promptly pass out in bed. 

The link kept popping up in your mind, each bill in your mailbox a gentle reminder. You found yourself scrolling all the way up the text chain to find it again during sleepless nights. So many times you would only stare at it, your thumb hovering over the blue letters, before you closed the chat and threw your phone down. 

It was stupid, of course. But as time went on, the idea of letting yourself get buried alive under a mountain of debt - of getting evicted from your apartment and having to crash on your friend’s couch - seemed all the more stupid. 

So, late on a Thursday night, after you had had another anxiety attack staring down at your bank account, you went back up the text chain, and you clicked the link. 

www.seeking.com

It didn't take long for the messages to start coming in. You should have been flattered, honestly - you had at least a handful of people in your messages practically begging you for the honor of paying your fucking rent - but you really just felt like you were playing a part that you hadn't even read the script for. You had curated your profile with all the things that made you appear more cultured than you actually were: going to museums and pondering over Baroque art and reading poetry over a pretentious cup of coffee. Sure, these were all things you had done - you had photo proof, after all - but somehow you didn't recognize yourself. It felt like you were looking at pictures of a stranger living a life you wanted but couldn't reach. 

Most people were fine - charming, even. You got maybe one or two that felt like they would lure you into their sex dungeon to murder you, but that was expected with any dating site. You even went on a few dates, scrounging up the nicest dress you owned and getting pampered at a five-star restaurant or going for a ride on an older woman’s personal yacht. One person even took you for a helicopter ride, which was fun but she was a little too handsy on the first date to warrant a second. 

One name kept popping up though, a name that was becoming far too familiar in your notifications. 

ellie: meet me at 8 <3 

When she first messaged you, you had thought she was like you: somebody searching for a partner to pay their bills. Her pictures didn't exactly scream sugar mommy material. Her first picture was just a normal selfie taken outside; she wore a worn out leather jacket, her short hair tangled from the wind and green eyes squinting in the sunlight. She had stupid pictures of mushrooms and candid shots of her browsing a science museum, looking far too excited in front of a t-rex skeleton. Hell, in most of her pictures she looked like she was wearing clothes she had found at a thrift store.

You had thought she was like you, until she sent you a picture inside her fucking Rolls-Royce. 

“Fuck,” you audibly cursed into the quiet of your room. You had been talking for a few days, and she had begun to do that - sending you small selfies throughout the day. In the last one, she had taken a picture in front of the mirror at the gym, flicking off the camera, her lean muscles glistening with sweat. Before that, it had been a blurry picture of her dog, Riley - a huge German Shephard - splayed on her back at a park, leaves stuck in her fur. 

So, yeah, when you found out Ellie was not only rich, but rich enough to casually have a Royce, you were more than a little surprised. 

The selfie was cute, you couldn’t deny that. Her hair was wind-swept, catching in those long ass eyelashes. Ellie’s nose was scrunched up, freckles popping against her cheeks, holding up a peace sign. 

She was fucking adorable and you already knew it. But seeing her worn out leather jacket and messy hair against black and white leather seats that looked like they, alone, cost more than your entire apartment complex combined - it was a little jarring. 

And when she asked you out on a date soon after - after finding out she wasn’t Iike you but rather searching for someone like you - how could you say no? 

Ellie offered to pick you up - like a gentleman, she had said - but frankly, you weren’t quite convinced yet that she wasn’t some blood-thirsty pervert trying to lure you into her dungeon, so you politely declined. Instead, in your nicest dress and heels you hardly wore because they pinched your toes, you called an Uber. 

You had never been to this side of town. You had plugged in the address Ellie gave you - had double and triple checked it while your awkwardly chatty Uber driver tried asking you about what you do for a living - but the streets here were so unfamiliar you may as well have been in another city. You looked at the foreign buildings rising up around you, large windows giving you a glimpse of the life inside them. People were sitting outside in the chilly air, laughing over wine and dinner. Looking at them - with perfectly sculpted hair and clothes you would have to spend several entire paychecks on - you felt like a cheap impersonator dressed up in a costume. 

The Uber pulled up in front of a hotel, and your heart stopped. Surely, this wasn’t where Ellie had sent you - leading you to some fucking hotel room when you hadn’t even met yet? 

You turned to the driver, your home address at the edge of your tongue, when the car door opened. 

You had practically been leaning against the door to peer out the window, and nearly lost your balance when it was suddenly gone without warning. You looked up, ready to yell at whatever pretentious prick in Prada was trying to fuck with you - but your voice died in your throat. 

Ellie was shorter than you thought she'd be, honestly. In all her pictures, she had this commanding energy, like she would tower over you in person. 

Which, to be fair, she was. She had her arm propped on the doorframe above your head, leaning over so she could meet your eyes. Her hair was pushed back from her face, a few stray strands falling over her forehead, and she was looking at you with an intensity that hadn't quite translated through her pictures.

Ellie smiled - that adorably crooked smile you had seen in all her selfies - and said, “Hi.” 

And the only word you were able to get your mouth to form was, “Fuck.” 

Ellie blinked at you for a moment - long enough that you could feel the flush creeping up your neck and were ready to walk home if you had to - before she finally laughed. That wasn’t like what you had expected either; she had this deep, rough laugh, almost like she was trying to hold it in. 

She looked up at you through her lashes - you tried to ignore the way your heart inexplicably skipped - and said, “I’ll take that as a compliment?” Her voice tilted up at the end like it was a question. Ellie ducked her head down further, looking past you to meet the driver’s eyes, and pulled cash from her back pocket. With her most charming smile, she handed it to the driver and said, “Thanks for getting her here safe.” 

You didn’t see how much money she gave him, but after she took your hand and guided you out of the car, you turned back just in time to see his grin before he sped off. 

“Thanks for coming out.” You looked back at Ellie and found yourself speechless once again. (You, thankfully, were able to hold in the expletive this time.) The worn out jacket that had featured in just about all of her pictures was missing, replaced instead by a pristine, white satin shirt, the top few buttons undone to expose a sliver of collarbone and a gold chain beneath. Despite the chill in the air, she had a classy black jacket hanging from her arm as though it were an accessory. Ellie smiled and looked down, licking her lips before saying, “You’re quite the sight for sore eyes.”

You tried to smile at her but found that your eyes kept flitting behind her, looking at the looming monstrosity of the hotel. It was a nice hotel - the kind that had a huge fountain right in front of it and a chandelier in the lobby that sparkled through the window - but it was a hotel nonetheless. Despite the set in your jaw, traitorous tears stung the corners of your eyes; you wanted to kick yourself for actually thinking that Ellie might be different. 

Ellie followed your gaze over her shoulder, her smile dropping, before she quickly turned back to you with panic in her eyes. She stumbled over her words as though her tongue weren’t cooperating: “Shit, I’m sorry, this looks really bad doesn't it?” She grimaced and squeezed your hand she was still holding, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head with the other. “Fuck, this isn’t the first impression I wanted. I could promise it's not what it looks like, but maybe it'd be better if I just showed you?”

You honestly did think about telling her to fuck off. She was a complete fucking stranger that you only really knew from a dating app, and she was trying to lure you into a hotel in a part of town you were unfamiliar with - really, only an idiot would follow her. 

But she was looking at you with wide green eyes, the lights around you shining back like stars. While searching for the constellations, you found yourself saying, “Okay.” You blinked, pulled from a trance, and added, “But you should know, I do have a taser in my bag.” 

That pulled a shocked laugh from Ellie’s lips. She gently tugged on your hand, pulling you towards the door, and said, “Smart girl.” 

You knew that the hotel was outside of your price range because a perfectly groomed doorman opened the door for you, waving you inside with a gloved hand. You didn’t take much time to process the interior - the chandelier was just as grand as it had seemed from outside and elaborate columns rose to the ceiling - because Elllie was pulling you towards the elevators. It was like she wanted to ignore the fact that she had brought you to a hotel at all. You couldn’t decide if that was reassuring. 

In the empty elevator, you gently drew your hand back and leaned against the wall opposite her. You tried to ignore looking at the way her pinstripe slacks hugged the curves of her thighs, the fabric straining when she propped one booted foot on the wall behind her. 

“So,” you started in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, “if you’re not leading me into a seedy hotel room on the first date, then what are we doing?” 

“Okay, one,” Ellie said, chuckling, “this is anything but a seedy hotel. And two, what kind of a date would it be if I ruined the surprise?” 

“And what if I don’t like surprises?” you countered. 

Ellie grinned. “I think you’ll like this one.” 

When the elevator doors opened, Ellie held her hand out to you as though it were a question. You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand back in hers and letting her lead you out into open air. 

You nearly choked on a gasp. 

The bar itself was beautiful - fairy lights stretched above your head, twinkling like stars and casting the rooftop in a warm glow. Wooden tables and plush couches were spread artfully around the space, far enough apart to provide the patrons scattered about with some privacy. 

The bar was beautiful - but the view was fucking breathtaking. 

The city stretched out beyond the railings, open in a way you had never seen before. The skyline rose around you, each building shining like its own little galaxy amidst a sea of stars. The city lights blocked out the actual stars - a fact that never failed to piss you off - but you could see the crescent of the moon rising over the city, casting a quiet glow like a veil. 

You looked back at Ellie, and whatever your face held made her grin. She leaned in just enough so that her murmur was for your ears only: “So, was I right?” 

You blinked, momentarily distracted by her proximity - she smelled intoxicating, spicy and warm with a hint of tobacco beneath - before you finally said, “What?” 

Ellie snorted, breaking whatever spell she had put you under. “The surprise,” she said, leaning away enough for your head to clear. “Was I right?” 

You bit the inside of your cheek, pursing your lips as though you had to think about it. You couldn’t take your eyes away from the skyline stretched before you. 

You finally said, “That depends on how good the drinks are.” 

When Ellie laughed, her eyes crinkled in the corners, her nose scrunching. It was a full, rich sound, hanging in the air above your head like helium. It made something in your chest tighten, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. 

She squeezed your hand, a twinkle in her eye, and said, “The old-fashioned's to die for.” 

You pursed your lips again to hide your smile.

Ellie didn’t bother checking in with the host, simply shot her a smile and a wave as you walked by - you tried to bite back a giggle when you saw the host’s face turn red, her eyes tracking Ellie as she led you to a table right along the edge of the railing. She pulled the chair out for you - “Such a gentleman,” you laughed - before taking the seat opposite you.

As she waved over a waiter, you took a moment to lean your head over the railing. It was made entirely of glass, giving you a clear view of the city below. You could hear the distant sound of traffic, cars racing below you like shiny beetles, but it was like it was coming from a different world altogether. Everything seemed impossibly, wonderfully small from up here. 

You looked up at the sound of your name to find a groomed waiter wearing a fucking waistcoat standing before you. Ellie was looking at you with laughter in her eyes, her lips twitching. 

“Shit, sorry,” you said, immediately flinching at your own curse. You suddenly couldn’t remember the proper etiquette in a fancy bar, feeling out of place and underdressed even in your nicest outfit. You looked between Ellie and the waiter, wracking your brain for any kind of drink that wasn’t a trashy cocktail you’d find at a dive bar. 

Seeing you floundering, Ellie gave you a reassuring smile and said, “Do you like wine?” 

Relief washed over you as you nodded. Turning back to the waiter, Ellie ordered something that you couldn’t even hope to pronounce, charm lifting the corner of her mouth. She spoke to the waiter with the steady ease of familiarity, laughing at some inside joke; you briefly wondered just how often Ellie came to this bar. Surely, a nice place like this - at the very precipice of the world, looking down at the stars - wouldn’t be a regular stop on anyone’s schedule, but Ellie and the staff spoke like old friends. 

When the waiter left, tussling Ellie’s hair playfully, she turned back to you and the awkwardness of a first date finally set in. Sure, you had been texting Ellie every day for a week now, but you still hardly knew the girl. You knew she liked mushrooms and hiking. You knew that most of her clothes were from the thrift store even though she could afford any designer brand she wanted. You knew her favorite video game was Dishonored. But nothing you knew was enough for a relationship. 

But you weren't exactly looking for love, were you? 

After a moment of silence, Ellie cleared her throat, looking out over the city. “It's nice out here.” 

You snorted before you could stop yourself, covering your mouth; it didn't cover the laughter in your eyes. You said, “You're really talking to me about the weather?”

Ellie opened her mouth, an indignant sparkle to her eye, before shutting it again. It was like she was malfunctioning, opening and closing her mouth yet no sound came out. She furrowed her brows, looking at you as though you were something new and interesting, before finally chuckling, looking away. “Yeah, I-I guess I am.” When she looked back up at you, her eyes were surprisingly sheepish. “Not making a great first impression, am I?”

You couldn't stop the smile that crept up to your eyes. You leaned closer, propping your chin in your hand, and said, “I think you're doing okay so far.” 

Ellie laughed that wondrous laugh again, her nose scrunching up, and the cord in your shoulders loosened. 

“Okay,” she sighed, her eyes still alight with residual laughter. “Okay, damn. Tell me about yourself.” 

“Well now this just sounds like a job interview.” 

Ellie threw her hands up in mock frustration, trying to stifle her own grin. “Okay, fuck, knock me down again! You're obviously an expert, so show me how it's done.” 

She leaned back and crossed her arms, looking at you expectantly, and it was the perfect moment for your drinks to arrive. Ellie did, in fact, order an old-fashioned. The waiter set two wine glasses on the table, producing a bottle seemingly from thin air. He held it out, explaining to you in rehearsed prose the year, acidity, and complexity in words that passed straight through you. You nodded along even as you didn't process a single word he said. 

When he left, you turned back to Ellie and said, “How did you find this place?” 

Ellie took a sip of her drink. The lights of the city danced in the amber glass. “Just an old haunt of mine, I guess.” 

You took a sip of the wine, taking the distraction. It was warm on your tongue, tasting of wood and fruit and something spicy just underneath. The wine you usually drank was the stuff you could find in your nearest grocery store, often tasting concerningly like bug spray and bought with whatever tips you had managed to scrape together from work. It was usually shared with a friend on your kitchen floor, the walls and thoughts spinning over your head. 

You much preferred wine like this: The taste of warmth and fire on your tongue, the cool air brushing your shoulders at the edge of the sky, and a beautiful person sitting across from you.

When Ellie lowered her glass, you could see amber droplets of whiskey clinging to her lips before her tongue darted out to catch them. You tore your eyes away, but her smile said that she had caught you staring. A chill ran up your spine that you were sure was just from the cold. 

Seeing you shiver, Ellie wordless reached behind her where she had tossed her jacket over the back of her chair. Standing, she rounded the table only for a moment, only long enough to place the coat over your shoulders. Her hands lingered there for a second too long before she retreated, sliding back into her seat as though she had never moved. 

“So, why are you here?” she finally said. 

You pulled the jacket around your shoulders, distracted by the smell of it. The same smell that must be her perfume clung to it, spiced and warm like an open fire, but something else clung to the fabric too. It was strangely metallic, sharp and intoxicating, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was shockingly warm against your skin. 

“I’m here,” you said, raising a brow and ignoring her real question, “because you sent me this address and told me to meet you here at eight wearing my nicest dress.” 

The corner of Ellie’s lips quirked, a grin she was trying to hide. She clasped her hands, leaning across the table so you could smell the whiskey on her breath. “And you agreed to meet a stranger at a seedy hotel,” she murmured, mocking your remark from earlier. Her grin revealed itself when your cheeks flushed. “But why are you here - what are you seeking?” 

You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s kind of a dumb question, don’t you think? It’s pretty obvious why I’m on the app.” You cocked your head, leaning across the table, feeling a strange thrill when her eyes flashed. Your heart fluttered at the proximity, and you couldn’t remember when you had become so easily starstruck. “The real question, Ellie, is why are you?“ 

Ellie’s eyes darkened, and you weren’t sure if you just imagined her eyes flicking down to your lips. She looked back up at you through her lashes, her voice rough when she said, “That’s a third date kind of question.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “What makes you so sure you’ll get a third date?” 

Ellie tilted her head, a slow smile pulling at her lips, and said, “Call it a hunch.” 

The waiter came to check on you, appearing at your shoulder like a ghost. You hastily retreated, leaning back in your chair as though the electricity in the air had shocked you, and took a sip of wine that was more than a little overzealous. You tried to choke it down as Ellie waved the waiter away with that heartstopping crooked smile. What happened to you? Since when were you so easily charmed by freckles, green eyes, and smart-ass comments? You couldn't remember the last time you had been so infatuated during a normal date, let alone one with these kinds of strings attached. 

“So you don't want to be in an interview,” Ellie said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I guess all my typical getting to know you conversations are out of the question.” 

“I didn't say that,” you countered, your throat still burning from your accidental wine waterboarding. “But come on - what girl are you going to impress by asking her questions like ‘Tell me about yourself,’ or ‘Why are you here?’ or ‘Why are you more qualified for this position?’”

“Okay, okay, goddamn,” she said, laughing. Grabbing the wine bottle, she looked at you for permission before pouring you another glass.

You brought the glass up to your lips, taking a sip to hide your smile. The flush in your cheeks was surely from the wine and nothing else. “What about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“I hardly know you.” On one hand, that felt entirely untrue - but especially after this recent discovery, you really knew nothing about this girl. “Tell me about you.” 

Ellie laughed that same rough laugh and your heart jumped. “Oh, so you're allowed to be the interviewer.” 

You nodded, twirling the glass between your fingers and looking at her expectantly. 

After a moment, Ellie rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair, but you could see the humor in her eyes. She downed the last of her old-fashioned and, like a good sport, said, “What do you want to know?”

Turns out, there was a lot to know - more than a simple dating app would tell you. Ellie had an older sister, Sarah, who lived in Dallas. Her dog was named after her childhood best friend. Her jacket wasn't thrifted after all, but had been her dad's. Speaking of which, she used to go hunting with him every season (“I haven't been in years, though,” she said, her eyes distant). On the weekends, she'd go to antique stores to look for art and trinkets to fill her house - her favorite antiques were from the 17th century. She hated horror movies and was a sucker for a good romance. 

In return, you caved and answered her pressing questions. You told her about your best friend - Ellie laughed when you told her that your friend had sent you the link to the app in the first place. You told her about your favorite show that you binge-watched whenever you felt like you were spiraling. You did not tell her about your apartment that was probably the size of her closet or the fact that you'd have to watch your budget after taking the Uber tonight, not to mention the extra $30 Uber to get home later. You did tell her about your family, and a strange, unexplained sadness crept into the creases around her mouth. You did tell her about your job, but didn't mention the second one you worked to afford groceries. You told her you were hoping for a real, human connection, yet didn't mention that you couldn’t imagine finding it in a fucking sugar mommy. 

All too soon, the wine bottle was empty and your chest was comfortingly warm. The lights strung across the bar danced above your head like fuzzy stars, and Ellie's smile was the brightest amongst them. Her glass was still empty, her wine glass dry, and yet her eyes told you she was intoxicated by something far stronger. 

“Sorry,” you said, giggling despite yourself. “I didn't mean to drink it all.” 

“Don't worry about it, darling,” she said, her voice silky smooth, reminding you of melted chocolate sliding down your throat. She tilted her glass, letting the remnants of melting ice clink against the side. “I wanted to make sure I could drive home okay.” 

The waiter arrived then, pulling the bill from his pocket and handing it to Ellie. You couldn't read the number upside down, not through the haze of the wine, but the number of digits made your stomach clench. Ellie dropped a black card into the folder and handed it back to the waiter. 

“How much do you want me to Venmo you?” you asked when she turned back to you. You clenched your hands in the hem of your dress, already calculating the extra shift you'd have to pick up to afford it. 

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed. “Nothing,” she said, as though it were obvious. 

“That wasn't exactly a cheap bottle, Ellie,” you laughed. “Let me give you something.” 

Ellie hummed, propping her chin in her hand and looking at you with those same intense eyes; it sent a dangerous shiver down your spine. “I like when you say my name.”

You blinked at her. “Excuse me.” 

“I want to hear it again. That's how you can repay me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ellie, I-” 

“Okay, now we're even,” she interrupted, smiling that crooked grin that you had started to crave. The waiter returned with her card and Ellie produced cash from her pocket, handing it to the waiter directly. He thanked her profusely before making his exit, grinning. When Ellie looked at you again, you were still watching her expectantly, dumbfounded. She finally rolled her eyes. “Seriously, what kind of date would I be if I made you pay?”

“You're not making me, I'm offering.” 

“And I'm saying no.” Ellie stood, straightening her shirt; when she tugged at it, the collar fell a bit, exposing sharp collarbones beneath. 

Rounding the table, she offered a hand to you, pulling you gently to your feet. You pulled her jacket tighter around yourself, knowing you needed to give it back yet unwilling to part with it just yet. 

Taking your arm, Ellie leaned in close enough that your breath caught in your throat and said, “I know why I found you on Seeking, okay? So, if it's alright with you, let me spoil you. Even if that just means one bottle of wine.” 

You laughed, but it sounded breathy even to your own ringing ears. “One very expensive bottle of wine.”

Ellie shrugged, a sparkle in her eye. “It's a small price to pay for your company.”

You were silent in the elevator, but you held on to her arm as though afraid to let go. You couldn't figure out why, but something in you urgently wanted nothing more than to be close to her. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt such a pull from somebody. 

Back on the street, the lights of the city seemed so much brighter than they had before. Ellie released your arm, turning to face you, and there was a strange pinch between her brows that you couldn't translate. 

“Do you want me to call you an Uber, or do you want me to take you home?” she asked, and your brain short-circuited. When you could do nothing but stammer, tripping over your own tongue, Ellie laughed. There was no mockery behind it, only quiet, bright amusement. “I meant I can drive you to your apartment so you don't have to drunkenly sit in an awkward Uber that smells sickeningly sweet and the driver tries to make mind-numbing small talk.” 

Your sigh of relief came out more like a laugh. 

Ellie tilted her head and stepped closer to you, her hand reaching out to graze your fingers, and that sigh was sucked right back into your lungs. Being so close to her made your head spin. Her breath fanned against your cheeks, smelling of warm whiskey, when she said, “Unless you want to come to my place?”

It had the uncertain tilt of a question, and Ellie wouldn't quite meet your eyes. 

“We don't have to do anything,” she continued in a rush. She scratched anxiously at the back of her head, a nervous laugh slipping between her lips. “We can just sit and talk more. Or watch a movie - my dad had this huge collection. I'm not gonna - You know, I'm not going to do anything you don't want.” She finally interrupted herself with a groan, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Fuck, sorry, I wanted it to sound more suave than this.” 

And you would be a fucking idiot to go home with this impossible stranger. You had been taught better - never get into a stranger's car, and for the love of God, never let them take you to a second location. You could let her take you back to your apartment at least - you were admittedly incredibly tipsy and didn't particularly want to endure another ride with an annoyingly talkative Uber driver. You could go home, back to your claustrophobic, quiet apartment, and maybe - maybe - text  Ellie about setting up a second date. 

You were not stupid enough to go home with somebody on the first date. 

Except clearly you were, because you took the hand that was still grazing your fingers and looked up at Ellie - the contours of her face were shockingly etched with insecurity. And your dumb mouth said, of its own volition, “Okay.”

You had expected something flashy, like what a wealthy person would own in a movie - like a penthouse overlooking the city with too-white walls and electric guitars hanging, unused, on the walls. Maybe she had walls completely made of windows so it felt like you were on a pedestal overlooking the world. 

You hadn't expected a house that was older than your great-grandparents. 

When Ellie pulled into the driveway, you were sure she was just pulling in someplace to turn around, that she had missed her turn somewhere. But she put her stupidly-expensive car into park and killed the engine, shooting you an awkward glance. 

“Sorry,” she said, chuckling. “I know it’s not much.” 

You could only look at her incredulously, speechless, before looking back up at the house before you. You couldn’t even call it a house really - estate would be more fitting. Maybe mansion. Fuck, her house was the size of your apartment complex. It towered over you, three stories of intricate woodwork, warm brown beams wrapping around the structure like an elaborate skeleton. With beautiful eaves winding around the roof and an entire turret reaching for the moon, it looked like something that had stepped right out of some 1800s southern gothic novel. 

Ellie cleared her throat, startling you from a trance. You looked back at her and, for some reason, couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.

”Shit, sorry,” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “I just - I’ve just never seen anything like it.” When Ellie’s eyes clouded over with uncertainty, you added softly, “It’s beautiful. Besides, Ellie,” you added, laughing again, “‘not much’ doesn’t really suit you.” 

Ellie opened and closed her mouth and yet no words came out. She was looking at you again as though you were something interesting - something new and exciting. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before, and the way your heart clenched at the sight was more than a little dangerous. 

Ellie finally smiled, huffing out a laugh - your heart was pretty satisfied with how often you were able to make her laugh - and said, “Do you still want to come inside?” 

And, surprisingly, you said, “Yeah, I do.” 

As Ellie got out, rounding the car to open your door for you, you discreetly checked that the taser was still in your bag. Sure, you had agreed to go home with a practical stranger, but you couldn't be too careful. 

The porch steps creaked as she led you to the door - double doors (of course), with stained glass and twisting vines carved into the wood. When Ellie opened them, it felt like you were transported to a different time on an entirely different world. 

The grand staircase caught your eye first - how could it not? Warm wooden steps covered in a blood red runner, a white banister winding up, those same vines that seemed to be the house’s signature carved into it. You could see a large, stained-glass window at the landing before it curved to disappear to the second floor. Moonlight splintered through the window in broken relief. 

As though in a trance, you wandered further into the house, walking to the fireplace situated right beneath the stairs. The wood stacked neatly inside was cold, untouched by a flame. There was a large mirror set atop the mantle, its gold frame a work of art alone. In the reflection, you could see the flush to your cheeks, and tried to convince yourself it was only from the cold. You still wore Ellie’s jacket, and you pulled it tight around your shoulders, as though it were a shield. 

You watched Ellie’s reflection as she walked slowly towards you, a small smile gracing her lips. She came close enough to touch - close enough that you could feel her cool breath against the back of your neck - and yet she didn’t put a hand on you. 

“There’s a lot more to see than the foyer,” she murmured, the words brushing your skin. “If you still want.” 

And you couldn’t stop your own smile as you turned back to her, your heart skipping at her proximity. “Show me.” 

She took your hand, her fingers shockingly cold, and led you into what must have been her living room - sitting room? Despite the fact that the house felt more like a museum - like you would get scolded for touching anything - the room was surprisingly cozy. A large, plush sectional was situated in front of another fireplace- this one also unblemished. Blankets and quilts were thrown over the couch and the accompanying chairs, leaving this time capsule looking strangely welcoming. 

“Okay, I have to ask,” you said, turning back to Ellie. She was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction with soft eyes, and you lost your train of thought. You opened your mouth but no sound came out; you weren’t sure if that was more or less embarrassing than the several curses you had said earlier in the night. 

Ellie hummed, raising her hand as though she wanted to touch you. She stopped only inches away from your cheek and dropped her hand, saying, “I’m an open book.” 

You had to turn away to collect your thoughts, wandering across the room if just to catch your breath. The opposite wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. You ran your fingers along the spines of vintage classics, an array of science books, and comics, enjoying the irony of seeing Savage Starlight in the middle of all this history. You picked up a copy to keep your hands busy. 

“How, um,” you started, stumbling over your words, “how did you end up here?” 

Ellie hummed again, and you heard her footsteps following you. “Here as in this town, this country, this world? You gotta be a little more specific.” 

You sighed, giving in and turning to look at her. She kept a careful distance, standing a few feet away from you with her hands in her pockets. “You know what I mean, smartass.”

Ellie chuckled, but her eyes had grown distant, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. She took a few more steps closer to you, looking at the comic book in your hands. On the app, she hadn’t struck you as the type to get easily bashful, and yet she had proven you wrong a few times already. 

“My family lived here,” she finally said, quiet as a secret. You watched her carefully, jumping at the opportunity to stare at her without those intense eyes looking back at you. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together as though she was in pain, her green eyes shining. “It was just… passed down, I guess? It’s kind of always been here ever since I can remember. I’m not entirely sure when it became mine.” 

You tucked the comic book back into its spot between The Iliad and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You said absently, “How old is this place anyway?”

”It was built in 1816,” she said automatically, as though it were memorized. 

“It’s an awfully big house for just one person.” You looked up at her through your lashes as she stepped closer - close enough that you could smell that same metallic warmth that seemed to cling to her. 

“It is,” Ellie murmured, smiling. She reached out again, and this time she allowed herself to touch you. Her cold fingers brushed against your cheek before she gently cupped your jaw, tilting your head so you’d look at her properly. Her green eyes were downright intimidating. “But I keep good company.” 

You rolled your eyes, yet you couldn’t convince yourself to look away. “Is that what you say to all the girls?” 

Ellie hummed, bracing her other hand on the bookshelf behind your head, and murmured, “No, I don’t.” She pressed in closer, her gaze dropping to your mouth, and you felt like your heart was going to leap from your throat. Ellie huffed out a laugh as though she could hear it pounding against your chest. When her thumb brushed your bottom lip, your lips parted on instinct. She didn’t look away, transfixed on the point where her skin touched your mouth, and you almost didn’t hear her when she said, “Can I?” 

And you had never been the kind of person to kiss on the first date, but she was looking at you with eyes hooded with want, her breath fanning against your cheeks. When she licked her lips, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the motion. Her lips glistened, parted and plump, looking so impossibly soft. Somehow, past your haze, you heard yourself say, “Yes.” 

Ellie took her time in kissing you. She pressed you back gently, your shoulders pressing into the bookshelf behind you, and touched her nose to yours. She took a deep breath, breathing you in. Her hand was soft against your cheek, tilting your jaw up, and you hardly had to move to finally kiss her. 

Ellie tasted just like she smelled - spicy and metallic, the old-fashioned still hanging on her tongue. Despite the cold of her hand on your cheek, her mouth was impossibly warm, her breath slipping between your lips; it was intoxicating in a way that the wine couldn’t compare to. Her mouth moved against yours, soft and slow as a dance. 

Your hands reached out as though of their own accord, circling her waist and gripping at the slippery silk of her shirt. She pressed in close, crowding you against the bookshelf; you could feel her chest pressing against you, her hips on yours, the line of her body against yours making your head spin. And when Ellie’s tongue pressed against your lips, a gentle request for access, you felt like you’d faint altogether. 

Her tongue slipped between your teeth and you couldn’t stop the breathy sound it pulled from your throat. You could feel that infuriating smile against your lips and suddenly wanted nothing more than to wipe it away. You balled her ridiculously expensive shirt in your hands and pulled her impossibly closer, nipping at her bottom lip, and you wanted to swallow her gasp. 

Ellie pulled away, chuckling, but she didn’t go far. She pressed a kiss to your cheek, her lips trailing down to your jaw, and she could probably feel your pulse jump beneath her tongue. You could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Do you do this often?” 

Her teeth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, and it took you a few moments before you could respond. “Do what?” Despite yourself - despite the way your fingers gripped her shirt, your head swimming and an unexplainable want burning in your veins - you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go on a date with somebody I met on an app for sugar babies and go back to their ridiculously old mansion on the first date and-“ 

You cut yourself off. You weren’t sure exactly what was happening, and you were afraid that voicing it would break whatever spell you were under - whatever spell made this impossible woman’s touch feel like lightning. 

But Ellie only laughed, biting at the spot where your neck met your shoulder. “Yeah, that.” 

You shivered against her touch. “No, I’ve never really done this.” 

“Guess I’m just lucky.” 

Ellie kissed you again, only briefly, before she finally pulled away. She was grinning, her eyes sparkling with those same constellations; her face wasn’t even flushed, making you feel embarrassed about your burning cheeks. You were panting, intoxicated from the night and wine and Ellie. Her absence felt like an ache, your body craving the feeling of her lips, her teeth, her hands. You were close to tugging her back in, your hands still gripping her shirt, but she gently untangled herself from you with a laugh. 

“I want to keep going.” She paused, and then emphasized, “I really want to keep going. But you drank an entire bottle of wine, and I’d be kind of a shitty host if I didn’t offer you something to drink at least. Or are you hungry?” 

You were hungry, but it was the kind of hunger that food wouldn’t satiate. Still, you let your hands drop back to your sides, feeling your senses return to you now that they weren’t so tuned into Ellie - how she smelled, tasted, felt. When you laughed, it sounded breathy even to your own ears. “Some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that,” she said with a smile. “Stay here.” She kissed you again, lingering for a few moments longer than needed, before she turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in this ridiculously old mansion. 

With nothing else to keep yourself entertained, you did a slow lap around the room, eyeing the ironic blend of elegant antiques and silly trinkets that were so obviously Ellie. A cracked ivory trinket box sat on a shelf, intricate flowers engraved into the lid, set right next to a small figurine of an astronaut. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, signatures dating back to 1830 in elaborate script at the bottom, but there were also a few posters littered here and there - bands and video games. 

You walked over to the mantle, your fingers grazing over the marble top. The logs inside were untouched, and you briefly wondered if she’d light a fire soon to chase out the chill of autumn. A small jar filled with guitar picks sat at the corner, and you wondered if she really did have an electric guitar collection hidden around here somewhere. Your foot kicked an empty dog bowl, and yet Riley was nowhere to be found. Maybe Ellie took her to daycare when she knew she’d bring a girl home. You nearly laughed at the idea. 

Atop the mantle, hidden behind pictures of what must have been friends or family - hiking or traveling or laughing in somebody’s backyard - there was another picture frame. It must have fallen, face down so that the picture inside was covered. You reached out, careful to not disturb any of the other frames, and picked it up. You were just going to fix it, set it up next to the others, but something in the image caught your eye. You plucked it from its home, bringing it closer, holding it up to the light to get a better look. For a long time, you couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. Your heart hammered against your chest, your ears ringing, as though your body had figured it out before your brain did. 

It was an old photograph, grainy and sepia, faded and frayed around the edges with age. It was the house, looking just like it did today - the huge windows shining in the sunlight, the intricate eaves and wrap-around porch perfectly polished and new. A family stood on the lawn in front of the house, looking awkward and stiff. Back then, cameras took several minutes to actually capture a photo, so people tended to look a little awkward from trying to hold the same expression for so long. But that’s not what had caught your eye. 

It was a small family - a weary looking dad and his two daughters, looking just a few years younger than you. 

She looked a little different. Her hair was longer, falling in waves around her shoulders. She was definitely a few years younger, and she wore a sweet, full-length gown instead of a worn leather jacket. 

You checked the date in the bottom corner at least five times, but there was no mistaking it. The person in the photo was undeniably Ellie, standing in front of this house in 1816. 

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @peejayurple @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight @hobbybound

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

Masterlist

Part 1:

You've known Coriolanus Snow and his family ever since you were a little girl. When the war started, you were about 5, and Crassus, Coriolanus' father, helped you, your mother, and your brother get smuggled into the Capitol as a favor to your father, a Colonel who served under him in District 12 while he was a General; the Commander.

Sadly your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, didn't survive the war. Tragically, Coriolanus' mother died during the first bombing strike on Capitol City. She died in the birthing bed, weeks before she was due, because the bombing had triggered off her labor. Coriolanus' little sister died too. Was stillborn.

But since your families knew one another and lived in the same building they huddled together during the war. Your mother wasn't too thrilled about having to receive help from Grandma’am Snow and a seedy neighbor that owned a nightclub, but she dealt with it in order to survive and protect her children: you and your older brother.

General Crassus Snow barely made it out of the war alive. He was nearly killed in the woods outside of 12. But, alas, he survived and returned home to Capitol City, Panem a war hero. He also came back with a heavily lined pocket although District 13 was destroyed and that's where all of his assets, factories, and science labs were located.

Your mother told you and your brother that Crassus was a cold, cunning, calculating man and that she's positive that he somehow brokered a deal to get paid for the loss of his assets.

What nobody knows, except for the higher powers that be of course, is that Crassus still has his factories and labs in District 13. They're nuclear weapons factories and, since 13 went underground as an independent nation via a hush hush backroom midnight deal between the leader of 13 and Panem's President Ravenstill, a deal that went into effect before the Districts surrender and the signing of the Treaty of Treason. Crassus is a black market arms dealer. He sells his nucs to neighboring countries. Countries that include Canada (yes, they never changed their name after the wars and natural disasters that drastically changed the geography of the world) and a small coalition of old world Eastern European countries that survived the rising sea levels that had eradicated some island countries and shoreline countries of old world Europe.

Crassus Snow takes a lot of out of town business trips to broker illegal arms deals between the underground District 13 and the countries that he's constructed alliances with. General Crassus Snow had no loyalties to Panem any more; his only loyalties were to himself and his family. He also had a sliver of a sense of honor when it came to his old comrade’s family and felt the need to watch over your family: the Halvir family.

But after being shot by rebels, left for dead in the woods, and barely being able to survive long enough to trek back to the PK Base D-12’s hospital, General Crassus Snow truly lost faith in the country that he was supposed to serve proudly. But did he ever truly have faith in Panem as a country since he was in the woods, sneaking like a thief in the night, to get to District 13 to check his assets and his alliances there?

Snow lands on top; Crassus was playing both sides of the war to ensure that his family came out winners. And then when his contacts in District 13 told him of the deal between the President and the Commander of 13, well…General Snow's career as an arms dealer was born.

It paid well and kept the Snow family living high off the hog. Crassus also supported your family with his endless money, much to your mother's dismay.

Your mother couldn't stand Crassus, out on a polite face for Grandma'am Snow, felt sorry for Tigris, and cringed with how you and Coriolanus were the best of friends.

And you remained best friends with Coriolanus Snow as the two of you grew up side by side. You always viewed the friendship as platonic, but a teenaged Coriolanus viewed it as more. He developed a crush on you that quickly turned into a dark, possessive obsession.

But Coriolanus was certain that what he felt for you was love.

And when it came to his father, who he was the spitting image of with the same tall, sinewy build, platinum blonde curls, striking icy blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and prominent nose, well…Crassus Snow had an obsession with you as well. But his obsession was rooted in a darker place than his son's.

The esteemed war here General Crassus Snow has a sick obsession with you because you favor your mother. And, well, when Crassus was a young grunt in 12, serving in the Peacekeepers under his father Xanthos who was the Commander of 12 at that time, he fell for your mother, but she didn't reciprocate his feelings. Instead she fell in love with his friend, Javanis Halvir. Thus the reason you and your older brother were born to Colonel Halvir and Mrs. Halvir.

Feeling jilted and betrayed by the object of his affection and obsession not loving him back, Crassus became a cold, cruel, cold, calculating, and cunning man. He put on his charming smile and wooed a young, pretty, naive girl from Capitol City. Demeter: Coriolanus’ mother.

But he never got over your mother, despite her hating him as the years went on. So you looking just like her once you hit your teenage years has Crassus falling down the rabbit hole into dark obsessive head spaces.

So, unknown to you, your platonic relationships with the men in the Snow family are anything, but that in their eyes. And they don't even know that the other has an obsession with you.

You know what they say…like father, like son.

It's mid-May of your senior year at the Academy and you're so ready for the school year to end. You can't wait for graduation and for summer break. You also can't wait for the opportunity to spend your summer break hanging out with your best friend, Coryo.

Coriolanus Snow.

But you call him Coryo. Always have, always will.

But in the meantime you spend your weekends at the Snow penthouse; you also go home with him after school a couple of days during the week- much to your mother's dismay.

And this afternoon’s one of those days where you go home with Coryo after school.

“You're staying for dinner tonight, darling. The cook’s making your absolute favorite and I'd hate for you to miss out on it.” Coryo told you on the elevator ride up to the 12th floor of your Corso building.

The elevator had been broken for a few years, but after General Snow slapped some money at the apartment building association maintenance fixed the elevator and Grandma'am Snow was able to leave the penthouse and go out into the world with the help of a can instead of being kept locked up inside like a recluse.

“I hope you didn't ask the cook to make my favorite meal just to get me to stay for dinner.”

“Of course not. They plan the menu, not me.” Coryo tells you, a lopsided lipped smile on his face.

What neither of you knew was that Coryo's father, Crassus, and told (more so demanded) that the cook make your favorite meal. He knew that you'd be easier to sway to eat dinner with him and his family if the smell of your favorite dish was wafting in the air as you hung out with his son in his room.

And that was something Crassus was going to be putting a stop to. He can't have you spending so much time alone in Coriolanus' bedroom. What if the two of you start to become curious about- things…

Ugh, Crassus can't imagine you with his son. He thinks Coriolanus is a sassy, whinny, bratty, weakling of an heir. Too bad he couldn't toughen that boy up; too bad he's too much like his mother. Has too much good in him, can be easily pushed and pulled by a pretty face and the promise of love.

Crassus would prefer it if Coriolanus was more like him. More cold, more cunning, more calculated, and didn't wear his feelings on his damn sleeves.

Anyways…

The elevator stops and the doors ding open, revealing the hallway of the 12th floor. A floor that was solely inhabited by the mighty Snow family. They had the upper level penthouse that took the entire floor. It was quite impressive. You love it, but your mother hates it.

And talk about your mother…

“I know you want me to stay for dinner, Coryo, but I really shouldn't. My mother's been getting on me lately about how much time I spend up here with you.” You tell the boy with the light golden curls as the two of you exit the elevator.

“Your mother needs to take a chill pill. You're my girl, darling. It's completely normal to be spending all of your free time up here.” Coryo tells you while leading you over to the front door of his penthouse, palm of his hand resting lazily on the small of your back.

“I know, Coryo, but my mother hates that we're besties and she wants me to meet new people.”

“Meet new people?” Coryo scoffed, brows furrowed in disdain, as he opened the door to his place. “There's nobody new in Capitol City our age to meet, darling. Not unless you go to the mission in the slums by the rail station and start introducing yourself to those District immigrants that conned their way into our grand Capitol.” The cerulean eyes boy told you while ushering you into his penthouse and down the entrance hallway.

Coriolanus was personally offended by your mother. How dare she tell you to meet new people? You belong to him. You're his girl.

HIS GIRL!

HIS!

Coriolanus was good at schooling his features, considering he's been doing it his entire life to keep from letting his father know how bad his harsh and hateful words affected him, so you didn't catch onto how upset he was with your mother. No, you thought he was fine. As cool as a cucumber as he led you past the kitchen, where the cook was starting on dinner, and into the main room of the penthouse to acknowledge Grandma’am, who's always sitting in her favorite chair watching her soaps on CapitolTV during this time of the late afternoon.

“Oh, Coriolanus, you're home and I see you brought Y/N over to visit with you.” Grandma'am Snow, who was dressed to the nines in her jeweled turbin, silk tunic, extravagant jeweled brooch, and long strand of pearls. She was the epitome of Old Guard aristocratic lady of fineries and class.

“Yes, Grandma'am I'm home and my darling’s staying for dinner tonight.” Coriolanus smiles at his grandmother.

Coryo silently nudges you forward to give Grandma'am a hug while greeting her. It's something you've done you years and he doesn't want you to stop doing it either since his Grandma’am adores you.

If only Grandma'am could persuade his father that you're a good match for him. The old lady gets it, why can't his father get it? You and Coriolanus belong together; make quite the pair.

But if the platinum haired boy with a halo of curls on his head only knew that he wasn't the only one obsessed and lusting after you- well…

“Good afternoon, Grandma'am. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly, hugging the regal old woman that you've come to love and think of as your own grandmother over the years.

“It's also so good to see you too, my dear.” Grandma'am replies, patting your back as she reciprocates the hug. “Has our Coriolanus asked you to the prom yet?” She inquired, as a way to push you and her grandson together, your hug broke apart.

“Not officially, but we have an understanding that we'll be going together since we go to all of the galas, balls, and dances together.” You tell Grandma’am while returning to Coryo's side.

Coryo’s fiddling with the strap of his satchel, that's currently across his chest, as he awaits Grandma'am’s reply. Or, a lecture aimed at him to properly ask you. A lecture she's been giving him daily since the beginning of the month.

And sure as shit, Coriolanus gets his prom lecture.

Grandma'am looks at her grandson, who's his father's spitting image, and firmly tell him, “Coriolanus, properly ask her. You're a Snow and as a Snow doesn't assume things, but makes them happen.” Cutting her eyes at her only grandchild, she orders in a grandmotherly way, “Now, properly as her as your prom date before somebody else tries to snatch her up from you.”

You felt a bit awkward. Grandma'am’s lecture was something you felt she should've given Coryo in private, not while you're by his side. It wasn't meant for your ears, or at least you don't think it was.

Coriolanus’ lips draw taunt into a tight line as he tells his grandmother, “Yes, Grandma'am.” He half nods at her before turning to you. Giving you a smile that shows too many teeth, like a wolf baring its fangs before its prey, he takes your hands in his and asks, “Y/N, my darling rose, will you do me the honor of going to prom with me?”

It felt more like a marriage proposal than a promposal. Aren't promposals supposed to be fun and exciting with songs, dances, and glittery handmade poster boards? Not so serious. Right?

Right?

You're already going to prom with Coryo, but since you've been out on the spot with a promposal you have to formally accept. All thanks to Grandma'am.

“Of course I'll go to prom with you, Coryo.” You answered your best friend, causing his icy eyes to sparkle with joy.

It all felt so surreal. A bit heavy too. Honestly, it felt like you were agreeing to give your best friend your hand in marriage right in front of his regal grandmother then agreeing to go to prom.

Unknown to you, you accepting Coryo's proposal was, in fact, you agreeing to a future marriage to him in the delusional minds of both Coriolanus and Grandma’am.

Mhm…

You just signed your freedom away by saying yes to prom and you don't even know it, all because you view your relationship as platonic. Too bad the platinum blonde boy with baby blue eyes and his sophisticated grandma view the relationship as something more.

Coryo's father, Crassus, also views your relationship with his son as platonic. But that's for an entirely different reason; one that would make you gasp from shock if you knew.

After making Grandma’am Snow the happiest lady alive in Capitol City by accepting Coryo's proposal, you went to his bedroom to do homework with him. And when your class assignments were done, you two just laid on his bed while listening to music.

It was a new album that Coryo had to get the neighbor, Pluribus Bell, to smuggle to him because Crassus refused to give his son the money for the album. In fact the former General turned Minister of National Security, and black market arms dealer, hates the music you and his son listens to. Crassus is more of a classical music and soft jazz type, so he hates the poetic lyrics and the vibe of the beats of the alternative indie and pop you and Coryo enjoy so much.

The album was on its second playback while you cuddled into Coryo's side. His large, but lanky frame always made you feel so safe. So protected. And, your best friend's lanky, he does have solid muscles under his skin.

Having you tucked into his side while lying on his bed listening to the new album that an artist the both of you loves just dropped is like being in heaven for Coriolanus. Growing up the platinum blonde boy with a head full of soft curls and striking baby blue eyes always had you by his side. You're his one constant. No matter what, you're always there for him.

It's what makes Coryo crave you like Dean Casca Highbottom craves his morphling fix every 15 minutes. You always being there for him, being by his side for better or worse during your childhood friendship, is what caused him to grow obsessively in love with you.

But the problem is, in his delusional mind, Coriolanus thinks that you're in love with him too. All because of how you're always letting him cuddle you, hug you, and touch you. Letting him call you darling while you often call him ‘my Coryo' while talking about him to others also has him thinking that your feelings for him mirrors the ones he has for you.

You and Coryo are talking about small things, silly things really, whenever the bedroom door opens with a loud band followed by the deep bellowing of Crassus Snow. “Why're you two alone in here listening to this trash?”

“She's not a trashy singer, father. She's one of the best.” Coriolanus retorted, causing his imposing and stern father to fill his icy eyes at him. “Y/N and I were doing homework and decided to listen to some music afterwards.” Your best friend added in, to answer his father's stupid question about why you're in his room.

“General Snow, if me being alone in Coryo's room with him gets him in trouble with you then I'm sorry; I'll just go.” You apologized to the Snow patriarch while making to pull away from Coryo and sit up.

But your best friend wouldn't let you leave his side. No. Actually, his hold around you tightened.

And that made Crassus pissed. His sniveling brat of a son didn't deserve you. You deserved a real man to care for you; to guide you on your journey of womanhood.

Crassus felt that he's the Snow for you. The only man that can mold you into the perfect Capitolite lady you're meant to be. And when he successfully gets rid of old President Ravenstill and wins the next presidential election, well, he plans on making you his wife and his First Lady.

Whether you like it or not.

With a devious smirk painting his lips, the middle-aged man with slicked back platinum blonde hair and cold, hard, bitter icy eyes tells you, “Please, call me Crassus. After all, petal, with as much time as you spend here you're practically a part of the family.”

General Snow's remark went right over your head. You just nodded and simply said, “Okay.”

You honestly didn't think anything of it. If General Snow wanted you to call him Crassus because of all the time you spent around his son, Coriolanus, then so be it.

But Coryo knew that his father had just become, as fucked up as it sounds, his romantic rival for you. As soon as he heard him call you petal he knew, oh he just knew, that his father's lusting after you.

Coriolanus is his father's son after all. Despite being told time and time again by Crassus that he's too much like his mother, too soft and eager for affection- for love. But what Crassus didn't grasp was that Coriolanus didn't just have his father's looks, but his dark tendencies for obsession and over ‘loving’ his intended lover.

And the son just knew that his father was head over heels obsessed with you because, in fact, he was too. Coriolanus saw the way his father looked at you, as if you're a piece of meat ready to be carved and served, and it disgusts him. You belong to the younger Snow, not the older one.

Giving Crassus a cutting look with his icy eyes, Coriolanus announced in a smug baritone, “Father, my darling rose is going to prom with me as my date.” And then he twisted the knife in his father's black, soulless heart by adding in the three simple but damning words of, “As my girl.”

Crassus’ face turned to stone. Of course, you'd agree to go to prom with Coriolanus. The former general's seething with jealousy. He wants you, why does his son get to take you to prom? Ugh, why can't you just go to prom with a group of girls? Go stag, like single girls do. But no…

NO!

You just have to go to prom with Coriolanus. And as his girl too!

Crassus' blood is boiling in his veins. Hearing Coriolanus reveal that he’s made you his girl and is taking you to prom makes him want to tear his son apart limb by limb.

Well, he needs to nip that in the bud.

Perhaps he'll talk to his old, estranged friend Dean Casca Highbottom about being a chaperone at the prom. That way he can keep an eye on you, socialize with you, and keep you from spending the night dancing with his son.

Dancing at prom can lead to other things in hotel rooms after prom. Things that Crassus certainly doesn't want you doing with Coriolanus.

Although Crassus is having an internal meltdown, his appearance stays stern and calm. “I'll make sure your mother has enough money to take you dress shopping.” The middle-aged platinum blonde man assured you.

Cocking his head to the side, Crassus flashes you a savvy smile before looking at his son and giving him a look that rivaled that of Medusa herself. “This door stays open while you two are in here. Only one of you can be on the bed and the other must be at the desk.” Crassus instructed in a stern, authoritarian baritone. “And turn off this music. It's giving me a headache.” He adds in an ordering snap before pivoting on his heel and matching off.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus darkly chuckled, “My father's so pathetic. Having a crush on you.”

“He doesn't have a crush on me, Coryo.” You’re quick to tell your beat friend, writing off his remark as you break your contact with him by sitting up. “He's your father and he's old enough to be mine.” You remind Coryo while making to get off the bed.

Coryo stops you by reaching out and wrapping his hand around your arm. “Just stay on the bed with me. Father’ll never know.” He tells you as you look at him, worrying your lip. But after a few moments, you slowly nod your head and take up your spot nestled into his side once again. “And trust me, from the way he was looking at you, my father likes you.”

“I don't think he does, but if you say so…” You sigh, letting your sentence hang in the air.

But Coryo's right, his father does like you. He likes you a little too much. Just like how his son, your best friend, likes you a little too much.

The million dollar ticket is who’ll snag you up and make you theirs? That's a question only the ancient gods of old know and they're not sharing the answer until the time's right. But until then, father and son will be competing for your heart. A heart that you can only give to one Snow.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[rieamena]

the first date!

a continuation of my ino has a crush on you post wc: 0.6k honorable mention: that special nonnie who motivated me to write this

ino who waits patiently for your shift to end, seated at a small, corner table near the café’s counter. his outfit—a soft gray sweater and dark jeans—is casual yet thoughtful, a reflection of his nerves and excitement. he watches you with admiration, noting the way your smile brightens the room as you interact with customers. as the clock ticks closer to the end of your shift, he can barely contain his anticipation

ino who greets you with a wide, relieved smile as you finally clock out. he stands up, the bouquet of flowers he’s holding looking slightly wilted from his nervous grip. "hey, beautiful," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "ready for our date?" he presents the bouquet with a shy smile. "i thought these might brighten your day after your long shift." "oh my god, thank you! they're so pretty." you reply, your smile genuine. you glance at the wrapped package in his hand. "and what’s this?"

ino who looks slightly flustered but quickly regains his composure. "oh, it’s just a little something i thought you might like," he says, looking away bashfully, placing the mystery gift in his bag. "but the real surprise is the location. follow me." he takes your hand and leads you to a charming rooftop garden tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city

ino who set up a cozy picnic in the garden, the area softly lit by fairy lights and adorned with comfy seating. as you both arrive, you see a table set with a spread of assorted pastries, fruits, and a bottle of sparkling cider. "i wanted to create a relaxing atmosphere since working at the cafe can get a bit hectic," ino says, nervously arranging the last few items. "i hope you like it." eyes sparkling with appreciation, the crinkle of the bouquet's packaging was heard as you set it down on the table. "like it? i love it! it’s incredible!"

ino who, as the evening progresses, grows more comfortable and opens up about his own interests. "i’ve always admired people who can get lost in a good book," he says, laughing softly. "i tried writing a short story once, but it ended up being a total disaster." you laugh along with him, taking a sip of your cider. "oh come on, i’m sure it wasn’t that bad. maybe one day you'll let me read it!" "maybe…"

ino who surprises you with a gift towards the end of the date. "i remember you mentioning your love for journaling," he says, pulling out the wrapped box from earlier. giving it to you, you tore off the wrappings, revealing a beautifully crafted book. "i thought this might be a nice place for you to jot down your thoughts or sketches." you take a moment to admire the journal’s intricate design before looking up at him, "you really didn't have to." "i wanted to."

ino who walks you back to your place, making sure you’re comfortable and safe. as you reach your front door, you turn around, "takuma," he looks at you with an unreadable expression. something between, nervousness, confusion, and anticipation. "i'll be planning our second date. let's say a week or two from now?" "what?" "second date. you. me. together."

ino who can’t help but grin widely. "YES! i mean, uh, awesome," he says, his excitement poorly contained. "i’ll be looking forward to it." "and so will i." inching closer to him, you gave takuma a quick peck on his cheek, squealing and running into your home immediately after. "goodnight!!!" "goodnight sweetheart…" he mutters, brain still processing everything. as he walks away, hand planted his cheek as if to protect the kiss you gave him, he reflects on the evening with a satisfied smile, already eagerly anticipating your next date

I LOVE YOU INO TAKUMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @gojosbrat @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @lailuv21

[four-of-them-showdown]

Miku, Rin, Len, Luka:

No propaganda!

Jay, Cole, Kai, Zane:

"They're my friends, they've been a team for over 10 years now and I've been there that whole time :)"

"Why shouldn't they win? They're little gay skittles. Or they're brothers. You choose"

"JUMP UP KICK BACK WHIP AROUND AND SPIN (sorry i am very passionate about the legos but too tired to form like. real sentences. please imagine something written about how they're cool and fueled my childhood or something)"

"OK SO

They’re the OG members of the ninja team and shipping all four of them together is popular and is very gay it’s called polyninja and it’s amazing and let me break down the dynamics of each of them

Zane x Jay: Technoshipping

Robot x their mechanic trope goes brrrr. Zane is a logical and smart one, and Jay is chaotic and kinda a disaster. Zane is the autism to his adhd and they are very fun <3

Zane x Kai: Oppositeshipping

Ha ha opposites attract trope goes brrr. Again, Zane is logical and smart, whereas Kai is impulsive (and also smart just in a different way). Both of them feel emotions strongly but process them in different ways and I have to end it here before I write an essay about how ZANE was the one who with a single meaningful look and touch to the arm told him it was too late to go back, how Lloyd mentioned KAI to try and restore Zane’s memories when he had amnesia, how- (You get the picture)

Zane x Cole: Glaciershipping

Mom friend x Dad friend. I have realized that his is getting long so I am going to be much briefer now

Jay x Kai: Plasmashipping

Two adhd/add idiots being stupid together <3

Jay x Cole: Bruiseshipping

Best friends to lovers what more could you want (don’t start me on this one they have so much chemistry)

Kai x Cole: Lavashipping

I am bad at words for this one but just trust me they’re a Vibe ok they’re a Vibe

Zane x Jay x Kai x Cole: Polyninja

THEY ARE STUPID, GAY, AND IN LOVE, YOUR HONOR"

[extraaa-30]

Why soft dom Aziraphale + bratty sub Crowley appeals to me

(be serious though they're both switches)*

Soft Dom Aziraphale

1. heaven

An angel is supposed to be the pure one, undefiled, meek, following orders without question, the girl to be got, the prize to be sought after, the white to be soiled. Subvert it! Aziraphale shouldn't be confined to an eternity of zero agency, naivety, and bland pastels. The idea of Aziraphale getting to really own his "bastard" side, getting to be "selfish," be demanding, be in control--delightful.

And, Aziraphale has guilt complexes on his guilt complexes. Because, unlike most of humanity, he is intimately aware of the righteous, pitiless violence that heaven is capable of. And he's made an art of subtly and ceaselessly defying it by being gentle, by demonstrating enormous restraint. He is a warrior who gave away his holy sword. He swerves severely in the direction of being reserved, harmless, feels clear guilt about any strong desires or direct asks. He has an obvious anxiety about excess (the mental acrobatics he does to justify his book collection, for example, are an entire circus). Free him from the fear of going too far!

2. the effeminate gay man

Thee Southern Pansy, "gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," with the fancy clothes and prim and proper aesthetic, ever the damsel in distress, flamboyant and limp-wristed, the one who is called slurs by children, the one who is sunshine and sweetness, "the nice one."

Except we know he is secretly a bastard! We know this bitch has preferences! Let him own that! The fact that he is effeminate should not automatically make him more submissive I literally hate that. On the inside Aziraphale is cunty and commanding and he should get to be!

3. with Crowley

Let him say what he craves directly so help me god! No double-speak, no games, no lustfully looking but then looking away immediately. Let him consume. Let him indulge in the gluttony he endlessly flirts with yet denies himself out of guilt and fear. The idea of Aziraphale as a gentle dom just seems so healing, like a puzzle piece that finally gets to click into place without shame.

-------------

Bratty Sub Crowley

1. hell

A demon is supposed to be the impure one, the defiler, the temptress, the seducer, the villain who takes, the black that soils. Subvert it! Crowley shouldn't be confined to the tropes of his demonic nature. He does not just take, just ruin. He is not inherently the one with experience while Aziraphale is the naive, pure little virgin. The idea of him being submissive to an angel (well...to this angel) is a delicious way to challenge that narrative.

And oh my god my girl has trust issues. As a demon his mentality is severely no allies, watch your back, the one who was cast out, rejected for a first offense, shaky ground, always in danger. He's not supposed to trust others, and he has legit biblically valid reasons to be wary and paranoid. Free him from the fear of trusting someone else to take control!

2. Mr. Cool

Mr. Bond, suave, smooth, stoic, sharp angles, stylish and slick, so very dangerous and criminal, the one with the car, the rebel, the snake. Compared with Aziraphale, he's supposed to be Mr. Hardass, "not nice."

Except we know he is secretly a disaster twink, 110% a soft sad little loser under that facade (and not buried that deep either)! He is a romantic who, in spite of hell, wants to give his angel chocolates! Let him own that!

3. with Aziraphale

Let him be unequivocally, unambiguously wanted oh my god! No guessing games! No trying to decipher what the fuck Aziraphale is really saying to him! Free him from the fear of always being "too fast" or "too late." All this bitch wants is for Aziraphale to be pleased by him, by Anthony J-acts-of-service Crowley! The idea of finally allowing him that...another puzzle piece. So satisfying and healing and safe.

-------------

*They're switches your honor

1. "our side"

Not heaven, not hell. Not angels or demons. Not all black or all white. If you think they don't switch, you're wrong.

2. weight & gender

Aziraphale is bigger and keeps his hair short and has a steadiness to him and all those things are perceived as more masculine by some and therefore stronger and more dominant. Fuck that! His size also is too often viewed as something unattractive, which--extremely fuck that. My boy is a treat and a catch. He should get to feel pretty and soft in a totally uncomplicated way as often as he goddamn wants.

Crowley is skinny, often has longer hair, has an absolute treasure hoard of gender, and there's a flightiness to him that's perceived as more feminine by some and therefore weaker and more submissive. Again I say fuck that! His slimness likewise is too often viewed as more desirable, more malleable and able to be cowed; to which I say: die! He is no dainty flower. He actually can often be commanding and capable. Take him seriously.

Furthermore: Aside from the obvious fact that weight, gender, and d/s all have jack shit to do with each other, subverting these tropes remains as important as subverting the other ones. Aziraphale should get to feel delicate and wanted just as much as Crowley. And Crowley should get to feel powerful and in control just as much as Aziraphale. To deny either of them those experiences...bad! Shut up!

3. Crowley & Aziraphale

Their dynamic is already basically gentle dom Aziraphale & bratty sub Crowley. Like literally inches below the surface lmao it's not that hard to spot (see: Az pouts about paint on his jacket, Crowley instantly rushes to fix it but in a cunty way; Crowley pins Az to a wall and Az isn't even slightly intimidated or out of control).

The problem is, they're not talking (see: Az can't ask directly; Crowley has to act tough). Which is why I personally feel that a more honest d/s dynamic, with all that unspoken ritual out in the open, would be an enormous relief for them.

That said, it's not fair to confine them to that familiar dynamic! Crowley isn't a sad wet rat all the time-- let him plan things and have them work out for once. Let him be (on purpose lol) successfully seductive! Likewise Aziraphale deserves to let his fucking hair down. Let my girl not have to do everything in this goddamn house! He deserves to not have to be the one in control all the time. He has trust issues just as deep as Crowley's, and equally deserves to feel safe and wanted.

Also Aziraphale is too much of a hedonist to not want to try everything. If you think he's sticking with one dynamic you are a fool. A clown. As my French-speaking 6,000 year old middle aged babygirl would say: an imbécile.

-------------

I wrote this for me, but if you read this far I hope you enjoyed it lol peace & love on planet earth

[imaginespazzi]

Are you watching UCLA vs Maryland rn??

Also, give me your postgame thoughts from yesterday Nivi 😩 I wanna talk hoops LMAO

I did watch UCLA and Maryland and it looks like Maryland used my "playbook" as in I've been saying that for most teams, the way to beat UCLA might be to let Lauren Betts beat them while trying to contain everyone else and boy oh boy did Lauren Betts beat them. Like 33 pts? 14/15 shooting? LIKE SHE'S INSANE YOUR HONOR.

Oh boy Creighton thoughts...

Thank god for Sarah Strong

LIKE THANK GOD FOR SARAH STRONG

Also thank god for Paige Bueckers remembering who the fuck she is

Probably would've remembered earlier if she was GIVEN THE FUCKING BALL

Anyways in all honesty, I was sort of expecting a wonky performance last night because, it's been a hot sec since were on the road and it's been a hot minute since we've played anyone decent and Creighton is absolutely a decent team. Like do not let anyone fool y'all, that a tournament team that I think definitely has the potential to pull off an upset to get to the second weekend.

That's not to say I wasn't disappointed, especially at Geno fucking Auriemma who apparently watched us use his "slashed offensive playbook" and play the best we have all season and decided "hmm ackshually I don't think I will do this again" until that plan backfired and we had to wait till the 2nd half to go back to what works: PG PAIGE

Azzi had a terrible offensive night. I've seen a lot of discourse and ultimately it comes down to both the fact that she, herself was not doing enough AND of course the team also didn't do enough. She started off the game aggressive enough but then I think, partly due to fouls, partly due to her shots just not falling and also partly due to her teammates making some insane choices instead of passing to her, she pretty much stopped moving on offense and then ended up passing some shots (hand offs, maybe a middy or two) that she should take and in most instances probably would make.

But for what it's worth, I'm not worried about Azzi. I am getting a little worried about the team not doing enough though because we're at back-to-back games of her not having a single three-point attempt in the first half and that's simply not gonna fly.

KC had an abysmal shooting night. And quite frankly it's unacceptable because she was missing wide open things. The Creighton coach even said postgame that they were purposely letting her get those easy shots and her barely making any of them is not good. Coaches will look at this game and do the same thing and she needs to make them pay. Her not making those shots is also a part of why Azzi had such a hard time getting open because Creighton took the gamble to put a lot more attention on Azzi and their defense deserved credit for that because it definitely paid off and a part of that is on KC.

Which (I fear this is turning into a rant despite my use of bullet points) is why I don't think this KC-Paige-Azzi backcourt is tha answer. Forcing all three of them to play in a way that doesn't suit their respective playstyle is a recipe for disaster and we keep seeing it. A lot of these Paige and Azzi clashing takes on twitter stem from the fact that they're both forced to play SG sometimes and they move so similar on offense (which is what makes them lethal when they play as a PG-SG duo) that it ultimately limits one of them.

Jana....layups babe please. Listen I am a big proponent of Geno needs to be giving Jana more minutes but at the same time, if you're blowing fucking bunnies every game, there is only so much I can say. Then again, the answer to that, to increase her development is that she needs time on the floor.

Lowkey thought Ice gave some really nice minutes? More of that please?

KK brining the energey as per usual but babygirl HOW MANY MORE TIMES ARE WE GOING TO SEE THAT SAME DRIVING INTO THE PAINT MOVE AND THEN GETTING BLOCKED/STUCK MOVE? It doesn't work. You are not 6'+. PLEASE STOP. I do not need a Sania Feagin/Chloe Kitts blocking you highlight on the SC page of February 16th thank you.

Ash great hustle on rebounds and it's why she should be starting at the 3!

So if Aubrey not playing yesterday was her decision, then I'm more than okay with that. However, we only have 10 games left and if it was a Geno decision then I definitely do question. I'm very confused with how he's managing her minutes. Not the amount, but the fact that she's playing in garbage time and not with starters. If we wants her to be useful in March, she needs to be playing in lineups that will actually be used in March/April.

CAROLINE PRACTICING!! Love to see it. Refusing to get my hopes too high but I just love seeing her out there <3

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Blake and or weiss meet yang/rubys parents for the first time. Was thinking something similar to the goodnight kiss story, but do what you want lol. I ain't gonna force you to do anything.

Hey, @chaosbloot! I think I got something for this.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Goodnight Kiss in Vacuo pt. 2

Shade Academy

Blake: (tossing and turning in bed) Can't sleep... (glances at the door to the bedroom and bites her lip as she watches shadows pass underneath the door) No. No. It's too soon for that. We didn't even technically share a bed at Jaune's house in the Ever After.

Yang: (muffled laughter on the other side of the door along with two other voices)

Blake: But it was nice being so close.... (remembers the warm, floaty feeling she got from sleeping within close proximity to Yang)

Blake's Heart: (butterflies and warmth and floaty feeling with warm fuzzies) Go get our girl already!!!

Blake: Okay. Okay. Okay. I'll go ask. (Takes a deep breath and peeks out the door into the little dormatory common room)

Yang: (wheezing with laughter) No way! Qrow, you never told us that you wore the school skirt for a week when you were a student!

Qrow: Your dad told me it was a kilt!

Raven: Don't put all the blame on Tai, Qrow. Summer played along with it.

Qrow: You're just mad that my legs looked better than yours in that skirt.

Raven: Hardly the case now. I don't think those pasty white legs of yours have seen the light of day since then.

Yang: (laughing so hard she's crying silently and goes to wipe a tear when she notices Blake standing in the doorway) Hey, babe! Sorry, are we keeping you up?

Blake: Oh! No. Not at all. I just noticed that it was getting late and you hadn't come- GONE! Hadn't gone... to bed.

Raven & Qrow: (arch an eyebrow with a smirk at the slip and glance at each other)

Yang: (oblivious) I'll go to bed here in a minute. I was catching up with Qrow and hearing how Raven came around to help.

Raven: (gives Qrow a look of: "Can you believe this kid?")

Qrow: (exchanges with a look of: "She has Tai's obliviousness and your romance disasterdom. What do you expect?")

Raven: (rolls her eyes and stares pointedly at Blake) Hey, if you want to sleep with Yang, you're better off asking her directly instead of beating around the bush.

Blake: (blushes and steam billows out of her ears)

Yang: (blushes and sits ramrod straight) U-Uh... Blake?

Blake: Yes!

Yang: Did you... want to share a bed?

Blake: (ears flicker as her eyes flit between everyone in the room) I... wouldn't be opposed....

Qrow: Do you want to sleep with my niece or not?

Blake: Not like that!!! (Balks) Not yet anyway!!! (Gags at her words) I MEAN!!! YES!!! I would like to share a bed with Yang! (Turns to Yang) When are you coming to bed?!

Yang: (a flustered and blushing mess) I'll be there in five minutes!

Blake: Okay!

Yang: Okay!

Blake: I love you!

Yang: I love you too!

Blake: (stomps over to Yang in embarrassment, kisses her cheek, and sprints back into her bedroom)

Yang: (eyes flicking between red and lilac from embarrassment)

Raven: You were right. I do like her. I was a little worried after spying around post fall of Beacon.

Qrow: Told you. (Drinks his decaf coffee) Better get going, Firecracker. Your lady awaits.

Yang: (stammers and sputters) Right! Uh! Goodnight! (Trips over the chair as she rushes to the bedroom)

Raven: (sips her tea after the door slams closed) I give them six months before they're talking about marriage.

Qrow: I'll see your six months and put my money on our little Firecracker asking.

Raven: Please. That little shadow is clearly a woman who knows what she wants. My money is on the Faunus.

[asanjou]

trying to get my thoughts together on the stage cuz me n avery watched the subs last night (and rewatched the finale & drama cd)...

blade stage spoilers🔻

i really like mantis i think he's a cool character. im glad they gave him a distinct personality and motivations it just makes everything more interesting

there's a little dramatic irony in him fighting hajijoker and talking about how it's him regaining his honor after being puppeted by spider ace and defeated cuz it doesn't seem like he's aware hajime was wearing his body like a suit for 3+ years

also noted that everyone calls him mantis/mantis undead whereas in the show when eagle addresses him it's always as "chalice". we talked at the time about it being a sort of given name/title situation but i do wonder about it in context with the names the other face cards go by like miyuki, king, etc, where it makes sense that theyve picked those themselves to assimilate but i feel like chalice might just be his jellicle name lol. more than likely it's just a continuity error

speaking of names it makes me so emoi that tachibana and mutsuki refer to hajijoker exclusively as "hajime". i flagged it at the time and it was confirmed when we rewatched but in the show they only refer to hajijoker as "joker" and there's a sense of like. othering his human form from his joker form so it's nice that they've come around in a way like. no this is just hajime too

(in the finale kenzaki only calls him "joker" twice, both times after he calls him out for going easy on him to try and get sealed on purpose, to goad him into attacking him properly)

in the drama cd mutsuki kinda muses to himself that he wonders how long he'll be able to feel changes in the wind because of shima's influence and stuff, and then in the show when he shows up he mentions specifically that it was because he felt the change in the wind. usual kamen rider blade the people you love become an inseverable part of you forever.

i made a post about this a long time ago but im still ambivalent about post canon blade media presenting the overseer as a conscious malevolent entity as opposed to an immovable force of nature. like the concept of death or a natural disaster has no personal stake in your destruction they're things that just Are. and the whole fighting fate thing hits a little harder if it's something impossible to surmount in that way. However last time i made this point cat said that it's good if it's conscious because that means they can defeat it one day and i am a fan of that so you know.

ive forgotten most of the events of the book so i don't have any feelings on the end scene really. remember when tachibana was a pirate?

i was pretty familiar with the events of the show already so ive had a lot of time to process most of the craziest shit that happens but these are the things that are on my mind following yesterday.... thanks for reading my poast ♥️

[asliceofzosan]

12 Days of Zosan Christmas Masterlist 2023

complete

the riceball incident (1.8k)

In which Sanji is in Shells Town when Zoro eats the rice ball off the floor

debt and doing dishes (2.4k)

In which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie

a captain's intuition (2.3k)

In which Luffy watches as his first mate grows fonder and fonder of their new cook (and vice versa)

by any other name (3k)

Nami and Usopp discover the revision on Sanji's new Wanted Poster and try to keep it from him as best as they can to prevent the world from exploding. But what they're both unaware of is that the new revision might not be as new as they originally thought.

two hearts beat (7.4k)

In order to take down the Big Mom Mafia, Zoro and Sanji must gather information by pretending to be Pudding's totally in love and definitely not fake neighbors.

if i loved you (like i'm capable of) (3.3k)

Years after having his heart broken, Sanji doesn't believe he's worthy of love anymore. Not until a certain deity of the forest says otherwise.

promises, promises (2.7k)

Sanji wants to give Zoro a special anniversary present that honors his late childhood friend.

rough hands, soft heart (1.7k)

Sanji never thought Zoro would ever be good with kids but it wasn't until Chopper joined their crew where he realized he was sorely mistaken. And it makes Sanji feel things he's trying desperately to keep at bay.

a royal disaster (5.6k)

Zoro was tasked to kill the Prince of Germa — but he decided that night to be bad at his job.

when you dream (2.4k)

There's something about the way Sanji talks about his dream that makes Zoro want to believe in it too. (tangled au)

in another world, i am yours (24.8k)

Sanji switches places with a man who plays him in a TV show about his crew. Both of them discover many things about themselves and their relationship with a certain mosshead in the process. (collaboration with @inoreuct)

he makes me laugh (1.5k)

In which Zoro learns the rarest form of intimacy in the arms of a cook.

(pending...)

warm hands with winter veins

how to be a best man for dumbasses

[dizzybizz]

I need your Sampard headcanons, if you have none that’s cool ignore this ask, BUT IF YOU DO LEGALLY YOU HAVE TO SHARE THEM

anon- i don't think you know what you've signed up for with this ask

my headcanons are all incomprehensible to myself so o7

this is brain rot at its full saturation..........

gepard being honest to a fault and that flustering tf out of sampo..., , , , 🥺

like,, sampo will jokingly make a silly comment about gepard liking him and gepard will respond with something like "of course i do? why wouldn't i??"

it's a constant cycle: sampo joking -> gepard responding honestly -> sampo getting flustered -> it hits gepard after some confusion that it was in fact a joke -> and they're both useless and flustered together, absolute losers <3 -> repeat

anyone being genuine and nice to sampo would destroy him

he'd crumble

like- he'd collapse like a house of cards in a gust of wind

they're both touch starved and clingy but really awkward about it

"i need to cuddle so bad!! but i would sooner die than be the one to suggest it!!!!!!"

they get over it once they realize it's a mutual feeling

then it's just collapsing on eachother whenever

i kinda just want them to cry and have a breakdown together, cry and hug it out and just like talk

they both need a good cry,,, 🙏

gepard. yotasuke takahashi. just saying things that sound so romantic without so much as a glance at the other person,,, like:

sampo asks serval to please talk to her brother about thinking before speaking, she leaves him on read

idk what to tell you, they're just losers

they're that "relationships should be 50/50, he cooks us dinner and i sit on the kitchen counter and look pretty" post

sampo entering the kitchen: what's cookin', good-lookin'

sampo gets gepard one of those "kiss the cook" aprons

they're the kind of couple where they're seeing eachother through a shoujo romance lens but to outsiders they're just so unbelievably unbearable

can't flirt to save their lives.

i really just imagine them to be the biggest losers together, they're made for eachother, they're pathetic, they're disasters

them:

gepard runs cold!! sampo can't stand it!!!

who's the big spoon and little spoon? yes

pet names? pet names.

sampo uses them obnoxiously and calls gepard everything he can come up with

darling, babe, baby, sweetie, cutie pie, angel, my little captain, hotstuff, handsome, my one and only, knight in shining armor, prince,,, etc

gepard just defaults to calling him honey or something

gepard names one of his plants koski

sampo is very honored

but also so worried, considering gepard's track record with the lifespan of his plants

he makes it his mission to keep koski alive

sampo loves pulling on gepard's cheeks

[mod-ellisa-and-lynn]

I've succumb to the Blue Eye Samurai brainrot. My poor little meow meows. My disaster bisexuals. I love them your honor. Who would have thunk I of all people would hyperfixate on something so explicit, with my previous hyperfixations that almost exclusively consist of children’s shows. Long text below the cut.

Its so so important to me that Taigen confesses his feelings before he finds out Mizu's gender situation. Get that man an existential sexuality crisis.

Speaking of Mizu, "gender? I hardly know her." The man, the woman, the swordsmith, the samurai, the demon. Revenge is their gender, but pronouns are situational.

Mizu, Akemi, and Taigen all have two hands, do not pit them against eachother. Ik Ik Akemi has a royal husband now, that'll last until mother-in-law tries (maybe succeedes if its her son) to have one of them assassinated, at which point the other two will rescue her.

In fact the only one without two hands is Ringo and he's proven himself capable of handling two women at the same time anyway. He's gonna end up with one of Akemi's girls, they're gonna be happy and in love and have kids.

Mizu comes back from London after completing their mission, finds Ringo still living with Eiji, Taigen visiting frequently but working for the Shogunate. Taigen has had a lot of time to think, to have his crisis and come to terms with being bi, no longer wants to kill Mizu but still wants to fight him.

Mizu wants to die, is angry when Taigen won't kill him. Swords are thrown to the side and they grapple in hand to hand combat, Taigen ending up on top this time, same position as the last time they sparred. He confesses his feelings, apologizes profusely over the way he was in the past, both of them are sobbing. Does Mizu run away, Taigen chasing only a little while later after Eiji and/or Ringo tell him the truth? Or does she break down, making Taigen promise to kill her if he doesn't still love her once she reveals her true identity? Either way he still loves them.

The parallels between the first spar and this one. Between their first husband's reaction to their strength and Taigen's. Reassurances that nothing has changed, he still loves her, in fact moreso for their strength. That's what attracted him to them in the first place, and their body parts are irrelevant. Nothing has to change, except you can't keep leaving me behind.

Taigen's ties to the palace are what tips them off to Akemi needing a way out. Mizu "kidnaps" her, Taigen avoiding suspicion by keeping his post, which gives the girls some alone time. Akemi figures it out so fast, she's smart and observant and it takes her less than a day to laugh and ask bluntly. They have an argument, about who's life is worse, then kiss and make-up with newfound respect for eachother. Fake married trope while they travel. Akemi makes Mizu let her treat their wounds and teach her self defense. Wicked aim, takes up archery and throwing knives.

When they all make it back to the forge, they realize they didn't have a plan for the future. It's a weird and awkward moment. "We'll figure it out... together."

Give Mizu his horse back. Let him feel peace over that life, recognize it as part of themself, forgive herself. Akemi wants to learn how to ride. Something something weak knees.

Nsfw stuff below

MizuxTaigen is rough and needy. Sparring is foreplay, gets both of them going and leads to hot power struggles during sex. Mizu is so touch starved, so scared. Taigen's force grounds them in reality so they can't get lost in their head. They leave bruises on eachother, and provide eachother with lots of aftercare.

AkemixMizu is soft and delicate. Each of them sees what they want in the other: Akemi wants Mizu's freedom and strength, Mizu wants Akemi's wit and confidence. Full body touching, bathing eachother, worship.

TaigenxMizuxAkemi is hot, heavy, kinky. Akemi is a puppeteer, pulling the strings with her words. Mizu is whiny, almost demanding. Taigen is lost in it, gives in to the pleasure, has to be held back so both of his partners have a chance.