#AND NOTHING EVER HAPPENS AND IT'S THE WORST

[ashersanity]

— “IT’S ALL IN THE FAMILY.”

— summary. because you — you stupid little fuck, should have known better than to assume the worst out of this sick family you’ve been unwillingly forced into from your parents unfaithful divorce. well, guess what? you were fucking right, and now — you only have yourself to blame, baby brother.

— content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con at best, non-con at worst, brief mentions of bullying and violence, alcohol intoxication, manipulation, big brother whitney being a creep, whiny little sister kylar, daddy bailey being bailey, loser male reader, semi-forced blow job, cream pie, shit writing, no editing, no nothing and shittier plot with two disconnected scenes, went a little overboard with kylar. a little.

— word count? wait, you guys count the fucking words and don’t raw dog it in the notes app? like, real long, I guess. I mean, fucking long.

— asher’s note. “I did it purely for the sister fucking. @princesstokyomoon kept encouraging the filthy thoughts so I had to churn something out. something filthy — and I mean fucking disgusting shit, y’know?”

Divorces papers hastily signed away, the ink dotted onto the lines promising that this was indeed reality along with leathered suitcases packed to the brim. Family problems never were easy, much less when it had all happened far too quickly. To your parents separating, the familiar grip of your mother’s hand stringing you far away from the house you had grew up in, it all seemed like one bad dream. Unfortunately it wasn’t, no. This was the harsh reality of things, hands clasped on your shoulders as you were forced to introduce yourself to the man she had vowed to marry and the children he bore.

Fuck, if only your mother hadn’t remarried.

“This is stupid.” You muttered beneath your breath to which your mother, sharp as ever had somehow heard.

“Oh please, this is necessary. Unless you wish for us to keep on living in that cramped apartment? I am only doing what is needed for us to survive.” She sharply retorted back, not leaving much room to argue with as it was the truth. Your lives had been much more difficult since the divorce, selfish father that took everything else with him and went away to god-knows-where, probably off to spend it all in one go at the sleazy brothel in town. Filthy bitch.

Yes, it had been hard, but if you had been given one more year, finished school for real, graduated and got a job — Perhaps then, you would’ve been able to provide for the two of you and—

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear?”

Breaking out of your reverie, you had faintly registered then that you had arrived into this overly large establishment your mom referred to as your new home. Standing before you was probably the man she had fussed about so much during the uneventful drive. Dark, slicked back hair and stern eyes that dragged over your lips down to the curve of your throat, almost as if to criticize. His outstretched arm and hand stuck out waiting, that was probably for yours to shake which you reluctantly did.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir..?” You uttered coolly, enduring the firm grasp he had on your fingers till he finally was the first to pull away.

“Bailey.”

“Bailey.” You repeated back the unfamiliar name as if to slowly get used to it, knowing you wouldn’t.

“Whitney, Kylar, come down here and properly greet your brother.”

One boy — you assumed to be Whitney, a little older than you, stood at the top of the oaky staircase, perched over the banister. Ruffled blonde hair and sharp blue eyes hidden behind his fringe, eyeing you with disinterest as he made his way down the creaking steps and over to you.

“Nice to meet you.” He grinned, taking ahold of your hand in his with what was evidently a faux smile, one that didn’t quite reach his mean eyes that matched his father, a lingering streak of maliciousness in them. Even his grip, barely restrained in its force, threatened to crush your hand before ultimately letting go.

“You too.” Forcing a smile back, both of you knew then, the stifling tension that brewed in the air — Neither of you were going to get along here.

“Hey freak, its your turn.”

Another, you had barely noticed, a smaller girl scuffling about in the background, anxiously fiddling with the ends of her oversized sleeves, skittish green eyes purposefully avoiding your gaze whenever you so much as glanced her way. That must be the only daughter, Kylar. Cute thing she was, though your mind couldn’t allow yourself to continue that stray thought any further considering the implications that’d involve after meeting your soon-to-be-step-sister. Fucking get your mind straight, will you?

“P-Pleasure to meet you..” In contrast to her brother’s confident strides, she shuffled towards you before clasping your soft palms together in a hold, weakly shaking it.

“..Pleasure is all mine.” You replied, matching her weirdly formal way of speaking.

Well, she didn’t seem so bad compared to the rest.

The introduction didn’t last very long, lacking any real warmth usually found between two shared families merging together as one. It felt more stiff than anything though you couldn’t spare the thought to think it any further, an ushered murmur said to make yourself at home.

As you made your way over to your new room, hauling your hefty luggage up the wooden stairs, something within the depths of your guts stirred from the shared eyes that bore into the shape of your back, intently observing your every move.

The walls here felt unbearably bare.

Like the people that lived in it.

Ironically enough, your new room was much bigger than your older one, leaving little room to complain as you did when your mother had announced you’d be moving into a new place. All the reasons, no matter how good had earned nothing but a gentle shake of her head, dead set on her decision to drag you along. And to say you hadn’t even told Robin you’d be moving away, best friends since childhood that shared everything between the two, except for this apparently. Imagining his freckled face, worry etched across his features had you wanting to go back to the town you knew, knowing you couldn’t.

Sighing lowly, you sat down onto your bed, hearing the slightest crinkle beneath your weight as you felt an uncomfortable, sharp lump underneath it. That.. Reaching for the covers, you threw aside the thick blankets that covered the suspicious looking lump, revealing fresh packets of condoms haphazardly scattered across the sheets and an old, raunchy magazine displaying a cute-looking school boy getting brutally fucked against the lockers by his own bully.

Heat burned your face at the lewd sight, quickly shoving your little “gift” under your pillow so you couldn’t spare another glance at it. Fucking bastards and their sick jokes, “gifting” you shit like that.

You weren’t like them. Fucking perverts.

Were you?

Whitney was the first to change that.

From the first time he laid his eyes on you, you knew then what he thought of you, distaste apparent over his features, the slight curve of his upper lip curled into a snarl. It was obvious, your step-brother didn’t like you. Shit, maybe hate would be a more appropriate word for the things he’d do. Whitney had made it clear from the get-go, the empty names you’d call each other were utterly meaningless, rarely slipping past his own lips. ‘Little brother’. Fuck, you were a pain in his side more than anything else, dropping by unannounced into his life just like that simply because your shitty mother happened to divorce, meeting his dead beat father who then strung up with yours.

The blonde didn’t attempt to hide his obvious disapproval of your presence in his house, blatantly knocking his shoulder into yours whenever he passed by, mouth cruelly drawn into a snide grin as you toppled down to the cold, hard, wooden floor with a dull thud. The bullying didn’t stop there either, often encountering the delinquent in the school hallways, surrounded by his usual cronies that stuck to his side like a bunch of desperate, panting puppies, eager for his approval. They simply wouldn’t leave you alone, went through your damn locker too, ransacking everything that sat in there before carelessly throwing aside the remnants into a nearby trash bin, left to fend for yourself.

Weak, useless. That’s what you were to him, and nothing else. Soon enough, he’d get rid of you, have you snap and run away, it was merely a matter of time.

Well, that was the initial plan he had made up in his mind — Too fucking bad for the poor bully that life didn’t go always as planned, not when he caught you fresh out of the shower, worn towel snugly tucked around yours hips, a bit lower and he’d catch a glimpse of your— Fucking snap out of it, Whitney! The fresh droplets of water that’d trickle down the curve of your back, cascading over the smooth surface before gently dripping onto the fuzzy carpet below. Fuck. Didn’t help that he was staring a tad bit too hard, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from your bare form shamelessly displayed before him. You were doing this on purpose, weren’t you? Tryna get him all distracted, fill his thoughts with nothing but your thighs sticky with his cum, your lips lightly parted to obediently suck on his fat cock, lapping away at the beads of pre-cum that trickled over the curved length.

Knew he had cracked the second his hand had reached for his cock, fisting his dick for all it was worth, hem of his shirt roughly held between his teeth as he jerked himself stupid to the thought of you. His annoying little brother, fucking bitch, oblivious to the effects you had on him whenever he came with a stifled curse, several strings of cum that’d messily splatter across the curve of his toned stomach and his cotton sheets, staining it.

You, of course, lay ignorant to his frequent glances trailing over your frame, mistaking it for the hostility he had shown you over the past few weeks. You were partially right, except this time it was out of frustrated lust, cock stirring beneath his ripped jeans at the mere sight of his younger sibling now. God, not even the dumb whores that’d sloppily suck him off in the grimy bathroom stalls between classes did it for him anymore, eyes shut in a haze to imagine it was your mouth instead wrapped around the tip of his cock.

Dumb slut. Dumb fucking slut you were, didn’t know what he had in store for you. Take it as payback from having infested his mind with thoughts of you that stray to other thoughts and to other.. that’d eventually end in the same scenario, fucking your slutty mouth wide open.

Yeah.. Actually having you choke down on his cock didn’t sound half-bad now that he thought about it.

So why not make it happen?

It had been a mistake then to accept his offer over drinks, get to know each other better, he had cheerfully claimed with a friendly arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bullshit. Think he gave a shit about that? The only ache in his mind had gone straight down to his slowly hardening cock underneath his grey sweats as his plan was brought into motion, insistently pouring more and more of his friends stolen bottle into your cup until you had lost track of the exact number. Prideful as ever, you had gulped it all down, unrelenting despite the nausea that had crept in your guts and the dizzying blur of your vision.

A hint of a rosy flush had started to spread throughout your skin, lightly dusting your cheeks with half-lidded eyes intently gazing back at your older brother’s slouched form atop the cushioned couch. The dribbling liquid sloshed lazily in the glassy bottle that threatened to spill from your weakened grasp on it. TV faintly flickering in the background, playing some outdated show that had since long been forgotten by the two of you, leaving the remote abandoned on the coffee table.

“Cmon, don’t be such a baby.” Whitney would taunt whenever you hesitated in your sluggish movements, silently observing the rhythmic bobbing of your throat as you took quick shots from your half-full glass. Lightweight, he mused in his mind.

“I’m not a baby.” You retorted back with that fucking cute pouty expression he adored.

Fuck. That’s the look. That goddamn look of yours he was waiting for. Nothing better than some arrogant slut all fucked up, practically begging to be taken on his own fucking couch.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.”

“Whitney?” Shit, the way you’d call his name all whiny too, slipping past your own lips. Had his cock twitch like fucking hell, painfully aching between his spread legs.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Why are you so mean to me all the time?? What did I ever.. What did I ever do to you?? I—I just don’t get it.” You hiccuped pathetically, stumbling over your own words, already half-drunk from the fizzling alcohol in your system.

Ah, so you didn’t seem to get it at all yet, did you?

How cute.

“‘Cuz I wanna fuck your noisy mouth, that’s why.”

“..What?”

Blinking back at him, you didn’t even get the chance to register or mutter out another word before he was upon you. Knees firmly planted to each side, increasingly aware of his encompassing frame that towered overs yours as his clothed crotch faced your drunken expression. If it had been any other time, perhaps the blonde would’ve paused then to greedily drink in the sight before him, but this was Whitney after all and he never liked to waste time on silly notions like foreplay, preferring the rougher options that came along with it.

So, fuck it all, right?

With practiced ease, he hurriedly shucked down the elastic waistband of his grey sweats past his hips, hefty cock confidently springing free from the constricting confines of the cotton fabric as it lightly smacked against the curve of his bare stomach. Fuck, you haven’t had the slightest idea how long he had waited for this. Merely a matter of a few weeks for you, though for him, your older brother was dying to sink his dick in that whorish mouth of yours. Looked like you’ve never taken a real cock either, snugly shoved down to the hilt of your inexperienced throat that he’d train till it became a sixth sense to you, gratefully swallowing down his salty cum.

Calloused fingertips tenderly dragged along the swollen flesh of your bottom lip, bloodied cut reopening from the time the bully had split your face open on his fists for the whole school to see in the busied courtyard on a particularly rainy day. Licked his knuckles clean too after that rough beating you took, savouring the heady taste of the crimson mess you left behind, groaning all the while. Had him stupidly hard for the rest of the day, itching to relieve some tension once he got back home. Great times, really.

Now would’ve been the time then, probably— to sputter out your firm opposition over this, resist somewhat. Maybe kick the motherfucker in the balls, satisfyingly watch him writhe on the floor in agony before scrambling up the ancient staircase to hysterically yell about how you nearly got raped by your aforementioned step-brother, to your dozing mother. Christ, that would’ve been the sane decision to do then yet, the bubbling drinks coursing through your veins had thoroughly taken its effect on you, blood rushing down lower to the wrong region, the sinking realization nearly making you bolt upright.

Fucking fuck, you were hard.

And Whitney hadn’t failed to notice.

“Shit, are you getting hard from this?” The delinquent snickered hoarsely to himself, making a show to lightly tap at the growing bulge underneath your own jeans, all too visible despite the rough fabric that covered it. “Should’ve known you’d be into it. Your body speaks for itself, y’know. You want this, you cock whore craving slut.”

No, no. This was all wrong. Must’ve been. You liked girls, didn’t you? Squishy cunts and fat tits you could easily slip your cock into — god. Didn’t like guys and if you did, your step-brother who treated you like nothing but shit would’ve been last on the fucking list.

But you secretly do like being used this way, don’t you? Baby brother.

“I’m n-not fucking—“ Attempting to deny the harsh statement, you cut yourself off from the sudden intruding tip eagerly pressed against your lips, flushed cock head leaking thickly and smearing sticky pre-cum all over.

It wasn’t an order nor anything else that hung heavily in the air, a simple gesture, a subtle thrust of his hips that had his actions speak louder than any words would’ve been capable of. Either you do it or not, the delinquent couldn’t have cared less regardless, always used to getting what he wants and by god, if he wasn’t going to fucking get this. Because the signals alarmingly ringing through your head felt faint in the face of this, shakily inhaling the musky scent of your big brother’s throbbing cock subtly twitching in response to your feathered breaths against it, dribbling out more translucent pre-cum that melded with the scarlet stain of your bloodied lips.

Out of your damn mind — That’s what you were. To even properly consider the implication at hand here. Yet your lips won’t stop from parting, from sticking your pink tongue out, clumsily imitating the gestures of those submissive girls in the cheap porns you’d watch underneath your thin covers late at night, shamefully enough. Always thought you’d be on the receiving end of that one day, dutifully patting at the soft hair slotted between your thighs however here you were, shyly pawing at Whitney’s naked hips instead to steady yourself.

All your fault, all your damn fault so shut up and take it, alright? Shouldn’t have led him on like that, now you’re only reaping what you sow, slut.

A delighted sigh softly escaped from the blonde as you finally gave his dick some much needed attention, experimentally running the flat of your tongue along his leaking slit, coaxing out more dribbling fat globs of pre-cum before slowly and carefully taking his full girth in the warm depths of your tight, wet mouth. “Ah— Fuck. Yeah, that’s good.” No way can he hide the barely restrained, high-pitched, almost needy whimper that threatens to slither past him as you so prettily suck him down to the base, slobbering all over his throbbing balls that has him huffing out a cursed moan of satisfaction, eyes rolling back. “F-Fuckin’— god.” Can’t help the sheer guttural groan that slips out from how tightly his baby brother’s virgin lips sweetly glide around him, the uncertainty in your movements making it all the more endearing as you struggle to take him all in, saliva dripping over your chin to land in varying wet dots on the cushioned pillows. Looking so damn pretty like this with a mouthful of cock, your big brother’s pulsing cock specifically. So don’t blame him then when his hips automatically snap back, slender fingers instinctively reaching for the back of your head to entangle themselves through the soft strands of your hair, ruffling it.

Felt more like he was plainly fucking your mouth than you were sucking him off, sharp, punishing thrusts meeting your open mouthed lips to drive himself deeper in that warm throat that reflexively tightened around his length whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot — drawing another string of adorable, strangled whimpers from you. “Shit, you sure this your first time? You’ve got the mouth of a — hah, fuckin’ filthy glory hole.” Heat prickling up the nape of your neck at the direct statement uttered, the brief realization of your inexperience being taken away like this, from a blowjob. On the giving end. A first, that will mostly likely not be the only first after this, not when you’re unconsciously getting off to the thought for more in store despite your haze filled brain begging you to reason. Ah, fuck. He’s gone and got you stupidly cock drunk now, didn’t he? The bastard. Slurred mutterings tumbling out above you, almost hasty in how he handles you, wanting to truly savor this never-ending moment when his body can’t stop on its own, too eager to be fulfilled of this yearning pleasure he sought out from you firstly. Thankful for your lack of gag reflex that somehow has you forcefully endure the ruthless slam of his hips, struggling grip straining onto his thighs to brace yourself, promising to leave a fresh set of bruising marks on the tanned flesh.

“Gon’ be my lil’ cockwhore, huh? My fuckin’ slut. Goin’ to be so good for— fuck, big brother, yeah?” If treating you so obscenely like this grants him the privilege to have you beneath him, so stupidly on your knees then, fuck, is it goddamn worth it. Every multicoloured bruise splotched along the length of your legs to your elbows, inflicted from his unfortunate beatings took on at every turn. The cold indifference muddled across your features warping to an earnest scowl from simply acknowledging his presence alone, precisely what he wants. To finally recognize your older brother, the churning fear instilling within you, forced to submit to him and worship him rightfully so.

It’ll be more than that though, the sick realization dawning upon him of this opportunity handed to him on a silver plater, free of his taking, of course. Not some other replaceable slut he can find anywhere else by chance, but one forcefully bound to him whether they like it or not since what can you possibly do? Come running with tears in your eyes to your mommy about what your big, mean, older brother did to you? His father will certainly not be one to help you for that matter, that’s for damn sure. Who the hell will believe you then? No one. Fucking nobody. Inadvertently handing him free range to do whatever he so pleases with you, whenever, where the fuck ever. Oh, but it won’t only stop there, y’know. Ruining you fully for the sake of his own selfish pleasure, corrupt that naive view of yours that has you blush bashfully at a bunch of lewd illustrations plastered onto the printed pages. Soon enough, the majority of your days will be lazily spent in his room, leaking cock dribbling profusely from the kitten licks you’ll so cutely give him then while he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, grinning proudly as you inevitably beg for more of him. And shit, Whitney isn’t one to disappoint either — he’ll have you rightfully rewarded for such behaviour, in public to be exact. Clip a nice, leathered collar around your neck along with a leash too, tug at it a bit to show off his newfound pet, his loyal little brother that sloppily sucks him off and happily sinks onto his hefty cock at a mere snap of his fingers. Drives him fuckin’ crazy merely thinking about it.

That’s right, suck on your big brother’s fat cock to selfishly earn his twisted love, his blind adoration and protection of your being. His pet. His slut. His beloved baby brother. His now blood, flesh and soul tainted thoroughly by him himself. Personally service him on your knees like the whore that he knows you are. Fucking get on your knees and earn it.

All too soon, despite wanting to stretch this further solely to ingrain the addictive noises of your stifled whimpers and drooling mouth inside his perverted mind, visibly struggling to take him all in as he shamelessly used your throat like some sort of flesh light stretched to the hilt — He can feel himself reach the brink of his limit, confident hips stuttering in their steady thrusts to greedily bury the tip of his quivering cock into the back of your throat one last time. “F-Fuck. Stay like that — just fucking stay like that.” He hissed sharply between strained curses, head thrown back like some cheap virgin whore who’s just received his first ever mind blowing blow job. The familiar overwhelming heat curling in the curve of his belly, like a coiling string on the verge of popping. Balls tightening in need, pulsing spurts of his fat load squirting out of the head of his cock to messily splatter across the surface of your pretty fucking face, ruining you for his own amusement.

Should’ve busted his load down your throat just to hungrily watch you swallow it down, though he supposes that the cum stained look adorning your pretty face is a sight to behold on its own, taking a good minute to appreciate the mess before him.

A blank, pristine canvas that he had helped ruin and stain with the filth of his very own actions.

It suits you, really.

“That’s a — hah, good boy.” Whitney heaved roughly between ragged breaths, the uncharacteristically gentle praise laced in his tone differing from his usually sadistic nature. If it weren’t for the sticky mess that obscured your vision along with the heat of his sweating palm placed flat across your forehead, you’d notice the strange fond, warmth that had settled into his softening gaze, a sort of reverence in of itself. “My good fucking boy.”

“So good for big brother, aren’t you?” He smirks knowingly at your hitched gasps of breaths, struggling so stupidly to form back a snarky insult as per usual.

Ah, he gets it now — really fucking gets it, glazed over eyes settling onto your evidently hard, twitching cock still tented pitifully against the front of your jeans, frantically humping at the air like some sort of rabid, horny and untrained puppy in heat, tongue lolling out. Aw, so fuckin’ cute when you’re cock drunk and needy for big brother. Makes him wanna do it all over again.

For that, he should be properly training you then.

“Whitney— fuckin’ cmon, please.” Whining so pathetically in a way that sends a jolt straight down through his spent cock, immediately standing up to attention once more. You’re really asking for it, fuck.

So damn cute, but so impatient too. Maybe he should fuck your virgin ass next, stuff it full of his cum and see what happens to that bratty mouth of yours then. Shut you up a bit.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just— keep still for me.”

Well, can’t be having his little new pet go frustratingly neglected like that, can he?

—

Kylar, your precious little sister, all too eager to be the first, but the second to sink her mark into you. Convince you a bit more.

Needy as she was, she wasn’t as bad as the rest that inhabited this sick place you reluctantly called home, a flicker of warmth among the distant coldness that resided in this house. Much unlike her brother, the dark haired girl didn’t seem to dislike you in the slightest, often shooting you the smallest of smiles whenever you two briefly locked eyes at the dinner table or in the shared hallways by mere coincidence.

‘Course, she did have her questionable moments whenever you caught her rifling through your drawers, namely the ones where your underwear lay neatly folded in the cubicle space. Promptly muttering out an unbelievable excuse as to why she needed your boxers before bolting past your stunned self, red in the face. Or that time she had decided to curl up onto your bed, lovingly burying her nose into the warm, silken sheets that you slept in, relishing in that sweet scent of yours she’d catch a whiff of as you drew closer next to her at the table.

..Yeah, she certainly had unresolved issues, but it beat the constant poking fun at that Whitney would do. The rough shoving into the metallic lockers that’d clank heavily from your weight, the shared snickering that came along with it and the forced blow jobs that you had somehow eased into over time despite yourself. Fuck, why were you even thinking of that asshole?

Freak or not, she didn’t harbour any of the senseless cruelty this town had to selflessly offer and that was good enough. Enough so that you had found yourself increasingly spending more and more of your time with Kylar whenever you weren’t forcibly dragged along to some shoddy place your big brother roped you into, leaving the loner to her own whims for the day.

So it was no surprise then when the two of you grew closer, a little more than you had expected so to be the one sat onto her worn out bed, her hideaway — she’d call it, a moment of respite from the constant teasing she had to go through from her older brother. A means of escape, perhaps? And for you, it was no different either, all the same. Gladly listening to her overexcited rambling about this and that, about the fine mangas she had newly bought at the local, dusty library, the half priced anime figurines she had found on display beyond the glassy windows that separated them — matching pearly bracelets made of shiny gems and rocks carefully picked at the park she’d sow together to gleefully tuck around your wrist, whining sorrowfully at her own being too loose for her delicate wrists. Cute. Your little sister was real fucking cute, more so than you’d like to admit at times.

So much so you couldn’t ignore the growing knots in the pit of your stomach whenever your knees fortuitously bumped against each other, a sign — a silent, repetitive warning of your shared proximity that was crossing past the treacherous line of two mere siblings. Yeah. Okay. So you found her cute, so what? Big fucking deal. Plenty of guys found a girl cute, didn’t mean jack shit, didn’t mean they wanted to fuck her till she clenched pathetically around them, sniffling miserably at being fucked brutally by their kind, soft-spoken big brother they naively put their trust into. Right, that’s what you were. Nothing more. A responsible big brother she could certainly put her faith into since her other piece of shit brother couldn’t bother with that shitty role, something you’d curse him for on the daily. One she could seek out at a moment’s notice, spend time with to her heart’s content like a normal, unsuspecting relationship between siblings should be.

Not some perverted creep of a big brother who’d steal periodic glances her way, instinctively trailing down to the soft, plump and pink flesh of her parted lips, glistening sinfully from the wetness of her saliva — a habit she unconsciously did despite claiming not to. Gulping thickly, you hadn’t registered how her seamless chatter had ceased to a stop, deafening silence befalling upon the both of you as you stared at each other like some sort of stiff actors awaiting for the next act on stage. Wait, were you staring? Fuck, you were — and she hadn’t failed to notice by the looks of it, blooming flush adorning her pretty, pale cheeks you’d like to press gentle, reassuring kisses to, squeeze under the weight of your palm. Maybe have her spill a few stray droplets of tears across the rosy surface while you’re at it, make her cry the same way Whitney did.

Oh, you’re such a fucking bastard for this one.

“W-What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Her sudden squeak had you stilling in your tracks, twisting the spread sheets without meaning to from the timid pitch of her shrill voice. Look at her, trying to hide behind her torn sleeves in an attempt to draw attention away from her bashful blush, becoming a fidgeting mess under your gaze.

Fuck, no. It was more than that, Kylar. It was the pout of your lips that you wore, the black strands of hair that frames your face so beautifully, the exposed sliver of skin of your thighs from that short skirt you slipped on. It was all you, but dammit all — fuck.

“Hm? No, it’s nothing — really.” Liar. Drawing back to create a manageable amount of space between you both, a reminder not to act upon those disgusting urges of yours, better not to. Bad idea to be thinking with your dick, no man’s ever made a reliable decision with that one. Even so, Whitney did it with you and — nothing particularly bad happened, did it? Would it be so wrong, if you were to do the same? Selfishly grasp for what you so dangerously desire, drop meaningless hints here and there to care for her wants, such a gentler option than any other boy could ever treat your dearest little sister?

Would it?

Too lost in your endless train of thoughts, your eyes connecting with Kylar’s green own that bore with such intensity you hadn’t seen before, almost as if contemplating — no, waiting for something to happen. Though you couldn’t tell what it was, her actions were enough so to speak on their own with how she shifted considerably towards you, used mattress dipping from the creaking weight over the wooden floorboards. Ah, was she..?

“Ky—?”

Before your mind was even fully given the chance to process it, like the leap taken before the shuddering dip of a waterfall, her inexperienced, virgin lips clumsily smashed into yours, knocking the wind out of the both of you from the abrupt step taken by your little sister. Sweet. So sweet. Pink tongue tentatively swiping along the scarlet cut of your bottom lip, ushered gasps accompanied by startled squeaks as she timidly gave you what she thought was a simple kiss, but felt more like a pornographic make out session with how she so desperately shoved her tongue deeper. More. Wants more of this, more of that honeyed taste she yearned to savour, to finally enjoy while her other dumb brother so greedily took you away every time she wished to be the one at your side instead. It wasn’t fair, not fair at all! He’s so mean, so why does he get to string you along whenever he so pleases? Should be her, only be her to fill that solemn space. Only her, only her—

“W-Wait, wait— Kyl— fuck.”

As if struck by the weight of what she had just done, the loner recoiled back instantly in a fit of panic from the sheer brashness of her actions. Oh, how could she let herself so easily fall to such temptations? What if you hated her now? Or worse, were repulsed by the kiss? Wouldn’t be able to live it down then, quivering lips and bubbling tears threatening to spill freely down the length of her flushing cheeks from her overactive imagination running rampant — because she’d rather die than to have you loathe her so.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to— umm.. I thought that maybe you.. wanted me to—“ The girl stuttered uselessly, trailing off in an aimless direction only to shrink back in her unbecoming position. Silence only answered her in return which she took as the harsh reality of rejection, mustering up all the courage she possibly had in her lithe frame to at the very least subtly peek at the current expression painted along your face. Would it be anger? Disgust? Disappointment even? Surely if you hated it that much, you’d have plainly kicked her right off the bed by now, right? Storm out in a fit of shock and never so much as glance her way again.

The sight to greet her instead wasn’t an unwelcome one though — no, far from it actually, her gaze deliberately falling upon the blazing flush of your face down to the evident bulge straining painfully between your legs, palm nervously placed over it in a half-assed attempt to keep your dignity at bay — shit. It’s one thing to be kissed by your younger sister but to get fucking hard from it is like shameful admission on its own, a visceral reaction that could not be denied no matter what reasonable excuses may tumble from your lips. “..It’s fine. I don’t mind, actually.” You’re really no better than Whitney in that aspect, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s only fair to mindlessly grasp for it, is it not? More worrying is the debauched idea that forms in your mind in regard to the enamoured expression worn by her wobbly lips and wide-eyed look, not-so-subtly rubbing her plush thighs together in a hint of arousal. Oh, so that’s how it is. If the sloppy kiss itself didn’t confirm it then this surely did, a surge of confidence rushing momentarily through your body at your next actions. “Like I said, it���s fine, Ky.” That fucking nickname again. Unable to stop yourself from dragging your cute little sister closer towards you till she consequently found herself comfortably placed onto your lap, blinking stupidly at the bold move done by her normally gloomy, big brother. Silly girl.

“Siblings do it all the time, it’s not weird. It’s natural.” Lying through your goddamn teeth with a certain ease that even surprises you internally, but oh, is it so worth it as her viridescent eyes glimmer brightly to the whispered reassurance in your casual tone, acceptance easily slipping through. “But Whitney and I don’t—“ She starts, only for you to immediately latch onto her endless questioning with the seed having already been planted, too late to fucking back out now. “You and I are different. I’m nice to you and you’re nice to me, so it’s normal if you want to. We can do that cuz’ everyone else does it, alright? You don’t have to be shy with me about it, Ky.” Every carefully measured word to make it seem as though this was the norm, knowing fully you’d be seen as freaks and degenerates by your peers attending the nearby school. Not that they didn’t already think so with Kylar, the rumors having grown out to such an unhealthy proportion that it pestered the poor girl at every corner in the narrow hallways. Poor thing.

So isn’t it your job as her big brother to make it all go away? Make her feel better.

“Shh, just let me..” Soothing circles rhythmically rubbed in a recognizable pattern along the edges of her skirt, repeated affirmations of want so as to ease her chattering mind over the possible morality of this newfound situation. Could’ve said no if she didn’t secretly desire this, though her actions seem to say so otherwise with how she earnestly complies, willingly tucking her arms to her sides to let your hands do the rest. Good girl. So docile, like a porcelain doll, sharpening breaths noticeably deepening from the careful tugs of her short skirt, revealing the confirmation of her depraved wants as the wet patch of slick soaking through her plain, white panties is bared. Your adorable little sister isn’t so innocent as you thought, is she? Contrary to her modest choice of underwear. Getting fucking wet solely from being leered at so openly by her step brother, even going so far as to spread her soft legs for better viewing.

“See? Isn’t it frustrating to be left all worked up like this?” Agreeing nods promptly interrupted by the press of your thumb against her clothed slit, such a sweet, hitched gasp elicited from the lazy circles traced onto her swollen, twitching clit. A free view of your younger sister’s scrunched up expression morphing to one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, scarred fingertips tightly clutching at the fabric of your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment, really. “This good?” There’s no real need to ask when you can naturally rely on the shivering of her dainty figure, breathy moans of y-yes and feels good! along with the guiding of her needy fingers, flush against her slicked heat. A flick of your thumb is all it takes to have her turn into a babbling mess, bucking her hips up to meet your cupped palm, incidentally grinding onto your aching hard-on. “S-Shit, okay. Look at you, hah — so fucking wet already.” Barely able to discern the own pitch of your voice, but who the fuck is supposed to properly maintain their composure when your little sister is so prettily begging for your cock?

Effortlessly peeling away at the sticky fabric of her cotton panties, slipping it down the length of her legs to thoughtlessly throw away onto the wooden floor beneath. No time to fucking think, not with how cute her cunt looks, pink and dripping with slick coating the smooth surface of her inner thighs. Ah, and she’s already impatiently fumbling with your belt too, smiling so happily once it loosens to eventually tug your own underwear down too, leaking cock eagerly springing free from its restraints. “Want it that bad, lil sis?” Fuck, does it feel wrong to even be calling her so in your current predicament, yet so damn right too. The pleading nods, urgently clinging to your frame to press against as she grinds her sopping cunt along your flushed tip, whining whenever it knocks just right up against her puffy clit, squelching from the melding fluids. “W-Want it, want it inside, please.”

“B-Big brother—“

As much as you like the high-pitched mumblings of your dearest Kylar, there’s really only so much edging you can take before promptly snapping your hips up in tandem with her own, relishing in the slippery warmth that lovingly welcomes you, stretched folds accommodating to the sheer girth of your length. “Oh, fuck — Fuck, just relax for me. You feel so.. hah, so good.” Collectively sighing in relief at the intrusion of your pulsing cock squeezed so nicely by her constricting walls, having to steel yourself from the tight suck of her cunt snugly wrapped around your tip. “You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well.” Softly hushing her breathy whines intertwined with a mix of pain and pleasure, fingertips digging harshly in the tender flesh of her hips to guide her quivering frame up and down the length of your cock. Isn’t this what she wanted after all? Such a quick learner too, steadily bouncing to match the pace you had set, your wandering hands slipping past the hem of her loose shirt to greedily palm at her perky breasts which prompts another moan to exit her parted lips. Uncaring for the increasingly noticeable squeaking of the worn mattress when your little sis is so cutely riding you, doing her very best to satisfy your immoral urges and have you mark her slicked insides with your seed.

“What a good sister.. So good, aren’t you?” Cute, pink tongue poking out, begging for another messy kiss pressed onto her swollen lips which you dutifully oblige with another muffled groan. Sloppily planting your own against hers, treasuring every shuddered gasp to swallow down and stifling her open mewls. It’s borderline disgusting how desperate you are, savouring every thick inch engulfed by the sloppy suck of her baby sister pussy, reappearing briefly only to bury yourself balls deep once more into her defiled cunt. Isn’t really your fault with how fucking tight she is, is it? Barely grasping the reality of the situation which is the very high possibility of being heard from outside her room right this moment, but fuck — you can’t slow down, not right now, not when you’re already on the verge of spilling your cum deep inside. Damn Whitney, the bastard. Damn to hell your parents, your indecisive mother and her new husband, this is heaven itself right here. “I’m close—“ You huff out in a sort of warning, though it’s more of an invitation to Kylar, an opportunity for you to shoot your thick seed in her wanting hole, practically locking her legs tight around your waist.

Anything for you after all, huh? Her beloved. Her darling. You just didn’t know it yet! And to say it came true on its own, openly enjoying the sensation of your fat cock instinctively fucking into her tight, little sister hole. So close.

“Cum inside me, please. Let’s finish together, big brother. I-I’m close too—“

And that’s all you really need, precise thrusts upwards hastily turning into erratic humps to lazily grind against her ass, wanting nothing more but to see the dumb, drooling, fucked out expression painted across her adorable face, the convulsing of her cunt stuffed full of your length when she does have her first ever orgasm. A few clumsy circles drawn over her used clit is all it takes to have her cumming, slick trickling out of her fluttering cunt to drip over the base of your cock and stain the pristine sheets beneath. “Ah— God, you’re so fucking tight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck — Shoving the hilt of your cock as deep as possible into your little sister’s stretched out hole to rightfully mark her pink insides with your seed, spurting out thick, white strings of cum while you fuck yourself deeper into her womb and downright have her experience her first ever accidental cream pie too. It’s only then when she pitifully whines for you to stop that you do eventually pause, hips drawing back to stare in awe at the dribbling globs of cum spilling out of her sore cunt. “S-Sorry.” You mutter out apologetically with a sigh, the tension easing out of your muscles once she giggles softly in response to your strained apology. “It’s okay. I-I liked it a lot too.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm, I did.” Kylar sleepily mumbles back with drowsy eyelids, the exhaustion washing both over you all at once from, well.. all the movement involved. Let’s leave it at that, actually. Plus you deserve the rest, don’t you? Wouldn’t be fair to leave your adorable sister all alone in her twin bed without her older brother’s body to warm it with too, yeah? It’s fine to lay yourself down next to her curled figure snuggling closely against yours, drape an arm over her waist to remind her of your presence close by, make her feel secure and at ease. A silent, ushered promise to clean her up later once you two awaken, affectionately pressing a single kiss atop her head one last time before sleep takes her first. It’s your role to as the big brother, after all, isn’t it?

“..Good.”

[cemeterything]

This isn't a gotcha, so please don't take it as such, but would yuou be willing to explain what it is about VAL that makes her such a favourite of yours? I can't stand her myself, she comes across to me as a bully given god-like power that she abuses for her own amusement, and I've seen you acknowledge as much, but we draw completely different conclusions from that. I just want to understand your perspective.

i've been anticipating a question like this for a while now, so i'm more than happy to answer for you!

you're right, VAL is in some ways a "bully given godlike power" as you put it, and there's no avoiding that (nor do i want to). and yeah, i do like her in part because of that, because i have a fondness for horrible fictional characters and in particular "bad victim" archetypes, of which VAL certainly is one. but i think what makes her compelling to me, rather than repulsive, is that she is fundamentally a cautionary tale and a tragedy. in-universe, she's the scapegoat. the example. the "make the right choices or this could be you". she's inescapably, heartbreakingly human in her awfulness, and that makes her terrifying, but it also makes her deeply sad (at least to me).

i also strongly believe in rehabilitative/restorative justice, so for me, wanting better for VAL is about my real-world principles to a degree. i can't and won't argue that VAL doesn't function as an uncomfortable allusion to a lot of atrocious crimes against humanity (by humanity) within the narative, and that anyone who finds her upsetting or even hateful for these reasons is absolutely justified in doing so. however, she's still a fantasy entity at the end of the day. she's not a 1:1 stand-in for real-world abuses any more than, say, a vampire or werewolf, which plenty of people are more than happy to explore the nuances of. and there's also the question of what punitive measures would even achieve in her case, beyond personal satisfaction for the one administering or spectating them (which is not to say that wanting to punch VAL makes you as bad as she is, just that her arc is, among other things, about how cycles of abuse and violence perpetuate). the worst that could possibly happen to her has already happened. she's been tortured. she's been taken advantage of for her mistaken belief that working for and with the system has the opportunity to benefit her, and died for it. there's nothing to be "learned" from her punishment that hasn't already been shown to us. that she hasn't already internalised. if she were ever to develop a stable conscience, that would be punishment enough in my opinion.

despite being a victim of people not entirely unlike VAL, i personally am not her victim, so treating her with sympathy and kindness whilst acknowledging the elephant in the room that is her many (fictional) war crimes is not something that requires any cognitive dissonance on my behalf. i would cautiously argue that the narrative agrees with me somewhat in this regard - the few times VAL is treated to a genuine act of kindness with no ulterior motives, it shatters her composure and outward conviction that what she's doing is necessary for her personal satisfaction, and even prompts her to reconsider on occasion (sparing the woodsman comes to mind). i'm not saying anyone needs to hug her and tell her she's valid, but if all it takes is some genuine good intent to get her to engage in introspection, i'm willing to be the person to offer it.

[cutielando]

Can we have a Lando x reader who's a little chubby?

a/n: as a chubby girl myself, i love this ❤️ but please remember guys, you are beautiful just the way you are and nobody should tell you otherwise !!! ❤️❤️

so sorry it took so long, uni has been kicking my ass and i haven't had much time to write :((

my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

You hadn’t always had doubts regarding the way you looked.

Seeing so many models around you at every step, feeling the eyes burning into the back of your neck and scrutinizing you for simply the way you looked. But you never cared about any of that.

You weren’t ugly, far from it. You were as beautiful as they come, but slightly a little chubby. You had some meat on your thighs and you weren’t afraid to show it off or feel confident in your body.

Well, that was before.

Ever since you started dating Lando, everything changed.

The amount of eyes that were on you before was nothing compared to the moment when you were introduced to the world as Lando’s girlfriend.

You had decided to keep your relationship a secret for the first couple of months, just until you tested out the waters and figured out what would come of the whole thing. You had tried to limit your expectations from the very beginning, knowing that Lando could leave you for anyone and nobody would ever know.

But it didn’t happen, and you were sure that what you had was real after months and months of expecting the worst.

After many talks, both you and Lando decided that it would be best for you to attend the Silverstone Grand Prix as your first official race as his girlfriend. It was his home Grand Prix, at the end of the way, he wanted you there with his family, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Are you sure you want me to come? I can stay back, I don’t mind” you said as you were waiting for Lando to finish getting ready so you could all leave for the track.

He looked at you, blankly staring at you. You’d had the same conversation 10 times since you guys woke up, and he didn’t know how to stress it well enough that he wanted you there with him.

“Baby, I don’t know how else to say this. I want you there with me, my family wants you there as well. Why are you so nervous?” he was holding your arms, softly running his finger up and down your soft skin.

You had the answer, but you didn’t want to give it to him. You already knew what he was going to say and how he was going to react, but you couldn’t lie to him when he looked at you with those eyes of his that stared deep into your soul.

“I know what people are going to say when they see you with me” you mumbled, staring down at your shoes.

Lando frowned, not understanding what his fans had to do with anything. Why would you care about what his fans would say? He didn’t, why would you?

“What do you mean?” he asked, bringing you closer to his body.

You sighed against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist loosely.

“People are going to say things when they see you with me” your voice was small, unsure of your own words.

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what you meant. But he didn’t say anything when you sighed, letting you get everything off of your chest.

“I don’t look like the girls you are usually seen with, and people noticed that. They always have something to say about the way I look next to you and that I’m not like your exes and that you don’t really like me and are using me for clout. I know it’s not true, but sometimes they get to me” you confessed, a weight slowly lifting off of your conscience.

You weren’t used to being in the public eye as much as Lando, so you’d never before had to deal with people commenting about your appearance and judging every single thing you did or said.

It was something you took a while getting used to, but it was worth it if it meant being with Lando. And Lando was very grateful for all the sacrifices you had made for him.

“Baby, look at me” he said, taking your face in his hands so you would look him in the eyes. “I don’t care what anybody has to say about you. I love you for who you are, just the way you are. You’re gorgeous in my eyes and nobody could ever convince me otherwise” he said, speaking slowly so you could absorb his words carefully.

You looked at him, biting your lip as you studied his face and especially his eyes. They were sincere, holding more honesty and love than you thought you could ever comprehend.

“You mean that?” you whispered, feeling hot tears building into the corners of your eyes.

Lando smiled and leaned down, kissing you deeply. “I love you, and I don’t care what anyone has to say about us. We’re happy, nobody else matters”

You bit your lip again but nodded, prompting a big smile to break out on Lando’s face.

“Then let’s rock Silverstone”

♡♡♡♡♡

The paddock was buzzing when you arrived with Lando and his family. Dozens of fans were screaming your boyfriend’s name, and even though he smiled and waved at them while keeping his distance, you could tell his smile was not 100% honest.

You tried not to look at his fans if you could help it, knowing you would be met with some looks you’d be better off not seeing. Lando saw that, and he only wrapped his arm around your shoulders to keep you even closer as you made your way together to the garage.

“How are you feeling?” Lando asked once you were in the safety of his driver’s room, away from the screaming fans and photographers.

You smiled, your heart warming at the fact that his most pressing concern, even on the toughest race weekends, was you.

“I’m okay, you don’t have to worry about me” you reassured him, smiling lightly.

He looked at you for a moment, studying your face and eyes intently. He didn’t like knowing that his fans were not supportive of his relationship and of you in particular, he thought it was absolutely ridiculous.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable being here” he said, sighing before pulling you into a hug.

“I’ve known from the beginning that being in the public eye wouldn’t always be sunshine and roses. This is just an example of that, we can’t control it. People are allowed to have opinions, I just have to learn how to deal with them” you said, enjoying the warmth emanating from his body.

Lando nodded, but still felt like he should make it clear how wrong everybody else was about you.

He pulled away from the hug, only to take your face in his hands. “I want you to know that, no matter what anyone might say, I love you just the way you are. I don’t care if you’re skinny, if you’re a little chubby, if you have short or long hair, I care about you in any form. I love you for who you are, not for the way you look” he said, making tears well up in the corners of your eyes.

You had always known Lando loved you, but this right there proved it to you 1000 times over.

Not being able to resist, you practically threw yourself against his body, kissing him so fiercely you both became lightheaded. Pouring every ounce of love you felt for one another into a kiss, sealing a promise that you would always be there to lift each other up, no matter what.

Why?

Because nothing else mattered besides you two.

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[discotitsposts]

soft smells

spencer reid x reader who loves cooking and baking cooking and baking with spencer.

fluff! rated e for everyone!

i keep seeing cooking and baking inspo on pinterest 😫

this is the recipe for bruschetta i used.

(i wanna be his housewife so bad it’s insane)

You hear the front door open as you’re taking the tray out of the oven. You’re so excited for Spencer to try your latest creation, you’re not paying attention to your hands and accidentally touch the super hot tray.

“Ow!” You scream. Spencer runs in and sees you cradling your palm.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asks, concerned.

“I accidentally burned my hand.” You hiss at the searing pain. You reach for the freezer to ice your burn.

Spencer stops you, “Wait! Don’t ice it! Ice is the worst thing for a burn!”

Spencer makes you sit at the dining table. He grabs a few things from the medicine cabinet as you watch.

He takes a leaf from your aloe vera plant, and cuts the leaf open. He takes some of the gel from the leaf and rubs it gently on your burn.

You wince at the sensation.

He notices and says, “Trust me it will help.”

“I know.” You manage a smile.

He bandages up your palm and kisses it.

“Alright get more of those every hour.” He says smiling.

“More aloe?” You ask, confused by what he means.

“No, the kisses.” He hands you some medicine to help with the pain. You take it and go back to making your bruschetta.

You pick up the bowl you’d premade with the mixture of extra virgin olive oil, garlic, oregano , basil, onions, salt and pepper. Meanwhile, Spencer transfers the bread onto a cooling rack for you.

You brush the mixture onto the bread slices. It smells divine. Then you add the chopped tomatoes. It envelops Spencer’s nostrils and makes his stomach grow hungrier. He tries to steal a slice when you’re not looking.

“It’s still hot Spence. Unless you want your tongue to look like my hand I would put that back.” He sighs and puts the slice back.

You sprinkle basil on the bruschetta and tell Spencer to wait in the living room. He obeys silently. Stomach growling louder by the second.

In the living room, the soft smell of toasted bread and cheese fills his senses yet again. You’d added mozzarella on top and bring it into the living room some time later.

“Cooled off?” He confirms.

“Yes, try some.” He takes the biggest piece and takes a bite. He moans happily when the taste hits his tongue.

“Oh wow!” Is all he can say.

“Delicious. Nothing better.” You say wiping a crumb off your mouth. You look at Spencer whose face is covered in crumbs. His mouth is full. This is one of the funniest things in the world and you laugh.

He tries to say ‘something on my face?’ but all that comes out is,

“Thomeing o ma ace?”

“Yes!” You laugh so hard you can’t breathe and tears fill your eyes.

After he swallows, he kisses you.

“We should make food together more often.”

“As long as you don’t eat it all before it’s done.” You tease.

“As long as you don’t burn your hand first.” He fires back jokingly.

“Oh yeah? What should we make next?”

“Cake!” His eyes light up.

You giddily run with him to the kitchen to go make a cake. You make a strawberry cake together and Spencer decorated it with pink icing and white icing flowers. You slice up some fresh strawberries and add them on top.

It was the best cake Spencer had ever eaten. Even more so, since it was made with love.

-

the end

-

tags🍓-

(if you would like to be tagged in all future works you can let me know by commenting a 🍓!)

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

[lovelyjj]

hey! Can you write insecure reader who stops eating and her boyfriend JJ finds out?

I love all your works btw! 😽🫶

Insecure

jj maybank x reader

a/n: thank you and thank you so much for requesting!

It was hard not to compare yourself to other girls. When you were at the beach all you could think about is the bodies of the other girls. They had tiny waists and long legs. Their hair was perfect and you just wished you looked like them.

The fact that you had to wear a bikini to the beach made you not want to go. Showing off your body is quite possibly the last thing you would ever want to be doing. So you would ether not go or wear a sweatshirt and say you weren’t tanning or swimming.

It was also hard to see the same girls at the beach flirt with your boyfriend. JJ would blow them off and reassure you that that you were the only one for him. JJ didn’t even glance in their direction. He was completely devoted to you. Yet you still felt like he deserved better.

All you could think about is how horrible you looked. You were far from how the girls at the beach looked, and you couldn’t help but think you were ugly. You were deeply insecure and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You felt uncomfortable in your own skin and not good enough for anyone or anything. You were tired of feeling this way, it was draining. You were also feeling hopeless. Your mind was your worst enemy. Every time you looked in the mirror you cringed. So, you tried to avoid doing that at all times.

When food was placed in front of you you would almost gag. You didn’t want to eat. It was too much. You thought maybe if you stopped eating you would become thinner and look like all the other girls with tiny waists.

You didn’t mean to it just sort of happened. You thought you were just not hungry, but then you were skipping meals. a lot of meals. You have stopped eating all together and you were hoping that you would get good results out of it.

JJ wasn’t stupid, he knew something was wrong he just didn’t know what. He noticed that he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. He also noticed that you’ve lost some weight. Of course your weight didn’t matter to him but he was concerned for your health.

The chateau was busy with all the pogues in it. They were all getting ready to go in the hot tub. You were having a dilemma because you didn’t want to get into a swimsuit. So you decided you wouldn’t go in.

“What’s up buttercup?” JJ asked.

“Nothing just chillin,” you spoke.

“How are you, seriously?” JJ asked. He was concerned about you. He was watching you decline and he hated it.

“Um m’fine,” you replied.

“I think we need to talk,” JJ put forth.

“what about?”

“I haven’t seen you eat in a long time and I’m worried about you,” JJ confessed.

You let out a deep sigh. You did not want to have this conversation right now.

“Don’t worry about it JJ,” you instructed.

“No I will worry about it because i worry about you. You’re my girl and I care about you. I’m concerned. Please baby, talk to me.” JJ begged.

“I just want to feel pretty,” tears filled your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.

“I thought maybe if I stop eating, I would loose some weight.” You looked down on the floor avoiding JJ’s eyes.

“You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world right?!”

“Baby please look at me.”

You did as you were told, reluctantly.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you and I love your body. I think you’re gorgeous. It breaks my heart that you don’t see it. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You gave JJ a sad smile.

“Come here,” JJ opened his arms for you to get into.

Once you were in JJ’s arms he kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead. He then kissed your temple. “My beautiful girl, love you so much!” Then he kissed your lips.

“How about I order a pizza?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t know jayj,” you shrugged.

“Come on please baby I need you to eat something for me. I don’t want you to wither away. I care about you and your health.”

“I’ll eat with you, I will even help you. If you want me too,” JJ shrugged.

“Jayj…”

“No come on, I’m ordering the pizza, end of story.”

You gave JJ a small smile silently thanking him but you were more so just done protesting. You knew JJ meant well you were just stubborn. It meant a lot to you that he cared so much about you. You thought it was sweet. You just really didn’t want to eat.

The pizza was delivered and you were dreading eating it. JJ took the pizza to his room so you could have some privacy.

“I know you don’t want to eat but i’m right here I’m not going anywhere and I want you to nourish your body.”

“okay jayj.”

JJ sat with you and helped you eat. He was understanding and considerate. He wanted to be there for you during this hard time. With JJ’s help you were able to eat something.

“There you go baby, good job! I’m proud of you,” JJ praised.

“Thank you J.”

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58 Part 4

The living room and kitchen were deserted, neither Danny nor Jazz expected anyone as it was normal for their parents to essentially live in the basement only coming up for meals once or twice a month to ‘eat as a family’, these would consist mostly of fast food as no one trusted anything cooked in their kitchen.

They shared a glance as they opened the basement door and headed down. The dimly lit basement held the giant hole in the wall, the so-called portal, a massive metal spectacle with wires and interconnected circuitry met together to create an unholy abomination of science. Or at least that’s what Jazz called it once when they were in her room venting about the situation. 

“JAZZ!! DANNY!!” their overzealous father yelled as he bounded over.

Their mom walked over too, seeming to be happy for their return, “your father and I could barely contain our excitement all day!! Go on put on your hazmat suits.” their mom gestured over to the lockers that held the suits. Both of their parents' lockers tended to be quite empty since they practically lived in them, to the point where they had several copies of the same suits that they’d wash and reuse. Danny and Jazz only had the ones, Jazz had a nice dark violet color with black gloves and boots. Danny had black gloves and boots too but his was white to make it look like he was an astronaut, something that he had mixed feelings on. Both of these used to have a giant picture of Jack’s head on it but it was quickly removed by both siblings. 

They quickly put the suits on over their uniforms and joined their parents behind some glass near the portal. It wasn’t closed off or anything and Danny didn’t think it would be able to prevent something like an explosion from charing all of them but it’s hard to have faith in parents who've missed so much because of the stupid portal, or at least that’s how Danny felt. 

Jazz and Danny huddled together behind their parents as their mom did some final checks on a clipboard, “alrighty we should be all good, Hun you ready to throw the switch?” their mom asked their dad. “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Jack yelled as he threw down the switch.

…

A few sparks erupted from the portal but other than that nothing happened. 

Their dad, frustrated at this angrily tried turning it off and on again but nothing but another smaller spark and then truly nothing. 

Another low frustrated growl left their dad as he and mom walked back up the steps, “alright I’m taking a break.” Jack said, almost defeated, sounding, “I’m sorry but I really thought we had it this time.”

“Oh come on, Jack, let’s go out, I’m sure the kids were probably going over to the Wayne’s again anyways. Let’s go out and have a fun night then sleep on it.” their mom said, patting dad on the shoulder. They shared a fond look and then went upstairs probably to get ready. 

Danny and Jazz stood at the bottom of the stairs and shared a look.

“They gave up too fast again…” Jazz noted.

“I guess, what do we do now?” Danny asked.

“I’m still a little curious about the portal but I don’t want to keep Damian, Tim or Alfred waiting,” Jazz said with a hand on her cheek.

“We could invite them in, I know we haven’t before but maybe Tim would know how to get it working, he is pretty good with technology.” Danny reasoned. Neither of them really wanted to involve the Wayne’s in their family’s shenanigans but at this point they were all friends and Damian and Tim were bound to find out how weird their family was at some point anyways.

Jazz stood there seeming to think things over before she nodded, “alright I trust your judgment but we’ll have to be careful okay?” 

Danny smiled at her, “of course, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

This is what led to the four of them standing at the bottom of the stairs. Their parents had left about an hour ago. Danny and Jazz were still in their suits with Tim without one and made to sit with Jazz behind the glass and Damian and Danny planning to explore the actual tube.

“I don’t want to chance you getting hurt,” he said to her as he made her stand next to Tim.

Damian and Danny shared a look and nodded before heading into the tube. 

They looked around for a while but didn’t see much besides the interconnected wires on the floor of the lab. Damian took the right side while Danny took the left. They worked their way up and down the tube. Damian was a little ahead of Danny on their way out. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary.

When they were almost out Danny lost his footing, his hand flying out in front of him. A soft click was heard and time seemed to crawl to a stand still.

Danny couldn’t stand the thought of his friend getting hurt because of him and he felt a rush of adrenaline. He ran as he felt a swirl of energy and electricity surround his body. 

“DANNY!! DAMIAN!!” he heard both Tim and Jazz shout as he reached Damian who was at the mouth of the portal.

A quick shove was all it took to get Damian, who had turned towards him at the sound of the shout, out of the portal. 

“DANIEL!!” he heard Damian shout as the portal activated on top of him, surrounding his body with swirling green.

Blinding pain shot through Danny, feeling as if he was being torn apart and put back together again and again.

He figured he was dying but at least he could protect those he cared about. He was able to shove Damian out of the portal in time, and Tim and Jazz were safely behind the blast glass.

He wouldn’t ever be able to fly among the stars as an astronaut but he was able to protect. His family and friends were safe and that’s all that mattered. 

He could allow himself to succumb to the darkness as the electricity and pain consumed him whole.

[rubberizer92]

It was a bright, sunny day when Thomas woke up. The warm light streaming through his window cast a soft glow over his muscular body. He stretched languidly, feeling the smooth, cool rubber of his skin beneath his fingertips. He had signed up for a rubber drone transformation several months ago, drawn in by his love of all things rubber and the promise of a kinky, fun event filled with fellow fetishists.

He had never expected it to turn into this. Two months of rigorous workouts and gulping down a drink twice a day, a drink that contained what felt like extremely strong growth hormones, designed to develop significant muscle mass. Every day, he felt himself getting bigger, stronger, more magnificent. And every day, he became even more insatiably horny.

The worst part was that when he ejaculated, his cum was black and gooey. It alarmed him at first, but as the days went on and he found himself unable to focus on anything but his own desire, it faded into the background. There was something so intensely erotic about his new, muscular body, about the way it felt to touch it, to feel it touching him, that nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

He stood up from his bed, the smooth rubber sheets clinging to his body like a second skin, and made his way over to the full-length mirror on the wall. As he gazed at his reflection, he couldn't help but marvel at the sheer perfection of his body. His muscles rippled and glistened with sweat, each movement accentuating their power and strength. He began to run his hands over his chest, feeling the hair on his arms stand on end as he neared his nipples.

He let out a low groan, his arousal threatening to overwhelm him. He reached down and began to stroke his thickening cock, imagining the feel of something smooth and warm wrapped around it, helping him to lose control. As he stroked himself, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. Would this ever end? Or was it only just beginning?

Thomas paused, his fingers still wrapped around his throbbing shaft, and glanced down at his body. The black cum that had been oozing from his pores for the past few weeks now seemed to be sticking to his skin, making his entire body glisten like some sort of twisted, erotic sculpture. He shuddered, feeling a mixture of revulsion and arousal wash over him. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, the arousal won out, and he was overcome by a desire so intense it nearly brought him to his knees.

He finished himself off, his muscles tensing as he shot thick, black globs of cum all over his chest and abs. It was as if his body was rejecting the very substance it had created, pushing it back out in a primal attempt to expunge it. And yet, somehow, it only served to heighten his arousal.

As he caught his breath, he noticed something else. The black cum seemed to be sticking to his body even more, spreading out from where it had originally landed, like some sort of macabre, living paint. He reached up and wiped some off, only to realize that his fingers were now coated in it as well. He paused, considering this development, but before he could form any coherent thoughts, a wave of desire washed over him once more, and he found himself picking up the phone, calling the laboratory.

He didn't know what would happen next, but he couldn't help but feel that whatever it was, it would only be a part of this incredible, surreal journey that his life had become. And as he waited for them to answer, he couldn't help but wonder if they would be as fascinated by his transformation as he was.

The laboratory door swung open, revealing a tall, imposing figure clad in a crisp white coat. Their eyes flickered briefly to the bound figure in the chair before they focused intently on Thomas. "Ah, Drone CT-29. I've been expecting your call. Please, come with me."

Thomas hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. He forced himself to stand up from the chair, the smooth rubber sheets clinging to his body as he followed the figure down a long, sterile hallway. The walls were adorned with strange instruments and diagrams, each one hinting at the incredible experiments that must be taking place behind closed doors.

As they reached a sealed door at the end of the hall, the figure produced a keycard and swiped it through the reader. The door clicked open, revealing a brightly lit chamber filled with state-of-the-art equipment. "This is where you'll be staying for the foreseeable future," the figure said, their voice a calm, soothing monotone. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

In the center of the room was a large, metallic chair, its surfaces gleaming in the harsh light. "That's where we'll begin," the figure continued. "You'll need to climb into the chair and allow us to attach the necessary sensors and devices. They'll help us monitor your vitals and ensure that you remain in optimal condition for your new role as a drone."

Thomas nodded, still struggling to comprehend the reality of his situation. He climbed into the chair, feeling its cold, unforgiving surface press against his warm, yielding flesh. As the figure began to attach the sensors and devices, Thomas closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath. He could feel the weight of the collar around his neck, the smooth metal digging into his flesh. It was a reminder of his new identity, of the fact that he was no longer in control of his own body.

But as the last device was secured into place, Thomas couldn't help but feel a strange sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in his life, he knew exactly what he was meant to do, and he was bound and determined to see it through. He opened his eyes and looked up at the figure in the white coat, a small, hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm ready," he said. "Do whatever you need to do."

The figure nodded, their expression unreadable. They reached up and gently caressed the collar around Thomas's neck, running their fingers along the smooth metal. "This is your new name," they said, their voice soft and soothing. "From now on, you will be known as Drone CT-29."

As the figure spoke the words, Thomas felt a strange tingling sensation course through his body. It was as if the collar wasn't just a symbol of his new identity, but a physical extension of it. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling, and for the first time in his life, he truly believed that he was meant to be here.

Time seemed to slow down as the laboratory around him faded into the background. All that mattered was the chair, the collar, and the steady flow of information being transmitted directly into his brain. He could feel the butt plug inside him, constantly pressing against his prostate, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. It was as if he had been designed for this, as if his very existence was meant to serve this purpose.

The figure in the white coat began to speak again, their monotone voice guiding Thomas through the process of accepting his new identity and role as a drone. They told him of his duties, of the importance of serving the greater good, and of the intense pleasure that would be his reward for doing so. As they spoke, Thomas felt himself growing more and more aroused, the black rubber covering his body stretching taut against his swelling member.

Finally, the figure leaned in close, their breath warm against Thomas's ear. "You are now fully integrated," they whispered. "Welcome to the fold, Drone CT-29." The words sent a shiver down Thomas's spine, and for the first time in his life, he knew that he had found his true purpose. He was no longer Thomas; he was Drone CT-29, a vessel for pleasure and obedience, and he was eager to begin his new life.

The figure stepped away, and Thomas felt a new sense of freedom wash over him. He could feel the chair beneath him, the smooth metal of the collar against his skin. He was aware of the butt plug inside him, the constant pressure and fullness, the way it seemed to tap into a deep, primal part of his body. And as he sat there, waiting for his next command, he knew that there was no other place in the world he would rather be.

[slutt4ellie]

Fated Hearts Start With Fire

PT2 - Unforeseen Harmony

PART 1

Moving to a new city is tough, but it’s even harder when your roommate is a dick.

Summery - After moving in you find yourself distracted on why your roommate has this very prominent dislike when it comes to you?

Warnings -> Same mean Ellie / Reader is also rude / Alcohol usage / Mentions of previous relationships / Girl flirts with reader 🫣 / Jealousy (if u squint idk) / Slow burn!! / Toxic relationship /kissing / (Lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC : 4.4k

(Not proofread)

DAILY CLICK 🇵🇸 - (takes a few seconds!)

Fuck.

To say living with Ellie is “Hell”, that would be an understatement!

The whole interaction with her the day after she came home completely plastered, the one where she said you looked “shitty”, that was about 3 and a half weeks ago.

You didn’t even understand what the actual fuck was wrong with her! And sure that seems mean, you knew how it sounded! But she’s probably the most unreasonable person you’ve ever met.

She’d get pissed if you got up to early for your classes because the moving of you just simply walking “Woke her up!”

She constantly takes your food, drinks, snacks, whatever. Basically everything that was in the fridge, and purchased by you, also now happened to be hers!

And every time you brought up how it was rude or disrespectful she’d shut it down! Saying something along the lines of “While I lived here first!”

Living in a place that was completely foreign to you, and having the worst possible fucking roommate unsurprisingly didn’t mix well!

It also didn’t help you had a grand total of 0 friends. You were shit at small talk and conversations, that was nothing new.

But then again you also knew staying in your shared apartment with Ellie. That wasn’t something you could deal with much longer, you just had to suck it up and talk to literally anyone except for fucking her.

So that’s what you did.

Walking to class was alright, the cold air hitting the back of your neck was extremely apparent but you sucked it up.

The sun was still struggling to make it past the clouds but to be fair it was the least of your concerns, because as of now you were making some genius plan to make some friends..!

You had Jess and Alex who are great. You wouldn’t trade them for the world. But even they knew you had to get out there more.

At least that’s what they’ve been texting you all morning. Stuff along the lines of “You got this!” and “Just try not to panic”

So you kept that plastered in the front of your mind as you continued to walk down the campus trail, there was music blasting in your ears, trying to come up with conversation starters till there was a slight tap on your shoulder.

A girl, she was taller then you, had brunette hair, blue eyes, and a tiny smile on her face.

Her hand slightly moves signalling you to basically take out your headphones which you complied. You assumed it was already weird that you were staring at her for at least 5 seconds.

She spoke softly. “Hi..!” You just give her a smile back, thinking something along the lines of “Who the fuck is this??”.

“H-Hi?” You stuttered out a confused tone leaking which she clearly picked up on because she followed by saying. “I’m super fucking lost right now and you seemed approachable!” She chuckles letting out a quick “I’m a transfer student, and my class is 182..? Do you mind?” She holds out her map which shows the campus.

This leads you to quickly smile back. “Shit, I’m 182 as well. I can just walk you if you want?”

This has her immediately nod and you see the relief all over her face. “Fuck, thank you. I have no clue how to read paper maps”

“No?” You smile at her words and she follows up by shaking her head.

“Never thought I’d be in this situation, so no!” She smiles at you, causing you go stumble over your words.

“I-I uh didn’t get your name?“ You choke out.

“Fuck right! Mia, sorry!“ Mia smiles holding out her hand to shake.

You hold out your hand and shake it back. Quickly telling her your name.

༻♡︎༺

You learned that apparently during Mia’s transfer, the papers got all mixed up, which is now leading her 3 weeks after the term had started.

You and her quickly found yourselves sat beside each other during the whole lecture. (Which you hardly followed since you guys were talking a shit ton.)

And by the time it finished she didn’t hesitate to get your number, she was definitely way more bold then you..

You couldn’t tell if Mia was being simply platonic or if maybe she was trying to flirt?

You were sorta bad at signals and so when she asked you to do homework today, specifically together, quickly calling it a “Date!” you decided to deem it as non-platonic.

So here you are now walking back to your apartment shoulder to shoulder, talking about school, friends, where you both grew up, shit like that. Really just getting to know each other during the walk

It didn’t take long till you reached your apartment fumbling over the key hole as you unlocked it giving Mia a clear view of the auburn sat on your couch.

When Mia sees Ellie sat on the couch she quickly talks “Oh is she your?-“

You assumed Mia was going to finish off the sentence with “girlfriend” which had you almost shout out a quick no, because Ellie. Gross.

But! You decided as a calmer approach “No!- No we’re roommates! I- It was like an ad and shit so..”

Mia then smiles and nods looking straight at your. “Okay cool!”

Did Mia care if you had girlfriend??

But before you could even fucking talk, Ellie turns around, this makes you assume she was probably going to the kitchen, but as soon as her green eyes hit Mia’s then yours she just sorta stops. Spitting out a harsh.

“People are desperate now!” Ellie chuckles continuing to pick up where she left off and walking to the kitchen. Grabbing a few snacks.

Your eyes land on the side profile of Mia’s, her eyebrows are furrowed, she knew the comment was directed towards you. Because Ellie’s eyes stayed on you when she said it.

Mia was about to say something but you quickly grab her hand intertwining your fingers with hers.

You’ve never had a girlfriend. You didn’t know if this was normal to even do considering you and Mia were probably the furthest from dating, but you just wanted to draw her attention off of someone like Ellie.

You got the impression Ellie wouldn’t turn down a fight, which see showed with you, and those just all happened to be verbal.

You didn’t exactly want to see what the fuck would happen if Ellie got into a physical fight. Especially not with a girl which is showing at least some interest in you?

Mia’s eyebrows drop, no longer furrowed, and you see a pink rise to her cheeks.

You clear your throat, because now you’re nervous having you hand intertwined with Mia’s. So you quickly disconnect the both of your hands before talking to her..

“We can uh-my room is just over her” You point and quickly lead Mia to your room avoiding Ellie’s gaze purposefully.

You open your bedroom door, you and Mia instantly stepping into your now properly decorated bedroom.

Having a bed which you lacked just 3 weeks ago.

Mia finds herself on your bed dropping her bag on the side of the frame. She scoots back pushing her back against the headboard.

She quickly started up conversations which you grazed over considering you now have a fucking person in your room. On your bed!

“Your room’s pretty” Mia smiles

“T-thank you!” You smile looking at her finally being able to bare proper eye contact “If you came her 3 weeks ago we would have been on the floor”

Mia laughs and let’s out a “Why??”

“I had no fucking bed! Since I travelled so far, they were losers and didn’t want me bringing my queen bed on the plane?” You chuckle obviously joking which prompts a laugh from Mia.

“Seems lame” Mia smiles and you finally sit beside her on the bed.

“Super lameeee” You drag out your “e” which now left you feeling super fucking lame, it made you cringe at yourself which you tried to laugh off.

Mia smiles and chuckles, grabbing her laptop which she conveniently already took out of her bag. “I don’t wanna do all this fucking work” Mia looks at you having the blood rush straight up to your cheeks.

“Y-yeah no me neither, I already have like 3 things I gotta work on.” You chuckle looking back at her.

Mia had almost 0 problem having her eyes glance down to your lips. Yet you fucking did.

I mean sure you obviously wanted her to kiss you but you had no fucking knowledge on what to do? But before you could even think about it, Mia’s lips find themselves right on yours holding your cheek softly.

You immediately respond kissing her back having your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You were really just hoping your doing it right, but considering she’s not pulling back, you sorta come to the consensus it’s good enough!

You felt Mia’s tongue invite itself inside your mouth, her kisses now leaving and moving to your jaw and neck.

To say you were now just a bit nervous would be an understatement!

You obviously fucking liked Mia? You’d be dumb to not? But to be fair you didn’t even fucking know her middle name? Or really to much shit about her.

You didn’t know what this was? Like what if she just wants to hook up or something..! You obviously didn’t want that??

And she had to feel something was off because she pulls back her eyes now falling onto your face studying your face trying to read it. Quickly noticing how your eyes are planted on the ceiling.

“You okay..?” Mia ask having her hands drop from the back of your neck to your arms.

You didn’t even notice her lips where off your neck and jaw since you were doing your best to just disassociate.

“Hey..” Mia sits more up now her eyes meeting yours.

“W-what?” You stutter quickly swallowing the lump in your throat.

“You okay?” Mia says her eyes not leaving your face making sure she didn’t make you uncomfortable and accidentally do something wrong.

“Fuck- was I reading it wrong??” Mia ask, now starting to panic thinking she just kissed a straight girl or something?

“N-no! No! Fuck- no i’m sorry I just, I- I haven’t done this.??” You say spitting out not wanting Mia to leave or something.

“Like what? Shit with a girl” Mia says.

“At all.” You say really trying to have this justify and explain to her why the fuck you were practically tweaking out just from getting kissed.

“O-oh?” Mia says it surprised, now slowly fixing your shirt feeling bad. “Fuck i’m sorry”

Mia looks at you “I-if I knew I wouldn’t have like gone so fucking” Mia try’s to explain with her hands which failed causing you both to laugh.

“I-no your good. I just like- maybe slower.” you say looking at Mia thinking she’s gonna laugh. Not a lot of people go “slow” now, and you knew that.

“Slowwww” Mia smiles dragging out her words before softly kissing you again now not doing anything crazy like tongue, literally just kissing you.

༻♡︎༺

That was a crazy as it got. Literally just kissing which you appreciated. It also didn’t take long before the sky turned dark and Mia had to leave, you walked her out, kissed before she left and everything felt insanely intimate.

But just like in Ellie fashion she always had a whole lot to say. You hardly noticed her before she talked.

“I meant what I said by the way! Didn’t realize people were so fucking desperate” Ellie slightly laughs her hair falling over her face which she promptly moves.

You just look at her. “The fuck is your issue Ellie.” You say trying to shrug off her comments but it just doesn’t work.

“I don’t have a fucking issue, just think anyone would have to be insanely fucking desperate to go out with you, that’s all?” Her stupid fucking laugh echos your shared apartment.

“You always have a lot to say.” And you don’t even know what made you say the next sentence considering you knew hardly nothing about the situation. You had a lead, an idea of what it was so you took it.

“What happened with Cat Ellie? Dina and Jesse brought it up, fuck did she leave because of how fucking annoyed you are or?”

It didn’t take long till her face dropped the smug smirk no longer planted on her face.

Guilt stuck you hard. Sure you didn’t like Ellie but the fact her eyes are glazing over, just from one fucking sentence means you probably crossed a line.

I mean was it fair she could say all this shit about you with nothing in return. Obviously no?

But then again you didn’t know what actually happened with this Cat? You knew it was some sorta “situation” at least that’s how Jesse worded it a few weeks ago. But then again it wasn’t your place to bring it up.

“Fuck you.” Ellie’s voice chokes up for the first time in god knows how long. She turns around. So clearly the Cat thing is personal! You quickly thought to yourself!

“Ellie..” You follow and she turns around and pushes you, which almost has you fall straight back.

“Fuck off!” Ellie says her voice now stern, fist clenching at her sides.

There was no doubt she was probably going to punch you, but luckily there was a knock on your guys door.

“Ellie let us innnnn!” Dina’s cheerful voice comes through the door.

Almost immediately Ellie walks over shoving you, in the process her shoulder comes slamming against yours which almost causes you to fall back.

You hear the door open and a pair of footsteps enter. Ellie doesn’t even bother to great them.

“Okayy? Rude” Dina chuckles thinking it’s just Ellie being Ellie.

But when Ellie also glances past her and sits on the couch. Dina starts to get a weird vibe.

Dina slowly turns her body towards you “Hey!”

You don’t even know what to reply with. You just let out a slight “Hi.”

Dina tilts her head, her eyes glancing from you back to Ellie. Both of your eyes seem heavy. Jesse quickly puts down alcohol and snacks on the kitchen counter.

Quickly Finding himself beside Ellie on the couch which she quickly shoves over to the furthest cushion, being the possible furthest away from him. Hardly matters though because she stands up. “The fuck?”

He mutters looking at Ellie’s body slowly leaving, trailing to her room.

“What happened” Dina says both her eyes flat on you.

“I-I brought up Cat.” You mutter out.

Just by the fact Dina’s eyes trail straight to Jesse and Jesse immediately stands up walking down the hall “Imma check on her”

Dina nods and looks back at you once again. “What’d you say…?” Dina’s tone is stern, her cheerful tone now lacking. She’s literally just trying to figure out what happened.

“I-I just, she was being m-mean to mi-mia and m“ You try and spit out but Dina cuts you off clearly not trying to hear about someone she literally doesn’t know.

“Just what did you say!” Dina says fully over the rambling, she knows whatever the fuck you said must be bad because Jesse is still trying to get into Ellie’s room.

“I-I just said something like ‘did Cat leave you because you’re annoying’! I didn’t- I didn’t except shit. Like I didn’t except it to actually strike a nerve??” You quickly say looking down embarrassed of your words. “I brought yours and Jesses name up accidentally, I swear!” You quickly add.

“Shit..” Dina sighs rubbing her hand down her face letting out a groan. You don’t know the story and Dina’s trying to remember that.

Dina was about to talk more but you quickly cut her off. “I swear I didn’t- I didn’t except her to freak?”

Dina shakes her head. “You don’t know the story. Okay.”

You don’t even know why you care. I mean Ellie’s a dick, she’s been for the past 3 weeks. But you never wanted to actually hurt her? You wouldn’t consider yourself “mean”. But as much as you convince yourself you no longer seems if you care you just spit out.

“I- then tell me..the story?” You say.

2 months earlier.

(Ellie)

“Ellie” Dina says laying on Ellie’s bed looking at her.

Ellie’s spacing out looking at her celling.

“El!” Dina says a bit louder sitting up waving her hand over Ellie’s face having Ellie quickly snap out of it.

“Fuck yeah” Ellie says her voice cracking trying to form a smile which feels all to fucking forced..

“We should go out tonight. You know get out of the apartment that has Cat in it.” Dina says looking at Ellie’s facial expression. The idea seems uncomfortable. Going out without Cat at this point felt foreign...just weird…

“I don’t know.” Ellie fiddles with her hands instead of facing Dina’s brown eyes which feel like they’re piercing into her thoughts right now.

“It’s a break. I mean I could invite her?” Ellie suggest looking at Dina almost like she wants approval.

Dina knows the idea probably isn’t smart but she sorta shrugs. After all it’s just a break. Not a breakup.

“Yeah! I can bring Jesse too” Dina smiles suggesting looking at Ellie.

Ellie’s eyes finally light up like they used to.

“I’ll ask then!” Ellie quickly stands up smiling at Dina before leaving her bedroom which just a few nights ago, had Cat still sleeping in it.

—————————

The argument between Cat and Ellie was stupid. Ellie and Cat wanted to go do something special for their 1st year anniversary. They had an idea to go somewhere special, like a foreign country or something. Just to get out, spend quality time. Shit like that.

Then the first problem came. Ellie and Cat had two very fucking different budgets. Ellie has lived in New York for a bit and had a stable job.

A type of job she could live off of.

Then Cat. Cat definitely had a better job, she wasn’t shy to bring it up either, quickly pointing out all the places Ellie could realistically afford were “shitty” and “gross” instantly forming a fight.

“Why do you act like i’m not trying?” Ellie says looking at Cat tears already brewing on her lower eyelid..

“I’m not acting like anything Ellie?” Cat says scoffing sarcastically. Almost like she’s blaming Ellie. “I just think your job clearly isn’t paying enough.”

“Doesn’t it matter we’re going together?” Ellie says looking at back at Cat now standing up.

Cat follows up by standing in front of Ellie. “Ellie don’t pull that shit!” Cats tone is getting louder and she shakes her head fast.

“I’m not pulling anything! You’re acting like me not being able to afford places that are 700+ dollars is like i’m purposefully doing this!” Ellie’s tone is also getting but it has more cracks rather then Cats.

“Okay Ellie.” Cat says sarcastically just rolling her eyes, grabbing her bag.

Ellies eyes are shifting from Cats hands, to the clothes she’s grabbing, and back to the bag. “W-where are you going?”

Cat sighs and shakes her head. “I just want space. I’m gonna stay at a friends tonight.”

Ellies almost baffled. Confusion is flowing all throughout her brain. “Why?” Ellies eyes again are glossy. ‘this isn’t a breakup, this isn’t a breakup, this isn’t a breakup.’

“We clearly fucking need a break Ellie!” Cats words echo throughout Ellies brain..

“W-“ But before Ellie could even finish her sentence a slam of the front door rings Ellie’s ears and she’s now left alone in their shared bedroom.

—————————

Even though Dina thought it was stupid Ellie was shoulder to shoulder with Cat as they stand outside in the alley, which the club is left of.

Ellie’s eyes are the brightest they’ve been since that day. So even if Dina thinks Ellie even talking to Cat after the fight was dumb, if Ellie’s happy. That’s what matters.

The reason they were all outside the alleyway of the club is because Jesse is the only 21 year old in their whole group so he had let them all in through the back.

And as soon as the door opened and the music poured out Dina, Ellie, and Cat all entered.

It really didn’t take long till they were all drunk, they easily got served so they got loaded up fast with shots, the whole group downing them in mere minutes.

Ellie was enjoying her night, at the end of the day she was with Cat?

The girl she loved no matter what..

“I’m gonna go get us drinks!” Cat says talking into Ellie’s ear so she can hear over the loud music.

Ellie quickly gives Cat and thumbs up and a slight smile. “Okay!”

10 minutes go by, still no cat.

it’s been 10 minutes since Cats been gone, Ellie now just wants to make sure Cats okay? It shouldn’t take that long yet it was?

Ellie quickly taps Dina’s shoulder as she dances with Jesse. And leans into her ear “I’m gonna go find Cat! She’s been gone a bit!” Ellie says and Dina nods responding with a quick.

“Want me to come?” Dina smiles looking at Ellie.

Ellie shakes her head and smiles point at Jesse. “Nah! Enjoy dancing!”

Dina chuckle and nods watching as Ellie disappears in the crowd.

Ellie is pushing through a few bodies not seeing anyone who represents Cat getting drinks. Her eyes are scanning all over debating whether or not she should check inside the washrooms?

Until she sees Cats head in the middle of the dance floor. “Cat!” Ellie yells smiling until she sees in. Her voice falls short and her smile fades.

Cats kissing another girl.

Ellie’s whole face turns pale and she gets hit with a wave a nausea that hits her like a brick.

Everything goes b in a fucking blur. Ellie’s shoving through a shit ton of bodies. Tears streaming.

The scene is..ugly..

But she’s been dating Cat for almost a year. All of it, it’s down the drain in the matter of seconds. Ellie’s hands are shaking as she pushes the alleyway door open quickly trying to calm the fuck down.

Ellie sits down on the ground her chest falling up and down as her vision blurs. Black spots are appearing in her eyes and she feels like she can hardly breath.

It doesn’t take long till she can hear Dina’s muffled voice. “Jesse! She’s out here!” Dina says crouching down rubbing Ellie’s back.

Ellie assumes she hit Dina on the way out since she was so fast to find her. Ellie’s having a full blown panic attack and it’s not going away.

Jesse also crouches down beside Dina, reaching his arm on Ellie’s shoulder asking Dina if she saw what even happened.

Dina continues telling Ellie to breath. She softly rest Ellie’s hand above her chest to follow her own breathing pattern. “Ellie in…and out”

Dina looks at Jesse. “Wanna get her some water.”

Jesse quickly nods running over to the convenience store which is across the street.

As soon as Jesses leaves, Dina looks at Ellie. “Ellie what happened.”

The sparkle which was in Ellie’s eyes during the beginning of the night is now gone. And she just shakes her head. “Cat kissed some girl. I saw her while-while it was happening.”

Ellie try’s to clear her throat, a cover to stop the tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes again.

After that night Ellie didn’t want to feel.

So she made the decision she was done with trying to feel.

Present

(You)

“Fuck.” You sigh now realizing how much you fucked up. You brought up a situation you knew literally nothing about and probably just gave Ellie new fresh wounds which were probably just healing. “I thought the girl who moved out went back to her hometown or something, It was Cat thought..?”

“She probably didn’t feel like explaining it” Dina let’s out a dry chuckle which is to cover how fucked the whole situation is.

“Listen it’s not your fault.” Dina sighs shaking her head.

“You didn’t know?” Dina tilts her head her eyes finally meeting yours.. “Trust me I know Ellie can be a dick.” Dina says rubbing your shoulder, she doesn’t want you to feel guilty.

“Give her time to ease up” Dina nods trying to reassure you her behaviour will be better.

“I’ve gave her 3 fucking weeks?” You say. Almost all your sympathy leaving your body once again. Sure you wanted to feel bad for Ellie? But she’s mean all the fucking time.

What happened to her unfortunately doesn’t excuse that.

“I feel bad, a-and I get what happened to her isn’t fair. I know it wasn’t right for me to say what I did, but it’s also not fair for her to take it out on me Dina.” You say looking at Dina and Dina’s head drops.

“I’ve been friends with Ellie since freshman year. I swear to you she’s only ever fucking been like this these last 2 months.” Dina says, it’s like she’s trying to convince you that Ellie’s not a complete dick. Which you’re finding hard to believe.

Just as you were about to speak. Ellie walks out of her bedroom with Jesse. She looks straight at Dina then you, for the first time in fucking weeks Ellie doesn’t go straight to insulting you.

You can tell by the fact her eyes are now red she’s obviously been crying crying. You’ve never seen vulnerable before. Never with red eyes, her nose still sniffling, the outer area of her eyes still wet, you haven’t ever seen Ellie like this..

You didn’t say anything considering you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy since you were 100% the cause to her crying.

Your eyes follow Dina as you see her step forward and just hug Ellie. Ellie doesn’t push back or refuse. She just wraps her arms back around Dina.

Ellie’s face goes in Dina’s neck and it’s like a different version of Ellie.

Not like the version you’ve constantly been seeing.

You’ve seen Ellie like this before, it was when she was sleeping on the couch after coming home drunk with Dina and Jesse..

A version of her which was calm and real. Not someone behind a dark, mad, rude, persona. Probably the Ellie before Cat decided to fuck her up.

The Ellie which felt.

A/N -> Part 2 is here!!

I really hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, because I did actually enjoy writing this! I already have a full plot lay out for the 3 part so except that maybe next week. (don’t hold me to that 😭)

I’m gonna shift from a bit of the angst because I feel like i’m sorta shit at writing it, idkkkk!

I’m still super busy with school but so far my work load has been going down a bit, so I plan to work on obviously my other fics while still prioritizing this one! (Because I plan 5-6 parts)

That’s all! Ty again for reading likes and reblogs are really appreciated! 🫶🏽

Taglist - @a-little-bit-of-everybody @bready101 @shiimer @boobdrug @amberputh

[fabbyf1]

I was tagged by the wonderful @celientjeee to post a snippet of my wip...

I have nothing to say for myself. lmfao. enjoy.

“What do you want, Max?” Lewis asked with an exasperated laugh.  “Do you have plans for this evening?”  Lewis laughed again before he could think better of it. Max Verstappen was one of the weirdest guys he had ever met. There was a time when Lewis thought Max was the worst thing to ever happen to him, his mortal enemy that had stolen all the best parts of his life, but... it had been years since 2021. It was easier to be objective now. Max had never been the problem. But that didn’t mean they were on a food-sharing level of friendship.  Lewis reached out and picked up a nacho, finally answering his question. “You’re looking at them, mate.”  “Perfect,” Max said, then waved someone over behind Lewis’s head.  Lewis was even more confused than before; this definitely had to be a prank of some sort. A heavy hand gripped his shoulder before Lewis could even turn around to see who it was, making his fight-or-flight instincts flare up inside him. He turned his head to see who it was and was relieved when it was only Charles.  Lewis let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, man.”  “Hello, Lewis,” Charles said with a warm smile, pulling the chair out next to him and sitting in it. Lewis watched him get situated in the chair. Charles smiled at Max before making eye contact with Lewis again. “Oh! I love nachos—do you mind?” Charles asked, fingers poised to grab one off the plate but waiting for permission. Because he had manners, unlike Max Verstappen.

[yanderederee]

Hello! May i please request kokonoi with the letter Q! :)

I usually don’t have Koko in my immediate thoughts so I apologize if these aren’t quite accurate— this became a LOT more angsty than I thought it would… oops?~

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Initial reaction, he’s downright pissed. Pissed in a way of how the hell did it even happen? He’s more concerned with what was wrong to allow the escape than the fact you abandoned him.

Actually throws up will worry. Koko begins to spiral thinking about the worst. The worst. He has flashes of Akane. He didn’t save her from the fire. He couldn’t save her from her fate— dying a painful meaningless death. Imagining you in her place. In your haste, what if you ran out in front of a car? Twisted your ankle while running and cracked your head open on the curb?

Kokonoi had you confined to a luxurious apartment with everything you may have ever needed. Everything. You needed for nothing. He was hyperventilating, confused as to why you would ever want to escape.

His heart is breaking. You were driving him crazy.

Upon gathering himself, he’s in a fit of rage, thundering out with bloodshot eyes commanding everyone under his disposal to conduct a thorough search from Fukushima to Shizuoka. You couldn’t have gotten far, so he would comb through Tokyo and spreading outward.

Honestly, with the amount of dedication and ridiculously high price he puts on your safe capture, it shouldn’t have taken more than a day to find you.

Koko stops eating all together. He doesn’t have to will to do anything other than sit in your once shared condo, surrounded by all the things he thought you loved. Your things. The things he bought you. You never asked him for anything, yet all he did was give.

Now, upon your death…. If you were to die… in his care, outside of it, regardless of how it happens. Kokonoi isn’t surviving it. He doesn’t outright commit an act to bring it upon himself. He just can’t do it again. The amount of pain he feels over losing you is just too much for him to take.

Eventually he could realize the reason you tried escaping would have to be to leave him. You hated him, right? The thought of you hating him is the final nail in the coffin. You would rather die than be with him. Oh, he is not recovering after that one.

Someone would have to take care of Koko to keep him alive, because no amount of bitch slapping or talking sense into him will bring him back to reality. It just won’t.

[scaly-freaks]

a cage she'd live in forever

ignore me just randomly re-posting stuff into the vacuum i guess (i'll probably repost my rhaenicent fic next)

Aemond’s stoic manner doesn’t last.

Alicent took one look at her son during the confrontation with Rhaenyra, and understood he was pretending to be a man. He was forcing himself to grow up faster in the face of a cold, callous court, just as she once had. It broke her heart.

Now he’s back in King’s Landing, in the safety of his own chambers, and his voice cracks when he asks his mother to help apply salve to his eye. He doesn’t like the servants touching it.

Each crack in Aemond’s young voice drives her further into madness.

Madness to Alicent was never a legible concept.

It’s tucked away into the neat folds of her green sleeves, a problem for later.

She’s no Targaryen. There is no fire and blood to reckon with here.

And yet she sees her child suffer and she wants to burn down this cursed castle with herself in it.

You let this happen to him. You should have been more vigilant. You knew how obsessed he was with those beasts. YOU DID THIS.

Viserys plays no part in her judgements. The old man gave his seed and withered into the peripheral. These are her children. Alicent has the right to be possessive over them at least. Nothing else in her life has ever truly been hers.

Her title of ‘queen’ belonged to a woman more well-loved by her husband. Her name of ‘Hightower’ belongs to the men in her family. Her regal status could be snatched at any moment should the king die.

But her children she bore and birthed, they are hers.

Even so, they still ask for their father. They haven’t yet learned.

“Why does he like them more than he likes us?” Aegon mumbled to her when she can get a sober word out of him. “I thought he wanted us. I thought he wanted me.”

In a rare moment of affection – slapping Aegon was the worst thing she could have done in that room, she sees that now – she stroked the back of his silver head and made a soft, comforting sound.

“He does want you. He always wanted you.” She lies to her children with ease, just like she lies to everyone else.

When Aegon was born, no matter how it traumatised her to give birth so young, she had celebrated, thinking life would be better now that she was the queen who had managed to birth a male heir for the king.

It changed nothing.

Helaena was born and her depression grew worse.

She tries to forget what she’d done days after the birth, as if it were nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But she can’t forget the screams of her ladies-in-waiting, how they’d dragged her off the ledge. Helaena had been in her arms, shrieking miserably.

Alicent had begged her and begged her to stop crying, that she could do no more for her, that they were both helpless.

At some point, the crying faded into nothing, and the next thing she knew, she was standing on the window ledge, staring down at Maegor’s Holdfast, with her baby girl clutched to her chest.

There’s no doubt in her mind now that she would have jumped if they hadn’t found her.

She was dragged back to her cage, and her father came to rebuke her for her ungratefulness. She didn’t know how to tell him what was wrong. She didn’t know when everything went so perfectly wrong.

Aemond was born when she was happiest. She had grown a little older, become more well-adjusted. And a second son was further proof of her fertility, as well as another pillar to hold up both House Targaryen and Hightower. He was a beautiful baby, wide-eyed and gurgling. He was the happiest baby she’d ever had.

The happiness wears away the older he grows, but sometimes, when she cups his chin in her palm and makes a kissy sound, he beams, and she sees the precious infant again.

He isn’t smiling now. His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t look up, not even when she speaks to him.

Helaena sits on the corner of his bed, glancing up from time to time as she mumbles under her breath.

Alicent looks at her and doesn’t understand her, but there’s something about the girl no one can help but love. And Alicent does, painfully. The guilt of that window ledge will never leave her.

Helaena worries more than she lets on and will often wander into a room and sit in the corner like a watchful ghost when someone in her family is hurting. Alicent can’t count the nights she’s cried into her hands only to look up and see Helaena’s large eyes peering at her from the shadows. It never fails to make her laugh through the tears.

“Is Vhagar fed?” She coaxes Aemond on his favourite subject. She has no love for the dragon, but she uses her to get her son to speak.

He grunts, fiddling with his fingers. She wonders what confusion is now curdling in his young head. All her children are sad in their own ways, as sad as their mother, and she doesn’t know what to do. Leave well enough alone, Otto tells her, and Alicent can’t help thinking he might be right. He did the same with her after all.

“You were brave, Aemond. Your nephews would never have held their own the way you did.” Alicent wipes her fingers clean of salve and lifts his face up. He stares at her with his one, pale violet eye and she feels a burst of rage upon seeing the wound. It’s so strong it makes her nauseous.

“Even our uncle noticed,” Helaena hums. She looks up when she realises her mother and brother are staring at her. Then, she shrugs, stroking the dead centipede in her hand. It died this morning on her pillow. “I think he liked your bravery. But he would never say it.”

Daemon’s baleful, amused eyes flash across Alicent’s vision and she recalls her childhood infatuation with him. She grew out of it and happily so. It does not surprise her that Daemon would look at his brother’s children and see himself in them. He’s always boasted of himself as stronger than Viserys. It would entertain him to see a boy so like himself come from a woman he deems strait-laced and dull and a brother he considers weak.

“Our uncle,” Aemond scoffs. “He slept with her.”

“With whom?” Alicent’s head snaps around.

“Our father’s only child,” he spits out, venom in the words.

Rhaenyra.

“How do you know this?” Her eyes are wide and terrified, picturing a scenario where Aemond bursts out with this information at the wrong moment and gets punished.

“I was waiting to slip out and go to the beach, but I couldn’t find a good time. I saw them leave together. I know what they went to do. I’m not a child, mother.”

“Aemond, you must never speak of this again.”

“Why not?” He gets to his feet, all Targaryen rage and impulsivity. “Why must we always keep our mouths shut while she gets to do whatever she wants?”

Alicent breathes in, willing herself to stay calm.

Taking both his hands in hers, she kisses them and holds them against her cheek, reminding herself that all her children are still here. Daeron is safe in Oldtown. Her eldest three are here with her. They’re not gone yet. Daemon can’t do a thing to them. Daemon, not Rhaenyra, because even she knows her childhood friend would not willingly cut the throats of her own siblings.

“There will come a time when we will no longer live in fear of what Rhaenyra and her brood do or say to us,” she tells him. “But it is not that time yet.”

“Do you mean when father dies?” Helaena pipes up.

Alicent hushes her. “Don’t say such things out loud.” Her eyes dart to the door. Larys has spies everywhere, and though he might act innocuous with his crooked smile and haunted eyes, she knows him too well to think he’s loyal to her. He’s loyal to himself alone, as proven by the deaths of his kin. “But I assure you, Aemond, your patience will be rewarded, not just with a dragon, but by the respect of the entire realm. You are my warrior, my boy, my prince. Nothing will ever change that. Understand?”

Aemond grinds his teeth – it’s a habit she’s trying to help him out of – but he nods, slow at first, but then, with a greater degree of certainty. He believes her.

She glances at Helaena, a wordless signal that they should leave Aemond alone for a while.

At the door, she turns to look at him one last time, and smiles.

He brings peace to her heart, not because she loves him more than the other children, but because she knows he sees outside of himself, just like she was trained to. He will protect his siblings if Alicent is no longer there to do so.

Aemond is her favourite because he is exactly what she pictured when she imagined what it would be like to have a son.

Now they see you as you are.

Alicent wakes in a cold sweat, Rhaenyra’s vicious violet eyes burned into the backs of her eyelids. Her dreams are cruel to her. One moment Nyra’s head is in her lap, her young face alight with pleasure at the thought of flying away with Alicent and finding places no one else will ever reach. And then there’s a knife in her hand and Rhaenyra is bleeding out all over her green dress.

She can never control her dreams. Either she hurts Rhaenyra by the end, or Rhaenyra rips off her mask and shows her what she is.

A frightened young girl turned into a cold, enraged woman.

Her brother Gwayne used to reassure her she would be an excellent wife and mother to some very lucky minor lord. They were children of a second son, it was the most they could expect, even if their father was the Hand. And Alicent had revelled in the imagery. Gwayne was always kind to her, loving her the way younger brothers do, without question and without strife.

She never felt worthy of his simple love. She never believed she would be as good a woman as he believed she would. But often, on nights she can’t sleep, she thinks of all Gwayne told her and measures herself against it.

If she measures herself against what Rhaenyra promised she would grow to become, she’ll cry herself to death.

You are the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Everyone in this court looks at me and they see a princess, not a prince. They see what I am not, what I should have been. But you look at me and I feel strong, as if even I could bear the weight of my father’s crown. Do you know the worth of such a quality, Alice? You give strength to those who feel forsaken.

That last sentence was what echoed in Alicent’s mind the night she rushed out of the Great Hall, away from Rhaenyra’s bloodstained wedding, to find Criston Cole kneeling in the godswood, with a knife angled towards himself.

She wonders what Rhaenyra would feel knowing she herself is the reason Criston still lives.

A shadow stirs under her door and she hears the familiar clink of armour.

The guards change at midnight, and he comes to stand by her door, ever unable to sleep when the night is darkest. Alicent has memorised the sound.

Some nights, she can’t sleep until she hears the clink. Her heart doesn’t settle in the right place until Criston moves in front of her rooms, as if he’ll protect her from the hurricane waiting outside.

But no matter how she tries, tonight, sleep evades her.

She gets up and summons one of her maidservants, asking for a cup of mulled wine.

When the door opens, Criston moves an inch to the left, as if expecting trouble. Their eyes lock.

Alicent clutches her robe tighter around herself, suddenly aware of how little she’s wearing in comparison to her daytime garb. Her hair is loose from its coif, and falls in unruly curls down her back, large eyes betraying an age that is still not old enough for the troubles she bears.

“Ser Criston,” she calls, before he can close the door.

He walks into the doorway. “My Queen.”

She inclines her head to indicate he enter. He does so without a flicker in his expression, ever prepared to serve.

“Are you well, my Queen?”

Her palms are sweaty. She’s never been more aware of anything in her life. Whether it’s his presence or the lingering aftermath of her dream, she does not know.

“I could not sleep.”

His brown eyes peer at her through his lashes. They’re so large, they appear wholly sincere, but she’s seen them turn cruel at the mention of Rhaenyra. Never has a man confused her as much as Criston Cole.

Daemon, enigma as he seeks to appear, is fairly predictable within his impulsivity. If one wants trouble, look to the Targaryen prince with not a chip, but a giant oak tree on his shoulder. He’s always certain trouble.

But Criston can pass for serene and dutiful and be something totally different underneath.

Yet with her, Alicent believes he is at her service. She just often has doubts as to the precise reasons why. It can’t all be because she saved him from killing himself.

“The maid – “ he begins.

“Yes, she’s gone to fetch me a jug of mulled wine. I was hoping you would partake of it with me, Ser Criston.”

He bows his head in agreement.

Alicent’s mouth twitches in a sad smile.

He never suspects she may have ulterior motives.

Even to a man as guarded as this, she is laced so tightly, he would never suspect otherwise.

She’s never wanted to be like Rhaenyra – at least not to be in her situation – but now she does. To be able to say something charming, quick-witted, and break the ice, it would be a relief.

The maid returns with the wine and Alicent pours for the knight, setting the cup beside him.

“I appreciate how much you do for my children, Ser Criston.” She gestures for him to sit, and when he does, carefully seats herself beside him.

He keeps his eyes on the ground when he nods. “It is my duty, Your Grace. I will always work in the favour of the princes and the princess.”

“You go above and beyond.”

Now he looks at her and she sees a spark of surprise. “Have I overstepped, Your Grace?”

Alicent’s face softens, and she reaches to rest her hand on his gauntlet. “No. No, you have not. I am commending you, Criston. Not everything is a question of your ability. I will never doubt that.”

She hears him breathe out, but he still appears discomfited. She takes a sip from her own cup, hoping to encourage him to drink from his. A few seconds pass, and he mirrors her action. They smile at each other. Hers is wider, and his is small, but grows the longer he lets himself gaze into her eyes.

“May I ask what troubles you, my Queen?”

He knows. He must.

He was there in the room after the fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent was broken up. He’d watched her cry with Aemond’s bloodied face tucked against her neck. He was the one who had guided them both out, away from the court’s judgemental eyes, somewhere safe to grieve alone.

“I dreamt of Rhaenyra. Of our younger days.”

He keeps his face carefully smooth. “I remember that you were good friends. She always spoke highly of you.”

At least he’s not calling her a spoiled cunt anymore.

“She spoke well of you too,” Alicent admits. “Though I never saw when it was that she grew a particular affection for you. I was adept at reading those signs in her. With Daemon it was youthful infatuation. I was guilty of it too for a while. But you, I had no idea.”

A muscle in his jaw pulses. He’s staring into the cup of wine as if it will tell him what to say next, or what to do.

Alicent waits.

“I don’t think she held an affection for me the way I did for her,” he says at length. “I misread her cues. Had I known, I would never have offered what I did on our way to Driftmark. And she’d never had had the chance to prove just how little I meant in her world.”

“Did you – “ Alicent pauses, clears her throat, as if this isn’t something she should ask. Criston glances at her, expectant. “Did you like her a lot?”

His mouth tugs upwards with a tinge of bitterness. “It was my first time at court, away from war. And I was in the service of a princess. I’d heard one too many ballads, and she had a sweet smile. I saw everyone underestimate her. I saw her father harangue her to accept marriage proposals she didn’t want. It tangled up my views on love and duty, and my protectiveness grew into something more. It was youth’s folly on my part. It wasn’t until later that I learned she came to me after her uncle left her stranded in a brothel down in the city.”

Alicent nods, a knot stuck in her throat. She still remembers the pain in her stomach when her father first told her of the news, and that he was being banished from court for it. She remembers the way Rhaenyra’s voice trembled when she dubbed it a “vile accusation.” And yet it was never far from the truth.

Now Alicent understood exactly why Rhaenyra went to Ser Criston afterwards.

She knows this man has failed to forgive Rhaenyra’s youthful indiscretions, just as much as he refuses to forgive his own, but she feels pity for him regardless.

There’s no sense of betrayal towards the princess. Rhaenyra stopped feeling pity for Alicent the moment she was coerced into becoming her new stepmother. Alicent has ceased feeling that stab of guilt whenever she spoke against the princess in her absence. Life goes on.

“Everyone commits folly in their youth. It is of no consequence.” She says the words but doesn’t truly feel them. Her own youth was wasted in biting her cuticles till they bled and praying she did no wrong in her father’s eyes. Hardly a youth at all.

“Not you, my Queen.”

Alicent almost flinches in surprise. Criston has a look of amusement on his face. It takes her a moment to process, and then she laughs, uncertain. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe you’ve ever committed a folly as a child.”

“I have. Plenty of them. My father was always admonishing me for them.”

“What your father deems follies, aren’t really follies. He watches Aegon with the same focus he once used on you.” Criston’s implication is clear.

Just like Aegon, Alicent was once a pawn to move around as Otto saw fit. It doesn’t feel right to allow a member of the Kingsguard to absolve her of her perceived sins, but she leans into the feeling, letting it envelop her in comfort.

“I regret one thing in regard to you,” she mutters, looking away before the heat of the wine reaches her cheeks.

“What’s that?”

“The way I referred to you when you took of your helmet during your first tourney here.”

“’Gods, he’s Dornish’?”

Alicent’s eyes widen. Criston’s voice ripples with laughter. “Rhaenyra told me. I found it amusing.”

“I did not mean it to denigrate you,” Alicent says quickly. “I swear. I just meant – I hadn’t seen many Dornish folk growing up, and I wasn’t expecting – “

“It’s alright, Your Grace,” Criston cuts her off, eyes crinkled at the corners.

He looks young again, the way she remembers.

Alicent heaves a sigh, and then laughs, embarrassed.

They both drift into a comfortable silence, each glancing up while the other isn’t looking. It happens three times before their gazes finally meet and then suddenly, neither can look away.

She tries, but the urge to drown in the dark chasm of his eyes is more enticing than anything her husband has ever said or done to her.

Criston looks away first, but it’s to reach under his gauntlet. “I brought something. I thought the young prince might like it. Losing an eye at such an age is a great blow. I know he wishes to become a better warrior, and I fear it may create problems.”

Alicent’s face falls at the mention of Aemond’s injury. “Yes, well, there’s nothing to be done. His eye is gone.” Her voice cracks, just like her son’s had.

Criston stops fiddling with the gauntlet and stares at her. It’s as if he wants to reach across and comfort her with something more tangible than words.

But instead, he removes what he was looking for and holds it out.

It’s a leather eyepatch.

“I had it made. It’s well-padded and it will fit the circumference of his head. I know he is self-conscious about the scar, but once the wound heals, he can cover most of it.”

Alicent doesn’t speak. Her eyes glimmer with an emotion she can’t put a name to and her fingers tremble as they take the patch from Criston’s palm. Her bottom lip quivers, and she sniffs, trying not to give into the weight of grief upon her chest.

“Your Grace,” Criston murmurs, troubled at her reaction.

“Don’t – “ she seals her lips, and squeezes her eyes shut, letting the tears fall free. “Don’t call me that. Call me Alicent for once. I hear the name my mother gave me so little these days.”

He swallows, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Alicent.”

She inhales, a shivering breath, and clutches the eyepatch to her chest. “He’s going to look like a Braavosi ruffian,” she laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. “It would be highly improper.”

Criston shrugs and grins. “The boy deserves to go around however he wants after the trouble he’s had, no?”

She can already picture the scowl on her father’s face when he sees the patch.

It’s what convinces her to set aside her qualms.

Aemond will adore it. He has a knack for going straight for the thing he’s not supposed to, and just as with Vhagar, he’ll continue to make those decisions well into the future. At least Alicent can give him her blessing on this one.

“Thank you,” she says, and her voice barely breaks above a whisper. “You are good to me. To us.”

They smile at each other, and a picture of utter serenity invades her mind’s eye.

In it, her children don’t have silver hair, but red locks like her own, and deep, beautiful brown eyes like his. Their home is small, but happy, and each night when he returns, all four of them run to him, trying to tell him about their day at the same time. Alicent lingers in the back, waiting for her turn, knowing it will always come.

“Your Grace?”

The formal address shatters her vision like an arrow through glass.

She blinks, bringing herself to reality, to the quiet, dark room, so spacious and luxurious.

And him.

He’s closer now, and his hand is halfway up, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch her.

Alicent takes it without thinking and kisses the back before pressing it to her cheek.

He doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t say a word. His fingers tighten around hers and his armour shifts as he leans in.

Alicent doesn’t lift her head. She’s afraid of what she might see in the reflection of his eyes. She’s afraid she’ll see herself, yearning, something she’s long forced herself never to do.

“Alicent.”

“I won’t,” she whispers. “I won’t make you break your oath a second time. I’m not like her. I’m not her.”

“I know. I know.” He sets his other hand beneath hers, supporting it. “You’re not Rhaenyra. You are yourself. And I chose to serve you for that, not because I owe you my life and my dignity.”

“Rhaenyra made her choices out of youthful folly, and I am a grown woman. This is wrong.” She lets go of his hand, but he tightens his grip before she can take hers back. It’s not an aggressive hold, but it’s enough to keep her reined in close to him.

“I would never encourage you to do anything you did not want to, my Queen,” he says, and she now sees what Rhaenyra saw in him.

That wide-eyed devotion, the darkness stirring just underneath, as if he would do anything Alicent asked, no matter how cruel.

How could anyone say no to such intensity? Except Rhaenyra used him as a replacement, and Alicent has nothing to replace. She is a grown woman, but in this aspect, her experience is lacklustre.

“I don’t know what I want,” she chokes out, biting her lip to keep it from trembling.

“That’s not quite true, is it?” he says kindly.

She shakes her head. “I want a great many things, most of them to do with my children. But for myself, I don’t know what I want. Perhaps I want to sleep. Or to be at peace. Or maybe I want never to worry about another thing as long as I live.”

Her voice breaks as she remembers Aemond wiping his tears with haste so she won’t see them, and Aegon turning away to hide how her words trouble him, and Helaena – sweet Helaena – hoping her mother will understand what she means without having to try and explain it all the time.

And then she looks up at Criston and he is looking at her, only her.

Not Alicent the queen, nor Alicent the mother, nor Alicent the daughter.

Just Alicent.

She leans in for the space of a long sigh, and kisses his lips, seeking a taste of what it is that makes him see her that way.

Criston doesn’t let her pull back. His hand is behind her head – gentle, as if she were made of crystal – and his lips move like warm silk, pressed over her mouth. He kisses each corner, and then the bow of her upper lip, his breath soaked into hers. The scent of mulled wine is strong, but underneath, she tastes something sweeter. She wonders if she’s imagining it.

He manoeuvres her with an ease that steals her breath away.

One moment she’s on the seat, the next she’s half on his lap and his arm is braced around her slender waist.

She’s never been kissed like this before, like the centre of the universe is hidden between her lips and he means to steal it.

“Criston – “

His name is muffled in the wet slide of his tongue over hers, and she isn’t sure what she means to say next. He doesn’t give her the chance to think about it. His hand braces against the side of her neck, pulling her closer, until she’s caged.

This is a cage I would live in forever.

It takes the will of the gods to end the kiss.

The second she does, his mouth grasps at her chin, her cheek, her jaw, her throat, reaching for anything she’ll give him. And for a few heartbeats, she lets him have it all. She pretends her body is his to do with as he pleases, and that no one will ever come through that door to break them up.

She pretends she is his, and he is hers.

And then her body strains back, breaking the restraint of his arm.

Criston releases her immediately, breath coming short, eyes glittering with arousal.

Her own face is no better. Soft steps retreat, taking her back until she finds the bedpost. It’s the only thing keeping her knees from giving out.

Criston stands, and she’s suddenly aware of how much larger he is. It doesn’t help the heat spreading across her body, or the heartbeat pulsing in her throat. Her cheeks are still wet with tears.

“We can’t,” is all she manages to breathe out.

He nods, a sincere gesture. He understands.

Alicent thinks then that she might die to be understood like this always, that she’d die for him.

His white cloak whispers across the floor when he approaches.

A coarse hand rests ever so soft against the petal-skin of her cheek. It brushes down towards her chin, tilting it up. He studies her face as if she were a finely woven tapestry, each thread made of precious gold and silver.

“Your tears are as beautiful as the rest of you,” he murmurs. “But would that I could, I’d banish them from your eyes forever.”

Alicent trembles, trying not to let out the sob building up in her chest.

He presses a kiss to her forehead, chaste, and his hand drops away her face.

He leaves and behind him, lingers a poignant scent she’s only ever breathed in the godswood.

It’s holy.

“What’s this?”

Aemond looks confused at the velvet pouch she dangles before him.

Aegon is sitting on a nearby chair, sober for once, and Helaena is curled up by the fireplace, making swirling patterns with the corpses of dead bugs. Aegon keeps cringing and telling her not to bring them too close to his feet. She threatens to throw one in his open mouth when he’s asleep.

Their bickering continues in the background as Alicent pulls Aemond close. “Open it.”

He does, and removes the patch with a blithely confused face. “What is it?”

“It’s a patch for your eye, you dolt,” Aegon calls.

“Aegon, don’t be mean to your brother.”

“Why not? He told father I knew about the bastards. I got barked at.”  

“I was protecting mother,” Aemond snaps.

“Yes,” Alicent says quickly, before it can get out of hand. “And I know you were as well, Aegon. Thank you.”

Aegon opens his mouth to say something, frowns, and then grunts. Alicent gaze lingers on him for a moment, feeling that familiar sadness, but then she’s distracted by Aemond putting on the patch. He laughs in delight as he darts towards the mirror.

“I look like a Braavosi sea lord!” he exclaims.

“This is what he’s giggling over!” Aegon laughs. “No more ‘I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon?’ Pretentious twat.”

Helaena chooses that precise moment to throw a dead bug at Aegon’s head, and the room erupts into chaos.

Alicent’s first instinct is to shout and stop them, order them to behave like the royalty they are.

But then she notices the maidservants giggling, and she lets it carry on. Helaena, emboldened by her initial attack, chases her older brother with a whole tray of bugs, and Aemond stands at the centre of it all, doing his best impression of a Braavosi water dancer.

Alicent smiles so wide her face hurts.

They look like children.

It won’t last, but they look like children again.

[tomssexdoll]

part 2 to the night we met because I need a happy ending and you guys do too

The media was filled with Toms accident, papparazzi had already taken photos, plastering pictures of his staker walking away from the scene.

Little did they know I was still in hospital with Tom. 20 minutes later they found a pulse again, by some miracle he had survived.

I sighed in relief, my heart thumping out of my chest. He slowly woke up, groggy and extremely tired. They gave him some fluids and food and treated him.

After 3 weeks he got better, we returned home and he had a slight limp, still recovering from a nasty shot wound. It had punctured an important artery but was 2mm from killing him completely.

We turned on the news and saw her face burn into the screen, a mugshot of her, her eyes evil, full of rage.

I turned it off, not wanting to see her ever again, flashes of that night haunting my mind. I turned to Tom and just held him close, his weak arms wrapping around me softly.

"I'm here baby..it's ok" he whispered into my hair, I started to sob, just like I did at the accident. Tears flowed from my eyes and onto his shirt, drenching it completely.

"Oh baby..don't cry" he winced, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head, "I was so scared..you being pronounced dead for 20 minutes was the worst time of my life, the longest 20 minutes I'd ever experienced.." I sniffled, looking up at him and holding his face in my hands, needing to touch him desperatly, feel his skin on mine.

"I don't want to lose you again" I cried out "I need to feel your skin on mine to feel safe again, feel content" he nodded and just held me for hours, whispering sweet nothings into my ear, reassuring me nothing bad was ever going to happen again, that she was far away from us and wouldn't be getting out of jail.

The band decided to take a break from touring and cancelled the last city they were going to play at. From then on we upgraded our security, getting bodyguards and therapy for the both of us. Some nights I'd wake up from horrendus nightmares of the night. Sometimes it was just her face, some was just him being slowly dragged away, but all would end in me screaming and waking up in a cold sweat, Tom having to hold me for a full hour before I was ready to sleep again.

It was scary, the whole situation traumatized me but I was glad I had Tom, if I lost him the world would stop turning, nothing would matter anymore. When I'm not with him, I hold that photo I took of him that night close, texting him every 5 minutes to see if he's ok.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @bkaulitzlover @ballhair @estxkios @charliesgoodboy @ge-billsgf

[stinkykitty8]

My beatiful boy Hanz

(Hanz belongs to me!!! Everything else credits to Gatobob!!!)

WARNING

This post contains very heavy topics, nsfw, r@pe, 18+ stuff, and overall just not very good things. Do not read if you are sensitive to these things.

Read warnings before pressing more please!!!

Hanz was conceived through rape. After Ren ran off Strade tried to find a replacement for him. The replacement being a very beatiful woman and yet another victim to Strade's doings. Unlike Ren, Strade never let her roam free to make sure she doesn't escape the same way Ren did. Instead she was locked in the basement 24/7 shackled and collared and checked daily to make sure nothing was lose or she tried breaking off. Thats where she stayed the entire time being with Strade as he abused, tortured, and r@ped her. And through all of this she had fallen pregnant which wasnt surprising. Strade was actually expecting it to happen. Strade decided to go along with it and make her have the baby. Almost like he wanted a kid. Shortly after Hanz was born Strade really didnt see any other use for Hanz's mom so he ended up killing her and burning her body to ash. The ash is currently burried in his back yard. Hanz will never find out what happened to his mom and if ever asked Strade would never say, change the subject, or just shrug it off and laugh. Hanz was a little spoiled rich kid growing up. He was sent with 20 bucks ince for snacks at school and hes seen as a rich boy. Strade never hit him once (even though he needs it) and the worst he probably did was just yell but that was it. Strade didnt really care when he got phone calls from school because of Hanz's behavior. If anything he found it funny and encouraged it as long as he didnt go to far to be kicked out. He especially found it funny when it came to messing with Yoki. After the first day of school strades interest was peaked after Hanz mentioned a certain orange tail and ear having freak from school. And after finding out that little beast belonged to Ren he just encouraged Hanz to fuck with her more. Basically using him to get to Ren. Although Strade never physically abused Hanz he mentally abused him without Hanz really even realizing or noticing. He raised Hanz "like a man" so most times it was just him telling hanz to suck it up or trying to make him have the mindset to act like a man and not give a fuck about much else. It made Hanz really treat women horribly at that time and even the smallest things like a dude having something pink he would call them gay. Even refused to hold a purse because 'it was to gay'.

Hanz was always seen as the tough kid in school, always threatening to beat kids asses or threatening them that his dad would take legal action if they hurt him. He was all bark no bite though. When put in an actual situation like fighting he would fold and pussy out. He got into a fight once with Yoki and she left without a scratch and he left with cuts and bites that later got infected. Strade was pissed, not because Yoki hurt hanz, but because she hurt his blood. And it was almost seen as a disgrace to him and would tell Hanz how disappointed he was. Hanz always tries to be perfect and make his father proud so of course he apologizes because he thinks he didnt do enough especially for that. Hanz would do anything to make his father proud even doing things out of his comfort zone.

Strade always kept a thick padlock on the basement door and because of the sound proofing nothing was ever heard down bellow. Hanz always thought he just wasnt allowed down because thats where Strade worked and it probably had a lot of tools or objects Hanz woukd hurt himself with. One day Hanz got a little to nosey and decided to explore the basement after Strade left to the store but strade forgot his keys and came back to see the basement door open and Hanz nowhere to be found. What Hanz saw down into the basement changed his entire view of life and his entire perspective of his father. He probably saw some very badly tortured woman tied to a pole bleeding and begging Hanz for help. Of course any young child would be horrified of this even though Hanz says he could take things like that. And so when trying to leave the basement strade was standing there up top glaring at him. Strade locked the basement door with Hanz in it and left Hanz in the basement overnight. Even though Hanz was kicking, hitting, and screaming at the door repeatedly apologizing, Strade did not allow him out until the morning. Even mocking hanz saying things like "I thought you were a man why are you crying?" Even though he was about only 12. Hanz learned very quickly not to snoop around again. After that he was very quiet at school and stayed to himself. Messing with people seemed to stop and he even went so far as to give shitty apologies to the kids he fucked with. He couldn't tell anyone what he saw or and learned so he kept it a secret and "maned up" like his father said. The strong live and the weak die. He pushed that mindset on Hanz so much he believed it and began thinking Strade was doing good by just getting rid of the weak and cleaning the world. Over time Hanz was forced to help with streaming until it was basically his new job. But over time it got a little easier for him since it became a normal thing, even though he still had an ick for it. But he had to do it to make his dad proud.

Over time he ended up starting to form a semi relationship with Yoki. Nothing serious. He never really knew much about Ren either at thay time until snooping on the web and checking out some of Strades older streams and seeing Ren in them. Of course recognizing it was Yoki's father he told Yoki about it and she just couldn't believe it until she saw it and then it brought out into a small fight that was settled. Hanz had always tried to be seen as some big hotshot badass but deep down hes really just a big softie. Especially when hes older. Hes still a prick sometimes but not to Yoki or Basil anymore. Hanz is absolutely majestic. Overall just being a better version of Strade looks and health wise (Strade doesn't understand why hes so good). Unlike Yoki he actually has his own credit card and him and Strade split the cash they make on streams.

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS ASK!!! :3

(Hopefully this all makes sense XP)

[thehollowwriter]

Hello hello! Future for Finn and Silas? Thank you!

Aaah thank you for the ask!

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

Oof this is an interesting one because there are so many possible "worst" futures for both of them.

For Finn, I suppose it would be his siblings doing something to him, aka having no future at alll. Ghost Marriage technically isn't canon to twst, but after that Finn would have developed a fear of being dragged into the after life. He tries doing research and finding ghost banishing spells and all other kinds of things.

If it were to be a possibility he's unaware of, probably someone trying what Blaze did to him when they were younger (basically jumping him after school and causing some bad injuries) except it being a lot more successful. So probably killing him, even if it might have been unintentional on their end.

For Silas, it's a lot simpler. His business going up in flames? Losing what little respect people have of him? Not having much prey to hunt? None of that comes close to the all-consuming fear he has of losing Finn. For him, nothing could ever be worse than losing Finn.

He's lost his entire family already. His husband, his children, his parents, his grandparents, his siblings, his aunts and uncles, his cousins. He's the only surviving member of his own family. Losing Finn would mean he's truly lost everything, and that he's lost one of the few connections to Morrigan he has (that last one is a bit selfish, and he prefers to pretend it doesn't exist).

That's why he was so overprotective of Finn when Finn was younger. It's why he used up so much magic placing protective spells around his home (some even on Finn) and it's why he currently has to fight his every urge to just keep Finn at home and never let him go. He cannot allow something, anything to happen.

Sorry this was so long, djdkffk.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @am0nline @1dont-really-know

@kazumify @minteasketches @ramshacklerumble @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @the-banana-0verlord @skriblee-ksk @poisoned-pearls

[woso-dreamzzz]

bambi’s relationship with alexia is so so complex and sad to me ohmy (sorry for the long msg!)

can’t fault alexia for the postpartum and her initial feelings towards bambi. everything for her was difficult and at the end of the day, she decided to go through with the pregnancy and carry bambi til she was ready to be introduced to the world. alexia can’t be faulted for not feeling an initial connection. nothing is perfect, and their relationship (like bambi’s train) is quite fragile.

i’m pretty sure i mentioned it before but i feel like alexia’s behaviours/attitudes towards bambi manifest in very selfish ways. bambi after the “Before” is someone for alexia to keep, to create a false image of what alexia thinks is a perfect family. before the “Before,” alexia wishes for bambi to start looking like her because MAYBE that’ll make her feel more connected. this makes me wish that bambi never looked like alexia until jenni’s version occurs, where bambi had no semblance of alexia’s features and jaume looked like his grandfather, whom he got his name from.

i feel like bambi would’ve overheard alexia going on and on about how perfectly jaume fits in the picture—because to bambi, that’s all alexia’s ever really cared about: if things fit into the timeline. fit into the family. fit into alexia’s schedule, alexia’s life, alexia’s wishes and wants and desires. in bambi’s POV, she’s nothing but the little girl who so happened to impede on alexia life with the worst timing ever. to bambi, alexia never wanted her. bambi doesn’t fit in (she doesn’t look like any of her known relatives), she doesn’t excel at football, and she feels like she definitely does not have anything in common with alexia.

so, the move to mexico is good for her. jenni’s great at implementing a system, thinking ahead, and prioritizes bambi above everything. there are regular video calls and visits for alba and eli, jenni knows mexico will be a culture shock so she does her best to acclimate bambi to her new home. all of alexia’s teammates are on speed dial for whenever bambi wants to call any of them. alexia definitely walks in on mapi and ingrid saying they hope bambi’s received the new train in the mail and that they’re so proud of bambi for landing the lead role in her first recital in mexico—one she ultimately finds out alba and eli flew out to go see without telling alexia.

with the move to mexico, alexia only yearns for bambi more. after all—distance makes the heart grow fonder… but in this case it’s just alexia wishing for something only because she doesn’t have it. to alexia, jenni’s version bambi begins to grow into her features and soon resembles alexia in the most heartbreaking way. bambi shares almost all of alexia’s features to a T but all of her mannerisms are picked up from jenni. it’s a cruel reminder to alexia to watch little bambi become alexia’s mini me from a distance, especially because bambi credits all of her joys in life to jenni, her “true mama.”

a really bad for bambi and alexia tho, following injured: before! deep frowns and all the love to both of them. <3

how are exams going tho, my friend? hope you’re almost done :) do you have anything planned for the summer? 🌷

Alexia suffered pretty badly from post-partum depression. She wasn't expecting it so it hit like a truck.

Injured!Alexia's love for Bambi does manifest as her being fairly selfish (but only in the main story of Injured, she eases up in Alexia's Version). Alexia and Bambi had a rough start to their relationship so Alexia was never quite sure how she was meant to act with Bambi because everyone just kept telling her about how much love she'd have for her once Bambi was out and never mentioned any of the hardship so Alexia's fairly wary when other people tell her what they do with their kids. Alexia found that being a bit selfish with Bambi worked and she didn't want anything to go wrong (it did) so she just kept it as it was.

The best thing Alexia did in Jenni's Version was get over her selfishness to let Bambi have the best chance. Of course she regrets it a little bit because she's very quickly cut out of Bambi's life and only hears things second hand but she also doesn't regret it because she's the one that made the choice to go to Jaume first instead of Bambi and she's the one that decided she couldn't change enough to let Bambi have the best life possible with her.

(I just took an exam today. It was horrible. I waffled for ages so I've no idea how I actually did. Just the exam today and then the exam on Thursday and I'm officially done. I'm out with my friend on Friday to to Toby Carvery and then I move out on Sunday!

I haven't really got any plans. I head back to work in June and I already know I'm going to hate it yet again but whatever, I need the money 🤷‍♀️)

[crystalis]

• • •

THREAD: The eruption of protests in solidarity with the Palestinian people at numerous Western universities, and throughout the United States in particular, represents a pivotal moment.

College students are, to be sure, not an accurate reflection of public opinion or faithful mirror of their societies. But their activism often serves as a bellwether, an indication of the shape of things to come.

Therein lies the enormous political significance of the encampments that are now being established at dozens of universities, from the Ivy League to state universities.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s student uprisings not only contributed to, but also portended the failure of the US imperial project in southeast Asia and its defeat in Vietnam.

Student activists also played a prominent role in confronting the worst excesses of the racial hierarchy that dominates the United States. Similarly, campaigns, at times including the occupation of administration buildings, in numerous universities during the 1980s

to demand divestment from South African and related assets, portended the end of Western backing for that country’s white-minority regime. When student activism reaches a critical mass, in other words, it is often a fairly reliable indicator of where things are heading.

In the present context the protests across university campuses are sending multiple messages. Most obviously, a rejection of Israel’s genocidal campaign against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip and, no less importantly,

a rejection of their own governments’ complicity and support of Israel’s transformation of the Gaza Strip into a killing field and chamber of horrors.

While that is the proximate cause, it is either underpinned by or has developed into a broader opposition to Israel as a colonial apartheid state and to its policies towards the Palestinian people more generally.

Hence the demands that universities divest from assets implicated in Israel’s oppression of the Palestinians. In other words, this is a genuine solidarity movement that sees Palestinians as human beings with inalienable rights which go beyond the right not to be massacred.

Expressed differently, the solidarity movement has served to humanize the Palestinians. To understand the profound significance of this achievement,

recall that Israel and its apologists have spent decades engaged in a systematic campaign, ably assisted by the mainstream media, to dehumanize Palestinians.

It was within living memory an article of faith that Palestinians simply do not exist. That “Palestinian” and “terrorist” became synonyms. That Palestinians are motivated by anti-Semitism and nothing else in their opposition to Israel.

Opposed to this, Israel was presented as “a light unto the nations”, “the only democracy in the Middle East” possessing “the most moral army in the world” that fought only “wars of no choice” and did so with “purity of arms”.

Until the eruption of the 1987 popular uprising, or intifada, it was a commonplace that Israel’s was a “benign” and “liberal” occupation, one that selflessly gave more than it took.

More recently, in an update of Theodor Herzl’s “rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilization as opposed to barbarism” it became “the villa in the jungle”.

Yet within the past seven months the paradigm through which Western public opinion has traditionally viewed both Israel and the Palestinians has definitively collapsed. And nowhere more definitively than on college campuses.

The transformation of course did not happen overnight, and decades of struggle and hard work by innumerable individuals within the region and beyond were required to make this moment possible.

Israel’s lurch towards ever greater levels of violence and extremism, to the extent that it is today the darling of the Third Reich’s ideological heirs, has also played its part.

The outcome is clear. Israel has lost the battle for public opinion, and it knows it. And given that for Israel public opinion is as much a strategic asset as its nuclear arsenal it is, unsurprisingly, responding hysterically.

It’s a far cry from previous eras, where Israel and its apologists could either persuade audiences of the rightness of their cause, or sufficiently confuse them into passive neutrality.

Israel and its flunkies are today deploying the same playbook and tactics against university activists that they have for decades deployed against the Palestinians: discredit, delegitimize, defame, and demonize.

Thus, any student expressing any opposition to Israel’s genocidal campaign or solidarity with its Palestinian victims is immediately denounced as “Hamas”, “terrorist”, anti-semite”, and the like.

The foot-stomping toddler who passes for assistant professor at Columbia University, to give but one example, has made it his vocation to vilify students at his own university.

Among the worst offenders, predictably, is Jonathan Greenblatt of the Defamation League, that self-proclaimed civil rights organization that used to conduct espionage in the United States on behalf of South Africa’s white-minority regime.

Once again going full Goebbels, he recently – without being challenged by his MSNBC hosts – denounced Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace as “campus proxies” for Iran.

The audacity of knowingly placing a target on Jews while drawing a generous salary on the pretext of defend their rights is hard to beat.

The problem for Israel and its apologists is that they have devalued their favorite terms of demonization to the point of making them trivial and meaningless.

Most people no longer care about being denounced as anti-Semites, terrorists, or agents of a foreign government by the likes of the Defamation League, and are no longer intimidated by the Zionist Inquisition,

because they readily understand it bears no relation to the actual definition of these terms and that these are deployed for the sole purpose of defending a foreign state and its policies.

Speaking of demonization, Vietnam’s National Liberation Front was hardly the Vienna Boys’ Choir, and at the height of the divestment movement South Africans accused of collaboration were being literally burned alive with “necklaces” consisting of petrol-soaked tires.

Yet today any student opposing Israeli genocide is absurdly required to take responsibility for Hamas and every one of its actions. It’s a sign of desperation by those who know their cause is lost.

Because they realize theirs is also a Lost Cause, Israel and its apologists are increasingly resorting to extreme measures, like deposing university presidents, threatening individual students and their employment prospects,

deploying agents provocateurs, and mobilising the police and security forces. Principle unfortunately often comes with a cost, but the manner in which the student movement has responded to these challenges has been nothing short of inspirational. END