#although you can miss me with that incest shit

[drakaripykiros130ac]

“She expects me to marry my only daughter to one of her plain featured sons.” - says the most plain featured woman ever.

It’s funny how although she wears those green dresses to remind everyone to which House she belongs to, she acts as if she is a Targaryen and somehow entitled to their privileges (only when they suit her political agenda, of course). And by wearing the color of “war” she reminds everyone how angry she is (as if that is supposed to make anyone quiver with fear).

I now see where Aemond (the Daemon Targaryen wannabe) gets his puerile acts from - the frustrated momma’s boy whose personality is based on his missing eye, puts a sapphire in there because he thinks he’ll be perceived as more ‘menacing’ (like Alicent does with her dresses).

The pious woman who does everything “right”, in accordance to the principles of the Faith, constantly defies her husband by saying things like, “You may do as you wish, husband, when I am cold in my grave.” (Don’t the Faith’s principles include that women are supposed to be obedient to their husbands?) after which she proceeds to marry her daughter to her eldest son (which she plans to treasonously crown, and why not take advantage of the few Targaryen perks which she previously condemned in order to make her daughter the queen as well?). But I am sure her intentions were good, right? Why avoid a war when she can nourish it further by marrying the daughter she claims to love to the one brother who despises her and treats her like shit? Why couldn’t she marry Helaena to Aemond, the brother who would clearly treat her better? Because Aemond would not be king.

Marriage between siblings = incest = condemned by the Faith.

When the Faith’s ideologies suit her agenda = “The emblems of the Seven serve only to guide us on an uncertain path. To remind us of a higher authority.”

When the Faith’s principles no longer align with her political agenda:

No wonder the High Septon remained silent during the Dance. He couldn’t openly go against the Hightowers, but I’m betting even he was done with their bullshit.

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: "It Wasn't Always Like This"

Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Bonus chapter: Waking up before Tommy, Little One thinks over the last year with Joel.

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, and both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

Italicized is laying with Tommy. Regular is the memory.

*******************

"Well, maybe it's me And my blind optimism to blame Or maybe it's you and your sick need To give love then take it away" - Dear John, Taylor Swift

It wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always like this. Joel had changed a lot since you first met him. After he tortured Nick to death for you, things got better… he brought you things and you two talked after sex, and after the realization that Tommy was keeping secrets from you too… you sought comfort and company in Joel’s arms.

And as you laid in Tommy’s, on the run from the man you loved, the father of your child, your husband for all intents and purposes… you couldn’t help but miss him, even with the strangulation marks across your neck, your face marred and aching, and the large purple and green bruise on your chest.

You loved laying like this after a bath, his legs spread out with you sat between them, all bundled up in warm clothes. Maybe his arms were wrapped around you, maybe he let you play with his hands, maybe he rubbed your back, but it was always comforting and safe as you both wound down for bed. It was meant to relax you and him, but sometimes it just wound the two of you up more.

Today, his fingers were interlaced with yours, and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling from the way he giggled. Joel Miller, feared raider, mass murderer, rapist, a man of violence and pain… he giggled for you. 

“The chicken must’ve known Lorenzo was there to kill him, because he kept trying to peck. It scared Lorenzo half to death, he screamed a bit when the chicken would try to get him.”

“Lorenzo? That man can kill a clicker with his bare hands and you’re telling me he’s afraid of a fucking chicken?” Joel laughed with you, and your body moved as his chest shook with laughter. 

“Yeah, but I didn't tell you the best part! The chicken jumped and flew up in his face, pecking him right on the forehead!”

Joel’s face dropped to your shoulder and a fit of laughter. “He told me he ran into the cabinet!”

"He kept yelling 'Jodido pollo estúpido' what does that mean?"

"Stupid fucking chicken"

The two of your continued laughing, the memory of Lorenzo’s fight with a chicken continuing to make your smile. Lorenzo was brutal when he wanted to be, even drunk he’d taken out an infected he spotted while you were planting a garden. He gave you some seeds and wouldn’t explain what they were for, but begged you to try and grow some. Later, you found out he used them to make those gross smelling cigarettes, but Lorenzo was your friend so you obliged him, growing a few rows of the stuff in the large plot of land that Joel allocated for your garden. It was a mini farm by the time you were done. You always wondered how well Renzo could protect you or stop you from running if he was this drunk, all your doubt faded when one minute Lorenzo was laughing with you about something Zach written in a letter, the next he had turned and fired so quickly you didn’t realize there was a dead infected on the ground until Lorenzo had picked you up and began to carry you inside the house, muttering something about you taking too long.

Lorenzo was a man of many skills.

And apparently, a fear of chickens.

The laughter settled, and Joel restedhis hand on your small stomach. “You’re beginning to show…”

You smile, resting your head back on him. “It’s kinda amazing, isn’t it? Amidst everything outside…”

“Life finds a way.” Joel finishes for you.

“I like that. That from you or a movie?” You wondered if Joel said him, if you could believe him. He lied about Landslide, but you never told him…

“A movie, Jurassic Park.”

“What kind of park?”

“Do you know what dinosaurs were?”

“Joel.” You laugh. “I do read books.” Not that you had a whole lot of time anymore between chores and Joel… but you did find time to read when he brought you back books.

He laughs along with you. “Right, right. Well, in the story, a crazy scientist guy brought dinosaurs back to life and made a theme park from it.”

You pause, feeling silly. “... Joel?”

“Yes, little one?”

“What’s a theme park?” You spoke quietly, not wanting him to make fun of you for not knowing that, when you had just tried to insist you know things, that we weren’t as dumb as the older men here thought you were.

But Joel didn’t make fun of you. He explained it in vivid detail, from the food to the attractions to the rides… you loved hearing about the rides, asking more and more questions and exhausting his knowledge.

“You ever go to any?” It was dangerous territory to ask Joel about his past, especially anything that might bring up thoughts of his daughter, but you knew when to back off, so you tested the waters. 

“A few, very sparse. Mostly when my ma was still alive, she’d pay for trips to fun places. After dad died she had a bunch of life insurance and savings bonds- well, that doesn’t probably mean anything to you, but there was money. I didn’t have that, so ma would take me, her and Tommy to 6 Flags for a day.” Her was Sarah. Joel never named her, but after Tommy taunting Joel, saying that Sarah would be older than you are, you put the pieces together.

“What was your favorite ride?”

Joel chuckled a bit abashedly. “Well darl’n, I’m a bit embarrassed to say, but I didn’t really go on rides. Her and Tommy did most of that. Ma and I enjoyed the food, drinks and shade.”

You took a careful approach at the next question. “Tommy and her went on rides together?” You weren’t sure if you were even supposed to bring her up, and Tommy was a the elephant in the room.

A deep breath, and a sigh. “Yeah, they um… they were close. He was a good uncle…”

You knew this was the time to drop it, but you were happy having gotten just a little bit more of Joel’s life, understanding him a bit better.

“Rollercoasters…” You say wistfully. “They sound amazing.”

“Yeah,I guess they kind were. We took that sort of thing for granted, you know?”

“You know, I’ve never even been in a car.”

It never failed to amaze you how human, how normal, how domestic he seemed in these moments, moments like him turning around to you and looking surprised. Joel fucking Miller would never look confused around his men. Only for you.

“Really? Have you been on a motorcycle?” He waited until you shook your head. “ATV? Fourwheeler?” No and no. “Hm. One of my guys has a four wheeler. They don’t go very far, but they’re fun.”

You snuggle up to his warmth, the broad and soft and strong and firm of Joel Miller. The contrasting parts of him that fit the inside turmoil. “Could we ride one, sometime?”

“Yeah, yeah we can do that. Sounds like a good time, actually. We can borrow it sometime after you give birth. I can’t remember the last time I did somth’n just because it was fun.”

Lorenzo would laugh at you if you told him that made you feel sad. Tommy would look at you with pity, like you lost your mind… You take his hand and squeeze it before placing it on your belly. “Well, soon you’ll have lots of excuses to do fun stuff, you and me and our baby. A family.”

The two of you laid there for a while in silence, simply enjoying each other's company, when you both felt it. You from the inside, Joel from the outside… it was tiny, it was faint, but you felt it. Joel looked around and found your face, eyes wide and innocent, amazement clear on his face. “Was…. was that…”

Tears welled up in your eyes, you had never felt so much love for one person before. You thought you couldn’t love anyone more than you loved Zach, you had doubts if you were ready for this, if this was going to work out, if Joel could be good… but the way you felt right now for this child, the way you felt for Joel, and the clear and evident love on his face as he looked before you and the life you had created together. You were certain you could do it. Everything would be okay. Joel would be good to you, Joel would be good to your baby, he would never hurt you again… You were in love. You were a family.

“I love you, Joel” You said softly, snuggling down softly, signaling you were ready to sleep.

“Bedtime” Joel mutters softly under his breath, scooping you up and laying you down on the bed. Careful and tender, Joel tucks you in, and taking a deep breath, you sigh constantly, melting into his comfort. A kiss on the lips, a kiss on the nose, and a kiss into your hair, Joel settled down behind you. “I love you too, little one” a hand on your stomach. “And you too, baby girl.”

It wasn’t always like this. It wasn’t always violence and horror and danger… he could be good, he could be so, so good to you… you missed the way he laughed, the way he giggled, the way he was soft, but only for you, only for his princess…

You thought you could do it, you thought Joel changed, that he loved you… maybe he did, in his own sick way… but Joel didn’t change… he was never different, it’s just somewhere along robbing people of clothes and sifting through expired food and searching for little trinkets to bring you… he found a mask. A good one, nice quality… and he wore it nearly all the time, from the day Tommy left, he was good to you, so, so good to you… but the mask wasn’t perfect, and every now and then you saw glimpses of his face. 

The way he came to expect diner every day, breakfast in the morning, lunch if he was home, hot and ready, no matter how much you’d been outside working on tending the small livestock and the gardens… The way he expected sex when you had just violently thrown up from morning sickness, causing you to throw up again… or expecting sex when you just had false labor; it mirrored the way he expected sex 15 minutes after leaving you hanging from a tree. It was evident in the way your greatest value came from sex and from giving him this child. His praising the way you felt around him, the way he was so proud of you for making him a dad; it was about what you did for him, not who you were. He loved you for what you provided for him… and that’s not love.

“Hey honey.” Tommy’s voice was groggy and sweet in the late morning. “You up already?”

*******************

I don't want this story to end so I wrote another bonus chapter.

Thank you to everyone who reached out and left such kind messges about the bomb situation yesterday. I did not sleep at all last night. There was a thunderstorm and i just knoooooowwww that added to the kids fears.

Anyway, just a little drabble about LO thinking over the good times, but also realizing that joel didnt really love her for her, but what she provided.

I love you all!!!!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3

@bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie4art @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[beeisntevenhere]

Request Rules !

I realised I havent made an organised post about my requests so here it is lol

☆Fandoms I write !

Mcu

Dc

X-men

MHA/BNHA

Star wars

Actors

Hunger Games

Doctor who

I've seen lots of other stuff so jst ask and I'll probs have seen it

☆ What you can request !

Character x reader - I can't really do M!Reader because I'm not very good at it but NB! or F! yes absolutely just specify, I will do heterosexual BxG, or Homosexual GxG, BxNB, GxNB

Character x Character - This one you can request but it depends on the characters and also it has to follow the rules

Angst - I can write angst although I'm more of a fluff person

Fluff - One of my fav tropes to write I really enjoy it and I love myself some hurt/comfort, i write found family alot so it's probably one of my best tropes

Smut - I can write it but don't expect it to be a 1. A masterpiece 2.Wayy too kinky, there are plenty of writers on this app that can write that better and happily so

Anything not too gory - I don't mind writing gore but I don't know if I'm very good at it, please don't come at me with some horror movie shit tho because I won't do that

Aus - Depends on my mood but overall I will write them

Headcannons - These can be fluffy, smutty, angsty idc I really like writing headcannons but please for the love of God don't ask me for headcannons of a characters private parts I won't spend that much time thinking about that

☆ Things I won't write !

Noncon, Dubcon - nop

Incest - I feel really icky about even writing stepcest so no incest

Abuse - I won't write about said character doing it to reader or reader doing it to character, but characters talking about it for closure and stuff then yes, althought domestic abuse kinda of crosses the line been there done that.

Pedophilia, Zoophilia ect... - No. Althought some agegaps r fine but only if they're legal

Age regression or age play - don't feel comfortable

Watersports, scat, vomit

Feet

Pregnancy

Drugs or being drugged

☆ Other stuff

I won't write smutt of minors all the smut I write they're 18+ or in their adult timeline

I make take a little I do other stuff with my live and writing is not my only hobby

I'm more motivated to write certain characters than others so I might write those faster (they will be listed down below)

Constructive criticism is fine but only when I say I'm okay with it please don't give unwanted criticism

English is not my first language and althought I try to proofread everything I definitely miss some stuff occasionally so I'm sorry if there is any mistakes

I'm not a pro and I'm doing this for free so don't come at me being mean, rude, or disrespectful

☆ At the moment I'm more motivated to write

Anything DC

Especially:

Red Hood

Any of the Batfamily stuff

Idk I've reading a bunch of comics so

Some X-men stuff

Especially:

Peter Maximoff

Again I've been reading X-men comics so feel free to request about that too

Any found family

Any Dadneto

Captain marvel (always ⭐️)

I don't consent to my work being posted anywhere else by anyone except me

I dont consent to my work being translated by anyone except me

I dont consent any of my plots to be used by anyone except for me

☆ Any question you maybe have feel free to ask :)

-Bee

[corazon-calaveras]

Late Night Thoughts

Okay so..............

The coffin of Andy and Leyley. Where do I even begin?

It's a very good game I'll admit that and I'll give credit where credit is due. The game has a very simplistic but cool art style which makes it very recognizable to the fans of the game or at least those who have either played it or seen playthroughs of it. The overall story telling and pace is very well done and it certainly has kept me intrigued. I tend to have a soft spot for plots that contain edgy and dark themes to it (so long as it is written really well and not overdone) and this game seems to have done a good job of not overdoing it.

Now then, on with some issues I personally have with a certain aspect that has definitely left a sour taste in my mouth (and not in a good way considering I love sour candy and what not).

(Just a heads up, I'm not saying that the topic I'm about to talk about can't be used in stories, in fact this topic has done a really good job to make me feel bad for Andrew but at the same time be like "Dude, are you dumb?!". The incest aspect of their relationship is actually written well because it's done one hell of a good job to make me feel uncomfortable as fuck and I hate it. Now do I support incest? Absolutely fucking not, that shit is hella disgusting and I DO NOT condone that shit.)

On to the rant.

The major issue I have about the story of the game is the overall relationship Andrew and Ashley have and of course it's the incest aspect of the relationship. But that's obviously a very obvious topic that a lot of people would not be a fan of (unfortunately there are some creeps out there who ship the two regardless). Let's set the incest aside for a moment and discuss the main issue of the Grave sibling's (that's their last name, right?) relationship and that is how very toxic and abusive it actually is.

In the first episode of the game we see that Ashley has a very unhealthy obsession with her brother and although there's nothing wrong with having a fondness of your sibling, Ashley just takes that fondness to the EXTREME. We see that she gets overly jealous whenever Andrew remotely gives another girl attention and would do anything to get them away from Andrew as we could see in the game. I mean c'mon, she not only committed manslaughter (straight up murder actually) she also consistently harassed Andrew's girlfriend until she dumped him. But oh, that's not the only horrible things she's done to Andrew. Ashley would straight up emotionally manipulate him into doing all the dirty work only for her to later on be like "I didn't tell you to do it, you CHOSE to do it yourself." Miss girl don't lie, we all know you literally manipulated him into doing it to appease you only to later have the AUDACITY to gaslight him.

Now I won't go too hard on Andrew considering that he's the victim in all of this but there are times when he literally could have put an end to Ashley's abusive behavior and stand up to her, but seeing him try to do so only to fall back to being submissive made me feel sorry for the guy. However, things would get even weirder with him when he asked his girlfriend to tie her hair up so she could resemble Ashley a little more which uh.....HELLO??? Nah nah nah, you wrong for that one Andrew. I'm sure there's a few other things he's done that's equally as weird as Ashley but so far that's the one example I can think of at the moment. Oh wait, there's that one official art of Ashley just sitting on Andrew's lap with a bitemark on her shoulder while he's lighting a cigarette and has a hand up her thigh as if it was completely normal. *Sighs* Sweet home Alabama.

I know there are people out there who will say things like: "But the game literally has cannibalism and murder but you draw the line at incest? That makes no sense!" Um, no not really. It's literally in our nature to find incest disgusting considering how the offspring will come out with a lot of issues and thus will not survive out in the world. Yes I'm aware that royalties in the olden days literally married their distant cousins to not "taint" the bloodline and I say that those people are equally as weird as the ones who ship Ashley and Andrew. As for the cannibalism part, yes it's also disgusting but if you think about it it makes a lot of sense that someone would resort to it if it's for survival, a last resort if you will. Incest? Now how the fuck is that going to benefit human survival? Last I checked no one has ever done the dirty with their own family members to survive.

Alright, and I think that concludes my rant for tonight. I just felt like ranting about the Grave sibling's relationship because I literally have no one else to talk to about this and I do find the topic interesting.........very disturbing though.

Eugh, gross.

[20thcentury-kylo]

Call me stupid but...

I actually un-ironically (and ironically) love Sword Art Online . Yes it has problems BIG problems, but i honestly still love the show. From the charcters, to the dumbass plot holes I really do love it.

I recently went on an Sao binge, and it kinda has me feeling great, but with the almost universal hate it gets I won't lie i feel kinda pressured to hate it. (Its stupid i know). However recently going into the tags it makes me happy how many people enjoy it, and its characters as much as I do

ALSO THAT NICE KIRISUNA THO

[aoitrinity]

Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it. 

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in. 

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length. 

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages. 

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money. 

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments. 

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve. 

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

[inkykeiji]

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.  

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”  

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!  

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.  

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

       ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

[darksongofnyx]

18+, minors do not interact!

Note: I’m really sorry this has taken me so long to post, I’ve been dealing with some health issues. I’m nervous since this chapter does include my first ever M/F smut scene, so I hope it’s not too cringey.

This was not beta read, so I apologize for any mistakes or typos!

Chapter Summary: Robert is sick of waiting

Word Count: 2131

Series Warnings: This is a DARK FIC and contains dark themes! Fem!reader, step sibling incest, you and Justin being innocent and naive, both reader and Justin are over 18, mentions of church (no denomination is named), pet names (reader: princess, justin: baby doll, robert: daddy), dry humping, hand jobs, cum eating/licking/swallowing, spitting in mouths, really bad bdsm dynamics, dub con, little to no aftercare, creampies, oral sex (m receiving), bisexual!Robert, bisexual!Justin, out of character writing (I know I’m not getting Robert & Justin right 😔), non con and dub con recording and taking photos, sex toys (mention), Robert is a shitty husband, unnamed wife, drugging of drinks, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (this is fiction, always use a condom irl!), some degradation (name calling: slut, whore), rough sex, first time sex, threesome, spitroasting

** As always, please let me know if there is anything that needs a tag/warning! **

** I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted on any other platform without my written consent **

Robert is uncomfortably hard and angry. He sits on his front porch, slowly nursing his third beer of the afternoon, and watching you across the street as you garden in your front yard. It’s not the activity that makes his blood boil, it’s the fact you seem to be completely oblivious to the fact that the boys that stop and talk to you aren’t there for gardening tips. Even from a distance he can tell their minds are far from giving a shit about how you care for your favorite lilies, he knows they’re far more interested in what’s beneath the short but hideous dress that he’s pretty sure your mother made.

He doesn’t understand how your parents can be so protective, to the point where you’re rarely without a chaperone, but yet here you are, outside all by yourself while some pencil dick frat bro flirts with his Princess. His grip tightens on the drink in his hand, crushing the can and spilling its contents onto his pants, as he watches the boy pull you in for a hug, his hands grabbing your ass while he holds you. Robert is about to run over there to beat the living shit out of the boy, when your mother runs out of the house, slipper in hand, chases him away and pulls you inside the house.

He adjusts himself, he can’t take this anymore. While it’s been easy enough for him to get his Baby Doll alone, he has yet to figure out a way to see you alone, each time he hints at you coming over to his house, your parents are quick to invite themselves over as well, so all he gets are the brief occasions where you’re outside alone and he certainly can’t do anything in front of the whole neighborhood. Although he does enjoy the thought of fucking you in front of everyone, that’ll show them, especially those frat bro douche bags and your fuck boy next door neighbor, Mr. Tucker, who you belong to.

🎀

It’s an offhand comment his wife makes during some stupid argument that gives Robert an idea on how to finally get some alone time with you. Using his wife’s complaint of wanting to be more social with the neighbors as an excuse, he invites your family over to his house for dinner as a way of saying thank you for all of Justin’s help.

While she’s in the kitchen finishing up whatever cooking she has left, Robert is in their bedroom, opening the drawer of her bedside table and pulls out the bottle of prescription sleeping pills. He knows she never takes them, so he shoves a few tablets into the front pockets of his dress pants, knowing damn well she’ll never notice them missing. Now he just has to wait for the right moment to slip them into your parents and his wife’s drinks. Waiting is easier said than done, especially when you walk into his house wearing a cute short little sundress that shows off your figure, it’s almost like your parents want you to look like the walking embodiment of temptation. As always, Justin is right there next to you, holding your hand and looking like a lost innocent puppy. God, Robert wishes he could just fuck the two of you right now, making his wife and your parents watch as he fucks you both stupid.

Dinner is long and tedious, Robert never knew people could be so dull. While he thought it was immediately clear that your parents would have nothing in common with his wife, that wasn’t the case as the three of them chatted all the way through the meal. It was glaringly clear that the three of them are the most boring people to ever exist, how he made it through the 20 minute conversation about

However, it was interesting to see how your parents reacted toward the way you and Justin behaved, they said nothing of the way you’d hold Justin’s hand or rub his back whenever he attempts to join in on their conversation, or how close Justin moved his chair to yours when everyone first sat down. It was clear on his wife’s face that the behavior was noticeable, but still no one said anything.

Robert made sure to keep the wine glasses full, adding in the crushed up sleeping pills into the glasses as dessert was being served. They were all pleasantly drunk, he had forgotten how handsy his wife could be when she drank and with Robert not paying any attention to her, she turned her attention to Justin. BeRobert had caught her more than once trying to cop a feel while your parents weren’t looking. He was grateful that this shit show was almost over when he noticed the pills starting to kick in, he watched as the three of them drowsily tried to keep the conversation going. Thankfully your parents, in their drunken and drugged state, decided it was finally time to go home when your father started to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. He watched as your parents stumbled their way back home with you and Justin following behind, after everyone disappeared into the house, Robert worked quickly to get his wife into bed.

After taking a little blue pill to ensure he’ll be able to enjoy your body all night, Robert sat in his dark living room, waiting to make sure the pills and wine were doing their job, his wife had barely made it to their bed before passing out, he still gave it a few more minutes after he sees the lights in your house turn off before making his way over to your house. Staying in the shadows, he makes his way over to your bedroom window, the small amount of light allows Robert to see that you and Justin are fast asleep in your beds.

🎀

Robert quietly pops off the window screen before using an old screwdriver to pry open your bedroom window, the plush carpet silences his entry as he climbs through the window, he looks over to see that you’re both still asleep. He quietly makes his way over to your bed, briefly watching you sleep while imagining all the ways he wants to corrupt you as he slowly pulls the blankets off your body. He flips on the little lamp on your bedside table, he wants to make sure he gets a good look at you just in case he’s forced to wait for you again.

Pulling back your floral print duvet, Robert’s greeted by with the sight of your dusty pink cotton nightgown hiked up around your hips, his fingers tracing along the waistband of your panties before slowly taking them off of your sleeping form, he puts them to his face, inhaling your scent before tucking them into the pocket of his pants. He tosses your duvet on the floor before he pushes your nightgown up, exposing your breasts, sitting on the edge of your bed he starts fondling them, one of his strong hands groping one before he starts pinching your nipples while he sucks and bites on the other, the sweet little sleepy moans you make when he puts his mouth on you spurring him on. Robert looks down at your chest, satisfied and happy with all the marks he has left on your breasts.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he takes a few pictures of his work before he sets it on your bedside table, making sure he’s got a good angle of the action before pressing record. Robert quickly strips off his clothes before straddling your chest, he positions himself just so before spitting in his hand to wet his already hard cock. Resting his cock between your breasts, he uses his hands to push your breasts together as he starts thrusting. Fuck if he didn’t love how your tits felt around his dick. It’s not long before the sound of his moans and the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting against your chin wakes you up.

“Shhhh, Princess,” he pets your face, smearing a bit of his pre cum on your lips, “you don’t wanna wake your parents up, that would make daddy real angry with you and I don’t wanna have to punish you. Especially since daddy’s been having fun with these pretty tits of yours, you gonna be a good girl and let daddy have some more fun?”

Your eyes dart away, unable to look at him in the eyes as he continues thrusting his cock between your breasts, instead you simply nod in agreement.

“Good girl,” he says as he moves off of you, he sits between your legs. “Looks like someone liked having her tits fucked like a dirty slut,” he taunts, “my little princess is soaked,” he rubs a thick finger up and down your slit, coating his finger in your arousal.

He brings the finger to your lips with an unspoken command to open your mouth, he shoves the finger in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag before he tells you to start sucking on it. It’s with a dark smirk and chuckle that he takes his finger from your mouth before he rips your nightgown from your body, throwing the torn garment on the floor. Robert allows himself a moment to take in the visual of your sweet virginal body laying naked before him, he smiles knowing that he’s about to defile it.

“Daddy, I…I don’t think it’s gonna fit, it’s too big,” you’re sitting up on your elbows looking at Robert’s hard cock as he rubs it between your soaked folds, coating himself.

He didn’t think it was possible, but as he sees the real fear in your eyes and he swears he feels his dick getting even harder.

“Princess, you said you were gonna let daddy have some more fun, now don’t go ruining this by being a little bitch,” Robert says as he painfully grips your face.

You look away, looking towards Justin’s bed, Robert turns his head to see Justin wiping the sleep from his eyes before sitting up and putting on his glasses. While you’re distracted watching Justin, Robert thrusts his entire length into your wet heat, clamping a hand over your mouth before you have a chance to scream out in pain as his cock fills you.

“Ya gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Do you want your parents to see you getting fucked like a slut?” he leans down resting his forehead against yours as he continues to thrust into you, with tears running down your face you shake your head no, “that’s what I thought.”

Robert removes his hand from your mouth, focusing on how tight your pussy feels around him as he sets a brutal rhythm and the sound of your moans, both of pain and pleasure, and whimpers mixed with the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room

“Fuck, you feel so good squeezing daddy’s cock. Look how greedy your little pussy is,” he says, grabbing a handful of your hair, angling your head, forcing you to watch as he continues his assault on your body.

Even with you covering your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries, it was clear to Robert he was gonna have to put something in your mouth to shut you up. He turns to see Justin watching as Robert fucks you, and judging by the tent in his pajama pants, his little baby doll was enjoying the show.

“Get over here,” he commands Justin, who quickly obeys. Justin nervously stands next to your bed, watching Robert continue to pound into you. “I want you to keep her mouth busy.”

Justin kneels down beside your bed, he can see how hard you’re trying to obey Robert as Justin gently pulls your hands away from your mouth. He turns your face towards him, wiping the tears from your cheeks before he starts kissing you, it’s just the chaste kisses you share before bed, a simple peck on the lips.

Annoyed, Robert pulls out and flips you onto your stomach before instructing you to get on your hands and knees, he orders Justin to strip before having him kneel at the head of the bed, his cock directly in your face.

“Show daddy what you’ve been learning, princess,” he says as he reaches over and pushes your head towards Justin’s groin, he watches as you gag on Justin’s cock. Soon Robert sets a rhythm

Suddenly, the bedroom door opens and your mother stands in the doorway. At first the three of you don’t immediately notice her, each of you too consumed by your fast approaching climaxes.

[taechaos]

Freaky Idea

Pt. 2 of New Idea

pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut

synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.

warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation

word count: 3.8k

When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.

The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.

The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.

The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.

Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 

“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.

His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”

“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”

"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"

"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 

“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 

He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.

“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 

“The fridge is fucking empty!”

“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”

“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”

The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 

He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”

A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 

“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.

“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 

Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.

A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 

“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”

You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.

Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?

“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 

“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 

“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”

He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.

“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”

“Deformed fetuses?”

“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 

“Are these real stories?” 

“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.

Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 

“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”

He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”

You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 

“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”

He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 

“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”

“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”

“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”

You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.

“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”

“Police intervention?”

“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”

“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”

“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?”

“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”

“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 

“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.

“No…”

“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”

You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”

“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”

“You did it once!”

“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”

You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”

Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 

While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.

“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”

You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 

“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”

You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”

And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 

“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”

It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 

Could it be that you’re two of the same?

Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.

It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”

“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”

“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”

His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 

“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”

“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 

“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 

“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.

“What do you mean?”

“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”

“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”

Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”

It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 

[gascon-en-exil]

as someone who is wlw thought i'd put in my two cents. i dont have any issues with people liking edelgard for being bi, queer people have coopted characters who weren't always intended to be the best rep before and bi women esp tend to get used for the male gaze a lot. I just wish more people actually realized that in the first place.

Though I will say I feel like that even if you removed byleth she still has some fairly romantically coded interactions and endings with dorothea and manuela so i wouldn't say she's just bi for byleth. lindhardt is a much worse offender of it in my opinion. he never even hints he likes guys in any other support, and while bi people who prefer the opposite sex are of course valid, if you dont show the bi part of being bi is it really there?

I also wish people wouldn't use her queerness to automatically make her woke and would bend over backwards to excuse literal imperialism for it. ig it's more telling of the fandom's western us centricness than anything. two of my friends from eastern europe, slovakian and romanian specifically, felt fairly alienated in the fandom because of how uncomfy they felt with edelgard and how many people liked her. one of them is a history student too and she's mostly focused on the romans so she knows her shit about empires

i feel like western fandom is becoming more aware of what to look out for that can be a tad...sus in japanese media, esp given the whole AoT controversy about the author being a japanese nationalist, and while i dont think three houses is really falling into specifically that brand of japanese nationalism, i just think they shot too close to the sun in trying to make a morally complex situation and the fire emblem games being historically reluctant to let women be fully malicious, but i do think it's worth being mindful of japans history as an imperialist power and that the sentiment they were right in that situation still persists in people in the country.

I don't have much to add, although you are right that bi characters need to express actual interest in characters of multiple genders to read as bi, because fictional characters lack any interiority that their writers don't show to the audience.

I think people who try to push Edelgard as progressive either don't know or don't care that FE, like a lot of popular fantasy, has always been quietly reactionary and more interested in character drama than political relevance. I've always considered its queer context - both subtext and text - more of a piece with its other unconventional sexual elements like incest and dragon lolis and teacher/student relationships than a deliberate effort by IS to be progressive. It's just particularly irksome to me because it relies so heavily on the belief that only Avatar S ranks matter to the conversation - which is missing more than half the picture, easily, and leads to terribly discourse-laden conclusions like what you mentioned.

[zmediaoutlet]

A scholarly curiosity (lol), can you see Sam/John happening? I have been challenging myself with coming up with a scenario where that could work and haven't been able to; have also been browsing some fics in the tag and still haven't found anything that feels right... A challenge!

hallo bud -- this is echoing some asks that I've gotten before that I've left (rudely!) unanswered. So let's let this stand as a group answer, I guess.

So the... truth is that I don't have any interest in Sam/John. But I find that interesting, in itself. I'm interested in all kinds of shit and get fic ideas all the time, so when I don't want something I think it's valuable to pause and ask why. It's obviously not because of a problem with vertical incest, lol. But when I look at the reasons I'm interested in Dean/John, it has a lot to do with the possibilities that are screamingly open in canon -- how John treats him like a helpmeet -- how they're weirdly close -- how, basically, the entirety of my ‘full house of wincest’ tag exists.

So, why not Sam/John?

I think it’s helpful to look at their relationship as a whole. Much of it, fortunately, shadowed in the pre-series past, so what we can glean about it is through implication and memories and a very few adult scenes of them together. Sam and John are a lot (a LOT) alike, on a deep level if not on a superficial one. During the time that John’s alive, they’re both focused and stubborn and want to get their own way. As a kid, Sam’s forced to buckle to a lot of decisions he wants no part of, but he still manages to independently live a half-secret life. Doing well in school as an inverted form of rebelliousness--more interested in soccer practice than bowhunting. Sam’s in a sort of competition against John, although I very much doubt John saw it that way (both because he’s the dad and carries a natural unthinking authority that he doesn’t expect to be questioned, and also because I just don’t think he... thought much about his kids unless he had to, because he was focused on the revenge quest). We also know that Sam was apart from John quite a bit---John would leave both boys on their own, but there were also not a few times that he took Dean and not Sam along on a job. What’s left are some good times, of course---John’s not a monster (most of the time) and Sam’s not ridiculous and petulant (most of the time)---but also plenty of chafing and arguing and vicious distance. John heat-of-the-moment disowns him in the Stanford argument, although of course he didn’t mean it -- but the fact that it was able to be both said and believed is pretty telling.

So... what kind of / relationship do you try to impute onto that kind of background? Of course you can come up with a scenario, but I would need to want to. Part of it is in how Sam and John are just too much alike, and those kinds of people tend to repel each other by nature. The ways you get along are outstripped by the mirror held up, showing awful flaws you recognize too easily. There’s tedious nonconny stuff you could do but I discard that immediately -- too easy, and character assassination for almost everyone involved. There’s also the problem of Dean, who is the ‘obvious’ one for both of them to turn to (inside the monstrously unlikely fact of their incestuous familial set up, that is), and who also provides a buffering between both their dislike for each other and the possibility that they might comfort each other.

That’s what I’m left with, for the only scenario I can think of for S/J that pings to me as interesting or possible. An AU where Dean is missing, either long-gone or dead-and-they-don’t-know-it-yet. Handwave for how that happens, but it would need to be something like... John comes to get Sam at Stanford, because Dean’s missing. I thought of and rejected an option where Dean’s gone and Sam’s still a teenager because there’s too much of the resentment still there -- I think they’d need to come back together after a cooling off period, with a singular important goal that can overcome their mutual bitterness. Without Dean as the buffer/comfort they’d be rough with each other emotionally, but of course they’re neither of them pure asses and so they’d work together too (per late s1). Dean would need to be gone for a long time -- a very long time, like more than a year -- and John would have to force them to be insular, not going to other hunters for help as much as possible, because vertical incest works best in isolation. I don’t know who would instigate, but it wouldn’t be cozy or romantic. (I also doubt it would go beyond handjobs/frottage -- maybe a drunk blow -- but nothing that makes either of them too vulnerable to the other or smacks of power imbalance.) Something desperate in the dark, a little(lot) of booze and the ghost of Dean between them. Maybe each subsuming something in the other. But... not a Relationship, and unlikely to continue beyond the point at which they either found Dean or gave up. 

Barely a compromise. Still mistrusting each other’s dedication and motives. Not that fun, really, but -- it’s a scenario, lol. That’s what feels reasonable to me. Hope it does to you too, and I hope you can find a (well-written) fic like that because I’d read it.

[venteamocha]

Hello! Sometimes I see you post stuff from IF blogs and I've recently started playing some IF games, which I've enjoyed so far. Do you have any IF stories you'd recommend in particular? I'm not attached to any particular genre and I don't need romance or a self-insert main character, (though I'm not opposed to either). Though, it's a definite plus if it's LGBTQ+ inclusive! I'm not really sure what the "cornerstones" are of IF so I'll take any and all recommendations haha

Oh god, I play so many IFs. So many. And it’s not even close to all of them, but I’m trying!!

Tbh IFs without romance seems to be very rare, I think because when I think IF I think Choice of Games, and those pretty much always have romance in them. At least, the most well known ones do. But a well done one without romance would be nice too!

Okay, this is a list of my favourites! They’re all LGBT+ inclusive, and most have gender selectable love interests, or at least ones that change gender depending on the gender and sexuality combination you pick. In no particular order, of course.  Behind a cut because I’m gonna give them each a mini review. Because I haven’t done that yet.

(There are so many.)

Mind Blind: I absolutely love our big brother Nick, I love how witty and sharp so much of the dialogue is, I love how the MC clearly has a rather large handicap, but is still such an important person to so many people and not looked down on in the slightest. And when they are, we all know it’s because that person is a jerk! They’re not defined by what they aren’t, but what they are, and that’s a great message.

Shepherds of Haven: Part of why I love this one so much is I just love fantasy settings and this one just pulls it off so well. The cast is full of amazing characters, and I gotta say I die inside pretty regularly for not being able to afford the patreon content, lol. The author puts so much amazing stuff on there, and gives us so much great content in the game and through answers on tumblr, and you can tell this whole thing is just the best thing ever to them, and that makes it the best ever for us readers too!

The Wayhaven Chronicles: I’d be shot if I didn’t mention this one, the series that literally killed dashingdon when the book 3 demo dropped!! Again, another author that cares a lot and does their best to do right by their fans. We’ve been given drip after drip of these amazing characters backstories, and I just cannot wait for more! It’s definitely very romance centered, but the overall plotlines are also very good, and I have to say that no matter who I romance, I just feel like the group as a whole is a family. And that’s wonderful.

Speaker: I really like the lore. I really like the lore. I can’t wait until we get more of the overall plotline. Mostly I want my Speaker to get in deep trouble so Seb, Li and Seer (best sister ever) go off and beat the shit out of whatever is causing it. This probably says something about me, but what can I say, I thrive on angst and inflicting near death injuries on my OCs. Sometimes I even kill them, although all of this is offtopic. Or is it? I guess we’ll find out, although I doubt we’ll actually be able to kill off Speaker. And yes, I am definitely playing the Seb & Li poly route. I love them both so much. 

Wilhelmina: I love vampires, ok? Ok? And this one is based off Dracula!! The OG!! And you can choose Drac’s gender!! Shit, sign me up forever!! Yeah, she might be literally killing my bff, torturing my fiancé and low key fucking with my mind, but vampires are hot!! Let me live! Or not. But yeah, this is a really well done retelling of the Dracula novel and I like how well it works as an IF. Did I mention I like vampires?? Especially when they get all monstery?? (This one has an MC with a set gender, as it’s based on an already existing literary figure. Mina can have a same sex relationship with dracula, if you make drac a female, or with Lucy, a female love interest.)

More Things in Heaven and Earth: Hi Nell!! First off, I gotta uncover a deep shame of mine. My family literally has a Shakespeare heirloom collection. As in, my greatgrandfather passed down through the family a collection of Shakespeare that was published in 1911. In ye olde englishe. I tried to read it when I was like 10 and was like what language is this?? What the fuck? What the fuck??? And ended up reading As You Like It, a bit of Romeo and Juliet, and a little of Hamlet. Didn’t touch the rest of it. I only got into the other stories through trashy ya reimaginings. That said, this retelling of Hamlet inspired me to go read the whole of the original and now I have a lot of fears for these characters that I’m so much more attached to, oh god I hope my Ophelia has a happy ending. I hope Hamlet himself has a happy ending. The dialogue is so well done, everyone is engaging, and yeah it made me finish an old af book when nothing else did. (This one also has an MC with a set gender, female, for the same reason. However, there are two gender variable love interests, so you can very much play a bi or gay Ophelia if you so choose.)

Guenevere: I love King Arthur. All the myths. I have so many books based on the King Arthur mythos, oh dear god. I love pretty much every version of it. All the movie and tv shows too! I just can’t get enough of those knights. I could go on for paragraphs about how courtly love worked and how all the different social castes were, but I’ll try not to. This series lets you customize Guen as a character to an amazing degree, considering that she’s also based on an actual literary figure like the other two I mentioned above. It really feels like she becomes your own character, and yet she still exists within this world very very well. I worry quite a bit that the author might have bit off more than they can chew with the current book they’re working on, what I’ve seen of it looks absolutely massive in scale. What is out so far is a wonderful read though, full of drama and laughter and lots of chances to make the story your own.

Bastard of Camelot: Yep! Another King Arthur series! Sue me! This one lets you set Mordred’s gender though, so it’s more inclusive in that way. It is very interesting to play as one of the “bad guys” of the King Arthur mythos. You can play them as straight up evil, as good, or you know, a bit of column a and a bit of column b. Or they can just be a rude little shit. It’s got dragons too! You get a dragon pet! Dragons are cool. It can be a bit tough to play sometimes, since a lot of people dislike Mordred quite a lot because of prejudices. Hopefully this will change a bit later in the series if you’ve been a fairly good person up to that point. Gotta say though, as a warning, that Mordred is a product of incest. It’s not glossed over, and it does cause a lot of problems for them in the story.

God of the Red Mountain: I just love that this inspired me to read more chinese mythology tbh. There is just so much here! And it’s just such a good read. I wish I was better at describing things. The MC being a spirit that you can define, the whole setting, most of the love interests also being spirits, the massive amount of history and culture and lore, how it all fits together. It is such a well done story. I really wish it got more attention than it does. I still miss Big Sister. I still can’t wait to find out more about the foxes, and how we can heal our MC.

The Nameless: Another one that lets you play as something otherworldly. I love the lore behind this one, and I love all of the cast I’ve met. I kind of like that our MC isn’t loved right off the bat, that we’ll have to win over all of our love interests and even the other npcs. I’m up for the challenge! Everything I’ve read on the tumblr for these characters just makes me love them all more tbh. I love how much they’ve written for all of them! Most of all though, I love Oisein. All the art of them is just *chef kiss* and their personality is magical.

A Mage Reborn: This is a really recent one but!! Wow, it’s really well done! That cliffhanger!! Oof!! Not many books literally start with killing your MC off! That takes guts! I told the author this already, but I love the way they formatted this, the way it starts with the end, so to speak, and then fills it all out. It just made everything feel so poignant, how MC is literally looking back at all these moments in time in the last minutes they have before they die. Shit. That’s powerful. And there’s gonna be more??? Can’t wait for that angst. Give me that drama. Of course I picked the one who had me killed, that’s just how I am!

These are all just the COG type games, there are a few twine games with graphics I’d throw on here, but the list is long enough as it is and they feel like they’re in a different category to me. Maybe it’s just me?

[decennia]

Ok I just gave up catching up on my dash full stop because Clementine and George and Wildest Dreams got my brain like this:

I feel I desperately need to make an OC for George but he is YOUR precious lol

So instead while I'm here, give me and I mean GIVE all your George and Clementine headcanon

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS FINISHING UP SOME GIFS ✨

First things first, that image lives in my mind rent free.

Second things second, please create an OC for George holy shit please yes?! George has already been romantically (or at least sexually, because Sable is a hoe) linked to Ellis Grant from @chlobenet (nothing ever came of it, George developed an infatuation and was perpetually rebuffed by our Lord and Saviour Miss Grant), @perfectlystiles' Laurel Chase, and @randomestfandoms-ocs' Reese Masrani. It is my goal to accumulate enough George Cassidy romantic interests that I can make a Wives of Henry the Eighth edit, so literally go nuts. Everyone, Create An OC To Thirst Over George Cassidy Challenge!

The best thing about George and the other Corpsemen is that the only thing that makes them Jurassic World OCs is that they happen to be hired there. It is by no means their entire story, and although they've been around for literally three days (?!) I keep thinking of more and more things about them and I keep building their backstories to the point where dinosaurs are literally the least craziest thing they've experienced.

If I were to sum up Clem and George's relationship in a gif, though:

(This got hella out of hand so keep reading under the cut if you want to know more about George and Clementine.)

A brief history on George "Sable" Cassidy and Clementine "Calico" Roscoe:

He is known as "George" to his friends, and "Cassidy" to his enemies. "Sable" when he's on the job, and "hers" when they're alone.

But it wasn't always like that. I'm not going to bore you with the details about George's fatherless upbringing, or his reasons for joining the British military, or how he'd always been a bit of a troubled kid. Where his story really begins is when he directly disobeys orders and murders the military hostages who were responsible for the attack on his unit. He is dishonourably discharged, and is sent back to the U.K. to await trial for murder and treason.

He manages an escape and goes dark; during which time, Clementine Roscoe, an agent at Interpol, is assigned his case. Unfortunately, after a year of searching (one close call where he was literally within breathing distance of Roscoe ) and a thousand too many mistaken sightings after that, the case goes cold, and she is assigned another case, one which results in the death of her entire family.

Clementine resigns from her position after she is denied leave to pursue the murderers, and spends the next few years methodically hunting down and executing the list of people she knew to be responsible. It was enough to impress Malcolm Drake, who located and recruited her into the Corpse Corporals (aka Gucci Suicide Squad).

All this time, Cassidy had been residing in Southern Africa, making a hefty living as a poacher under ever-changing pseudonyms (I had to make y'all understand that Sable is a bad man but y'all be forgiving Tom for murder and incest so here we are but honestly did it even work because here I am, being fooled, alongside you 😭). He runs a pretty decent operation, also dabbling in the smuggling of weaponry, and he lives a comfortable life. That is, until he is betrayed by his business partners (a brother-sister duo, FCs Megan Fox and Aidan Turner? Idk, still debating) and pushed out of the business under threat of death.

He is rescued by Malcolm, who has managed to track him down, and in exchange for his life spared, he agrees to work for Malcolm. His reunion with Clem is incredibly tense, with both of them pulling their guns on each other and refusing to work together. Malcolm snaps some sense into them (that, and the sum of the payload which had so many 0's added to the end, you couldn't be sure what the number really was other than "a lot") and they swallow their pride and work together.

They would continue to work together as Calico and Sable for the years to come, and when I say it is a slow burn, I do mean THE SLOWEST OF THE SLOW. But there is definitely a fuck ton of sexual tension thrown in there for angst, and a couple of near brushes with death (hazard of the job, really).

George is a prolific man whore, and he's bisexual and proud. So Clem has gotten used to an endless slew of people of all genders cumming coming and going from his hotel room, especially during the long cons where the Corpsemen go deep undercover for months at a time (Hector doesn't come on those jobs, he's got a family to worry about. He taps out at a month, max, if he doesn't get to leave to see his family).

George Cassidy is not a man who is used to not getting what he wants, but Clementine Roscoe is the only exception to that rule. He has come to view her as "unobtainable," this irreverent forbidden thing that he must not ruin. By the time the heat of their mutual hate had dissipated, it had turned into a friendship, and although there was an undeniable electric tension between them, they have never done anything about it. But it has that "will definitely be the best sex of your life" kinda energy.

They fight quite a lot, and disagree on almost everything. Have they tried to kill each other? Oh, absolutely. But they're also professionals, and although Clementine and George may be going at it, it never bothers Malcolm, because he knows that Calico and Sable will put those differences aside and do the damn job.

Clem only involves herself in George's sex life when it comes to people who she considers friends. She has the warnings already mentally scripted, because the thing about George Cassidy is that he cares about no one but himself, and nothing but his holy trinity: blood, money, and sex. He's an emotionally devoid sociopath at the best of times, and at the worst, he's a well oiled and dangerous killing machine.

He is not a good man, Clementine knows, but sometimes, you don't want a good man.

I have a gifset in store involving the two of them, and I'm busy compiling a list of headcanons as we speak. If you want, I can tag you in it :)

But this is everything about their past and a bit of their present, so if you want to create an OC please do and tag me so I can write up a crossover and make some gifs 💕

(And before anyone comes for me, yes, I am aware of the fact that George "Sable" Cassidy is a very toxic and fucking despicable man, I created him, and I made him that way. I am not condoning his actions, nor would I want to be in a relationship with him in real life, but this is fiction. It is not meant to be taken seriously, if you don't like my hot mercenary boyfriend, then please unfollow me, because he is my current obsession, and I cannot promise that I will not be thirsting for him on my TL at any and all hours).

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Thanks for replying! Could you possibly link the rp blog? I love your headcanons! What do the Cobras and Miyagi-Dos think of them? I like to think one of the characters in canon came up with their ship name, who do you think it was?- Cherry

But of course, Cherry!!! Those headcanons were so fun to write :D It’s honestly one of my favorite headcanon/ask posts that I’ve done, I think. I love thinking about how Johnny would react to Hawk and Demetri dating XD And writing that paragraph about how I think Demetri and Eli met was honestly the most fun ride haha

@sipping--snowflakes runs a Demetri RPG blog I think, it’s @binarybrother1! Idk if it’s still active, you’ll have to hit them up about that. I also think @hawkxatxheart​ RPs as Hawk and ships the binary boyfriends, if you want to hit them up too!

Aight screw it, Imma do the most complete analysis I can XD

Miguel ships it SO hard XD Like Miguel is a very smart and intuitive person who seems pretty good at picking up on emotions and such (he was able to almost instantly call bullshit on Kreese’s war stories, IIRC), so I’m almost certain that he picked up that there were Some Kinda Vibes going on with those two from day fucking one. But obviously he doesn’t wanna outright say anything, especially not at a school where kids will get bullied for literally ANYTHING and something like kids being gay for each other could legit put a target on both their backs if it got out. So he lets these boys figure shit out on their own time but is also like “...yeah, they’ll realize it eventually, I’m sure.” XD And you dun best believe he just went “ohhhhh my godddddd” when they fell out and developed a super intense rivalry because he’s like guys??? Do you NOT realize being that obsessed with fucking with each other...kinda means you’re obsessed WITH each other??? Even though you both have other friends now??? Doesn’t seem like normal best friend behavior :/ But of course our boy doesn’t want to interfere unless it gets really bad--and he’s got his own issues to deal with, anyhow. I imagine after the dojos join and Demetri and Eli start dating after a while, Miguel is just like “FUCKING FINALLY!!! Sam pay up, you owe me 20 bucks!!!” He’s so happy they finally dragged their heads out of their asses and realized they loved each other, because man, you can bet your ass Miguel knew they did from the get-go.

Sam I think I’ve touched on a fair bit in my other posts so I won’t get into a whole big long thing, but she’s...certainly leery of them dating at first, mainly because she remembers Demetri’s issues with Eli are what pushed him to join Miyagi-Do in the first place, and she witnessed him breaking Dem’s arm so she’s pretty...not crazy about Eli XD But Miguel and Demetri both vouch for Eli a LOT, and reassure Sam over and over that he’s a good guy at heart and just let Kreese get in his head and fell victim to his brainwashing for a while. Sam comes around to the idea after a while, and she can see how happy he makes Demetri and ultimately trusts Demetri to be smart enough to not date someone who’s going to treat him badly. Then eventually she and Eli bond over what a fuck Kyler is (he bullied Sam too, don’t forget!!! And they DATED, so the thing he did with the blowjob rumors was a HUGE violation of the pretty intimate trust you have with a partner) and after that she is VERY on board with him and Demetri dating XD

Chris is...Not A Fan, to put it lightly XD Like he saw firsthand how much of a fuck Hawk was to him and Mitch when they first joined Cobra Kai and how he basically hazed them both for funsies because he let the tournament win get to his head. And hell, HE was one of the ones who got sicced on Demetri in the mall and tried to get Hawk to back down, and SAW that he wouldn’t. And when Hawk was about to go after Demetri at Moon’s party, Chris was the first Miyagi-Do to step in and protect him. And, of course, he saw Hawk break Demetri’s arm, too. So he’s no stranger to the antagonism Hawk has always had for Demetri in particular, and doesn’t trust that it’s completely gone. However, Chris is a pretty down-to-earth and reasonable dude, so with a LOT of vouching from Demetri, I can see him coming around eventually. Also if he was willing to give Mitch a second chance, ain’t no reason he can’t do the same for Hawk. And Mitch would probably vouch for Hawk too, after he and Chris became friends again--after all, Mitch DID end up becoming pretty good friends with Hawk after all the hazing stuff. So ultimately Chris ends up being at least civil with Hawk, but he sometimes glares at him when no one’s looking like “I’ve got my eye on you, you’d better not hurt my bro or there’s gonna be hell to pay”

Mitch is fairly indifferent, I think, although he DOES find the irony of Hawk now being head-over-heels smitten with the same dude he sent him to beat up in the mall and the same dude who told everyone Hawk wets the bed to be IMMENSELY hilarious. He loves to tease Hawk about it, like “Man, what would you have done a year ago if you’d known you’re now regularly making out with that shrimpy little nerd???” and Hawk is like “oh my god shut UP” but then he turns away and smirks because the joke is on Mitch--he TOTALLY still liked Demetri through All That Mess Last Year, he just...had a very poor way of processing it XD

I imagine Bert kinda looks up to Hawk as an older brother figure (there’s a snippet I’ve seen some gifs of of Hawk teaching him how to block and it’s actually really cute--huge Big Bro/Little Bro Energy) and probably also admires Demetri quite a bit for trying to protect him and Nate during the Christmas party fight, so he’s definitely on board!!! His two honorary big brothers dating--he’s thrilled!!! Nate not so much, since you dun best believe he still remembers Hawk and his goons “kicking the fucking shit out of him” XD Nonetheless, Nate probably also has a soft spot for Demetri for trying to protect him, so with lots of vouching from Demetri (and Bert too, once he and Nate are friends again), he eventually comes around to the idea of Hawk and Demetri dating.

ON TO THE SECOND QUESTION, FINALLY!

I actually think Aisha is the one who comes up with their ship name!!! XD Allow me to elaborate--so at some point Aisha comes back (because fuck it, I miss her), either to join the new merged dojo or just to visit, because ain’t no one telling me she didn’t keep in touch with at least SAM and visit occasionally if she was still in the city or general area. So she walks into the dojo to go see Sam and her other friends and start catching up with everyone, and--oh, Sam and Miguel are in the same weird, combined karate dojo now that isn’t Miyagi-Do OR Cobra Kai??? Super wack, but okay. Then she sees Demetri and Hawk holding hands and her eyes get really wide and she’s like “Wait, you two are DATING now??? That’s...kind of gross :/”

And Demetri and Hawk just freeze up for a hot sec because is Aisha of all people about to be judgmental??? But then she immediately follows up with “Well, aren’t you the binary brothers? I don’t know if I can get behind incest, guys.” And Hawk just breaks out snickering and is like “Shit, man, she’s right. We should probably update that.” And Demetri’s like “NO WAIT I GOT THIS” and then he just goes “dEmEtRi aNd eLi, BiNaRy BoYfRiEnDs” complete with the super cringey robot arm and Eli is like “Oh my GOD I am GOING to kill you” as the entire dojo proceeds to Lose Their Shit.

Also you dun best believe that literally every picture Aisha takes with Hawk and Demetri after they all start hanging out again (because I WANT THEM TO, FIGHT ME) is captioned things like “Chillin’ with the binary boyfriends!” “Eating tacos with the binary boyfriends!” “Doing karate with the binary boyfriends!” and before too long she refuses to refer to Demetri and Eli as anything else XD

Also yes I know Moon was also there during the Binary Brothers scene but she most likely wouldn’t be cheeky and tease them about it later. Aisha absolutely WOULD.

[kokichis-dead-dove-club]

I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, I think you're in the wrong for saying fiction doesn't affect reality, and before you say some random snarky response, please listen for a second.

By writing fanfiction involving fictional children in relationships with adults, or by drawing abusive relationships or by creating content of incest, you are providing tools for abusers to use to groom victims and children. You say you have trauma involving this kind of thing, and yet you are normalizing this sort of behavior so it will spill over and harm real people. A part of me believes you do not really care about other people, and are just as disgusting and awful as the people who hurt you, because you are supporting their behavior and providing them content to hurt more people. And a part of me is sorry for you.

It is none of my business when someone creates content that doesn't actively promote harmful ideals and hurt real people.

That is a valid statement.

But it becomes unacceptable and downright disgusting when people like you go "oooh I have trauma boo hoo I'm going to write an adult and child having intercourse and then publish it so actual real life pedophiles can find it and use it to groom children uwuwuwuw"

Fuck you for acting like your disgusting perverted ideals aren't harming people. Fuck you for acting like you're high and mighty when what you create is hurting real people. Fuck you for not tagging your content appropriately and fuck you for being a shit stain on our society. Pedophilia is not normal, incest is not normal, and abuse is not normal. It should never be presented as such, and should never be publicly promoted as such.

Sincerely, an ex pro shipper.

wow, ok lmao

im curious who was so awful to you that youre an ex proshipper? i dont tend to see people going from someone who is against harassment to someone who is very much For harassment

i do appreciate that you clearly took your time to write this ask in a (mostly, up until the end) respectful way, so i want to try to respond in kind:

1. "you are providing tools for groomers to use"

groomers will use literally anything to groom. they will use books, movies, food, and yes, perfectly "healthy, unproblematic" ships/fiction.

i am not providing tools for shit. i am creating content that i like, for others who like it, and that is IT. i do not create things with the intent that anyone will use it to harm others. allow me to use this to segue into my next rebuttal:

2. "you don't care about other people, and are just as awful and disgusting as as the people who hurt you"

and here's where i'm going to lose my shit a little.

how fucking dare you? i care an awful lot about others, but that doesn't even matter as much as your next claim; that i'm just as awful as the people who hurt me?

how the fuck can you sit there and genuinely believe that? please show me where i have EVER told anyone to kill themselves, that i hope they die, that i want to run them over with a truck, that i think they enjoyed their abuse, that their family members wish they were dead, that their DEAD FUCKING GRANDMOTHER, WHO HAD JUST PASSED AWAY, WOULD BE GLAD THEYRE DEAD.

show me where i EVER fucking said ANY OF THAT. FUCKING SHOW ME.

3. "fuck you for not tagging your content appropriately"

but. i do tag my content appropriately? if i've ever missed a tag, i apologize, please tell me the post so i can go back and tag it. i always make sure that i am tagging what needs to be tagged, because to me, that is the most important thing that needs to be done when you are creating content such as what i create. so again, if i have forgotten a tag or you think i need a new tag, please tell me. i would be more than happy to oblige. (although no, i will not be tagging ships that aren't pedophilic as 'pedophilia'.)

4. "pedophilia is not normal, incest is not normal, abuse is not normal. it should never be presented as such, and should never be publicly promoted as such."

i agree 100%! however, i have never claimed those things as being normal, nor have i ever presented them or promoted them as such?

you're confusing what fictional scenarios and tropes i enjoy with me supporting and encouraging those things irl. they are completely separate, so i'm unsure what your problem there is.

5. (your general statements about my content hurting real people)

that's not how that works lmao

if someone is uncomfortable by and hates me/my content? cool, that's fine and understandable. please block me and avoid my content and curate your internet experience. that is why i tag my content, so people who don't like it can avoid it.

if someone sees my content, decides on their own that because i draw incest or whatever, that i automatically support irl incest, and they have a freakout over it and decide to harass me? not my fucking problem. if they sincerely believe that fiction is reality, then whatever happens after that is their personal problem.

i do my part. i tag my shit. i warn for my shit. that is as far as my end of the street goes. it is their responsibility to go to their end of the street and take action to ensure they don't see my content.

i don't have control over people's reactions or feelings about my content. but i do have control over taking the necessary steps to limit their exposure and make it easy for them to block my things. and i have consistently done that.

whatever the purpose of your message was, whether it was just to cause me distress, or whether you actually sent this in good faith, i just hope you can take some of this to heart and understand that i have done my part.

have a good evening anon, and i hope you can work past whatevers troubling you.

[misssophiachase]

Happy Together

So, I’ve been writing a kind of 27 Dresses fusion but it deserves to be in multiple parts, hope you like it so far : ) Tagging all the lovelies who championed this Klaroline mix @sekretny13 @klarolineagainnaturally @realynn8 and so sorry for the delay.

Synopsis: She's a wedding planner and heiress, he's a journalist who thinks she's the perfect subject for his story. But both of them are hiding from the truth and each other in the process. 

“How refreshing! A man who doesn't believe in marriage.”

“I'm just trying to point out the hypocrisy of the spectacle.”

“Oh! That's so noble of you. Do you also go around telling small children that Santa Claus doesn't exist? 'Cause someone needs to blow that shit wide open.”

“A-ha! So you admit that belief in marriage is kind of like believing in Santa Claus!”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Last time I checked you were the one who let it slip that Santa Claus doesn’t actually exist and I’m just wondering whether you truly are the Grinch in disguise.”

“Oh, puh-lease, I was clearly provoked and distracted by my current duties.”

Caroline was playing the dual role of bridesmaid and wedding planner at the Plaza Hotel for her former college roommate. Roles she knew extremely well and had too many times to count and had embraced over the past few years. Yes, she didn’t need the money, but it was something she truly loved to do.

Maybe because she'd been doing it since she could walk. Caroline would dress up the family cat as the groom and she'd walk down the makeshift aisle in her mother's best, lace tablecloth while humming the bridal theme at the top of her voice. 

“And clearly while being provoked you also managed to multitask so well,” he joked, passing her the flowers that had found its way to him courtesy of multiple, jilted bridesmaids during the bouquet toss. “I don’t much care for lilies and, not going to lie, I’m disappointed you didn’t go in for the catch yourself. I really took you for the competitive type, Forbes.”

“You clearly have too many opinions for your own good,” she shot back, snatching it from his grasp but not missing how good his skin felt against hers in the process.

Bastard.

Those rogue dimples were also proving to be a burgeoning problem.

“If I’d known you were going to be such a smart ass, I would have uninvited you or at least insisted you be muzzled or tied to the table.”

“You gave me the chicken option, what did you expect?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the chicken.” He gave her a look which said there clearly was a problem with it. “The food budget wasn’t given the priority it deserved but I can only control so much. Okay, fine, it’s the least you deserved. You are so not the guy who writes those beautiful wedding announcements in the Post. Obviously you have a romantic ghostwriter hiding in the wings somewhere.”

“Why can’t you believe that I wrote those stories?”

“Well, for starters that sloppily tied bowtie at a formal event or the fact you don’t believe in love or marriage,” she snorted. “And this field trip to supposedly document my life experiences is just a public relations exercise, nothing else.”

“Public relations exercise? I do work in the media so those things go hand in hand. Anyway, last time I checked the Forbes heiress signed off on this project and was more than happy to be profiled and share her personal experiences.”

Caroline hated that misconceived title with a passion.

Heiress.

Sure, she was incredibly wealthy but she was also an ambitious, hard worker but nobody seemed to care about that part. It was something she felt devalued her existence and Caroline had done all that she could to distance herself from the gossip.

“Not exactly,” she shot back, knowing that much was true. She was going to kill Katherine for saddling her with Klaus Mikaelson in what was probably a weird and misguided matchmaking attempt knowing her evil tendencies. “But, even so, I thought the guy in question wouldn’t bitch and moan about poultry options.”

“Says the girl who entertains fairytales?”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Caroline replied bitterly. “But clearly I should have assigned you the vegan option in hindsight.”

“Tofu is my best friend, so you’re kind of stuck with me.” She looked at him dubiously, clearly not convinced. “And as much as I love the lilac tonight, I’m looking forward to your next ensemble.”

“How very male of you...”

“How very stereotypical of you,” he growled in response, his crimson lips twitching in annoyance. “That's not what I meant. You have no idea how many of our readers want to know the hottest bridesmaid colours for fall.”

“Spare me.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no comment.’ Whether you like it or not, your publicist has given me all-access for the next month in the lead up to the Fell/Salvatore wedding in the Hamptons, so I’ll see you real soon, love.”

“I have a name,” she shot back, her anger no doubt leaving a trail in her wake as she stalked away.

“So, Caroline, do you think I’m going to find my true love for catching the bouquet?” Caroline knew he was smirking and she didn't like it one bit.

“I think you’ll struggle finding anyone to love you. Period.”

“So, I assume that’s a no to being your plus one?” Caroline didn’t bother to respond, just returned to her wedding duties without a backward glance.

The Fell/Salvatore Wedding Pre Rehearsal , Bridgehampton, two weeks later

“How could you do this to me?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Katherine shared, swiping a piece of tasting cake and taking a bite. “Last time I checked given the devastatingly beautiful calligraphy on the invite Meredith Fell and Stefan Salvatore are soon to be joined in wedded bliss at this very site and I vote for the red velvet option.”

“How incestous,” she bit back, thinking about her ex-boyfriend being the groom-to-be and her the bridesmaid and wedding planner at his nuptials. Yes, she’d probably agreed to doing it so as to pretend that she didn’t really care he'd moved on and she was still just the same. “Who decided I needed a publicist anyway?"

"You did when Page Six was banging down your door three years ago about what you were wearing to the Met Gala and whether it was true that you drunkenly hooked up with John Mayer."

"It was once," she argued. "Although, just because you call yourself my publicist doesn’t mean that…”

“You agreed to the story, said it would help boost your social media following,” she argued but her subsequent and remorseful expression gave her away. “Fine, I might have overreached but given your already impressive reputation, it can’t hurt.”

“And you also never told me that the reporter in question was so…”

“Gorgeous?”

“Arrogant and presumptuous,” Caroline offered quickly. “He’s incredibly opinionated and nosy.”

“He’s a reporter, that’s what they do, Care.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate it,” she scoffed. “Any chance you can send him on his way? As far as I can tell he’s not the reporter he purports to be anyway.”

“He’s so endearingly persistent though…”

“That I am,” a familiar but annoying voice interrupted. “And our readers are so desperate to know about the bomboniere.”

“Wow, you actually know what that means?”

“I can talk about wedding details all day, love,” he chuckled. “Most people stupidly persevere with the sugarcoated almonds but more modern brides…”

“Just stop,” she interrupted, hand extended in protest. “I don’t need you to tell me how to plan a wedding, Mikaelson.”

“But it would be remiss not to mention that the readers want to know what the bridesmaids will be wearing. The hot tip is Vera Wang in Tiffany coloured blue. Oh, is that red velvet cake?"

“It's to die for," Katherine replied knowingly.

"Get rid of him,” she muttered, through gritted teeth and pleading with Katherine. “I can only take so much contrived sarcasm.”

“So, that’s a no on the Vera Wang then?”

“That’s a hell no to everything,” she hissed. “In fact, if I don’t see you again it will be too soon.”

“She’s jealous I caught the bouquet, right?” Caroline didn’t need to turn around to know that he was smirking. “It’s fine, we can catch up at the bridal table given we’ll be seated together.”

Caroline silently cursed her impending doom, wondering why he was persevering and she was doing the very same thing. Maybe they had more in common than she first thought, but Caroline would never admit that. She had far too many duties to fulfil and no arrogant reporter was going to ruin this next two weeks.

Or at least she thought.Or at least she thought.Part 1 on AO3 HERE